/mlpol/ - My Little Politics


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

Name
Email
Subject
By clicking New Reply, I acknowledge the existence of the Israeli nuclear arsenal.
Comment
0
Select File / Oekaki
File(s)
Password (For file and/or post deletion.)

Razorback Company.png
#Operators in Equestria: The Dark Horse Arrives
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.352263
>If you would like to join, make a sensible loadout here at:
innawoods.net
>And if you want to bring in something special or anything not on the list, ask to shop it in.

>When you're done, read over the Operator's Handbook:
https://ponepaste.org/7810

>Or the Hoofbook if you wanna be a pony:
https://ponepaste.org/7812

>Then drop a post here.

>Fortress Map:
http://i.imgur.com/Nfy0UK4.png?2

>Overall Pastebin:
https://ponepaste.org/user/PonyStrangler

>Bulletin Board:
https://ponepaste.org/7806

>Previous Thread:
>>279343 →
503 replies and 69 files omitted.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.357067
357123
>>356999
>got trips on informing us on the good news

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

>>357000
the trips protect against any jinxes, also GG on the 7k post
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
0f5ae95
?
No.357115
357123
>>356999
Don't you dare fuckin die before me you faget.

But good to see that you're doing well on recovery, now fucking take it easy.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.357123
357126 357146 357545
>>357000
Don't make a tempting offer~

>>357002
Medium to high intensity, moderate impact cardio. Basically metered speed exercises.

>>357004
FUCK no. Never have, never will. Got done watching 'Died Suddenly', real sickening. It's on rumble, unfortunately.

>>357067
Can't be a faggot if you like mares more.

>>357115
If I'm not active enough taking it easy might kill me. We've lived this long, I ain't leaving now.
Anonymous
063ca7b
?
No.357126
-53.gif
>>357123
>FUCK no. Never have, never will.
Good.
Bubba the 2nd
!EnJhCCu3Ns
0f5ae95
?
No.357146
357747
>>357123
Take it easy in a sense of not giving yourself the die
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.357545
357747
>>357123
any updates?
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.357747
357797 357851 357857 357927
>>357146
Less die, got it.

>>357545
Got held another week and a half due to a 'false' heart attack that turned out to be a paroxysmal muscular spasm, am wearing a heart rate monitor now. Should be home late this week or next.
Anonymous
033d569
?
No.357797
>>357747
Told you not to jinx it.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.357851
>>357747
be safe man
Anonymous
6acd178
?
No.357857
Nurse Redheart - winking.png
>>357747
Be well fren.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9c57e52
?
No.357927
>>357747
Why are you like this
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.358720
358722 358764 358765 358899
Back home now, exhausted. Underwent the MAZE procedure to hopefilly stop future heart attacks. Take that pun and eat it, you know who you are. Past week only minor palpitations, nothing remotely concerning. Supposed to keep exercising, but my PC is fucking bare, hate starting a system over. Will update in a couple days.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.358722
359251
>>358720
welcome home, now start eating your greens :3
Anonymous
88501de
?
No.358764
359251
>>358720
Welcome back, horse overlord :)
Anonymous
6acd178
?
No.358765
359251
816.gif.f0851bd6dc714a5363c33f7fef68ac4e.gif
>>358720
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9c57e52
?
No.358899
359251
>>358720
Glad to see you're keeping yourself from the die.

Also punch the PC into working
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.359251
359553
>>358722
Have been, feel considerably better. My diet before was atrocious now that I know. Procedure helped greatly, fuck it hurt just to sit down though.

>>358764
Julie Covington time~

>>358765
Ohaiyo gozai mashita.

>>358899
Trying, not going well. Might need to use a SpinTenLite OS for a bit.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.359553
360104
>>359251
Any updates, feeling a bit better now you're settled in?
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.360104
361161 361162
>>359553
Am in the 'somewhat recovered' phase. Not great, not bad, nothing unusual. Got my PC together but may need wipe it and reinstall, so.. frustrated. Laptop is shit and uncomfortable to use.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.361161
361399
>>360104
hope you're enjoying Linux lmao
Anonymous
6acd178
?
No.361162
361399
CCOk.gif
>>360104
Yeah. Now you must be up and fine.
Let the fun begin.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.361399
361400 361401 361404
>>361161
>>361162
Yeah, no. Might have a fucking problem: the standard HD that all my files were on isn't accessible from any laptop or PC here. Linux was supposed to dual boot on the newer, much larger HD, but the original is showing a DIFFERENT and damaged file system that was corrupted by an improper Linux installation. Which it SHOULDN'T have had unless there was something fucky with Windurrrs somehow reading the old HD as the primary, even though it wasn't.
Anonymous
cf7b3b0
?
No.361400
362554
>>361399
Ouch. Sorry to hear. Not sure what cost is but Ibas now Ontrack has good reputation when it comes to rescue data. Getting calling them and getting an initial quota and scan is worth it - it might be easy for them to recover. Ibas was the one that was used to rescue data from the harddrives that were on the Challenger Space Shuttle (but that was damaged almost beyond repair).
https://www.ontrack.com/
Anonymous
6acd178
?
No.361401
aaaaaaaa.gif
>>361399
F
Anonymous
4d18025
?
No.361404
>>361399
That's a nightmare bro, sorry to hear that.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.361646
361648 361742
The good news: physical health checkup shows only minor heart atrial fibrillation. Nothing worrisome or questionable outside of keeping diet and exercise regimaren intsct.

The BAD news: hard drive has been sent off for recovery. Woe to the man that discovers 79.8 gigs of MLP porn on it.
Anonymous
6acd178
?
No.361648
362553
7df51a812c096d1444f9e3ff811fa4f4.png.232defc2686d42cf7c33f83001ce69ac.png
>>361646
>The good news
Glad to know
>The BAD news:
F
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.361742
362553
>>361646
Or you've created a brand new horsefucker
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.362553
362555
>>361648
Backups are confirmed dead. The reformatted drive THAT SHOULDN'T HAVE FUCKING BEEN only has a minor number of files that were able to be recovered. Oh fucking well. Now I know whom to never trust again. Back to retyping everything from memory.

>>361742
Someone might have said something. The official email was hilarious to read.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.362554
>>361400
Did what they could. Sadly wasn't enough. No complaining from me.
Anonymous
6acd178
?
No.362555
362577
Untitled.jpeg
>>362553
>Backups are confirmed dead
Time to plan for the future and actually do something about it.
And avoid Seagate drives like the pest, too many failures are reported.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.362577
362596
>>362555
Already got backups in place including a pre-shutdown system restore. Also fuck WD, bunch of tranny loving Silicuck Valley commie whores.
Anonymous
337ed16
?
No.362596
364115
bad sectors - Screenshot 2.png
>>362577
Do not forget to scan the surface for bad blocks before to setup LUKS and begin dumping the files.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.364115
364295
>>362596
learn to code lmao
Anonymous
6acd178
?
No.364295
>>364115
Take a hike Windows fag.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.365599
365633 365774
image.png
A WiP of Wildride
Anonymous
9a69721
?
No.365633
365774
>>365599
Needs bigger tits
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.365774
365792 365799
armor_commission_final.jpg
>>365599
Finished version

>>365633
next time i'll tell them
Anonymous
b051a2a
?
No.365792
>>365774
Very nice! (And good~)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.365799
>>365774
This is 100% canon due to her tech-evolution via various events and her tutelage from Natilda. Also I don't know how you fucking mindhacked me to somehow know in advance what Wild Ride CURRENTLY looks like. Epona blesses that artist, and do I.

I'm still working on 6 years typing out the fucking backlog from memory. Currently down to <1 month of work left. I think. Doubt is ever the type-killer.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.365910
368199
honto_commission02.jpg
Big tit version.
Anonymous
bfdf04e
?
No.368199
>>365910
Bigger is better.
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370026
370028
>>353842
"I have read all of Spiral's notes hundreds of times each, they confirm the same across most human worlds. It infuriated him knowing how unprotected the majority have been-"
>Shooting a grim stare to the various armor plates hanging across the Workshop's interior, Krinza remains motionless for a handful of seconds before leaning down to eyeball the slowly cooling modifications.
"And often still are. No more of that. From tonight onwards I will not allow a single Operator in field without suitable protection."
>Placing both front hooves on the carrying handle, the smith's eyes shut, carefully intoning a sequence of low, solemn words in archaic unicorn.
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <M.Elemental Chemistry
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <GM.Enchanter
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16]
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <GM.Smith
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]

>Lacking any negative tones, Helping Hoof turns a side eye towards you with an apologetic expression.
"I am beginning to understand some of Spiral's writings. It is clear now that the inadequacies of the average human world are due to factors that was bitter towards. He believed that all-"
>Pausing with a far off stare, the left side of his face twitches briefly.
"Most all humans should have equal access to equine knowledge and capabilities. He was particularly hateful of a common human saying, that being 'work with what you have'. The irony is that the pony version ends with: 'and share all we must'. I apologize for my earlier, unsensitive words."
>The large unicorn makes a shortly dismissive motion, then focuses on fusing the box's internal structures together.
"Not at all."
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <E.Eidetic Fundamarentals
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370027
370029
>>353845
>Head turning left to eye the Rilvenni's outer skin being slowly carved off, then right at the undersized hand cannon, Anonymous frowns under the mask.
"Given what you've already dealt with? Slapping a giant crate's worth of anti-tank mines across her hull might not be a bad idea. Shit, what wouldn't help is a small list. And, yeah, I've noticed there's a serious inacurracy lately. Half the objects I grab and send off don't land where they're supposed to. Still haven't figured out why."
>Freezing entirely from her work, Wild's left internal screen reboots quickly, the mini caricature peering back at you as her internal speakers emit an utterly flat tone.
"I will neither confirm nor deny that statement."
>There was at least two displays.
>Neatly severing rolls of dull orange skin off the Planar monstrosity, four of the repair tendrils continue their grisly work of matter conversion.
"Point taken. I will attempt to restore each repair system individually before resetting them, that should prevent further damage to critical systems. ..or welding them upside down."
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT+8

"Probably not but I'll check. Batponies and Ferron have picked coastal areas clean for centuries, particularly shells, gems, ship wrecks, and every piece of weird stuff they can find. They like that last way too much."
>Glancing down at his smartphone and tapping several times, he turns it around to show a small, newer map than the one Wild was using.
>Little was different save for a sprinkling of small Outposts spread across the Crags and a number of dots marked with an X.
"Nope, sorry. Not even those guys and gals that love exploring the Moors venture out farther than half a night. After seeing that thing-"
>Motioning at the Rilvenni carcass, the Gestalt takes on a miffed tone.
"I can't blame them. Unfortunately I have to leave, this gateway's destabilizing a bit faster than the last one. Until next time."
>Rolling backwards into the portal, the door closes quickly afterwards, both side pillars crumbling apart and dissipating into nothingness.

>Pausing once more, Wild's upper body bends downwards several degrees, one distressed metal sheet above you making an unsettled sound as her screen caricature scribbles on the map.
"What a strange existence that one has.. current location updated, new information logged. Mom, I have enough materials to repair all critical components and six destroyed systems, but my head unit is nearly collapsed. You would be far better protected inside it. Commencing long range scans-"
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensors Array
Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370028
370047
>>370026
"It was a matter of price and technological progress. By the time of 'properly' built gunpowder weapons, armor would have been too heavy to carry and too expensive to build."
>He shrugs an arm, motioning down at his suit.
"It was more cost efficient to hand out a uniform and a musket to a recruit and train him than it was to develop armor for the recruit only to have the enemy design a musket that could go through it a decade later."
>He let out a soft hum.
"We've gone through that cycle enough times. Make something a ranged weapon couldn't go through, they develop a better ranged weapon. Better to spend that money in recruiting and arming."
>He thought on that for a brief moment.
"That would be good.. It's a shame even in the Zone we couldn't do that. Most had to pick either anomalous or physical protections. And often got neither."
>So many Rookies died because of poor protection.

"The problem is, not every human would agree with sharing with their community. What can be considered modern humans, anyway. It used to be that way, we just... got more greedy or some such as a result of civilization growing."
>He snorted and leaned back in the chair, aware of his weight to keep from crushing it. Barely.
"Though we should end this line of talk, it might lead down some dark paths."
>For me.
"And I accept your apologies. Humanity isn't perfect and I hope most understand that."

>With a nod, Ivan would pull out his PDA and sort through the files for a moment.
>Were it not for the fact that he had a lot of music stored on the SD card, he wouldn't have much use for it other than a map.
>One that wasn't properly set up for this planet yet. He would have to fix that.
"Hope this helps lighten the mood. If there's one thing I can't hate about the bandits..."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_podzD4cSA
Natilda
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370029
370062
>>370027
"I wouldn't know if she would survive the explosions though. If she could..."
>That is an idea. One that I'm not exactly keen on attempting any time soon.
"So wishing for something is probably not the best idea at the moment. Got it."
>Better let him figure out what's going on first, I suppose.
>Yeah sure you won't confirm with those fucking displays flashing my eyes.

"Worth a shot, at least. At least we can update our maps."
>As he starts to leave, I get a last minute thought.
"If you can, let them know we're coming!"
>I don't know if he heard me or not as I only managed to speak out as the portal started to close.
>Worth a shot.

"I would... But I'll control your movements for a bit longer while you keep repairing. Better to let you focus on repairing, and with the updated maps I shouldn't have any problem steering you towards the outpost."
>I sat back and idly chewed on a slice of pizza for a moment.
"And yes, Anon is certainly... strange, to put it in a way. Good man from what I can tell, though."
>Shrugging, I inspected the armor he had left before standing up to redress in it.
>Its just us gals in here so its fine~
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370030
370064
>>353885
>Connecting to the prototype's windows, the Shiibo avatar opens a series of tiny ones.. only to turn The Look from you to 'Tipper'.
>Sharing a split-second, the pair seem to agree on something judging by the twinned nod, though 'Tipper' mimics pulling a blanket around her image with a kind smile.
'I thought that was the problem, there is a fair amount of data too corrupted to recover. Understood, I'll be careful with her.'

>Wrapping her arms tightly around the deep purple stallion's neck, already splayed out and half-sleeping with his head over her shoulder, Katyal leans backwards onto the bench.
>Adjusting Hodch's weight without a word, her head turns at the projections, studying them with a hardening face.
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <E.Scouting
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6 = 4] <Apprentice Cartographer
[1d6 = 3]
>Dul silently turns around, upper body glinting in an unrecognizable fashion.
[1d6 = 2] <Study

>Pointing out five likely travel routes, a short index on northeastern New Everfree megafauna and megaflora is offered, then listing a host of potential dangers based on limited regional exploration, Shiibo pauses at Lonestar tapping on metal.
*"Eh... seems good. Ah'd prefer a real pair'a hands on them controls ta be honest, ain't got much good ta say 'bout gunnery androids an'shit like that. No amounta trainin' can teach 'em intuition. Or tact."*
>Shiibo's left eye twitches at the stinging comment, taking on a stiff posture while continuing to cross-reference and append category data, text scrolling across the helmet's interior.
I can certainly operate these admittedly well balanced plasma and laser weapons better than a standard production android.
*"...did someone say somethin'? Got no displays or vidfeeds internally, kin'a blind 'less y'poke a head up here."*
No?
"No."
>Craning her neck back and forth, the Siren's eyes inspect everything around her for a few moments.
"Dul not hear thing. Dul say no."
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Siren's Gaze
[1d6 = 2] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
*"Awright, then we're leavin'."*

>Tilting forwards briefly, the OL-3's rear hatches begin to close, quiet hydraulics whining in the troop compartment as a series of dull metallic locks snap shut and internal air seals pressurize.
>The hybrid APC begins turning in a slow 180, light track impacts on ground barely felt while it smoothly rumbles forwards onto stone.
*"Might take a sec fer th'Remnant t- nevermind, it's openin'."*
>Making a chest deep salute from the chair, 'Tipper' smiles brightly, the connection unexpectedly during a short, unfamiliar stepping-lurch in realspace.
*"That is one fuckin' weird gateway... Machine Gods, let yer eyes be on us 'fer we have unknown paths ahead, an'no honorable way ta return home."*
[1d6 = 6]
Razorbat Fortress: The Hangar
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370033
370079
>>353898
>Parsing the only datachannel available, what you find is the complete schematic of a perplexing instrument: a 29-stringed oval harp, the ends tapered to a shearing point.
>Connected to a labyrinthine network of perfect 0.1 nanometer width necrodermis cable, directly integrated throughout the Auspex's custom built systems, it appeared that the 'pick', created from an exotic native alloy, was bent slightly forwards the wrong way..
>By, precisely, 0.00002 degrees.
>Repeating that datum twice, the Necron device translates directly into High Gothic: "Melodically-attuned temporal causality inspection unit repairs MUST be completed via high velocity, high kinetic-transferred maintenance."
'USE A SLEDGEHAMMER'
'or throw it. that usually made it work before'
'SLEDGE. HAMMER.'
'calm your binary ma'
'FINISH THAT THOUGHT AND I WILL CALM YOU PERMANENTLY!'

>Tracker dataprints themselves out as a pair of near-exact twins in ASCII, the male slightly taller than the wiry female, the precise image.. unsettling.
>And you weren't sure why.
>The male politely seats his sister on what was probably a chair, sitting next to her and turning to 'view' you, frowning equally as they speak in sync.
'None. Marquis du Spiral Disclosure was the sole interested unicorn of adapting human technologies to native methodologies and materials. We theorize his fascination quickly became a source of grief. As a test, compare the least equipped Guardsman's wargear to those of the Russian analogue squad you met in Twin Hill. That, we feel, is part of why he went mad.'
>Turning their bodies towards away from your perception briefly, which was probably them intercepting the Xenotechnologist's channel, the Tracker twins' datatone is expressionless.
'Princess Mi Amore Cadenza's ability to commune with machines, whether crystalline, metallic, organic, Otherworld, Planar, hybrid, mixed, or otherwise, is unquestionable and inviolable. Inquisitor Velasi once remarked the following: distances and compositional differences are merely poor observations when an alicorn is part of an equation. It is the reason she has been deemed Poneissiah.
It is impossible Chisan Nas lied. His knowledge is merely insufficient; he has not learned the basic theories of Constructs we have access to. Which is still next to nothing.'

>Noting the solid steel floor, cabinets, and empty weapon racks, there was a high number of excellent locations to perform... maintenance.
'Excuse us for a time, we are attempting to access Velasi's personal datastacks and will not likely be available.'

>Snout wiggling briefly, Raindrop's ears perk up at spotting the flower, eyes widening as both wings snap onto her sides tightly.
"It's beautiful! Thank you Miss Castella!"
>A wide smile takes over the pegasi's face, reaching forwards with her left wing to carefully grasp the flower between two primary feathers, though not before running a feathertip across your fingers with a third.
>Carefully retracting to take a slow, deep inhale, the Free Knight's expression turns into one of surprise.
"Incredibly sweet, and earthy. Really earthy, like subterranean. I've never seen or smelled a flower like this."
>Head dipping to speak in a quick, staunchly gritty yet flowing language, she takes another light sniff, then lightly bites into the flower, her demarenor seemingly appreciative after several chews.
"Mmm, tastes amazing. I hope it wasn't too hard to get, there's a lot of hard to find plants that even my dam wouldn't have given to herrrr- neeevermind-"
>Taking on a moderately sheepish look, Raindrop taps her left front hoof down on the tray, lifting it up with the same to expose a wide selection of wrapped real food, a few of which you recognized, arrayed around a center bowl filled with various chunks.
"Don't worry, we're probably done for tonight, and I was cooling off. So! Freshly grilled, or baked, squid, crab, shrimp, clams, and ocean fish in young efflo leaves. Like cabbage but better tasting. Red sprinkles in the little container is a spicy mix, the white tiny squares on everything is sea salt, and the blue sprinkles-"
>Halting to blink once, the right wing lifts in thought before patting her side.
"Charred Moors saphor-stalk. It's got a nice, cool berry flavor, like blueberries but a bit softer. It's sometimes used as a medicine for birds. Like me!"
>Cracking a grin while flexing her wings, Raindrop points a single feather at the central bowl.
"Bright yellow pieces are pineapple, whole green ones are kiwi, scraped of course, soft yellow is mango, blue is ocean melon, and the red ones are an underwater berry that Ferron love to hate. They're a bit sour at first but get sweeter the longer you chew. You get first pick, of course!"
Razorback Enclave: One (GIANT) Detour
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370034
370058
>>354017
"You and me both-"
>Making an agreeing snort, the outermost layer of Naliyna's armor plates ripple in dark hues while the visor imprints a quick pair of sharp, muted blue glows.
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Stalker's Eye

>Finding nothing amiss or added across the pouches, that first step back into... The Party Bunker, your impression was: business as usual.
>Outside of quiet disagreemarents between the Lunar and Empire Lorekeeprs on the east side, most pointing to opened lockers, boxes, and chests, all of which featured archaic Canterlot styles or symbols long out of place and taste.
>While you could tell the various objects spread about or being inspected were Solar related, the most common was intensely bright orange palladine along with some pallatine, the crystallized and fully metallic difficult to tell without a close examination.
>None were recognizable... or even remotely whole.
>For their part the Dark Horse Cultists had been called in a short time ago, carefully studying the books and tomes in front of them.
>Aside the one Naliyna had spoken to, only now settling down in her chair to sniff pages, their lazy postures and forward slouching indicated high calm.

>Noting a distinct lack of Amerose's unique robe among the standard crystalline-whites, purples, and few rare blue Lunar varieties, Naliyna's head turns several degrees left.
>Clicking into your radio channel amid a small buzz, the exoframe's ringing thumps northward cover the static.
*"Straight south at the dock means Amerose has.. that one red eyed batpony Enchained, can never remember his name, with her in the north buildings. Watch my flanks, I'm going to Wake the Beasts if they're around-"*
>Helmet dipping a hoof's height down, the oldest Remostrine daughter breaks into a heavy, thundering stride right as the lance and battering ram brighten into profuse cascades of fuchsia.
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Ramming Speed
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #1/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370039
370053
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 7 turns.

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eitpHYcspF4

>>353974
('I'll stick to celebrating every momarent I'm not chained down by politics, witherstabbing, or being forced t-')
>Half of Vestal Gardenia's bemused, not-quite-a-retort flickers out of comprehension.

>Surveying the archaic black Arena before landing light and neat on solidly packed ground, it was a barely modified, though entirely restored First (and only) Pegasi-Batpony League Era structure, the half-roofed over top once used for do-or-die tests.
>As the internal complex was taken up by hundreds of seats in wide, comfortable rows, numerous external landing platforms, barely seen from below, led into symmetrical staircases, along with a few recently rebuilt slides.
>Running throughout the false exterior walls would be steep and parallel staircases allowing for a quick run to the top.

>Nearly blocking the larger north facing entrance were clusters of Moor cats and orange hulls in viciously packed heaps, not a single movemarent to be seen.
>Passing by the first few bodies and hulls and onto short black stairs, there were, strangely, no scents of feline blood nor from the exotic, acrid energy weapons.

>From high above comes a heavy, dual snap-cracks of particle whips splitting air molecules in their path, followed by a fleeting taste of bitter hatred.
[1d6 = 6] <Mercy: ENRAGED!
[1d6 = 2] <Spectrum Dive
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <E.Assault
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <B.Ambush Assault
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]

('Lunar felines? No, there is no further suppor-')
('Yes there bloody is! The Moors protects itself and those bound by extension to it! Aid Mercy in killing one of that pair and the rest will scatter-')
('Are you truly insane!? I cannot expect a single heavily traumatized, barely trained Spirit Walker and a single marecenary to win against those odds, Gardenia!')
>Flickers of hard intent pass through the psionic link, Vestal's tone dead cold.
('You will be proven wrong. ..she is lost in the ebb and flow of combat, just as she ought to be. Pegasus, find a chance to slip inside the minimum range of that pair, doing so will force them to fire upon each other, use that as a distraction. They have too marely weapons to effectively scan their environmarent and will be blinded. Locate one of ten external heavy missile pods equinedistant across the upper hull, search for-')
>Two series of side-by-side large triangular shapes in a specific pattern flash into your thoughts briefly.
('On an open side, and press these in sequence, that will detonate the internal munitions. You will have to take cover, but remember this: that trick will only work one time against a pair.')
>A number of back and forth triangles appear, being stomped on by a bloody silverine-gilded hoof, composing a short melody of electric chimes followed by a trace image of the 11th Councilierge snarling.
('That is a true Arena where only the most capable, intelligent, strongest, quickest, or most daring prevail. Good hunting, Sunny-')
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370040
370053 370105
('Eight minutes until the Shattering Skies is dragged into atmosphere. And, Razorback, for the last time: individual destruction is no longer possible. That’s been said twice now. Do not make it a third.')
('I sincerely hope the Otherworld Harpies made every last component to weather fifteen millennia with ease-’)
('We will know soon.')

>>353988
>Sensing Vestal Gardenia's presence turn in your direction, the marental voice was ruthlessly flat.
('I have aided the honored humans of Stalliongrad untold times. It is to their credit I was taught how to bypass Wish Disc laws on their direct behalf.')
>Physically lifting her head and glancing left at the line of Operators firing and reloading, the eye rolls in your direction with a firm, distant tone, then focuses forwards.
('It is a shame we will never be allies.')

>Hearing a few snickers from Operators around you, the Spiker's heavy recoil was reassuring, though the limited visible impacts into the leading earth mare Lunar Tainted slightly less so.
The Lost Legions: 22,607 of 285,678 Morale

>Two hundred fifty of the Watch, Day, Night, and Lunar Guards silently track the immarense, distant Spectral Lances arcing towards them, accepting death with all sharing a single thought:
('Wish we could've been friends before this-')
>As their armored kin slump down onto Basin Village's stonework, the sporadic pattern of low cohesion Spectral Lances weaken and diffuse while additional Lancers pour in from the network of translocation matrices, standing atop the bodies of their kin.
>The ranks of Chargers on either side of the entrance meanwhile prepare to intercept the first Lunar Assault Tainted, now reaching a bare 50M from the Basin's southern walls.
>Snapping her head up, the Watch General finally allows herself a relieved scowl.
('LANCERS! Prepare to counter-charge, distract the Tainted to your four-times-blessed deaths! CHARGERS! Climb the Tainted and shred them when possible! REPLACEMARENTS! Enter by number and replace the fallen!')
>Entirely focused now, the Eleventh Councilierge prepares to blink at the towering royal purple armored earth mare leading the charge.
('Strikers, target the Solar Support Division. Disrupt them at every cost. All unicorns and Razorback, wait until the first mine is triggered.. and aim high.')

>Followed by five Lunar Assault Tainted, the earth mare charger nearly disappears in a wash of shrieking kanpri landmines, ripples of black, purple, and red shredding through metaphysicality.
[1d6+93 = (5+93) = 98] <Outer Entrance Explosives
>Incapable of holding in their keks any longer, sixty willing suicide batponies grip their collected elemarental bombs tightly, then dive straight down and into the next oncoming group of nine-
[1d6+29 = (5+29) = 34] <Rooftop Ambush
>Right as the second and third set of manabomb mines detonate, diamond and iron casings lost in the bodies of Tainted-

>And is intercepted by chromatic turbulence of raw Anti in the shape of an earth mare, leaping straight up at the charging Lunar Assault Tainted.
('Live well.')
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Lunge
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17] <Master Assault
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Resist Damage
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Master Sunken State
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6 = 5] <Anti
[1d6 = 5] <Bane
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #3/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370042
370053 370082
>>354707
>Well below the last set of Spectral lances being launched from the far Solar Guardians and erratic, seemingly exhausted Striker counter-barrages, the sight wasn't quite equal to the solid wall of incoming missiles and lasers from Stonehenge.. but it was close enough.
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 4 Captains remaining @ 11 Speed, 220M south of Basin Village
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Solar Guardian Support Division: Spectral Lances
The Lost Legions: -27,659 Morale of 285,678
('All Strikers retreat from Basin Village immediately by love and duty, you can accomplish nothing more this night. Let the rest take up your posts.')

>Watching Guillotine's weapon effects crash and roll across the rearmost Lunar Assault Tainted, it was apparent they were solidly uncaring, though appeared to be, slightly, losing physical cohesion.
The Lost Legions: -28,959 of 285,678 Morale
>Slightly more effective at range, the fractal patterns of Battered Shores' weaponry strike deep through multiple rows of giant Tainted, streaks of faux-material slowly recoalescing in their wake.
The Lost Legions: -30,231 of 285,678 Morale

>Finding the Kiowa's controls less than perfectly responsive in your hands, both missiles streak into the heavily encrusted Solar Generals; the first impacting across the rearmost's saddle, shrapnel glinting as it freezes while the second dumb-fuzes on the secondary target's lower neck.
The Lost Legions: -30,639 of 285,678 Morale

>Overhearing a harsh retort from Guillotine to the Germaneighan Heavy Cruiser, the ancient Harpy weapons swivel to combine with those nearly opposite to her own: matter, barely matter, antimatter, volatile energetics, eminently refined Elemarents, and stretches of modified spacetime delivering individual mass-particle reactions stream into the rearmost Lunar Assault Tainted cluster.
*"Havest equine minutes of two afore mine reactors be depleted, ye grace!"*
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,490/3,000 armor
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (2+24) = 26] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems

('Battered Shores has rotated a quarter the primary crew out, no deaths or probable lasting damage. We're alone off the Crete Straights, closest vessel is four hours out and we have at least sixty weapons in various states of damage. We're going to take the biggest possible risk with our unrecoverable primary arrays.. get those replacemarents hot and COVER YOUR EARS NOW!')
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Accuracy
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+40 = (1+40) = 41] <Main Arcane Armamarent #1: SUICIDE OVERLOAD!
[1d6+36 = (6+36) = 42] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: SUICIDE OVERLOAD!
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Spare Main Arcane Armamarents Preheat
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Secondary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Arcane Point Defense Systems

('Clemency, ignore the leaders. They are of no concern as they cannot be destroyed individually. And I would highly suggest utilizing all possible weaponry, not merely two missiles at a time.')
Anonymous
50a6518
?
No.370043
Nice to see that this is active again. Good for you guys.
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #4/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370046
370053 370068 370105
>>355345
>Strained from balancing priorities and commarends, the Watch General's tone was polite, yet dismissive.
('An overherd this size is excruciating enough to marenage without adding the additional layer of technology. No, but thank you for the offer.')

('None save myself. I much prefer the quiet of being alone.')
>Slowly turning her head left, Vestal Gardenia's eye swivels to align on you, then forwards, her marental voice somber and flat.
('I did not intend to punish her with an unwinnable task. Such are the worst teachers, as Kenfield Pass showed us.')

>Noting the Reaper maneuvering back into a suitable pass, the large Rime cluster had a rather tenuous grasp on those Tainted flash-frozen around it; the outermost were straining to break free, ice fracturing and refreezing in the damp swamp air.
>Picking the four most visible Generals, the drone's view jolts upwards upon the quadruple launch as enough weight is freed for maximum air speed.
>Retargeting as each missile's primary booster system kicks in, the first Hellfire's approach is fouled, skewing north to detonate on another Tainted's forelegs and showering the targeted General.
>The second fares slightly better, drifting south and impacting an ice cluster in front of that General's snout, though the third crashes southwest between a quarter of Lunar Assault forms.
>The fourth's guidance lines up its path directly into that targeted General's exposed flank, shrapnel deflecting off into the face and neck of another Assault.
The Lost Legions: -31,216 of 285,678 Morale

>Weapons fire across Razorback's barricade and a final volley of Void lances from the gathered mare and stallionfriends tear through the first two clusters of charging Tainted on screen, but were still not slowing them down.
-43,302 of 285,648 Morale

>Nearly burned out from their efforts, Bren shouts for Razorback's combined unicorns, including Krinza, to retreat and recover.
>Pausing in front of the Basin's sacrificial circle to stare at the hundreds of dead batponies surrounding the lone Dark Horse Cultist, the crew boss scowls as she dives into the Fortress gateway.
('Not one fucking second of this is right-')

>A clattering of hooves from behind heralds the Watch General physically shouting over thousands of Strikers exchanging places:
"Councilierge Assault Vanguard Battalion, Night Guard Combat Division, Night Guard Combat Support Division, and both Lunar Guard Combat Battalions, take their positions! You are all the second-to-last fallback, but a small number from the Crystal Empire will take up your duties if your numbers are depleted!"

>Directly ahead, the clusters of kanpri landmines had detonated while you'd been busy, much weaker secondary and tertiary manabombs throwing volatile Elemarentals upwards-
[1d6+35 = (3+35) = 38] <Secondary Entrance Explosives
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24] <Tertiary Entrance Explosives
>Snarling kee's and keks in the distance rebound as the first Lunar Assault Tainted clears the entrance, though Broken Hoof lunging up and through the head catches it off guard, as does a surreptitiously placed war crime:
[1d6+63 = (4+63) = 67] <Unstable Plasma Cell
The Lost Legions: -47,882 of 285,678

('Hold-')
>As one, the teams of Operators hold until the last second, concentrating on the only target in sight: the lone Assault Tainted earth mare, violently thrashing her head to remove Broken Hoof's stained existence.
('Fire!')
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (2+21) = 23] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (4+25) = 29] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total

>Streaks of purple cross above, the Lunar Airstrike Division sweeping into range as thousands of unicorns clustered in and atop the Basin's two-level buildings strike first, roiling the dim sky above in flashes of Void-tinged lances.
('May Evalesdraught aid you in scattering the Airstrike Division above us! East Ocean Moors Militia, keep them busy and off the rooftops as long as you can! All unassigned Solar, Lunar, and Watch Guard, climb the Basin's buildings and assist the Militia!')
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <East Ocean Moors Militia x 150 total
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+12 = (6+12) = 18] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>vs:
[1d6+49 = (4+49) = 53] <Lunar Airstrike Division

>To the north, a new wind howls into frenzied existence, the merry voice of a young, long deceased Killknight makes a deep, honor-laden bow towards a Solar Guardian Captain, consolidating itself to match her height.
"Well met, stallion of ages past. May one of us die quickly, and without shame."
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Brutal Lunge
[1d6+22 = (2+22) = 24] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+21 = (5+21) = 26]
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (3+22) = 25]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Resonant Disruption
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Dissonant Rebuke
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Dance
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
>vs:
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42]
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42]
[1d6+39 = (5+39) = 44]
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]

('Hail of Glory sustaining next to no internal damage, I don't know w- they're tearing the armor apart like it's wet paper!')
[1d6+67 = (5+67) = 72] <Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Optimal Range Vectors Locked
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Damaged Repair Systems
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <System 3 Repairs
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <System 6 Repairs
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Stabilizing Thrusters
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Weapon Stabilizers

Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, INSIDE BASIN VILLAGE
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @ 13 Speed, 40M south of Basin Village
Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, CONTROLLING NORTH BASIN VILLAGE AIRSPACE
Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division, 240M east of Basin Village
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370047
370453
>>370028
"A decade."
>Repeating the phrase to himself once, then twice, Krinza sits up painfilly straight.
"In under six years I have gone from zero knowledge to being confirmed by no less than thirty Lunar Grandmaster smiths and enchanters as an equal. In the last two months I improved a pre-Dynasty titanium alloy half-mesh formula to be more protective than modern artificial diamond plating. Any competent armorer, with the right knowledge, can easily outpace weaponry, enchantmarents, and the tactics used to deny that protection."
>Mane bristling as if he'd just been slapped open handed, the chunky stallion leans over the M134 to give it a critical examination before rapping the weapon in a bright yellow glow, setting it on the table's edge with an affectionate pat.
"It is done. You will have great difficulty damaging the barrels, frame, and carrying handle. While I do not blame Spiral for losing his sanity over having such a view of disturbing human ideals. What I will fault him for is giving in to remarkably short sighted goals. And lacking patience."
>Looking up to stare at the massive coldstone above his furnace, then turning to eye something on the western wall, Krinza's head tilts several degrees.
"I have an idea.. rather, four ideas, if a certain someone could be less of a bitch from time to time."
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]

>Reaching up to wipe sweat off his face, then neck, Helping Hoof sits back to eye the half-finished box frame.
"And I thought the early Minotaur Hegemony suffered from distressing growing pains. They were forced from being independent wide spread mining, trading, and crafting towns into a barely united hegemony under a monolithic nine caste system due to the Endless Marches."
>Turning both green eyes up, the green coated stallion's face creases in severe thought.
"Much too late for that, though I will state the darkest paths often reveal the most information. Take the vast differences between Old and New Canterlot for example: a puzzle with nearly all pieces in their proper place, except there are two sides always present. The viewer often and wrongly focuses on what they perceive to be incorrectly colored pieces, forgetting they are two halves of the same whole. Without Old Canterlot there could be no New Canterlot. Without Spiral, there may be no Razorback in the future, and vice versa."
>Giving Krinza's motionless form a quizzical examination, Helping lifts his shoulders in a relieved motion.
"Perfection is not an admirable goal as such a task presents an insurmountable obstacle, and my ideas of 'good enough' are becoming less appealing each second. I am beginning to understand Spiral's later thought process that, while different from what I knew, are equally intriguing. Now if only there were a few good chunks of promethine and some excellent diamondine here-"
>Selecting a spool of titanium alloy wire across the Workshop and directing it into the furnace for a preheat, Helping offers a brief chuckle.
"Catchy song."
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
3ba6194
?
No.370053
370106
>>370039
>The relay Sunny was after was right on top of the twentieth level, she cursed internally for not gliding straight for it to begin with, and instead set off at a gallop. Hopefully she could climb back up with little time lost.

[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]

>Silently enduring the psionic bickering, Sunny memorised the sequence that was flashed to her. If only she could block out all but the most necessary communications.
('Acknowledged.')
>Objective first, however. The watch general was correct, against a destroyer pair, they were playing a game of long odds, even with Mercy's new capabilities.
>She spared a glance back up at the spiritist as she began her attack. The construct weaponry combined with Mercy's capacity for ambush strikes now made her the greatest tactical threat to the constructs present, but she was still effectively on her own against much more firepower. How long Mercy would be able to keep this up until they adapted or simply decided to raze everything around them, Sunny couldn't begin to guess.
>At the very least, the constructs might simply ignore her for the time being as a non-threat, which would give her the needed time to shut down the relay.
>As she approached the arena wall, Sunny looked for any hoofholds she could use to scale her way up.

>>370040
>>370042
>>370046
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370058
370072
>>370034
>Bubba would do his best to ignore the bright orange visuals, instead focusing on keeping his eye on both their surroundings and the figure of Naliyna plodding along slightly ahead of him.
>He did take a moment to eye up a few of the Solar eqsue items as the two moved with a purpose, but quickly focused back on the mare.
>Despite the cultists showing an aura of calm with their postures, Bubba was on alert. Anything could happen, after all.

>Bubba would not stoop to that level, instead deciding to watch her back as she charged.
>Keeping his head and ears on the closest thing to a swivel due to not being a >pone.
[1d6 = 6] <M. Perception
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370062
370071
>>370029
>Finished carving the Rilvenni's more intact skin sections into a large roll, all eight tendrils strain to lift it off the heap of flesh, muscle, unrecognizable organs, and gore underneath, depositing off to the right with an unsettling squelch.
"Restoring my hull should allow that as a self-defense measure. I have no idea what to do with this. Yet."
>Camera view tilting upwards, then down, the caricature peers across the chest compartment as both of the internal medical tendrils exit from their floor hatches to begin taking apart the right screen's remains.
"Correction: doing so outside will be safer.. then again you may not want to be outside right now."
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <CC.M.T #1: Deconstruction
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <CC.M.T #2: Deconstruction
>Snapping in your direction, mini-Wild's antennae flick.. suspiciously.

>Leaping back to stand on the map, mini-Wild performs a cursory examination.
"There is a newer Outpost approximately 149 miles west-southwest at fifteen miles of our current position, it may have a small translocation system. The remainder are seasonally occupied."
[1d6 = 4] <U.Cartography
[1d6 = 5] <U.Geography

>Unable to tell whether Anon had heard, a heavy chunk of something drops onto sand to the right accompanied by a shrill electronic noise.
"What was that?"
>Pausing to who knows what, her frame shifts backwards in seeming unease.
"My right hand. Correction: that WAS my right hand. Will have to rebuild it entirely after bringing secondary repair functions fully online. We may be here for a while."
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+8
[1d6 = 1] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair Tertiary System Reboot

>Examining the bright blue armor suit, it was composed of unusually flexible metal strands woven into a tight mesh, further protected by overlapping semi-rigid plates across all the joints.
>Sections that wouldn't be expected to move instead had solid, body conforming plating with some free movement, and was somewhat lighter than it appeared.
>A series of muted chirps echo in the chest cabin while you pull the jumpsuit styled armor on, which thankfully seemed to be capable of expanding at the neck to step into.
"No identifiable targets in range."
>Collapsing itself back down into a snug, though not constricting fit, right as you pull the shoulders over and wiggle them into place, you could feel the metal draining air temperature around it to comfortably cool.

>Noting flickers of bright blue lights outside, Wild's left hand comes into view holding a 3M in diameter pulsing sphere.
>An occasional orange or red spot appears internally, the external surface glossy and umarred.
"Core extraction successful, it seems to be undamaged.. and I have no idea what to do with it."
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Arcanum Sensory Array
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370064
370087
>>353885
>>370030
>Crossing through tangible reality through the Vortex, like you'd done hundreds of times was normal, for sure.
>But upon the various states of energy, matter, and vibration intertwined across layers that hadn't been experienced before, reconsolidating into a spectrum of solid thought, then translating back into your previous self.
>Save for the awareness there was vastly more than the minutiae of conscious physicality.. that was different.

*"What.. was that? E'eryone safe?"*
>Still cradling Hodch, now fully asleep, Katyal makes a slow, furious blink towards the operator's cabin.
"That's how Warp Gates function. Silverbitch made thousands. Taught the Dynasty how to as well. Natives say the process makes them more in tune with oneself. For ponies, their herd. If you aren't.. who cares, right."
[1d6 = 1] <Mindscape: Control Rage

>Running paralleled diagnostics on the unit, Shiibo places a slowly rising threat level level on the First Responder's facial expression becoming 'simmering rage'.
No interruptions or unusual activity. I am unaffected.

>Glancing around her, Dul stares up, down, peers at the troop compartment's corners, then back at the projections.
"Dul go through lots these gates. Dul feel like how Dul feel like."
[1d6 = 6] <Study
[1d6 = 4] <Planar Adapt: Tallus

>Eyes glinting briefly in your direction, Katyal points up with the left index finger.
"You good? And, how's it look out there?"
*"...big trees."*
"New Everfree has big trees, so what?"
*"Ya don't.. BIG trees."*
>Releasing a small sigh, the woman's eyes close hard.
"How big?"
*"Ever seen naval vessels?"*
"Yeah, been on a light cruiser, hospital ship, once. Why?"
*"...ever seen a battleship?"*
"Once. Again, why?"
*"..ever seen a livin', movin', breathin' mountain walk the fuck over a few hunnerd battleship sized trees s'tall Ah ain't even seein' stars without knockin' 'em flat?"*
>Settling for faint alarm, Katyal motions with her chin at Hodch's collection of items, muttering in a disbelieving tone.
"Absolutely full of shit, nothing that big exists. Pass me that yellow bracelet so I can get him in the room."
>Pausing briefly to squint, she sighs.
"Please."
Jeff
!!TGtxHBZnLs
8d0760e
?
No.370068
370082 370107
>>370046
>Jeff gives the General a wordless mental nod, to leave her to her commarend. Had she offered he'd take something off her hooves, but better he focuses on between piloting the Reaper and providing ground fire.

>Giving himself a shrug at Vestal ultimately lone-wolfing life, he pans over to whatever Emerald is faring with.
('She's in for a world of hurt's worth of training, if she can't make me break a sweat. Failure is the best teacher, in this case.')
>He says it confidently, as if he's already planning a regimen of CQB training for the poor woman.

>Okay, he'll admit... he's not the best AGM guider right now. He either air-balled or ricocheted ever one of them.
'Fuck sake these are harder to aim than I remember.'
>Better he uses the rest of his five-hundred pounders, and leave the six Hellfires for an emergency.
>Luckily he was within a bombing angle now, tight as it was, so he switches the Reaper back into manual and aims it toward the Rime cluster.
>He switches over to the last two Paveways and syncs them to the bombing laser. Through the camera, he notices he's going to buzz rigth over Clem in the Kiowa.
>>354707
('Clem, need you to side step. Dropping two Paveways right on top of the Rime.')
>While his friend wasn't in direct line of his bombing run, he didn't want to him catch any cast-off.
>As he comes into release range, he pans over the Rime cluster to pick out the two most target dense spots and locks the targeting laser for them.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]

('Incoming. Two bombs over the Rime.')
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (3+18) = 21]

[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19]

>Watching the two bombs drop and fall onto their intended targets through the aperture, the minefield in front of him begins going off.
>Looks like the Tainted finally made it into the trap range of the Basin.
>As a single lone seventy-ish foot mare breaks the line, Broken Hoof is right in its way to pull a move.
>Right after, a hefty volley of gunfire strikes the Tainted.
>It's only a matter of time before the Bloodhosts start joining in.
>Better time than ever to move back to a better spot.
>Jeff stows the Milkor back into its duffel with the other forty-mikes, and switches the Reaper back to its auto-orbit before packing up the control case.
>Case in left hand and duffel slung over his right shoulder, he start heading North through their forces.
('Repositioning back to the fountain.')
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
Dr_Juan_Carlos
!!TGtxHBZnLs
8d0760e
?
No.370070
370080
>>352403
>Carlos watches intently as Nova administers the potent doses of Restoration to a now unconscious Lejura.
"Buenas noches, seniorita."
>He will never not be fascinated by the complexities of alchemy. How a bottle of molten red liquid can replace what would otherwise be a lifetime of pain and suffering - even after medication, surgeries, and rehabilitation these wounds would still be felt for the rest of a person's lives.
>Minus arcane poisoning... can't forget the arcane poisoning.

>As the mare considers their resting patient, Carlos pulls out his own notepad and flips past the notes on Snakebite; mentally going over every action they've taken so far and making an update for Lejura for himself.
>Apart from discovering the minor heart attack and administering the over-dosing of restorative potions, Nova had her bases covered already. The Saddle Arabian should be in good hands and hoofs for now.
"Her wounds have been set, and the potions are doing their work. Update and monitor, for the time being. Let's an eye on how well she metabolizes that amount of Restoration in the hour."
>He sighs, already onto the next patient for them. He expected as much, going by the amount of occupied beds.
"Aye, si. Yes, let us move onto her next, rapida. Senior Snakebite's samples should be done soon. Hmm..."
>It seems both of them had a gap in their anatomical knowledge.
>Pred-elk was definitely outside of his area of expertise.
"Aidos mio, that makes me as well, Seniorita Nova. They are druidic in nature, si? Is there anyone in the Fortress that could lend us a hoof? Their creator?"
>Rubbing his chin is mild frustration at the circumstances, he gestures Nova to lead him to the Pred-Elk in question.
"At the very least let us gather as much data on the paciente as posible, before we lose the imaging spell."
Natilda
!EnJhCCu3Ns
a1ffce3
?
No.370071
370085
>>370062
"I will always be grateful that I cannot smell whatever it is you're doing to that thing."
>Whatever Anon calls it, I'm calling it a sharktopus.
"And yeah, once we're far enough away from both the shore and corpse I'll see about wishing for something heavier than my rifle."

>While I redress in the armor, I look over the map along with the mini-Wild.
>I could use my own mini me.
"We can always ask the ponies at the first outpost we're heading to. They might know if that one would."
>"Luckily its not out of the way."

>...
"At least you can reuse it. Maybe."
>Hopefully.
"As long as you can extract any useful things from that, we'd be sticking around for a few hours anyway. Anon said at minimum fifteen for it to start... disappearing."
>Luckily.

>Flexing a little to adjust to the new body conforming suit, I rolled my shoulders a few times.
"We're holding onto it. Anon mentioned that it was pretty damn rare, and that's always a good bargaining edge."
>Pause.
"Though you'd either need to carry it or fasten it to your body with some sort of 'rope' to keep from dragging it on the ground. Doubt that would be good for it."
Razorback Enclave: One (GIANT) Detour
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370072
370073
>>370058
>Spying the lower half of several rune covered plates and armor sections under debate, the sorceror's coin reaches out to inspect them.
>Confirmed not only as a uniquely half-crystallized palladine from early New Canterlot, each was a piece covered in ritual scribings dating back to the One Sun cult, founded in the 28,700's.
>What little Spiral knew was able to piece together from a small number of scattered records:
>Before the Lunar-Solar War began, approximately 180,000 ponies belonged to the secretive cult whom marely in Canterlot Underground suspected to have helped cause said war, among others including the Pegasi Leagues fracturing, which lead to the Pegasi Civil War.
>The abominable crimes One Sun committed against the Pegasi Leagues, various Lunar sub-factions, the Crystal Empire, Changeling Hive, but especially other Solars whom they deemed short-sighted, were not recorded in detail, though their punishmarent was.
>There was only one known outcome, that being the execution of individuals in a herd, one by one, committed by Princess Celestia herself, then utter disintegration of the remains.
>As for any belongings owned by One Sun adherents, the early Honor Guard willing performed the task of destroying their symbols, defacing iconography, shredding armor, destroying weapons, ripping apart enchantmarents, but took special enjoymarent in Moon-cursing objects used in rituals and ceremonies.
>The specific Solar Enforcer Armory that had been chosen by a Sunglobe copy was definitely the wrong one, though Spiral had no idea what the other five might contain; presumably one or two housed well maintained reliquaries with actual, usable equipmarent.
>Worse yet, those Cult of the Dark Horse mares would discover each excruciating detail recorded in a number of officially marked volumes on the table they hadn't yet touched... in six to ten business months.
>Which you calculated to be more anywhere from ten to twenty batpony years, even studious individuals such as them.

>Surprising most of the Lorekeepers with her charge, Naliyna's exoframe maintains the bright, attention grabbing exterior while passing into the northmost building alley.
>Most of the ponies quickly settle from the unexpected charge, though you notice the often bickering male Gryphon fearfully backing away, a fully white clad Minotaur bull assigned as his work buddy audibly ribbing him for hoping not to get suplexed by Amerose if he pissed off the trademare.
>Again.

>Far ahead, Naliyna slows to a quick trot, then a walk, lumbering around to check both sides of the interior intersection.
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Stalker's Eye
*"Notice anything out of the ordinary? If not I'll starting knocking."*
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
c9e0daa
?
No.370073
370089
>>370072
>While he wasn't privy to the exact runes and importance of the articles being inspected, he knew enough to leave them the fuck alone (for now).
>Poking and prodding rune covered items would be left for another, less important time.
>Right now he had to keep several paces behind Naliyna.
>Dwelling on the inventory before them would come later.

>Sticking close behind her during her charge, he would note, in a bit of amusement, that the Gryphon edged away before he could get run over.
>Undoubtedly, because he'd experienced such once or twice before.

>Reaching Naliyna again, Bubba would slow to a leisure walk, before stopping to glance around.
"One moment, might catch something you don't. And I can try any locked doors if you want to be a bit more subtle."
>As if she was the most subtle of horses in the moment.
[1d6 = 6] <M. Perception
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 3]
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
74f76c4
?
No.370079
370138
>>370033
>Mallia's outward expression seems to falter slightly--albeit only for a second, in Raindrop's direction. Unbeknowst to them, it isn't because of the knight--but to the information she was processing internally.
>Heeding the High Gothic from the Necron machine, and then the arguing between Witch-Two and Tox-11.
>And then, immediately after that, the transmission from Tracker as they respond to her question.

>What they tell her causes her to briefly consider this Marquis Du Spiral in a more negative light--the first reflex being to think that he had just abandoned them due to a lack of faith. Albeit only for a moment, shaking away such a simplistic assumption, while suppressing the dismay she feels from this information.
>The Machine God had not yet bestowed her with full comprehension.

(Daunting. Horrible. A stimulating challenge.)

>The Noospheric avatar of the Enginseer is static as it dwells on this information analytically. Eventually, she transmit a quick acknowledgement:
(I understand so far. But I will need more time to achieve comprehension...)
(I do hope I will get to meet them one day, they sound fascinating!)

>She pauses for the couple of nanocycles that it takes for the Tracker twins to be re-tasked, prompting her to likewise shift her attention back to reality.

>In the second or two all that communication took, Mallia's expression was softening again towards Raindrop Raspberry. Her smile brightening, and the look in the enginseer's lively green eyes twinkling with mirth as the mare described the flower's smell and taste.
>Their tendril-like utility mechadendrite, in the meantime, moving towards the arm bearing the Inquisitorial Auspex unit and begins to unsecure it from her arm using little manipulator claws with the same dexterity of her own fleshy hand while the Knight takes the flower.
>She notes the brief contact with that feather-tip on her fingers, head tilting slightly as she beams a little more with subtle interest...

>It takes a few seconds for Mallia to remove her gaze from the fascinating Free Knight before her.
>But she does when Raindrop begins expousing about the luxurious feast under her own nose.
>Mallia's eyes go to the food, widening slightly and hovering her gaze over the dishes as Raindrop highlights them.

>All the while the mechadendrite finishes unsecuring the Auspex unit and she holds her bracer as the tendril limb grabs it firmly and lifts it.

>Mallia's expression lingered in one of profound wonder, gaze lingering and eating the food with their eyes.
"Never thought I'd have such luxurious food available to me... Uhm,"
>Her mechadendrite holds the Auspex unit for a moment, pausing.
"I want to try the Charred Moors saphor-stalk! It's unknown to me, but I like the sound of it."
>Mallia's voice peaks a little with excitement, her eyes glinting like those of a child in a candy store.

>But then Mallia starts standing up and visibly winds up her mechadendrite to throw the Auspex Unit,
"--Okay, forgive me for a moment my machine spirit needs aid."

>The Enginseer swivels a bit to look towards the wall away from the Free Knight, and winds her body--taking a second to visually calculate the angle and velocity using her MIU and Micro-cogitator so that it hits the correct surface to successfully perform the task,

(++Initialise category two percussive maintenance protocol++)
(By the will of the Deus Mechanicus, render unto this mechanism the Litany of Percussive Maintenance:)
(Hurl the mechanism with divine vigor!)

>And then full-force throws the Auspex at the wall with the mechadendrite. Transmitting prayer through binaric channels through her MIU.

(Call to the Omnissiah, so that it may grant to us: alignment!)
(Call to the Motive Force, so that it may grant to us: connection!)
(Machine spirit, grant unto us: function!)"

[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <M. Tech Use + E. Machine Link + CQ. MIU
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Utility Mechadendrite

>Then, after the THUD of the device slamming the wall, lingers to assess success or failure of the ritual.

"By the way, the flower? Not a hard find this time--some of them just kind of conveniently spawned in one of our forges when we came back, no idea how exactly yet..."
>Mallia talks in the meantime, casually, to avoid the onset of awkwardness
>And even quarter-turns her head a little to flash a small, warm smile back at the Free Knight,
"I should make you a whole bouquet of them!~"
Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370080
371091 371102
>>370070
"To be honest I was, and still am, terrified. I have never, at least not that I can remember, willingly overdosed somepony even for valid reasons. Prescribed, yes, performed, no. I shou-"
>Catching herself with a serious effort before passing out again, Nova takes a deep inhale, face scrunched mightily while rebalancing on the float-cloud.
"Barely felt that one happening. Should perform complete physicals on all injured patients in the future."
>Setting herself down to clack on tile, the Ward's ears rotate several times, pulling the diagnostic disc to her with a short hum.
"Agreed. There is a minor risk of.. no, she ate an entire platter earlier. I will check every half hour, if I am not asleep, to be sure she does not vomit. Or drool on the pillows again."
>Spinning about to glance up at the ceiling, Carlos hears a short depressurization sequence, Nova sliding forwards to nudge the heavy door open
"Yes, but to what or which extent I have no experience with idea. The Crystal Empire.. may or may not have banned all Lunar Druids. For reasons that I did not inquire about. Which may have been a mistake in hindsight. As for whom reshaped and guided them that would be Old Horn, rather strange for a Druid, more so for a Minotaur. But if you meant which specific facet of Nature created them-"

>Not all that deep underground, and not so far away, Lin cackles madly in triumph, clacking her beak with a hate-filled stare at the steel box's contents spread out before her.
"Oooohohoho, you can't trick me with these awful decorations! I know exactly how to make her SUFFER! And ALL of THEM too! ..admittedly there's only three, BUT STILL! Gonna cover these in sticky flower seeds, put the thingies back, and they'll do every last bit of my work in spreading nectar around THE ENTIRE WORLD! Magic and manesy are the same thing, you fool! And others!"

>Blinking twice, quickly, Nova lifts a hoof up in a 'maybe' motion, continuing to the trio of Pred-Elk on clinic beds.
"Half of the time that is an excellent idea, the other half it is awful. It will be best to exam them first. Astral is-"
>Leaping up and onto the first bed, Nova double checking their hooves, then faces, pointing at cow without visible injuries.
"This one, and I was wrong. Astral Poinsettia seems to have burned herself out before, during, or after the Construct's arrival. Brume Gale's horn was shattered off at the skull, it was Sparking Fleur that had spinal fractures."
>Motioning towards the next two, Brume's head was covered in bandages, the second lying on her side, a clear immobilizing spell keeping the cow from moving, Nova then peers at the disc in front of her.
"As for this, I have zero clues why it remains intact. Tipper could only create one for ten minutes at most before dissipation. At current it is-"
>Checking her internal clock with a short pause, Nova frowns deeply as she waves it around with her hoof.
"Over one hour and fifty minutes, yet still completely functional. Regardless, I believe all Astral needs is a good night's rest. Fleur will be first as her injuries are severe."
>Floating herself over to the immobilized Copper Pred-Elk, though remaining on the cloud, the carnelian Ward's eyes align the diagnostic spell in place over her central spine, allowing Carlos to see... no noteworthy injuries.
>Severely taken aback, Nova stares across the upper and lower spine, then back to the central vertebrae, pointing out minuscule hairline fractures, along with moderate tendon and muscle tears.
>Glancing up to examine Brume Gale briefly, then orienting the disc in the cow's direction, she places it back over Fleur, expression dumbfounded.
"Sparking Fleur most definitely had eight or nine fractured vertebrae when I checked her in, and Brume Gale's horn was shattered off entirely, but n-"

"She will REGRET the day my creations were called too sweet to devour! And then ALL OF THE REST WILL SUFFER UNKNOWABLE WRATH! .....waaaiiiit. Did I turn their water faucets off before leaving?"

"-ow there are only partial indications of the trauma I am fairly sure were written down. Checking-"
>Lifting a notepad off the bed table and rapidly scanning each line, the hybrid's face twists from confusion to still confused curiosity.
"I did. Brume Gale: head trauma, concussion, shattered antler, slurred speech, vertigo, nausea, possible eye damage, moderate but non-threatening bleeding. Sparking Fleur: numerous vertebral and rib fractures, major tendon damage, severe muscle tears, minor non-threatening internal bleeding. Perhaps.. they are able to self-recover when sleeping, some of the Lunar-aligned Druids were recorded as capable of such. Would you examine Sparking for me? I need to contact my dam-"
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <M.Casting: Auric Search
Clemency
!.BxecfigoM
aab530d
?
No.370082
370111
>>370042
>Taking a deep breath, Clemency takes a mental note of the Kiowa's performance tries to adjust
>"Come on girl, work with me!"
>Bringing the Kiowa to a hold towards the Rime cluster, he spots the Paveways launched by the Reaper impacting
>Clem also sees how they impacted, mostly splashing around the Generals with one being a good hit
>As he lines up another strafing run, he hears the Guillotine's report
>Two minutes before reactors are depleted
>As much as he wants the warship to stay, it sounded like it has one more volley in it
>Clemency chimes into his headset to the Guillotine
*"Guillotine, release one more volley then save the energy for point defense. I don't know how the reactors work for your weapons, but if you need to leave the combat area, do so."*
>He starts to move the Kiowa over the Rime cluster but Jeff's message reached him before he got to far above
>>370068
('Copy, repositioning.)
>Peeling away from him flight path, he then flies towards the Basin center
>Once he's over Razorback lines, he swings the helicopter around to face the horde
>Still not slowing down, he watches as pickets of explosions goes off in their ranks
>"They reached the minefield..."
>The lines below him light up small arms fire alongside magical artillery
>Seeing the battle close to coming to its head, Clemency stabilizes the helicopter and prepares to fire at the advancing horde
>Once spotting the most clustered Tainted, he let's loose with every weapon system
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370085
370103
>>370071
"I can't smell anything. What's it like?"
>The wind shifts from flowing south to north, letting you catch a second whiff of the earlier stench with such timing that it had to be planned.
>Probably best not to tempt That Alicorn more than she already has been.
"Understood.. I rather like the idea of mines covering my hull. Preferably fist sized if not larger."
>Taking a heavy step forwards to access what was left of the Rilvenni's rapidly depleting corpse, the ruined screen in front of you is neatly dismantled into pieces which are quickly directed outside.
"Acceptable. Trade goods will be necessary before arrival. I will produce one variant of each type after critical, severe, and major repairs are completed."

>Bending forwards... a resounding ping that most certainly didn't belong occurs somewhere above the chest cabin.
"I DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING! THAT NODE EXPLODED OFF THE HOUSING BEFORE I HAD A CHANCE TO INSPECT IT! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME!? Also: full restoration will take approximately twenty minutes, but I WILL get one of those damned repair nodes online, one way or another."
>On the left screen, cartoon Wild curls into a nervously twitching ball while the eight tendrils outside collect the ruined hand, lifting it up for inspection.
"Planar water elemental essences have been collected and stored in three previously empty containers. Crudely. It may require refining to be of use. The remainder will be converted into Tryptaran mass, although you could try the tongue."
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+8
[1d6 = 1] <Backup Grade 1 Auto-Repair System Reboot

>Rolling the sphere several times in her palm, mini-Wild's lone optic peeks out from behind her hands.
"Contents: unknown elemental waveforms and an unknown form of high energy containing liquid. Planar water signature is minimal at this range, I will require significant sensor improvements. Value... cannot be estimated. Potential uses: unknown. Attempting to cross-reference-"
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3
"It can be safely stored in what remains of the cockpit. There is enough of the cowprint seat remaining, however I do not think it can be easily damaged."
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370087
370166
>>370064
>A riotous blend of sensations sift through his being, separating every layer of his perception before snapping him back together.
>A strange blend between the feeling of a sensory isolation pod and a neural graft clamp at the same time.
(... Unusual.)

>Thankfully he was already sitting and bracing his arms against his knees, or else he may have stumbled slightly from the jarring travelling effect.
>He clenches and relaxes his fingers a few times as Lonestar and Katyal speak.
(No need for "tuning with oneself" every time I use a warp gate. I will only ever be me.)
>His eyes flick towards the warning Shiibo applied, blinking in recognition. As Katyal glances at him, he replies:
"I am still myself."
>Staring at Katyal for a few seconds, his brow furrows as he notes the rising threat level matching the clear antipathy manifesting in her expression. He speaks to Shiibo:
"Katyal may have an extreme negative history with Silver. Keeping note."

>Hearing Lonestar's concerned and incredulous tone, he moves to stand and turns off the projector module on his helmet.
>Looking behind him, he picks out the bracelet Katyal requested and passes it off to her as he walks towards the cockpit compartment.
"It's unlikely to be an exaggeration. Mega fauna will need to be avoided."

>Continuing to move across the loading bay of the APC, he asks:
"Will the megafauna hinder our progress to the target location?"
'Doc Feelgood' Gambacci
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370088
370167
>349303
>I grunted as I looked up to the green man looking down at him.
>I spat the cigarette to the side, raising my hand up to him.
"Sure, hell, why not. Offer a dead man his last smoke. And I'm glad that I could divert expectations so thoroughly."
>Maybe I could change my name or something?
>Nah, she's got my scent.
>They all do, really.
>And it's not like I -don't- want to still see Pella or something like that but...
>Ugh, I'm so bad with this type of stuff.
"Did I fuck up, man? Like, well and truly, all encompassing, full blown -disaster- level of screwup?"
>I fell silent, looking up to the man with all seriousness in my eyes.
"...also, thanks. It was a gift. Technically, from you. No, wait, that was the gaudy music player."
Razorback Enclave: One (GIANT) Detour
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370089
370174
>>370073
>Failing to match Nalinya's pace and forced to jog, you do get a number of friendly hoof and wing waves.. except for one.
>That Village mare definitely had intentions towards humans that should only be detailed in thin graphic novels, possibly a series.
>Or willingly, out of sight, AND not in the Fortress.

*"Oh, that? Naaaaaah, I was taking a test run. Literally, of course! Y'know, gotta crystalwork out all the odd problems like two weave strands that aren't matching my stride perfectly, or a damned PLATE that keeps rubbing my te- er, 'certain things' the wrong way. Could've sworn I told both Techmarecers to remove it sometime before the last damned patches were installed-"*
>Emitting a half-serious snicker, Nalinya's exoframe twists back and forth in vigorous shaking motions until you pass between the central Enclave Armory buildings.
*"Only locks in these rooms are magic made. And a couple blood magic something-or-others but haven't seen them the few times I've visited Amerose."*

>Checking the few Lorekeepers in sight, Naliyna's actions had visibly sent potential infiltrators for a loop, which would have forced them into either being noticed or attempting to ditch their orders by now.
>The sharply compressed dome behind the Enclave's exterior buildings was clear of obstructions and would be virtually impossible to eavesdrop from, whether magical, electronic, or otherwise.
>The soul glyph reaches outwards, sampling individual moods and intentions, none of which were still alarmed, suspicious, or hostile.
>Except for the Gryphon's accusatory squawking, which felt well deserved after hearing his damned poetic way of talking.
>Not only was the Enclave's interior clear, those Lorekeepers here would fight to the death, and a little beyond, to ensure Razorback's safety.
>North of you, however, was an abjectly different, less conciliatory mind:
>Ruling Councilierge Stream Lark, number unknown.
>Fully awake, bitterly aware, and edging closer to a berserk rage with each passing minute, though was forcefully kept in check by an excruciatingly despised Seal of the Empress, preventing him both from dying unnaturally or taking actions that would be construed as causing self harm.

>Returning to brutal seriousness, Naliyna taps the edge of a hoofboot on the floor in a melodic pattern.
>A section of the northern face ripples apart after three seconds, exposing a dark, 4M tall, 6M wide oval tunnel leading further in, the crystalline exoframe dimming as she quietly steps inside.
*"This wall rephases back into realspace two seconds after entering, so do NOT stop until you're at least five steps in."*
>Entering a near-power walking speed, halts after ten seconds, poking her head through another illusionary wall, Amerose's voice briefly speaking in low, harsh tones, Naliyna responding firmly.
"That's not what I'm here for. No, I will bet my life Bubba isn't going to cause harm either. We've got way too many and marely questions to ask a certain black earth stallion."
>Head turning back towards you, the exoframe's helmet lifts while she speaks in a quick, clipped marener.
*"Amerose, Stream Lark, at least thirty Crystal Knights, probably more in the side rooms, can't tell. No Kingdom aligned, all Imperials. Say you will not intentionally cause Lark any harm out loud."*
Anonymous
c5b0809
?
No.370090
>>349303 →
Natilda
!EnJhCCu3Ns
c9e0daa
?
No.370103
370178
>>370085
"Be glad you can. It probably smelled better underwater."
>Eugh.
"I.. wouldn't think that mines are the best idea. I've... heard about something called 'ERA' that might be better for you, and it should function similarly?"
>Armor technology in my future is weird, apparently.

>I don't want to know what that was, yet at the same time I do.
"Wild... I have half a hunch that you might be cursed. It would explain the repairs are so... delayed, to put it lightly."
>Among other things, really.
"I do not wish to try the tongue, thank you."
>I had enough of an eyeful of that thing through the viewscreens.

"I'd rather not take that chance, to be honest. With your luck today."
>Looking at the mini-Wild, I offered a small smile as she looked up.
"Things can only come up from here. We killed something deadly and saved thousands of lives without knowing it."
The L.O.N.T
!!PYsGb3YilI
bfdf04e
?
No.370105
370114
1394553114173.gif
Master M.o.S: +2 for 1 turns to combat, adds two extra rolls for combat

>>370040
>There are humans in Stalliongrad, since when? He thought to himself.
>Lont did not respond, though his new limbs did twitch at Vestal' focus on him for a moment. He was done. Too much stuff has happened, and still happening. To himself, Razorback and the world at large.
>All within a timespan too short for his liking. He felt mentally numb at this point. The ground beneath him could crack open revealing that Tallus was one giant chocolate easter egg and he would not bat an eye at that point...

>He was about to fire off more rounds when he heard Gardenia's order to wait, so like a worn down automaton he did so.
>Watching the piles of pony bodies pile higher and higher made his newly formed wings sink lower and lower, pinions getting dirty on the ramparts. He turned his focus to the designated Tainted, if they can put her down it would make so many deaths worth it in the end.
>So with a wry smile he thought aloud to Razorback.
('You heard the Mare, ladies and gentlemen. Do what we do best, and give that Tainted one hell of a headache.')
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] >U.Punmancy +P.L

>Lont watched as Broken Hoof assaulted the towering Tainted as he waited. As he looked upon the doomed mare he felt something swell inside him. A swirl of emotions bubbling away under the morass of tiredness that had settled over him like a cloak. There was a growing need to do something, to help her.
>But when?

>>370046
>He snapped back to reality when Vestals' commarending voice rattled through his head. He aimed high as told, targeting the Tainted' head.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >E.Perception +P.L
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] >Thermal
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]

[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #1/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370106
370133
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 6 turns.

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9qjVj__dlE

>>370053
>Settling into an immediate four-point run between piles of Constructs and Moor felines, the quickest way you could think of was the steeper high stairwells winding around the Arena's false external wall, the outermost leading directly to the roof.
>Clearing the northern entrance's short flight of stairs in two beats and cutting inwards to the right, you pass through the hulls of numerous tiny and small Constructs, encountering nothing solid.
>Racing up the outermost staircase heading directly east, what appeared to be darkening blood, orange liquid, kanpri shards, and pieces of machinery coating nearly everything was likewise intangible.
>Encountering taller stairs halfway up and powering over them, you encounter a tight switchback, retaining enough momarentum to rebound off in a blind jump, after which you exit onto the Arena's open top half-roof at less than half maximum velocity, now facing west.

>Directly ahead and across the Arena's roof gap, a second trio of rippling orange, spike-covered tendrils smash down into exiting Constructs, this time 10 Scout-Support long range units, nearly flattening them atop the savaged, yet still firing, hulls of the previously exited 8 Dominator models.
[1d6+50 = (5+50) = 55] <Grand Riftdrowner Section #1
[1d6+50 = (4+50) = 54] <Grand Riftdrowner Section #2

>On the western gap, Nibbles gestures for the smallest Moor felines into tearing apart the Standard Scout models, then directing all the remainder around the Arena to overwhelm the savaged, crumbling line of Scout and Repair units before they could be reinforced.
>Leaping up and over the Arena's exterior walls was a new sight: ten nearly horse-sized felines covered in archaic leaf scale armor, claws longer than your legs flashing Void-imbued kanpri as they shred into the nearest models, a few dragging Constructs off the sides.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Heroine of the Moors, Rakingbay AKA 'Nibbles': Tactical Repositioning
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24] <Minor Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <Lesser Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Major Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+20 = (2+20) = 22] <Unknown Moor Cat Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Construct Repair Minoris Models
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Construct Repair Standard Models
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Construct Minoris Scout Models
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Construct Standard Scout Models
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Construct Dominator Standard Models
>Still incapable of joining combat due to sheer numbers of far lesser Constructs that would suffer friendly fire, the impressively massive Argus duo remain stationary, either defending the gateway's sides, or something else entirely.
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Planetary Invasion Argus Behemoth-Destroy Pair: ?????

>Slipping in and out of Void spectrums at a dangerously high rate, Mercy performs a tight spiral around the quarter-finished gateway's southern post, wingblades leaving blazing pink trails behind her and coating the orange pseudo-metal with spreading cloud shaped patterns.
>A second pair of snapping particle whips are launched into the northern section, attempting to draw the gigantic Repair model's attention from her.
>Rotating their positions briefly to better cover the gateway, the Argus Behemoth-Destroy pair were definitely studying the Spirit Walker's actions yet hadn't so much as bothered to initiate scans.
>Mercy: 6 turns of Enrage remaining
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <E.Assault
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <B.Ambush Assault
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6 = 2] <Spectrum Dive: Opposing
>Six sets of spindly, quadruple nanolathing arms from the massive Repair model twitch spastically across the gateway's surface, attempting to remove the stubborn particle whips lodged into orange material.. which were starting to burn in eye searing, pink-white hot patterns.
[1d6-1 = (3-1) = 2] <Gateway Repair
[1d6 = 4] <Gateway Progress
Large Rift Gate: 26% Complete
[1d6 = 2] <Construct Force Number
[1d6 = 2] <Construct Force Size
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370107
370133 370191
('Seven minutes thirty seconds until Shattering Skies re-enters atmosphere-’)

>>370068
>Calculating bombing trajectories as the strike drone enters a zero-maneuvering point, you note the central most frozen Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted were tightly packed together, all but one of the gold or kanpri trimmed Generals solidly frozen.
>Picking two optimal locations, a window on screen flashes confirmation, the Reaper and view jolting upwards upon payload release.
>Unable to hear much from the drone's point of view outside reality-cracking weapons, as you reorient back onto the Rime clustered a pair of heavy detonations are witnessed:
>The first Paveway falls northwest and high, smashing into and through a pair of Tainted frozen together, gleams of shrapnel barely visible as they exit into the surrounding group, though the explosion virtually disintegrates the pair.
>The second Paveway lands further east and south than expected.. directly into the Rime cluster's heart.
>Ultra deep blue-cold crystals fan upwards and outwards into the surrounding ranks, small chunks of steel casing embedded into newly flash-frozen Tainted around the center.
The Lost Legions: -50,140 of 285,678 Morale

>Checking the Reaper's status and weight, it would need to either swing out a mile and bank for another pass, or slow into a tight banking run, then dive a short distance.

>Near fully stopping the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's charge, Broken Hoof clings to the physically solid mare's snout, wrenching herself forwards and tearing up towards the eyes, streaks of vapor and violated Elemarentals mixing together in a gruesome visage.
The Lost Legions: -52,227 of 285,678 Morale
('That which was born neither living nor dead is rarely able to kill that which is no longer living nor dead, thus which of us has a single right to exist, ancestral sister?')
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <M.Assault
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6 = 2] <Anti
[1d6 = 5] <Bane
>vs:
[1d100 = 35] <Soulburn

('This trap is set, spring it-')
>Slowed to a bare walk, four Lunar Assault forms forcefully squeeze by the lead Tainted attempting to shake Broken Hoof free, which the closest mixed Lancers and Chargers take full advantage of:
>Lances held at a strict 60 degree angle, the two closest ranks of Day, Lunar, Night, and Watch Guard surrounding the Basin's southern buildings wordlessly storm forwards, long gleaming weapons plunging directly into Tainted legs-
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <First Lancer Charge x 200 total
>Two full ranks of Chargers immediately seize the opportunity, rushing forwards to leap onto Lancer saddles, springboarding themselves in an attempt to hook and drag themselves up with hoofclaws and blades-
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24] <First Charger Wave x 200 total

('Hail of Glory has lost half of all ablative armor and point defenses aren't slowing the targets, risking every weapon on point blank overloads-')
[1d6+66 = (5+66) = 71] <Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Point Blank Vectors Locked
[1d6+28 = (3+28) = 31] <Main Tech-Archane Aramaments OVERLOAD
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments OVERLOAD
[1d6+25 = (5+25) = 30] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems OVERLOAD
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Realspace Drive Stabilizer
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Weapon Stabilizers, Point Blank

The Lost Legions: -51.559 of 285,678 Morale

>Searing Void lances ripple across Basin Village's airspace, nearly turning the entire town pitch black as over four and a half battleline's of unicorns punishing the Lunar Airstrike Division attempting to wrest control of the sky away from the East Ocean Moors Militia batponies-
('Damn it all! How marely of those fizzled out or did nothing?! All unicorns, one more set of Void Lances then switch to any other Elemarent, we cannot risk an infestation or worse occurring!')
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] East Ocean Moors Militia x 97 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+12 = (1+12) = 13] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>vs:
[1d6+49 = (4+49) = 53] <Lunar Airstrike Division

>The Lost Legions: -143,524 of 285,678 Morale

>To the north, painfilly loud cracks resonate, accompaneighed by shrieking wind and stone shattering blows-
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Spears
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25]
>vs:
[1d6+39 = (2+39) = 41] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+39 = (6+39) = 45]
[1d6+39 = (4+39) = 43]
[1d6+39 = (2+39) = 41]
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]

Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, INSIDE BASIN VILLAGE
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @ 13 Speed, STALLED AROUND BASIN VILLAGE
Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, GAINING CONTROL OF BASIN VILLAGE AIRSPACE
Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division, 410M east of Basin Village
Budieca and Hospitality
The GM L.O.N.T
!!PYsGb3YilI
bfdf04e
?
No.370109
>>353886

>With a curt nod the Warlord of the Vale turned towards the door, which was wordlessly opened by Budieca. At this a blast of frigid air and speckles of snow intruded into the warm haven.
>Beyond the doorframe there was the familiar swirling snow. After a short distance the white landscape disappeared into the icy blackness of night, though, with the squint of her eyes Sand Cutter made out the obscured figures of several Gryphons that stood in a perimeter around the entrance to the tower.
>Both Gryphonesses were well insulated to the harsh weather outside the tower, Sand Cutter sadly wasn't. And as the cold spread further inside the circular room its icy touch forced spasms out of the poor mare.
>Thankfully it was a brief unpleasant affair, and when Budieca closed the heavy door behind Ri'Vahz, a reassuring *THUNK* was heard. Indicating it was now locked and no more of the terrible biting cold will enter this night.
>The snowflakes had all melted away, leaving behind droplets on the floor.

>Fully turning around Sand Cutter saw that Budieca's beaked face was covered in snow. The catbird blinked a couple of times before shaking her head like a Diamond Dog, throwing off snow everywhere. Thankfully none landing nowhere near the pony.
"I see. You truly have experienced much. Please give yourself as much rest as needed as by the time you awake tomorrow I'll have some hot breakfast for you and proper snow ware for a mare like you to wear."
>Budieca said, beaming at Sand Cutter as the mare laid herself down.

>The Gryphoness made for the stairs, deciding to leave the fire to consume the rest of the wood and smoulder out for the rest of the night.
>Halfway up though Budieca paused. She craned her head down to look upon the scarred pony laying on her floor.
"Don't feel like you need to rush when you wake up tomorrow, and if anybird does so I will bite their head off!"
>Budieca promised with a trilling laugh before disappearing completely out of view.

>Sand Cutter heard her Hosts' paw-falls coming from the ceiling above. There was commotion, talking, wood creaking, a surprised squawk followed by purring. A lot of purring.
>This eventually ended.
>So too did the dancing flames of the fire, yet the warmth remained as a deep orange glow emanated from with the pile of ash.
Basin Village: The Lost Legions #3/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370111
370115 370133 370196
>>370082
>Struggling against the barely familiar controls and pressure differentials starting to cause airframe lag, it was apparent the Kiowa had not been prepared to operate in 100% humidity.
>Retaining enough control on the flight stick forces you to ease off committing to sharp maneuvers, though you do eventually gain the upper hand during the first wide banking swing.
>Crisply pitching a quarter nose down and slide-rotating into place well above the Lunar Airstrike Division now controlling most of the Basin's airspace, as you settle targeting solutions down onto Assault Tainted, the electronic warfare console in the passenger-operator's seat beeps. Loudly.
>The chaingun's thrilling chatter is interrupted by quick Hydra launches, followed on by Hellfires streaking towards the now stuck mob of Tainted surrounding the Basin's southern entrance.
>Packed together as they were, tremendous amounts of shrapnel tear through multiple ranks, only stopped by solid Basin walls or yet more Tainted attempting to force their way through.
The Lost Legions: -144,804 of 285,678 Morale

>The Moors clouds and fog banks once again become a blistering rave show, fantastic displays of opposing weaponry slamming into Lunar Assault and the few Solar Tainted charging towards Basin Village's southern entrance.
The Lost Legions: -148,062 of 285,678 Morale

>Far ahead, Guillotine performs a breathtaking end-over-end aerial roll allowing each weapon to briefly cool in the damp air, then skews directly south in a hard burn, pinpricks of exotic fractal colors emitting from what might be square vectored engines.
*"Mineself cannae leavest bondsae duty unmet ye grace, but willst escape when mine reactors aflutter dry-"*
>Pitching nose-down in a rapid maneuver, unleashing volleys of weapons fire shearing across the incoming Solar Guardian Assault ranks.
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,503/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (1+24) = 25] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (4+17) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (2+16) = 18]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25]
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems

>The unmistakable roar-scream of completely destabilized energy containing lattices boom out across the Basin's eastern swamps, followed by insane secondary detonations from scores of focusing prisms turning into uncontrolled mass reactive arcane-fusion bombs.
('FUCK EVERYTHING BELOW THE UNCOUNTED WAVES! Half the Starside front bow, supports, and spare main weapons are gone! ..entire forward crew is in shock, second and third Astral Medics get out there! Guildmares, blow out the cargo holds, that salvage can be retrieved later! I'll dig a hole straight to Tartarus than let this ship sink after all our efforts-')
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Primary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Secondary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Tertiary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Forward Damage Teams
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Central Damage Teams
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Starside Damage Teams
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <Moonside Damage Teams
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <Primary Germaneighan Guildmare Close-Range Teleports
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Secondary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Arcane Point Defense Systems
Basin Village: The Lost Legions #4/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370114
370133 370143
>>370105
>Far in the distance you could see another line of expulsed, this time arcing higher than before.
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Solar Guardian Support Division: Spectral Lances
Solar Guardian Support Division, holding @ 200M south of Basin Village

>Directly ahead, tracers mix with the rare few rocket-assisted grenades, rockets, and direct-fire mortars streaking into the three Lunar Assault Tainted clogging Basin Village's southern entrance.
>Most of the weapons fire misses Broken Hoof and the various military Chargers viciously climbing the Tainted; the few ricochets and a scant armor penetrations weren't impacting their performarence.
The Lost Legions: 153,614 of 285,678 Morale

>Adding the Spiker's own brand of pandemonium, you were left scrambling to reload after the first shot, fumbling in an additional pair of shells while someone to the right shoots you a questioning glance.
>Definitely not an Operator you were familiar with judging by the odd highland winter-desert camo .
The Lost Legions: 153,720 of 285,678 Morale

>210 Spectral lances crash down into the mixed ranks of Lancers and Chargers, the remainder diffusing harmlessly even as reinforcemarents streaming in from behind to fill in gaps, though you notice a few ponies glancing down at the armored bodies they were standing atop.

"Don't hit our allies you fucking morons!"
>Taking up the firing line once more after rapid reloads and a few barrel switches, one of the older Operators lifts a hand-
"Aim ABOVE the Chargers, not around! Chest, throat, or head only! Find your targets people, let's do this all at once! Hold.. FIRE!"
>Dropping his hand and raising a beefy .45 Magnum, the thump of shotguns, revolvers, and semiauto pistols is heard first, every combat and battle rifle quickly adds to the chaotic tune.
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (3+21) = 24] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (4+25) = 29] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (6+29) = 35] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total

>A trio of Razorback's younger 100 pause amid the nonstop cracking of submachine guns, lights and heavies throwing cases everywhere.
"Knock knock!"
>Appearing in the right Tainted's chest is a tiny dot that pulses red, brightens to white, then bursts outwards in a brief cascade of dawn's glow-
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Six Signs of Daylight
"Grab the hoofles-"
>Streaks in the shape of a minuscule flying drake ram itself into the left Lunar Assault Tainted's snout, detonating in realspace twisting colors-
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Chromatic Drake
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
"And throw 'em wide open!"
>Three human height raptor claws appear before the right Lunar Assault Tainted, slashing in at the legs and leaving streaks of ash in their wake-
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Pyrotic Talons
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]

('....yet another round of Silver's arbitrarily idiotic, needlessly costly experimarents survived. You should not have drank those.')

>Punching one of the few open translocation matrices into compliance and ducking in, an imposingly tall, wide, bright white-blue-green-pink figure wreathed in the scent of Empire Permafrost stomps a heavy cladded hoof down.
>Standing to its full height and taking another step forwards, four burning yellow eyes in the center of a bucket headed Ethereal Golem stare forwards.
>Reaching back to swing out a massive single bladed war axe in its left hand, then a much larger triangular shield in the right, all four of the Minor Champion's eyes blink, a rumbling, toneless crystalline 'voice' echoing from it.
"Hostiles identified: Moors Tainted. Classification: ...unknown. Status: fully equipped. Combat usefulness: low, moderate pending. Standard combat protocols: useless. Requesting additional support: failed, no Ethereal Plane gateways available at this time. Attempting emulation of known equine combat algorithms... integration successful. Commencing risk analysis vectors-"
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Ethereal Eye
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Fractal Risk Assessment
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Ethereal Data Records: Batpony Combat Forces
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Ethereal Data Records: The Moors, Tainted, Threat Index Maximum Priority
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Ethereal Data Records: Solar Combat Forces
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Ethereal Data Records: Lunar Combat Forces
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Ethereal Data Records: Stalliongrad Combat Forces
[1d6 = 4] <Ethereal Data Records: ...Humans?
[1d6 = 5] <Threat Index & Cross-Reference: ......Razorback Company?
"MAXIMUM PRIORITY TARGETS IDENTIFIED: HOSTILE MOORS TAINTED, THIS UNIT MUST ENGAGE! NATIVE EQUINES, CLEAR A PATH FOR THIS UNIT-"
>Rushing forwards, the axe is tightly gripped and slung backwards over the Golem's shoulder, bringing the shield to below its neck through the ranks of Chargers and Lancers sidestepping to create a path for the brazen Ethereal.
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <Protocol: Rush Them Down
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Protocol: Deflect Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]

('Councilierge Vanguard, new orders: keep all your eyes on that one. Silverine weapons with impact seals are the most effective at destroying solid Ethereals.')
>A cool, somehow familiar mid-40's stallion chimes in with an acidic chortle.
('Don't have to tell me that, General. Besides, that's not one of those that did us dirty and ran off during Kenfield, but what I wouldn't give to chip one of those deserving robot fucks to slagged pieces..')
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370115
>>370111
[1d43 = 1] <One Time Faction Support
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
3ba6194
?
No.370133
370542
>>370106
>Coming to a halt as she looked around for the relay, Sunny pondered why the constructs and other objects were intangible, or was she the one that was intangible.
>She hadn't shifted down into the underdark, and neither had anything else or she wouldn't be seeing them.
>No time to think about it.
>She cast a glance back down towards the destroyer pair, they were still inactive, and not even scanning. Some other construct model had to be observing everything and relaying the data to them. Best case was one or more scout models stationed out of the way, likely somewhere high with a good view of the whole arena. Unless those in orbit were capable of high resolution scanning at greater ranges than she assumed.
>Turning her head north, she caught sight of the relay and pushed herself back into motion, weaving over, under and around obstacles.

[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] < E. Sprint
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]

>>370107
>>370111
>>370114
Razorbat Fortress: The Hangar
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370138
370192
>>370079
>The image shifts to the pair glancing at each other, then shrugging in unison while trying not to laugh.
'Inquisitor Velasi once argued that the current situation as of three months prior could be much worse. We disagreed.. then she bit a power cell in half and used it to set a chair on fire. That point was instantly conceded to her and all objections permanently withdrawn. We would categorize right now as: strained, tenuous, before a breaking point but most are actively clawing ourselves up from the various ledges they were close to sliding or falling off.'
>Aiding his sister to 'stand', both face you, right hand on their chest making a raptor's sign, left behind their backs, the Tracker twins bow at the waist.
'We shall try ensure an informal meeting with one of the Princesses, when the opportunity arises. Such events are difficult to schedule, thus we ask your patience. Now we must ensure Tox-11 and Witch-Two do not datastrangle each other.'
>An awkward two nanocycles pass as the female giggles, her youthful tone eerie in a manner that was difficult to place, yet nonetheless familiar.
'Much!'

>Raspberry extends her left wing forwards, a set of matte black blades flicked out and around the first five feathers to poke at one of the rolls, grinning as she does so.
"Luxurious? Nah, this is basic for the Sea's Bounty. They love cooking almost as much as they enjoy sleeping the entire day, scavenging for treasure, racing each other, swimming.. or everything else they do, really. If I wanted the fancy platter it would've taken two hours to catch, prepare, and cook. Then another half hour for the fillies to argue over which spices go best on what."
>Lips pursing at the, probably, request, her eyes swivel upwards, then down.
"I'm not sure how it tastes when alone, but it's worth a try."
>Reaching out to pick up the small wooden cylinder between the flat of two blades, she sets it down on the side closest to you.
"No rush. This'll all stay hot for a while anyhow, there's a heatstone layered on the bottom and a coldstone under the bowl."
>Muzzle quirking a bit at the last few words, the neon red pegasus takes on an interested expression.
"Go ahead."

>Hurling the Auspex with near-maximum force, it makes a rather hearty thunk down onto steel plate.
>Catching an impenetrable labyrinth of code that seemed to be more like raw data, the Necron archaeo-sapience emits a resounding chime.
'This unit is not one of the lobotomized Machine-Spirits of the Imperium. Invoke not the Void Dragon so carelessly Enginseer, unless you are individually ready and willing to suffer its attention. Repair cycle analysis concluded: sufficient force utilized to correct defective component.'
'HIT IT AGAIN TO BE SU'
'witch, either you chill your ti'
>Blanketing out their frequencies, Tracker 'sighs' before returning to the somewhat enviable task of data sorting.

>Looking up at the hangar's retracted clamshell, Raindrop makes a 'sort of' motion with her right wing.
"Not surprising, New Everfree is well known for new fauna and flora appearing in odd places-"

"YOU ARE ALL DOOMED! DOOOOOOMED I SAAAAAAyyyy oh berryflowers, I DID leave the faucets on-"

"And there's only five forges here, well, technically six, but that one's broken or something, that I've seen. Got to watch some truly crazy plants and creatures in the uncharted and unexplored Wild Clouds when I was a bit younger. Compared to those underground flowers are interesting, but not all that odd."
>Eyebrows wiggling up and down precisely three times, the Free Knight's face creases with a mildly worrying smile, holding out her left front hoof.
"You do know that giving a full bouquet to a mare means you want to be her close friend, right? If that IS the case.. may I have another?"
>Ears twitching at a loud buzzing in open air to the west, the Free Knight's lips turn into a wavy S.
"Oh no, the Landmine Fairy's back. Jus-"

>A metallic blue and red streak dives down onto the floor, sounds of tiny steel shod hooves rapidly scramble for traction that were failing. Badly.
>Sliding around several times and smacking into the northernmost cabinet, the figure bounces up to stand, turning out to be a 1' tall pegasus covered in wet paint.
>Two slightly glowing sea green eyes blink, first at you, then at Raindrop, a hoof shakily lifting in greeting as the absolute squeakiest middle teenage female voice you've ever heard speaks.
"Sorry about that! I was trying to get away from a bunch of glowbugs, turns out all they wanted was eating my paint! I'll ha-"
>Hearing another buzz, the ultra-dwarf pegasus freezes, then dives upwards, wings flapping once before zipping out into the night sky.
>Doing her best not to snicker, Raindrop sits back to sigh in relief.
"That not-yet-a-mare's name is Floating Nettleberry. She found an old Dynasty emblem that cursed her to be, well, gallon size. She's friendly but always on a sugar high."
The L.O.N.T
!!PYsGb3YilI
bfdf04e
?
No.370143
370543
beyond saving.jpg
>>370114

>Lont followed trajectory of his slugs as they disappeared into the distance, then into the writhing masses of Tainted, along with all the other ordinances from his fellow humans that peppered their giant soul sucking enemies with lead.
>It wasn't keeping his spirits high.
>How could it not? He was fighting a foe he could not attack in melee and at distances that made his arsenal worthless to the cause. So he stopped loading his Spiker and cradled it in the nook of his arm.
>Wings flittered in place for a moment in mental agitation. These newly birthed wings barely carried him before on his first maiden flight, best they could do here is glide him straight to a Portal Matrice. To help him run away from the battlefield. A scenario he would never do willingly, not now.
>He had to accept the reality of the situation at hand.

>He was useless.

>A hand began to absentmindedly rummage across his person, going through all the pockets in search of an item, something of use somewhere hidden.
>While doing so he tracked the Ethereal as it made its way towards the Tainted, the sea of armoured ponies parting for it. He deduced the rest of the Crystal Empire forces were close behind.
>And also with the power of basic mathematics came to the conclusion there needs be more Ethereals to counter the Construct threat, let alone the Tainted.
>More Ethereals, more ponies, more humans and other outlandish things he has not seen before and may never see again. More firepower, more bodies.
Taking a Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370166
370168
>>370087
>Katyal's face tightens in slight expressions, side-eyeing the front while a single low pitched electronic crackle chimes in through the helmet, a tight beam channel opening briefly.
*"I can't be watching two people and a stallion that needs to be protected equally. Any time you aren't 'good', Lonestar starts acting in ways that you don't recognize, the Siren freaks out, or you sense something even slightly off, speak up so I won't be wasting time."*
>The link cuts off, Shiibo raising an eyebrow at the interruption.
'Four advanced communication implants.. significantly Post-Orbital Era. Type: gravitic. No ingrained behavioral patterns, indoctrination, or persona programming suspected. Her anger is not directed at or towards you specifically. External and vocal traits place her in the professional manhunter category: four phrasing indicators and one large scale macro-expression that she has killed humans before, possibly in large numbers, and does not find the act or process distasteful.'
>Nodding after a half-second and turning to a new set of readouts, Shiibo's avatar resizes to take up less space.
'Cross referencing the prototype's database shows thousands of high-level negative references towards the individual deemed Empress Silver. Over ninety percent border on the absurd. Correlations in progress, but I do not think she should be treated as a threat to you sir. Analysis of stress reaction based on known indicators; extensively positive and possibly reformative pro-equine cohabitation. Read that as she may not be or is incapable of hiding moods, expressions, and intentions. The prototype's advanced rulesets and working theories broadly classify her as a non-threat outside of extenuating or aggravated circumstances. I do not have enough data to rule in favor or against. Yet.'
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]

>Reaching out for the relic and taking it delicately with an appreciative nod, Katyal visibly fights not to grin, though her mood unexpectedly shifts into black professionalism, rapid left and right eye motions picked up by Shiibo indicating well trained memory recall.
"Thanks. Big plants I can deal with, especially the 'fun' types.. been in some huge forests before. If these are battleship size then fire, plasma, poison, acid, neutron, and exotics aren't an option, those will get noticed. Going around them is the real danger unless this thing's sensors scan out a mile out in every direction, sky, surface, and underground included, mega-forests like this hide perfect ambushes. Megafauna will be extra large, giant, or titan sized, pests included. Give me a sec-"
>Performing a series of slight, probable summoning motions using both hands, a dim, two-dimensional spheroid portal opens, lifting and placing the out cold Hodch inside using brute strength, though wasn't straining to do so.

>The operator compartment door swings open as you approach, exposing a wide, partially condensed combat holographic display on the driver's side, Lonestar glancing back with a set of ultra light, thin and clear earmuffs on.
"Answer's gonna be yes, if there's some and they's hostile. Got nothin' in vicinity fer two miles 'sides them trees, an'below surface scans only got fifty, hunnerd meters down. Nothin' so far. Got lotsa smaller plants in strips where sunlight comes down like we got 'round th'Fortress, none of 'em dangerous s'far as systems can tell. Kin'a like this place. Lil' miss, kin you tell what's aroun' us?"
>Taking a slow, deep sniff, Dul speaks in an audibly hesitant, focused tone.
"Trees here.. wild. Old-old-old trees. Not old-old-old-old wild like Old Everfree, but not young like old-old New Everfree. Trees like around human fortress home, young big ka. Trees here, huge ka like Specter boss, pretty white Gryphene, Twisted Wing. Trees not want hear us speak, not want speak to us. Long thinks. Slow thinks. They not hate Planar.. not like Otherworld. We not hurt trees, trees not hurt us."
>Silent for a few seconds, Lone's eyes shut tightly while trying to digest what the Siren had said.
"Right. No hurtin' trees then."
>Swiveling back around to motion at the display, the local area was mostly flatland similar to the area around Razorback Fortress, two notations shown in bright red at the top:
>The smallest tree in a 4.8 kilometer radius was barely 48M in diameter, 2,600M in height, and had an average branch spanning out 400M interwoven into dozens of layered canopies, while the largest was well over 900M around, but were much taller than the scanning system could measure.
>Tapping a small sequence of keys, the system attempts analysis and cross-referencing, returning multiple errors mixed with verifications.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
"Species unknown. Density's off th'chart: harder'n ironwood, tighter grain than anything Ah've seen before in th'Moors. Then there's-"
>Another tap produces 3D models of thoroughly unknown shrubs, bushes, grasses, and surface mushrooms ranging from 9M to 50M in strips between the gargantuan trees, while a single wide, flat, proto-archaic creeping fern dangled off a single branch 3KM south.
"And-"
>Shifting slightly, the older Operator mutters in a low, suspicious tone, sitting back and nodding at the display's eastern side.
"Kin rarely sense thangs in place or outta place, not like Mercy or Hodch. Somethin' or somethangs is out that way. Makes me feel like we jes' got tossed outta a house we was given to by someone that wasn't invited."
>One of the rear hatches opens, Katyal's boots making a single dull thud on the roof, Lonestar frowning as her figure kneels down on the OL-3's left side, then crouches down, both hands reaching out to rub a ball of static.
"She's a real wild card, huh. That's Nibbles, she been layin' on the roof staring that same way since we got 'ere. Yer thoughts?"
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Junior: Equestrian Arcane Magic
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]

[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Junior: Tallus, Megaflora
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Scouting
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
One Quiet Place.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370167
370173
>>370088
>Barely visible through plasma-tinged retinas, Anonymous reaches back into the gateway to pull out a rather plain metal folding chair, folding it out to sit on.
>Backwards, of course.
"Hah, you don't look like Kraut does right now, which is to say definitely a sack of minced burger, a few hundred new bones, and pieces that might once have been organs. When you start feeling that way, then you can worry."
>Reaching into the left side of his dinner vest to retrieve a thin cigarillo, he holds it out above you while grinning under the mask, obviously trying, and failing, to light it.
"This once, I don't have a single answer or piece of advice to offer."
>Theatrically giving up and reaching back in for a large match, striking it with his thumbnail, an invisible flame is held at at the tip before passing it down to you.
"Seeing the future's not something I can do worth a damn. Been proven wrong hundreds of times on bets that I figured were absolutely solid."
>Slouching forwards on the chair, Anon's head lifts, thinking deeply for ten seconds before speaking.
"Can say this much: Archmare Regoliche, lead Vigilite, called her entire Order together and summoned one of the Tower Guard's Master-Generals into their Mausoleum. Screamed bloody murder a few times and was threatening to execute said Master-General at noon. Master-General snapped back a line that shut 'em all up. They let her go without another word, then closed their doors after she pranced back to the Old Tower Keep. Both have recorded everything but aren't letting so much as a mouse fart in Stalliongrad without everypony knowing it. Two Councilierge broke their code of silence and are scrambling to replace translocation matrices. One went off radar a few hours ago, and four more can't be located."
>Shifting to place both hands on the sides of his head, the Third Gestalt seems to shrug.
"What you did or didn't do is about to be banned information everywhere. Rushya, Pongoalia, Las Pegasus, not even Equestria will know jack shit unless the Councilierge, Tower Guard, or Vigilites all start talking at once. Even that old ass Draconequis says as much. Tonight's being treated as if Stalliongrad didn't exist since dusk. Calm before the storm, eye of the storm, and aftermath are done with. Now? Who fucking knows what's next."
>Eyebrow raising under the mask, Anon snorts ruefully.
"You are the lighter, or so I thought. Welcome, but, just diamonds? For ponies that either shows off real high class or strutting one's wealth. Should've asked for a mix of all the valuable ones. Now, I'd give you a disc but it might melt. Or worse. Got any requests or do I sit here and possibly go blind while you go back to screaming at everything in general?"
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370168
370183
>>370166
>Pareidolia's brow raises slightly at the unexpected communication band being linked but otherwise remains neutral in body language.
"Understood."
>Making brief eye contact with Shiibo, he blinks in acknowledgement as he moves.
"I concur with the assessment. Operational accomodations for her biases do not seem to affect efficiency at this time."

>Stepping into the forward compartment, he reviews the displays and charts intently as Lonestar queries the others.
>He notes Dul's reply as he checks.
(Middling age forest. Hostile encounters possible. Not as high a threat level as the oldest regions. Knowledge of local flora/fauna limited.)
>At Lonestar's comment of unease towards the East, he scrutinizes the display for anything of note in that direction.
"Katyal may have a strong desire to protect ponies and concerns over potentially problematic squadmates and cohesion. Should be manageable so long as efficiency is maintained."
>Leaning closer to the display, he grips the shoulder of one of the driving seats.
"Assuming animal behavioral principles apply, if there is something there it is currently assessing our potential as a threat and as prey. That it hasn't engaged yet indicates it either uncertain of its success, not capable of engaging us yet at this range, or is uninterested. Preference should be given to avoiding conflict wherever possible. Spiral's retrieval may be time sensitive."

>His other gloved hand runs over the various grenades on his chest rigging.
(White phosphorous may be inadvised given potential damage to pines in the area... anti-flora options limited.)
'Doc Feelgood' Gambacci
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370173
370189
breathing noises.png
>>370167
>There was a wince and a grinding of my teeth as he recounted what apparently had happened to Kraut.
>It appeared I was severely out of the loop.
>Oh well, not like it -really- concerns me.
>Still, fuck, that's hard to hear.
"Still breathing, yeah, at least for the moment."
>I reached up and snagged the cigarillo, lighting it quickly.
>Nicotine helped with thoughts like these.
>Or, at least, the fulfilling of an addiction.
>And he doesn't have advice, which either means that either he hasn't seen it, or somehow caused a macrocosm of absolute bullshit the levels of which the CIA would blush and stammer in my presence of.
>Or profess their undying love and adoration for.
>Then, the man spoke on intel, the good stuff, right from the top shelf of 'fuck me' mountain.
>And then it was so much worse, but so much better than I ever understood.
>Like, holy shit, the amount of damage control was staggering.
>I fucked up a lot.
>A LOT.
>To the tune of the boogeymen that had been controlling a lot of shit against us basically just shit the bed in fear and alarm, running around to fix the massive gaping hole I just punted through Stalliongrad, and the world was collectively going to choose to actively -ignore- it.
>At least, so I would like to imagine.
>Given what happened, I think I'm going to hold onto that, lest I -actually- lose my mind and go insane.
"And I just set off the entire fucking powder keg. Or, at least, lit the fuse."
>I paused, looking up to the man.
"...can you get me to Razorback safely? After, you know, I stop looking like I chugged about fifty gallons of fluorescent paint."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370174
370195
>>370089
>Bubba firmly made a resolution to never be in the same room alone with that mare.
>Those weird comics the japanese made were not something he ever planned on becoming the protagonist of.
"Well that means I won't be able to use my lockpick set here, then."
>Shame, he hasn't had many opportunities to break and enter sneakily yet.

>Bubba's attention would idly keep itself focused on Nalinya as he listened to the Gryphon squawking away behind the two, and briefly on Lark's emotions.

>As she resumed moving, he'd swiftly follow behind her to ensure he wasn't introduced to the inside of a wall, before relaxing.
>Very slightly.
"I do not intend to intentionally cause Lark any harm."
>He would repeat clearly and firmly.
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (in The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370178
370187
>>370103
"My scent detection and analysis systems were destroyed after attempted exfiltration from the Construct Assault Lander. I will have to restore my eye first, it is currently functioning at less than thirty percent efficiency."
>Placing the Rilvenni's core in what remained of her head unit cockpit with the unique noise of wet cowprint seat compressing, Wild emits a short beep.
"That either means the Explosive-Reactive Armor system, the External Reactor Activation sequence, or the Extensive Research on.. that is strange, all further information on the third is listed as redacted. Has to be the first then. My currently functional secondary nodes contain limited data on that topic, Would need to bring my full mainframe in order to conduct research."
>What you did remember was the use of semi-dry mix concrete and cardboard spaced 'armor', which did work quite well on field refit T-28's... against 7MM to 10MM standard calibers.
>And added an extra two tons which often turned the ersatz T-28 "B" types into shitty but possibly useful pillboxes, or were turned into cheap mass coffins depending on the combat theater in question.

>On the left screen, mini-Wild's sole 'eye' compresses, obviously trying to squint, while her antennae twitch angrily, simulating equine ears.
"Your statement is correct. Of the past twenty-nine critical repairs I have attempted, all excluding three have failed catastrophically, or catastrophically failed. There is a 'tactic' That Which Cannot Be Named taught before allowing me to continue my duties as a transport. I was only to utilize it under desperate circumstances. The current situation qualifies given the.."
>Lifting her right arm back in view, several destroyed connections spark briefly.
"Extensive physical damage sustained. Attempting to initialize that process now, but it will take a minute to charge."
>Making a slightly annoyed beep, Wild stands upright, heavy materials above and left of you shifting while her repair tendrils disappear upwards.
"As I cannot preserve the tongue due to lacking refrigeration or freezing systems and I have restored my Tryptaran mass to forty-four-point-eight percent, the tongue will instead be converted in the next ten minutes."
>The tone wasn't accusatory, instead being somewhat disappointed.
>If somewhat felt like 'completely'.

"I have succeeded in isolating six of thirty plus waveforms and energetic responses from the Rilvenni's core. Mechanically speaking it could be utilized as an inefficient power source on a purely solid-state and limited electricity equipped machine. Magically speaking, it can be utilized to vastly empower Elemarental discharges by-"
>The Eldritch-Android's frame twitches, shaking the central cabin briefly.
"A minimal factor of ten and a theoretical maximum factor of thirty five. I was not redesigned to take advantage of nor equipped to utilize water Elemarentals. Further results will have to wait."

>Hearing a series of low hums above and below the chest cabin, the Wild caricature on screen freezes as it processes your thought processes, then nods after some measured thought.
"Agreed. This event has caused an exponentially positive shift: removing such a difficult to kill predator will drastically calm and embolden native equines, vastly improving their capabilities and capacities to harvest, collect, scavenge, and potentially explore previously hostile coastal regions. The moderate physical damage to my repairable body is less than one-millionth of one percent importance. ..I will need several minutes mom, attempting to restore all damaged nodes and system."
>Six sets of loud hums rise to an annoying pitch, then discharge as her external speakers blare accompanied by a sequence of explosive popping noises:
"I AM NOT REPAIRING MYSELF. INSTEAD, I WILL NOW BE REPLACING THE DEFECTIVE, FAULTY, AND PROBABLY STUPID COMPONENTS THAT I WAS REBORN WITH."
[1d6 = 5] <Primary Transport Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 4] <Complete Data Node Access Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <Damaged Electronic Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary Repair System Reboots
[1d6 = 6] <Internal Monitoring Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <How Well Does Gaslighting One's Self Really Work?
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communicatino
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370183
>>370168
>Twitching as reams of code appear in minuscule, the avatar makes an acknowledging nod.
'Katyal's individual volatility index should have precipitated five lethal assaults. At current she has displayed two poorly identified major stressors and five major; the latter function as a floating multiplier increasing in direct relation to equines, the former decreases in all other situations. You should have brought the prototype with us sir, there are unusual macro-expressions and vocal cues that I do not have comparisons of.'
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Scrolling through rapid pink micro-text, the advanced model closes them off, silent for a split-second before speaking abruptly.
'We were both wrong. She retains no selective or preconceived biases, and religious or cultural contamination vectors are zero. She has almost completely assimilated into a large native equine culture subset without.. failure.'
>Visibly surprised at her own words, the avatar waves one hand over a series of indices comparing random Operators to pre-transitional projected estimates:
>Excluding the FNG's and Rookies, all were spread fairly even across the 20% to 80% categories, individual photos listed next to character flaws, preferential cohabitation based on species, faction approval ratings, multi-species herd interactions, and certain other proclivities that more outgoing humans found appealing.
>...the last one to scroll, slowly, lists you in the lower 40%.
>Phrases such as 'lacks genuinely agreeable cultural and social interactions necessary to affirm at will contact', 'questionable cross-species communication methods', 'minimal native deescalation knowledge', 'experiences moderate to significant distress when dealing with common native verbiage, notably puns', and 'individual character is either uniquely disinteresting or arbitrarily harsh when in contact with equines; few inbetweens'.
>Shiibo turns to face you, arms folding with a minute, possibly haughty smile.
'Apologies sir. I did not write all of those.'

>Examining the holographic setup's expanded view, the surrounding region was entirely devoid of movement, each of the trees tagged by distance to the Warp Gate directly underneath the OL-3, currently being mapped to the nearest millimeter.
>Locating neither heat signatures or movement, it switches to an automated prospecting view mode, immediately revealing echoes that were probably mythril flakes embedded throughout bark, then increased numbers of rare and trace elements in local vicinity, ratio increasing towards the east.
>Picking up dozens of minor crystalline nodes in clusters or pockets underneath tree roots, the next displays a much larger number of rares and exotics, most of which were analogous to those from your homeworld.
>The remainder, a mixture of what ponies deemed semi-inert, reactive-inert, and either long-stable or meta-stable elemarental particles, were causing the processing system fits.
>Amusingly it failed in classifying the exotics as radioactive, returning a constant error fault due to atomic bonds showing negligible or zero decay, nearly opposite of the poorly studied entropics that Tallus was notorious for.

*"Think Ah remember somethin', dunno how useful this'll be. Most th'Lunar marefriends been talkin' 'bout th'trees 'round Fortress, growth rings too big an'whatnot. Them se-qoy-yas is unnatural, they kin grow three ta six inches a year. Ain't like redwoods or maples at all. These ones is two ta six times that. Not a known species either."*
>Nodding in a short, jerky motion, Lone speaks towards the gunner-operator seat's direction, losing his accent entirely while taking on a flatly bemused officer's tone.
"Never thought I'd hate someone more than Emerald on the first meeting. Katyal dug into my nerves quite a bit, but now more I get to know her, the less I hate.
And whatever your name is, start short range loose cohesion pickup at outer hull, tighten one factor every hundred meters and deep trench in parallel. Starting vector: one-sixty to one-ninety horizontal, then sweep one-fifty to two-hundred lateral. Ignore non-mobiles, echoes, reflects, rebounds, and rotate surface to sky every five seconds."
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle-Scanner

"Consider me advised then. Jeff normally ain't one to bullshit around important details like a woman being bodyguard for a royal mare halfway around the world, but sometimes he doesn't share half what he knows. Just like those that don't brief others of what they're involved in."
>Whether the slightly irritated last phrase was directed at you or not isn't apparent, Lonestar taking hold of the driver's seat controls, easing them forwards as the OL-3 tilts forwards a half-degree and slowly picking up speed directly north.
"Whatever's out east, if it doesn't bother us we'll leave it in peace. If it does.. pieces will have to do. Going low, slow, and easy.
Now I don't know shit outside the Moors but if Nibbles was worried she'd be digging her claws in someone's face and pointing in the safest direction. Don't understand Moor cats at all. They go nuts when there's danger, otherwise they're lazy or asleep. Or cranky little shit stirrers."

>Visible on the display's center, Katyal sits down cross-legged facing east, one hand making rapid circles around the static, other casually flipping the bird southwards.
*"One of the older records I have at home lists hundreds of ways to increase plant growth and lifespan. A few natural, the rest magical.. with various stages of safety. Early Dynasty had wide spread breeding programs for most species, one resulted in a funky class of unicorns.. I think they were called saucerers. Druids absolutely despised them. Lot of specifics that probably don't matter now. Supposedly they got wiped out halfway through the Late Dynasty. I'll bet my last crate of plasma shells this forest is related."*

>Alone in the troop compartment, Dul blinks down at a small book, then leans forwards.. to lick it.
[1d6 = 1] <Taste?
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370184
370198
>Taking up what he presumed to be Lonestar's directive towards him, he steps around the gunner's seat and straps himself in.
>He notes Lonestar's and Katyal's words as he familiarizes himself with the control suite of the OL-3.
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]<B. Electronic Warfare

>Exhaling heavily through his helmet filters, he ensures that both can hear him before explaining.
>He starts with a nod down towards himself while looking over to Lonestar.
"Pareidolia."
>He then taps the back of his helmet once.
"Sapient assistant, Shiibo."

"I had planned to brief while we were en route. The situation at Razorback developed rapidly and left minimal time for me to act. I apologize for delaying. This mission is moving towards the probable potential destination of Spiral's disappearance from Razorback Fortress. This information was analyzed and uncovered based on letters, contracts, and messages left in his lab. Anonymous provided assistance in procuring the equipment that made this possible. Statistical likelihood of correct information was considered high enough to warrant the risk of this operation. Distinct possibility Spiral was attempting to find the original Dynasty ruin that split him into separate Elemental Cores in order to reform himself. He disappeared without bringing any of the maps, literature, notes, or the hololith he requested. Exact motivations and circumstances for his disappearance are unknown, but this is the most effective lead on his location we have."
Natilda
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370187
370199
>>370178
"I do not suggest replacing your... nose, until we are far away from here either way. Vision is most definitely more of a priority."
>Pressing my lips together, I hum idly and think for a moment.
"I'm fairly certain it was the first as well. And as long as its better than a cardboard concrete mix spaced armor..."
>Armored better against something it already had adequate protection against was... amusingly redundant.

"Do I even want to know what that tactic is referred to?"
>Something else being essentially eldritch to my mind today would not help my sanity any.
>I need a long drink and probably a two day long bubble bath as is!

>I was, probably not secretly, glad that Wild did not appear to be able to go into shock.
>Not did I really want to find out if she could, really. I've seen similar actions from gravely wounded soldiers before, but then again they couldn't repair themselves.
"I doubt we'd be able to salt and cure it in a fast enough manner, either."
>"And I doubt it tastes good, but I'm not telling her that."
>I'd give that mini-Wild a headpat if I could actually touch it.

"Definitely valuable, then. We can figure out what to do with it later when we're back at Razorback, if we don't use it as a trade good."
>The beach is at least marginally safer, if things like that lurk in the depths.
"I'll keep an eye and ear out for anything."
>...
>what.
One Quiet Place.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370189
370190
>>370173
"If you do stop breathing, do you turn into a magical plasma nuke?"
>Snickering at possible implications, Anon stares off into the distance before snorting amusedly.
"Fortunately you're wrong on both accounts. That keg was made before the Early Dynasty, filled in the Middle, and fuse was lit right as the Late started. Second and third weren't entirely Silver's fault, let's call it, eh, sixty percent sounds fair. Of course, depending on whom, where the questionees are, and when you ask that number fluctuates. A lot."
>Left hand waving in front of his face, then clasping over his eyes, the glove tightens reflexively.
"Better lay off the whatever the fuck you did chug because I'm starting to go blind. The answer is a definite yes, but only after whatever you took wears off. It's a one way trip in all directions though."
>Tapping the chair with his left hand in thought, the Third Gestalt's voice drops into questioning.
"By the way, my gateways have gone from basically perfect to highly unstable in the past couple hours. Few weeks ago some started fractured and needed repairs every night, others have torn themselves apart with no reason, and a bunch aren't even functioning right now. You wouldn't happen to have noticed any out of the ordinary particles or energetics in Stalliongrad?"
'Doc Feelgood' Gambacci
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370190
370200
>>370189
"Dunno. Not gonna try it, either."
>It -would- be a spectacular way to get out of this bullshit, but...it feels like I would be avoiding the problem.
>As much as I fucked up, if there's no one accountable, this shit would get ten times worse.
>Maybe if I vanished it wouldn't be my problem but...
>Fuck, I'm just tired of running.
"Oh, well that makes me feel a lot better. Not really, actually, but I figured you might find it funny if I said that."
>In all the proceedings that happened, I kind of forgot what I drank.
>It was...some heat elixir.
>Or something like that.
>I should have read the instructions.
>Or, you know.
>Listened.
>I lifted a hand to pinch at my brow, my gross incandescence hopefully shadowing (pun intended) my action.
"Yeah no, I figured I'd go right now and blind everyone with my goddamned lighthouse attached to my waist. Actually, probably brighter than a lighthouse. Though uh...you don't look like you actually -have- eyes. Or do you?"
>Had to, if he was complaining about the brightness.
>I blinked, looking at the man as incredulous as I possibly could, not that he could see it.
"I uh...was kind of busy accidentally precipitating a revolution. I may have not lit the fuse, or even made the powder keg, but I certainly dumped lighter fluid on the entire fucking thing. Or gasoline. Or...something even -faster- lighting than those."
>At least, I think I didn't?
>I scratched my chin, trying to remember what happened.
>Nope, just bullshit and pure panic, starting off with lust.
>Oh, man.
Jeff
!!TGtxHBZnLs
8d0760e
?
No.370191
370545
>>370107
>Although he's initially unsatisfied with the Paveways, the second one re-detonating the Rime core to re-freeze the Tainted within proximity was a bit if a break.
>Before packing the control pad up, he sets the Reaper to fly out a mile to re-establishing it's orbital program around his position.

>As he heads North through barricades and friendly forces, he sets himself down right in front of the fountain's southern base behind whatever cover was closest.
>Setting down the duffel and pulling the Mk32 out for quick access, Jeff opens the Reaper's control module back up to check on its status.
>He was out of bombing runs, and it would be some time before the drone will swing back round enough for the AGM's to be usable.
>Checking the action ahead of him, Broken Hoof managed to slow down the lone Lunar Assault Tainted. Swinging from its muzzle would do that, apparently.
>Up from behind the tussle appear four more similar forms, though getting stuck behind the first in one giant Tainted traffic jam. Lancers already had their spears hurling into the colossal forms as Chargers bound up and onto the invaders.
>Their approach is slow, and Razorback personnel begin laying heavy fire onto them at distance. He can at least pitch in with that, for now.
>Looking at the Reapers control module, awaiting for it to swing back into an attack angle, he hefts up the Mk32 and stabilizes it on a barricade to make a range adjustment. One-fifty meters, stationary, neck-up.
>He aims to the Assault forms left of the one Broken Hoof was currently snoot-rodeoing.
("Chargers climbing up any Tainted left of the lead, brace for explosive impacts above you! Neck height and above.")
>They seemed to fair well enough against small arms, so the non-lethal blast radius from the grenades shouldn't hamper them too much.
>Settling the reticle mid-neck on the best tainted he has a shot on Jeff fires off a four grenade volley, re-stabilizing before every shot.
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <U.Heavy Weapons
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <M.Ranger
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]

>Realizing that's probably not going to be enough, Jeff immediately opens the launcher to ejects the spent shells and digs around for more in the duffel.
>They weren't mobile, jammed up almost tripping over themselves...
>There's an idea.
("Making a general request: do we have any seriously heavy ropes or lines, available? The five Lunar Assault forms, southern entrance, while they're stalled. Tow line, steel cable, anything we can hogtie up their forelegs and drop them on their faces and top of eachother. Could finish them on the ground, effectively cut off that approach into the Village!")
>More firepower?
>Where did the Dagor get towed off to. He doesn't hear the M2 going off anywhere.
("Also where did the vehicle I came riding in here go? There's a fifty cal on it, if it's still intact we should be utilizing it!")
>Pausing to reload the Milkor Jeff gets on the control module and pans the camera over the Village, zooming out enough to get a general overview of the current state of the battlefield. Despite the Overherd he still needs his eyeballs to see exactly what's going on.
>He looks out for any critical defensive points on the verge of falling, high concentrations of Tainted, and targets of opportunity.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <UHD Aperture Camera: FLIR
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>Why does he hear a robot yelling behind him?
Mallia Castella
78f3594
?
No.370192
370400
>>370138
>Mallia has to struggle to not crack an expression of any sort while the twins recount the Inquisitor's counter-argument. Her eyes glimmer with a brief mirth.
>In the data-space, the enginseer could help but cough out a:
(She bit a power cell in half??)
>There is nano-cycle worth of pause as amusement starts to subside to mild concern.
(... Inteereeestiing...)
>She had questions of course, but noting that the twins would soon have their digital hands full she let's her curiosity pass.
>Instead, her noospheric avatar makes a graceful little bow of the head.
>Her attention does linger on the raptor's sign the twins make, unconsciously signalling curiosity by how she focused her attention on the gesture. Her thoughts lingering on the twins for a moment longer.
>She could not restrain her curiosity this time,
(What a fascinating sign...)
>And, by habit. her avatar reciprocates by making the symbol of a cog with the hands in response.
(What does the raptor mean as a sign?)
(...)
(Sorry, you're meant to be busy.)
>She makes sure to move on--

>The enginseer stood by after the impact of the Auspex with the wall.
>Her hands go akimbo as her mechadendrite makes a satisfied, non-standard fist-pump like gesture.
"That worked!"
>And then briskly stepped to retrieve it, leaning down slightly as her utility mechadendrite stretches down to grab it with its manipulator claws, and turning back to Knight Raspberry once she has it.
>For some reason, Mallia is frowning with a profound concern when she turned around again.

>Internally, she was paused at the fact that the horrifically alien transmission from the Auspex had been flagged as “blasphemous” by her code-guardian. Although curious, she responds expediently to avoid confronting potential heresy.
(Cannot compute, but noted. Re-assessment of the rituals of maintenance is required.)
>Mallia avoids attempting to fully comprehend why the Necron had referred to the Machine God as such, for the time being... Especially right now.
>At the same moment, she cautiously navigates to interface with the Necron machine in order to ask it to re-start the scanning process on previously imputted coordinates now that it was functional again.

[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Chroniton Wave Reader

>Returning to their little pic-nic area, Mallia's strangely perturbed expression lingers as she affixes the Auspex unit back onto her wrist, using her meat hand this time.
>But, after a moment, he expression softens to a more warm glance as the Enginseer listens to the knight's remarks, nodding once in understanding,
>And starts to smile a bit more, her own eyebrow rising a bit more in response to those eyebrow wiggles she receives, and that strange smile.
“Oh, of course! These are all meant for you, after all... Maybe I will keep one though, just to commemorate this day.”
>And as Mallia speaks, she starts to take a knee next to the cardboard box of flowers and re-opens it to inspecting the dimly glowing flowers within...
>Her eye side-glances towards the knight's rising forehoof.
>And then just as she pulling her hand back from the box, holding by the stem a glimmering yellow flower, she blinks a couple times at Raindrop's words and that buzzing.
>She straightens out on her knee, keeping the flower idly in hand while she gazed at this tiny little pegasus squeaking at them about glowbugs wanting to eat their paint.
>Mallia barely has the time to raise their hand in greeting that they were already gone.
>She let's out a little bemused chuckle, smirking faintly and furrowing her brow a little.
“I seeee... An actual curse that does not render one totally insane? Very fascinating!”

“But... Anyways,”
>Mallia clears her throat a little bit and turns back to Raindrop Raspberry, and holds out the flower to her.
“I would not mind being your friend, if you would allow me to be one to you.”
>The Enginseer looked down again, specifically at the knight's raised hoof.
>Something in her mind clicks, knowing that the last time Raindrop had used her wing to take the flower.
(Must mean something else... A signal perhaps? A que? An opportunity? How is she meant to pick up the flower without fingers?)
>With her other hand, Mallia reaches down to put her fingers under the hoof, and the thumb over the side of it; making the best intuitive effort to 'hold' their hoof, if only briefly.
[1d6 = 2] <B. Hoofholding
[1d6 = 4]
“You've made my first day on Tallus very pleasant, despite the traumatic events precluding my arrival and "fighting" an enemy I have never seen before, and as far as I know everything has gone poorly, all picked up in the same day... I feel like things are possibly going to be okay!"
Razorback Enclave: One (GIANT) Detour
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370195
370452
>>370174
>Answering before Naliyna could, Amerose's voice was mildly distorted by whichever type or form of barrier was currently active.
"There are four to five thousand safes, crates, boxes, chests, canisters, and others remaining from Skykeep which have not been opened, and most likely will not be for the next year. That does not include the six or so hundred still sealed weapon and armor packages, nor a few dozen unknowns."

>Brisk, sharp tones in Kingdom and Old Stalliongrad accents are heard after you speak, Thrill's mare swiveling her head around to stare past you, a starkly unprofessional grin seen beneath the face plate.
*"Kyanite didn't raise me to be an idiot... and I never said we couldn't cheat either. We're technically telling the truth if that means 'mildly' harming Lark should getting him somewhere much safer be a better option."*

"Bubba, you may enter. Naliyna, I am politely asking you to be... less irritable or enraged."
>Front shoulders visibly tightening inside the exoframe, the fuchsia Crystal mare offers a solid nod at you, grinning in a most unprofessional marener beneath the face place.
"Keep your panties on Miss Storm-Rose, but we ARE in a hurry in case you haven't noticed-"
*"No hostiles or out of place energies in the Enclave, taking another couple sweeps. Go in, I'll stay here and set up a few traps-"*
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Stalker's Eye
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <E.Crystal Runes: Power
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
Clemency
!.BxecfigoM
aab530d
?
No.370196
370547
>>370111
>Clemency holds off from firing the Kiowa's weapons for a moment to regain targeting solutions and to cool his chainguns
>He watches the spectacle of fire rain into the Tainted lines, now almost halted by Broken Hoof
>Small arms fire contributing to slowing the large generals down and the exotic weapons of the Guillotine raking their lines
>Clem then turns his attention to the beeping ECW console, trying to figure out if there was an alarm
>If so, the only thought that rang through Clemency's mind is Construct interference
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Basic Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
>He then opens a feed from the M-S.O.L.G to assess the greater AO and check on its status
>Considering the ever weakening hold on air superiority, he wishes the TLS had some charge left in it
>Or for the reactors to be in better condition
>Afterwards, Clemency takes advantage of the stalled Tainted on the South Basin entrance
("Chargers, be advised, danger close!")
>He lets another volley out form the chainguns and Hydra, taking care to minimize friendly fire
>The Hellfires he designates for the larger assault forms
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370198
370201
>>370184
>The chair, however, was a highly comfortable crash seat, but unfortunately not adjustable like the arm rests were.
>Fumbling the initial controls.. quite a bit, Shiibo walks you through the limited number of operational systems and control mechanisms on the gunner's side, then the pressure sensitive buttons that accessed a specialist grid search and target identification system.
>Curiously, it was not based on IFF as it relied entirely on confirming individual targets, and had zero failsafe measures.
>Giving a rundown of the plasma cannon and laser AMS targeting systems, Shiibo carefully states it was possible to overcharge the first, but was likely a terrible idea as the original, unmodified OL-3 specifications were far more comprehensive.
>Pointing out a similar set of headphones to your right, the avatar makes a short bow, returning to her previous analytics with a vague sense of smugness.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]

>Expression slackening quickly, Lonestar glances at you in a mixture of amusement and probable concern until gripping the driver's left controls tightly.
"You're screwing with me right? ...unless this is payback for everyone calling you Pear, as in the fruit, since Twisted is a half-honest jackass at the best of times. Guess we deserve it at this point. We've crossed wakes a bunch of times, first was after something went down in a Lunar Village. You've been kicking around half a year, mostly in the Library avoiding a certain ring-covered godkiller of a not-so-small insane Psion horse. I can appreciate that."
>Looking forwards as the holographs resize outwards, he leans back into the chair, studying the display briefly, then reaches out to tap a set of newly marked objects for inspection.
"I was talking at your assistant. Wasn't giving his or her name so I figured saying 'you' was good enough. That's a Pre-Cascade Empire Junction or maybe Grand Jupiter Imperial Alliance name. If our worlds are remotely similar that is."
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]

"Don't apologize. We work with what we've got and you brought us the shell, liquid catalysts, and casing intact. All we're missing is either the warhead or fuze. Maybe both."
>Lone quickly side-eyes you at the mention of Cores, Shiibo's automated recognition pointing out his expression as moderately respectful, before slouching back in the driver's chair.
"Fuck's sakes.. whole time we knew Spiral I always had a few itches. He's pulled off the craziest shit, just not alone. Half what you said I never much thought about, least right until he really lost it. That helo Hollow wanted set somethin' off in his head. Can't even start to guess what."
>Stroking several keys on his screen, a feed transmits directly at Katyal, the woman sitting back with a stiff tone.
*"No wonder Hodch burned all his favors to make sure I came along. Here's my fifty-fifty chance of pinning down why your Marquis went alone: either he wasn't gonna risk 'his' humans getting injured, or he knew a suicide mission when he saw it. Neither of you have a mare-"*
>Lonestar's jaw twitches in umbrage, half glaring at his display.
*"Ah didn'ask fer y-"*
*"You don't. Mister cold, collected, always calculating agent doesn't either. Which means neither of you are able to act like stallions in the equine sense. There's a difference between being in a herd, being part of the herd, or being the herd. If you think what I'm saying is disrespectful, better think this over a few hundred times first."*

"Ponies teach Dul how learn herd. Herd is all share same ka, but all ponies have own ka too. It weird and fun. Dul like it."
>In the back, the Siren.. retches rather quietly.
"Gross. Dul not like you. Or you. All you.. wrong, why? ...Dul put book back now."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370199
>>370187
"Discarding the option until my systems, internals, hull, and armor are fully repaired."
>Arms lowering, Mini-Wild's head cocks on the screen, her sole eye blinking in great confusion.
"Why wou- I do not have access to concrete, nor can I produce it. ...I also do not want to cover myself in layers of cardboard and concrete."
>At least your daughteru had some standards, minimal as they were!

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn-"
>Going silent and staring straight ahead for a tense five seconds, the cartoon version's head shakes twice.
"Definitely not, mom. Fifteen hours.. salt can be extracted from heating sea water and I should be able to cure it in vicinity of my bioreactor. Doing so would be safe as my core does not emit radiation outside the kanpri sphere."
>Map closing, the left screen turns off with a short hum as Wild's entire frame holds still.
"Understood. Performing final shutdowns.. complete-"

>Twitching a degree left, then right, the Eldritch-Android settles into a relaxed pose, external tendrils clanking onto armor out of sight.
>Between Wild's utter silence, a light wind and small waves pushing onto beach outside noticeable.
>The clouds above still hung dark, though tinted a deep red, tiny ash flecks drifting above only to land in water, gray crests streaking into sand.
>Time drifts for a while at the rather serene view and sounds, and while you didn't have a watch there were no sensations of pressure or danger.

>Feeling trace vibrations above the chest cabin, the left screen clicks on, slowly turning from black to dull, metallic red panels.
>The map table returns as mini-Wild hops onto a corner to sit, though her coloration had changed:
>The majority of her armor was now the favored gunmetal gray that most humans enjoyed, while her upper legs, shoulder and outer chest plates, the false-wings, and pinstripes had changed to a deep, burnt red.
"I can... think again?"
>Blinking in suspended disbelief, the caricature looks down at her hands, flexing them on screen as her body outside does the same.
>Minus the right hand, of course.
"I can. Emergency restoration partially successful; access restored to forty-percent of data nodes severed and disconnected due to damage. Most of my electronic and monitoring equipment is functioning, though degraded. Three undamaged repair systems are back on line.."
>Tilting back and forth on the table, mini-Wild becomes a flat image, the overhead speakers quieting to a conversation level.
"Restored one critical and two major motivators in my legs, should be able to slow jog now. Replacing my primary repair system's damaged components now-"
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril 1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-8
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: System Reboot Analysis
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair System Restoration
One Quiet Place.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370200
370207
>>370190
"Could've been something to put on that insane calendar idea Jeff wanted to do. Oh well. I tried."
>Snickering at that one, Anon's priority shifts to performing a sarcastic theatrical bow, then lifts his right hand palm upwards.
"I said sixty percent as a joke, but that's closer to fact than most would want to believe. Human, pony, Minotaur, Gryphon, you name it. My take? Dear super-ancient Empress failed to realize, ignored, or flat out forgot that every side of the Dynasty would be recorded. Not for posterity mind you, but simply to say they were here, or there, they did this, didn't do that, why they did such and such, how this, that, and the other turned out, and so on. Reading between those lines is an artistic science all sapients have.. just not one that gets mastered often."
>The Gestalt slowly turns to face the exact direction of your face, left index and thumb pulling the mask's fabric outwards an inch.
"Of bloody course I do. And.. please stop saying those words. And everything else related to what I certainly do not want to hear. My dreams are already haunted enough. Damn gel-ponies anyways."
>Placing both hands over his eyes, mostly as a defensive reaction, Anonymous makes a noncommittal noise of pure neutrality.
"Never mind then. It's probably extra-dimensional static I keep picking up during translations and risking time constraints grabbing what's close by."
>Standing up and freezing at his phone beeping, the tall man sighs.
"Portal will stay open until you return to Razorback. It's not one of mine, got it from a side bet from Queen Lovebug. Said she can't deal with the colors, reminds her too much of some pony she won't talk about. Or ponies. Either way, can't stay here any longer, there's a few discs I need to catch up on."
>Tossing a two-fingered salute, Anon heel-twists around in a passable 180, tossing a two fingered salute before striding into a quickly opening white doorway.
>Leaving the folding chair, of course.
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370201
370404
>>370198
>Nodding towards Shiibo in appreciation with a short movement, he confirms his bearings as the conversation continues.

>Pareidolia remains non-plussed as Katyal's scathing remarks rise to the surface.
(Expected. Clear priority to protect ponies harmed by human incompetence. May actually be a useful motivation.)
>He waits for her to finish before replying.
"Your assessment is correct. Hence why I opted to undertake this as soon as possible rather than waste valuable time gathering more personnel and ponies. Razorback owes a great deal to Spiral. One of 'his' close human friends is in critical condition. Everyone misses him, the lowest of them the humans who benefited from his labors while respecting none of himself."
>He glances towards the feed where Katyal was visible, turning his helmet to make his focus obvious.
"Results showcase why wholesale human integration with ponies does not end well. You are a rare an exception to the norm. Spiral and most normative ponies are not ready to handle human attitudes and cultures."
>He wraps his left gloved hand over his right fist in his lap. He inclines his helmet towards Lonestar briefly while speaking of Hollow before straightening.
"I'm not here for any other reason than to return Spiral to a network of his friends and achievements that miss and need him. Or failing that, bringing back what's left for closure. Damage control and a responsibility I have to bear. I was there when Hollow threw the final straw and said nothing despite knowing."
>Taking a breath, he allows a modicum of ice to form towards the end of his statement.
"Your dislike of humans who don't integrate well with ponies aside, if you want to take the lead I won't object. But don't doubt my intentions or motivations. It's humans that have brought Spiral to this state and any human whether myself or someone fully adjusted such as you is not immutable to these mistakes."
'Doc Feelgood' Gambacci
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370205
370207 370409
>I nodded, staring at the man's mask.
"You know, it's -really- hard to tell. Like you got recesses there but it's like...more shadowed. Almost like a pattern or something."
>At least the portals are working, even if he got in a game of (I'm asssuming) poker or blackjack.
"Well, there's a -lot- of weird shit that is going on, went down, or -will- go down in this world. And...uh....we've done a lot of it."
>At least it wasn't -all- me.
>But goddamn, looking back, it's just been fumble after fumble after fumble.
>Starting off with Celestia going thermonuclear.
>That was so long ago, however.
>But now the man was leaving.
>And, well, let it never be said I was ungrateful for a gift.
"Hey. Thanks. And uh...good luck with whatever you're doing."
>I lifted my hand to wave the man off as he vanished into a doorway.
>I would have been surprised by his magic use if I wasn't already used to it, though oddly, not many of the humans I'd personally worked with had abilities inherent from where they came from.
>Odd.
>But now I miss Hollow.
>Crazy mute bastard.
>I sat down, pondering time passed and people come and gone for some time, thumping my leg up and down.
>...right, I'm still naked.
>Good thing my clothes and gear are nearby, or I'd be coming back after that shit storm in my birthday suit.
>No problem for the ponies, but the humans...
>Yeah...
>And so, I sat down, settled in, and enjoyed the cigarillo as long as it lasted, waiting for the potion to end.

>Eventually, the potion did pass, and I kitted myself up again, checked my hat, rubbed my face, smelled my breath (like death and citrus) and then stepped through the portal back to Razorback's main holding, looking around as I stepped out...whether into a warzone, or just business as usual.
>Which looked like a warzone but organized.
Anonymous
c5b0809
?
No.370207
>>370205
>>370200
Natilda
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370216
370406
.>>370199
"Just... something that the Motherland did in an attempt to up-armor T-28s. It did not work well."
>Shaking my head, I gave off a shrug for the mini-Wild, as confused about the ordeal as she was.
>I really didn't know what they were thinking.

"What is... radiation?"
>It did not sound fun, and after asking that I could already feel a lecture coming on.
>Settling in for a couple minutes wait, I finally got to relax and let my mind wander.
>...
>Probably not a good idea to let my mind wander, otherwise the reality of our situation was going to crash full force onto me and I did not need a mental breakdown.
>That'll be reserved for when we get back to Razorback and I get that bubble bath.

"Well, that's good!"
>Though I'm pretty sure she could think before.
"That's good to hear, hopefully you can repair a lot better now. Seems whatever you did worked."
>shutting down and restarting works 90% of the time, I've heard.
I Wonder What This Set of Dice Means~?
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370393
370396 370591
>>350118 →
>>350128 →
[1d200 = 23] <kek
Anonymous
9bc2cf2
?
No.370396
>>370393
Don't you do this to me
Razorbat Fortress: The Hangar
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370400
370776
>>370192
'That was done on purpose to prove her point.'
>Returning to simple ASCII form, the pair glance at each other in mild confusion, stare back to you, then pseudo-visibly sigh, both sets of hands raising in defeat.
'We do not fully understand what our Inquisitor does. Pre-M2 Terra records state the aquila was a symbol used by a highly militarized culture known by their enemies as the Mongols. An original text describes the Mongolian Comrades as showing that symbol presents and is intended to prove solidarity with one's true family, a concept equal to philia as stated by the Greek culture, not the kin they were born with. A later, partial translation reads as follows: not even an eagle can not function without the entirety of its body in harmonious accord. In short: our family cannot function without all members present and worthwhile. Numerous concepts were added in later eras, yet most cultures were loathe to explain them.'
>The sister cracks a helpful smile, speaking in a youthful tone while the brother's face creases in mild rebuke.
'Busy as we may be, we exist in what is called an octo-solemnical disparate spatial engram, Enginseer.
You know this quite well: a Terran standard day is twenty four hours made of sixty minutes each which is comprised of sixty seconds, all by ancient customs that do not matter here, nor include leap years and the one-quarter day Terra experiences.
In sum, we function at an extensively improved temporal ratio of anywhere from 100:1 to 5:1 that is highly out of synchronicity with the physicality you inhabit.
While I am not troubled by interruptions-'
>Punctuated by data-nudging her brother with a smug look, whom responds with a disgruntled stare upwards.
'It is a deci-second's worth of extraneous activity. We'
'A month's worth of analyzing, filing, and cross-referencing raw data still awaits.'
'Stop being logical for'
>The connection cuts at Tox-11's command to work smarter, not faster, at least until the four (technically five) have fulfilled their duties while a brief apologetic blurb fills the local datasphere.

>Figuratively expressing a lack of relief on returning to normal, the Necron device produces a highly artistic rendering of... something that would probably have been censored in any other place.
>While your MIU translates, connotations of system interactions that were simultaneously Ordo Chronos approved but were attacked by openly malevolent macro-level Mechanicus codes to be heretek in nature compete.
>Which, ironically, weren't heretikal.
>The Ordo Chronos coding wins after a ten nanosecond interval, leaving the unusual image of a Necron Sub-Phaeric Lord making a respectful bow, text above it reading out in Low Gothic:
'Care not for the treacherous paths of intrigue and deception. Expose knowledge for all to share and debate. Learn, adapt, repeat. Do not cease in your efforts. I walk the Path of Machines as you do. One day in this strange, unfamiliar place, I will answer a communion between fellows.'

>Ears flicking in obvious puzzlemarent as you pick up the moderately heavy Auspex and affix it firmly, Raindrop's eyes squint while it produces a merry series of musically-mathematical noises, ones which the MIU struggled to identify.
"Looks a lot like the older Canterlot Underground and Pathfinder object identifiers. Don't know much about them except for funny noises they make, or highly detailed information they provide."
>With the barely consequential damage restored each of the micro-harpsichord's strings are eagerly plucked, delivering a succinct amount of information from an imperfectly described form of temporal analysis.
>...which was going to take a while given the few billion reams of raw data that would have overloaded an Imperial battleship's cogitator core.

>Visibly taken aback by your words for a second, the Free Knight's head tips backwards, face scrunching in confusion at a swarm of exceptionally bright, multi-colored neon glowing insects buzzing in front of the hangar, then chasing after the ultra-mini pegasus with what sounded like angry clicking.
>Left ear twitching first, then the right, Raindrop shuts the problem out of sight, and probably mind too, giving you a highly pleased smile.
"To most Otherworlders, Tallus is crazy. Most curses, outside a few examples from the Late Dynasty's nonsense, don't cause insanity, or negative marental problems. The worst I can think of trade one great positive for a subtle or openly bad one. Decent ones trade two, sometimes three, or four good effects for a single bad. That doesn't include the various rare, strange, unique, Planar, archaic, Psionic, or Crystalline variants.
Overall, being super tiny, blinding fast, and basically impossible to hit like her has benefits most highly charged enchantmarents can't even hope to match. Being physically hyper excited and thinking in double to triple speed at all times is a tiny price to pay for those benefits. I wouldn't ponifally make that trade given the options, but since she didn't have a choice I respect her for not being depressed, bitter, or angry about it."
>The pegasi's muzzle creases deeply, holding her hoof out further to meet your barely trembling mortal hand.
>Which was nice and warm, yet quite firm save for the nearly hot underpad.
>L-lewd~
>Raindrop's expression softens to one of comprehensible acceptance, tinged with a curiously relieved expression, pressing her hoof into your palm encouragingly.
"No Miss Mallia, thank you. You were found worthy enough to be granted the right to stay on this world, and the fact you were involved against a single Construct with nopony permarenently crippled or killed is beyond words. If any event has gone poorly tha-"
>Halting to give a sour glance left, the mare turns a, somehow, irresponsible grin back to you.
"If you'll take me as a marefriend then I'll gladly accept those responsibilities, even if doing so means I have to sleep next to you."
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370404
370442
>>370201
>Displaying notifications of missing advanced functions and a probable stealth system that wasn't available, Shiibo makes a short wave at the physical controls.
'Forty percent of operational capabilities missing due to weight limitations. The complete model includes a functional non-artificial model created from cross-species nodal heuristics. The operating core exists in the OL-3's current configuration but cannot be removed or implemented as is. This-'
>Displaying the schematic of a partially egg-shaped, heavily armored powered frame dubbed the: Nine Sectors Coalition, Exotic Technologies Designs, Power Frame Class 59-5UC: Extreme Depth Infiltration & Land Capable Offensive System.
>A bizarre, liquid-chemical catalyst rifle in 16MM utilizing mass reactive shells intended to be carried in both hands, a dual-tubed 58MM Semi-Guided Variable Yield Missile Launcher system mounted on either shoulder, the engines being miniaturized cold-plasma reactors, and lastly a high energy MASER that was, for the most part, classified appear.
>The design was solid, albeit simple, though had limited field endurance. And cramped.
'Is the finished Marine ExoArmor he spoke of. The so-called android core however-'
>The AI frowns, showing a direct image listed as coming from the early 15,800's, days, months, and location redacted, this time of an exotic, partially energy state 26-limbed sea creature, appearing to be much like an octopi, lifting itself high on the end of a metallic dock while clutching the hands of ten surrounding humans, their faces, uniform markings, and boots covered by large black bars.
>Similar to a few of the beings you'd seen or read reports from, this particular example had a number of proto-human features on the 'face', including the ability to emulate a nose, move pseudo-eyebrows, and could distinctly show most human expressions as it had, according to Shiibo's rough translations in view, relatively similar thought processes.
'High energy human synthesis capabilities and scientific philosophies combined with partial energy-state aquatic extremomorphs providing meta-material physics.. in an extremely substandard, highly irradiated situation. FTL potential: extreme.'
>Arms folding, Shiibo's avatar turns sideways, leaning on an invisible wall and lifting the left hand upwards with an annoyed look.
''All further data is classified. Genetic lockout codes cannot be bypassed or infiltrated.'

>Suitably called out, Lonestar's eyes close for a few moments, then nods slightly.
"Did ask a lot from him. We helped out the same, but he never asked anything in return. Maybe he didn't want to?"

>Visibly listening in as the Overlander picks up speed, Katyal shakes her head on the display, Shiibo opening a vehicle-skin transmission hijack.
"The fuck's he talking about? Rare exception my ass, I was tired and depressed. Razorback hasn't been allowed outta Equestria after they blew up New Canterlot Palace. Is that man the odd one out or's he brand new?"
>Image clearing to show a winged Moor cat sitting in front of Katyal, shrugging its front shoulders, the transmission ceases for a few seconds while she stares downwards.
"Fine, let's play your favorite game. Little kitty catty with warm wings a-batty, look me in the eyesm. We've known each other for a while now, if I'm about to screw up telling them shit they might not know and can't deal with, claw my face."
>Right paw lifting and motioning in patterns you didn't recognize, Nibbles' head swivels to focus directly at you, the operator-gunner's screen distorts and resolves faster than Shiibo could notice.
*"Right, I'm going to start with this much: Razorback fucked up by nuking New Canterlot Palace. I was a second from signing that contract. Only stipulation was I had to kill every single human that didn't give binding oaths to ponies. Would've had an entire country to co-rule. Could've been a multi-millionaire. Whole harem. Anything I wanted. Nobles and royals included. Big city-fortress built just for me. I realized something then: some humans are born stupid, others are taught to be that way. Some are just as ignorant as I was, but most simply don't catch on. And for the official records, don't ask me to lead.
Try this: stop thinking in terms of 'what's right for me', understand? Ponies consider everything as 'what's right for all of us?' Outside of extremely rare exceptions, it's impossible to think as an individual. I'll say it again: that is Impossible. Make a note. The herd shares everything, openly or not. Overherds are no exception.
Ponies reach a conclusion of how, why, and when. Humans most always think in terms of why or why not. So, if your Spiral's the type of unicorn that's a herd-of-oneself, then you've missed the most direct needs, desires, and wants he had.
Since he didn't say a single word before leaving then he was either terrified for all of you, or furious at something he couldn't reveal. He obviously needed you all whole, alive, and well. That means he trusted all of you enough not to say a word, to anyone, or anypony.
You've learned he's in deep shit, but he expected to be followed, otherwise he would never have left clues. It's an act that intelligent ponies make when they need perfect secrecy. Understand now?"*
>Pausing to give Nibbles, still staring at you, a fond head pat, the woman leans back to scowl at the passing trees.
*"And what I'm about to say is OFF the record. When Hodch gets concerned enough to pull out the 'I need favors done and you're the only one I can use right now' card, whoever screwed up that he doesn't have the time to correct.. I can."*

>Lonestar straightens in the driver's chair with a distinctly serious glance at you, reaching forwards to tap a key on his display.
"...we should both drop the agent act. For now. Full scans north, vector three-twenty to plus thirty horizontal, negative ten to positive ten vertical."
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]

[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <Siren's Touch
>vs:
[1d6 = 3] <Reaction
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370406
370747
>>370216
"Is it wrong to say I expected better?"
>Staring out from the left display, the revamped mini-Wild's antennae flatten, showing intense equine disgust.
"Probably not. That is beyond 'cheap', and barely effective for heavy calibers. I have well over six thousands designs for better protective methods than that. In fact, a full sixth of them are personal protection schematics, forty-nine would be useful if I have the chance to produce them-"
>Dozens of loud clicks occur in the chest cabin, two air conditioning units above turning on... which were halfway useless given the giant hole in front of you.
>The caricature's 'eye' narrows briefly, spinning around to trace a spike-ended trefoil hazard symbol above the map in bright green.
>You'd seen this one a few times before, though it hadn't been explained much other than 'don't touch, smell, or look at' certain barrels.
"Short version: it is extremely bad for all organic life. Radiation is caused by specific elements that emit invisible particles and wavelengths. The long explanation would take eighty minutes now that I have access to my critical and major data nodes. Since I have existed on Tallus, whether in my original form as a station wagon or my current configuration, there is no radiation except for the original plutonium core that Kraut brought with him. A third of those particles and fields are similar to magic, but are not directly damaging or intrinsically hostile. There are numerous forms of energetic particles constantly passing through you and I without harm. Ponies and other native species call them magic, though they are more mechanical than mysterious. For example, this-"
>Right arm lifting into view, a distinct line of red electricity forms across the destroyed wrist while the left holds her missing hand up, all eight tendrils slinking in and visibly pulling it's damaged components together, though you couldn't see any visible heat emanating from the process.
>Or smell anything.
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril 1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
"This method is less energy intensive than the catchall term 'magic'. I'm not welding, as you would think of it. Instead, I'm joining physical components together using a mixture of pressure, focused energy, Tryptaran wavelengths, my own thoughts, and.. two systems that I cannot accurately describe to you. That Which Cannot Be Named calls it 'melding', but it only works on non-organic material."
>Staring at the map for a few seconds, the Wild Ride miniature turns around to offer a sincere, if rather short, nod.
"For the most part it has, but I cannot attempt a complete system shut down and restart like that until dusk occurs. Primary repair system one is mostly restored, but I will need both hands operational as there is still a high chance of Constructs following us. And now that I DO have access to my data nodes, scanning for any unrecognized signatures behind us-"
>Turning right to face the coastline in three heavy stomps, the Eldritch-Android's frame tips left, then right, audibly testing herself.
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensory Array
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Planar Construct Cross-Reference
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Sensory Node #3: Internal Motivator Analysis
Razorback Fortress: About Four Past Midneight...
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370409
370420
>>370205
>Whether he'd intended it, but probably not, Anon's preferred flavor of blueberry cigars was similar to the Crystal Empire ones that Spiral enjoyed sharing.
>Donning clothes first, then armor, and slinging the comfortably heavy pack on, the only items missing were your weapons, spare ammunition.. and the MP3 player.

>Stepping through the peculiarly solid gateway into Razorback Pagoda, distinct scribbling on paper behind and to the left meant Naliyna wasn't in.
"Hello Dante."
>Instead, the sixth worst concern is confirmed: that voice was definitely Malyne.
"Your weapons were delivered three hours ago by a strange earth mare that smelled like fire. She would not open her eyes. Second north couch."
>Indeed they were, neatly placed atop a set of fluffy pillows, and probably untouched, though you catch sight of Shanis in her black winter suit on the opposite side, a ring of mangoes surrounding her, forelegs possessively holding a.. small, bright white seal?
"I did not lick them."
>The faux-grin of her words says otherwise.
Dante 'Doc Feelgood' Gambacci
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370420
370441
>>370409
>...where's the music player.
>Damnit, if somebody took it...

>I turned over to look at the small bat, grinning awkwardly.
>It was like I had been caught right in the middle of doing something wrong.
>Which, kind of was the case.
>Strange earth mare...smelled like fire?
>I feel like I should know them, but don't.
>Then again, things are slipping my mind at the moment that usually wouldn't.
>Must be the sheer blown panic damn near totally consuming me.
>Maybe.
>And Shanis is here!
>Holding a...small bright white seal.
>...curious.
>Turning to Malyne, I snorted.
"You know, rules are, if you lick something, you now own it. Have fun shooting it with no fingers."
>I still took it up, checking clear and putting it on safe, before slinging it around my body.
>Now, all that was left was to find Pella.
>Or Twisted.
>...on second thought, I like having my head attached, at least for a little while longer.
"So. Any messages come in for me?"
>I didn't expect any, but it was a way of delaying the inevitable.
>Even then, I found I did not want to.
>A soft sigh fell from me.
"And...uh...where's Pella?"
Razorback Fortress: About Four Past Midneight
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370441
370443
>>370420
>Writing a short sentence on a small letter before setting it aside, the fuzzy batfilly sits up to take on a look of theatrical disdain.
"That one is too long, clunky, weighs too much, and is far too loud to carry. It also smells horrible before, during, and after extensive cleaning. It is odd to me how quickly most ponies learn to tolerate the stink of firearms. I would rather have dual imbued Force Elemarent shaped tungsten spheres and cylinders. Much quieter, same effects at all ranges, and can be used to carpet bomb. Then again, bricks do work quite well."
>Snickering twice and setting a thin stack of small letters aside with her left set of wingclaws, Malyne peers across the short table, head tilting while scanning over stacks of colorful letters.
>There was no paperwork in view, which was surprising.
>A dubious snout wiggle is made, reaching under the table to carefully pick up, one by one... at least twenty white string tied bundles of silver trimmed, black envelopes with her left wingclaws, gingerly placing them on the opposite side towards you in a pyramid.
"All of these are addressed to you. They were delivered earlier, but I do not know when."
>Setting another out, the rainbow of colors and rainbow pinstripes were obviously intended for Pella, then turns to peer at the unopened letter stacks in mild amusemarent.
"She has been moving all the MRE's, canned, bagged, glass sealed, and dried food from the Armory to the Mess Hall. Also the drinks. She claims they are supposedly attracting pests, but I have not seen any yet.. and the tiny swarms of Northern Central Moors glowbugs do not count."
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370442
370446
>>370404
>Eyes glancing between the data feed in his helmet and the display screen on the console, he mentally catalogs Shiibo's retrieved information to memory. His brow furrows slightly at the note of FTL travel potential.
(Everything Anonymous pulls strings to provide to us with via these wish discs really is a potential disaster... will need to check this species later.)

>His attention heightens as Shiibo provides a hijacked feed to Katyal. Muttering to himself as she makes it clear she believes the problem was handled in the immediate aftermath.
(...Clearly she does not comprehend what that event highlighted. Given her background, likely understandable.)
"Unaware of the inevitable risk. Not surprising for most humans... "

>He remains quiet as she elaborates on the social and cultural differences between the two species despite already being familiar.
>His eyes note and return Nibbles' gaze without wavering throughout the exchange.
>While he slightly nods his head in deference/acknowledgement, he speaks quietly inside his helmet.
"Nibbles is likely aware of your hack by magical means or that they're being observed. The additional information feed is appreciated, but let's avoid crossing these boundaries unless operationally necessary. Katyal is a minimal risk vector at present."

>Nodding his helmet at the display feed in answer to Katyal's question of understanding, he turns forward once more towards his side's instrument panels.
(Act?)
"I am not acting, but I agree there are more pressing concerns."
Dante 'Doc Feelgood' Gambacci
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370443
370461
>>370441
>I considered what Malyne said about her preferred choice of weaponry.
>It would be effective, no doubt.
"Yes, but that is the intended effect. If you haven't been on the receiving side of something like this, then you don't know just how miserable it would be, downrange of this girl."
>I gave her a pat (the MG3 of course).
"But, you know, different strokes."
>I like when things go bang, what can I say?
>A large amount of letters were then taken out from under the table.
>The silver on them had my gut falling, out of my body and then through the floor, and maybe further beyond.
"Heh. Popular, aren't I?"
>That's uh...
>That's a lot of news.
>Swallowing, I gathered them from off the table and moved to sit down on a couch, taking Pella's mail as well.
>I was going to have to have a discussion with her after this, but this will give me some type of insight into how fucked things are.
>I was there, and even then, I believe they are even WORSE than I expect them to be.
>Well, worse than being crowned emperor of Silver's legacy.
>Or something like that.
>Hey, I'm panicking, leave me alone.
>I began to open the envelopes, taking out my knife and sliding it along the seam to look at all of them in order.
>Of course, Pella's mail was Pella's mail, so I'd leave that to the side for now.
>But what was she doing, moving everything from the Armory to the Mess?
>It seems...rather curious.
>I'll have to see.
>And then most likely be tossed out on my ass, then.
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370446
370448
>>370442
>Cross-referencing a series of databases, which, judging by the timestamps, were recorded by most of Razorback, the avatar's face sours.
'That is incorrect. For the wrong reasons, sir. Between Katyal's highly contextual statements and willingness to cooperate in an extreme hazard operation related to an unrelated equine she may understand specific dangers that unsupervised humans pose to native beings of this world. Due to her isolation she is likely unaware of specific actions Razorback's individuals or groups have taken in the past two and one-quarter years. Strange.. and illogical.'
>One hand lifts in warning as small readouts display heightened threat indices of Razorback's relations to known Equestrian factions, likewise dated, the other hand lifting to lightly tap her lips.
'The original Razorback 100 arrived in late summer of 29,996, New Canterlot. It is currently early winter of 29.998. The prototype's data stores contain a number of entries from Razorback Fortress's systems that, when compared to individual non-encrypted records, do not definitively match.
There are a minimum of two-thousand five-hundred incidents where time logs are out of sync with individual records. Some present unusual characteristics outside of accepted timespan estimates... temporal anomalies detected sir. At present, they have not been defined, corrected, or analyzed.'

>Watching the Moor cat enter a predatory crouch on the display, both wings tighten against her sides, then leaps forwards and dissipates entirely-
>Only to arrive on a front armor projection, front paws snapping out to grab a small, broad six-legged insect, immediately denoted as an unknown species.
>Right before falling off, Nibbles reappears atop the Overlander 3, landing upside on the roof from several inches and struggling to hold it.
'...adorable. Your statement was both right and wrong, solely from technical and knowledge limitations.'
>Admiring the replay on screen and visibly amused at the feline's actions, Shiibo makes a short, dismissive hand motion.
'No interpretive models to predict Moor cat behaviors available. Anomalously tangential teleportation or matter-phasing, likely genetic or magical in origin. Probability of both: greater than 85%. State may be semi-Euclidean given the ability to matter-phase through native and Otherworld materials. Under-'
>Cut off by the feline making a loudly delighted mrowl, flailing the insect in both forepaws while snicker-hissing at the furiously wriggling catch, she continues unabated.
'Stood sir, adjusting interactions to compensate for potential anti-intrusion protocols. However, the majority of information provided by the OL-3's semi-energy state data storage is unencrypted and does not require translation outside of standard octodecimal.
The two confirmation requests I was able to log in to, as a guest no less, took less than one-fiftieth a second to resolve. The first was an ancient protocol, analogous to directing a computer user into selecting a specific onscreen option. It states: I am not a Nodal or Heuristic Android.
The second is a simple two-stage text dialogue. The first: I am a living being; the second is: The world around me is unreal. A classic determiner requiring non-linear graphing in order to electronically select a single digital button. Most computational systems, unless well trained or distinctly programmed, would automatically fail the second due to machine-bias analyses.
As there are no overt or covert threats, should I continue investigation or delay until you request the same?'

>Katyal sits up on the roof at the radio silence, then kneels before her opened hatch, snorting aloud.
*"Don't know how you all do it, but on my world lacking objections or being silent means consent. If that's the case then we head straight for where Spiral went. No breaks or stops allowed. That means taking care of bodily functions in transit."*

>Face creasing in recall, Lonestar's head tips back into the rest before speaking in a firm, controlled manner, though biting back obvious hot retorts.
*"I didn't have jack shit to do with whoever's nuke went off in the Palace, and still can't figure out who set it off. Most of us intel fucks stayed on the train. We got to chatting with those Honor Guards and those few Lunars stationed at the nearby depot, they were more surprised than we were. No objections from me, other than get in and close that hatch, don't want anyone falling off. Cat excluded."*
>Opens comms shut off with a button press, the Texan puts on a mildly approving expression before shaking his head.
"You're worse off than me, huh? Glad some of us aren't engrammed to fuck all and back. Fine, full speed ahead, but I'm not willing to make this a suicide run into the unknown."
>That was neither statement or accusation, Shiibo denotes as Lonestar eyes his forward display in subdued confusion.
"Miss, uhhh... Shiibo, was it? Got those scan readings yet or do I need to kick that core a few times? Ones on most ships were half-assed hybrids, sure hope these are better."
>Twitching in artificial space, the avatar facepalms, then points out the series of stick control presses that would enact ExoTech's Optronic system, quickly initiating it on her digital end.
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]

>In the back, Dul can be heard rummaging through a cloth bag.. which had to be Katyal's given that no one else left theirs out of a locker.
"Dul know this taste! Gifts from big bronze ponies good. ...why so small?"
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370448
370469
>>370446
>Replying to Shiibo, he acknowledges the discrepancies.
'Noted. And Katyal's background is likely unclear with information restricted to us due to Saddle Arabian assassin connections. A coherent risk rating can be established later.'

>He pauses before allowing some of the tension in his face to ease as Nibble's reaction was a false alarm.
(Good... one less concern.)
'Katyal is only one of many humans, and one we likely won't interact with in the future. Our access to her is limited and her connections to Lejura likely leave her beyond our means of influence. I'd rather focus on what is more immediately available, but I'll leave to your discretion what you devote your resources to.'

>Realizing in the flood of information that he neglected to reply to Katyal until her declaration, he finally replies after Lonestar.
"No objections."

>He gives Lonestar a look, turning his helmet at the suicide mission remark as Shiibo notes its non-directed nature but is unable to respond before Lonestar requests the scan once more.
>Looking towards the sticks that would activate the Optronic system, he states:
"Her processing capabilities and specifications are far more effective than the units you've described. Access to this craft's systems was achieved in less than one fiftieth of a second with octodecimal being considered one of the simpler standards. I would remind you not to take her sapience for granted if you want her cooperation. I-"
>Interrupted from hearing the sound of shifting items and exclamations about taste of all things from the rear compartment, he moves to open and stand in the doorway as he sees Dul.
"Dul, what are you doing with Katyal's gear?"
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370452
370470
>>370195
>Bubba would lightly nod, tallying those numbers up in his head for later.
>That would lead to a lot of inspecting, even at something faster than batpony standards.

"As long as we don't break anything important. Or unimportant."
>Sprains on Lark should be fiiiiine.

>"That you can detect, of course. Something may be fucky that nobody can tell."
>The silent mutter was, thankfully, just in his head as Bubba slipped past her, nodding in response.
Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370453
370473
>>370047
>Ivan chews on his tongue lightly for a moment, processing in what Krinza said.
"Unlike my earth at least, there is a surplus of resources and what seems to be less bureaucracy enabling this, back home we would have to deal with a plethora of obstacles to work around or through. Corruption being very notable even today."
>Fucking Ukraine government.
"I won't pretend I know what happened with Spiral... And I thank you for reinforcing this. I'm sure I won't be able to accidentally break it by underestimating my strength."
>He gave the stallion a small smile as he ran a gloved hand over one of the barrels.

"My country has only been around for..."
>Ivan paused, looking off to the side, frowning as he struggled to remember.
"... That is distressing. I know Ukraine is free again... but I do not know for how long."
>He sighed and sat back, rubbing his face.
"Почему ты проклял меня, Монолит?"
>He nodded in reply to Helping's comment.
"Indeed it is. Plays on the radio often."
Razorback Fortress: Around Four Past Midneight
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370461
370623
>>370443
>Poking a neat hole in her chosen envelope with the middle claw, then.. shreds it open with the other two, Malyne waves a probably stolen pen in her other set like a wand.
"Hum. Between cost, or acquisition, extensive training, high maintenance, ammunition supplies, ability to carry extras.. it would have been better to equip all humans with range-dependent Elemarental weapons. Rotationals especially. The Hegemony and Crete Minotaurs produce a large variety of large, to gigantic, auto-crossbows and auto-ballistae, often enchanted with older Elemarentals. The biggest one launches a ten ton projectile out to a range of ten kilometers."
>Muzzle quirking briefly as she peruses the letter, the batfilly shrugs with both wings.
"I think. The Crystal Kingdom has more advanced designs like a revolving Permafrost ballistae, improved from Roam examples, which is their favorite siege weapon, though I have heard of much stranger designs from Naliyna. When she cares to think of those times, that is."
>Ears twitching spastically for a second, all you receive is a calm, perfectly straight face.. which definitely wasn't hiding the biggest possible internal grin.
"The only ponies available in the Fortress that could act as a lawyer right now would either be Torven or Nova Flicker, but I do not think they would accept that marely cases. I would not."

>The thicker paper Stalliongradians preferred to use was unusual, but as you put one stack of starkly no-nonsense, real silver-trimmed pages together, the second stack was individual letters, sheer weight quite different.
>At a glance, the first one was an official request in blocky Common Equestrian from a Stalliongrad Watch Guard Master-General by the name of Steelcrest Peaks, demarending that Dante of Razorback Company cease and desist committing any and all internal or external disruptions, past, present, and future alike.
>While the language was stiff and partially hostile, there wasn't any legalese or difficult to translate terms. signed by around two hundred earth ponies of the Watch, mostly on the back.
>The second was similar, except from the Stallionguard Day Watch, a third from the Stallionguard Night Watch, except without names.
>Double checking the wording, they were indeed listed as 'Stallionguard', which wasn't familiar to you.
>From the fourth to the hundredth are similar messages from a great variety of former military splinter groups, mercenary holdings, civil militias, and one from the curiously named Free Trade Association in varying states of mildly annoyed, to threatening banishmarent, all the way to outright illegal acts.
>All of which, you note, were stamped by an older seal and signed with: Golden Break.
>The name wasn't one you knew off hand, though had a tinge of familiarity.

>Opposite from the second were direct listings of exactly twenty Second Dynasty sub-factions, military designations, prior experience, average readiness parameters; then came force strengths, combat capabilities, lastly general task and purpose explanations of each.
>Reading through the individual projections, you come across a number of recently made hard copy reports:
>Current and projected necessary supplies, food, beds, blankets, eight different seasons worth for clothing, weapons, armor, kits, spare components, needed replacemarents in timetables, raw ore estimates, barely refined metals, refined metals, packaged metals, a profoundly staggering list of wood species, raw materials, basic materials, special purpose materials, a variety of fluxes, Bits, currency reserves including those not in use by Rushya or Equestria, thirty grades of gems....
>All stated as either belonging to you or shared in communal pools and reserves, but required either orders with a verified signature and stamp, or an in-person arrival.
>The last were crisp charts detailing accepted inspection hours for each organization and unit, poninel rotations between units, previous commitmarents that are either no longer feasible or unlikely to succeed, except for the final one.
>Which turns out to be a quirky note from an obvious Striker named mare demarending the immediate purchase or hire of all the following: an official ambassador for each country or faction intended to be traded with, at least one lawyer and adjudant for each, sixty Civil Judges, ten Military Judges, two Militia Judges, and, finally, a minimum of twenty specifically noted Crystal Empire hololiths.

>Browsing through Razorback's mail with carefree aplomb, Malyne finally looks up after finishing two small stacks.
"Well?"
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370469
370544
>>370448
'Minimal records and data on the Saddle Arabian Circle of Assassins suggest the same. She is hyper-aware of the current situations though will present extreme difficulty in question.. ing...'
>Trailing off at a new window, Shiibo's left index points up at a threat index, comically labeled: HOW BADLY DO YOU WANT TO DIE?
>Which was currently past the 'two elite operative squads will be lost during contact' mark and quickly running out of less subtle threats.. and now was entirely set on 'scorched earth tactics imminent; projected losses: total'.
'That one is.. not mine sir. Katyal does not know Lejura's status.. and must not be told without a complete debriefing to Reservist Hodch. Whom will not be injured, unlike yourself. The prototype's hard simulations display extensive knowledge of how well liked equine nobility are viciously defended to the death. Often, beyond death if they were honorable and respected.'
>Blinking slowly in great pain, the avatar bows at the waist in solemn defeat, then takes up a strict at attention pose.
'Switching all simulations to analyze known factions in search of long term benefits, sir.'
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]

"Equal work, equal rights. And synthesizing particles in irreplaceable, irreparable pressurized vacuum chambers is an art, not a science. Made do with nothing and less than that most times. This slapped together shit-"
>Scanning his updating display in faint disdain, Lonestar makes a frustrated exhale, pointing at the central space where a quadruple set of bulged, heavily articulated titanium armor plates were present.
"Was the best we had outside of every single ship carrying a quarter the ammo reserves in nuclear shells."
>Shiibo relays the schematic of a rounded, 26-limbed android system connected to the OL-3's major interfaces which, according to her translations, this android was an exceptionally poor imitation of original versions, fairly standard bipedal and quadraped designs, though a number of six-legged ones were once considered common.
>The avatar then confirms Lonestar's faction had such minuscule access to metals, silicon, and other base materials, the production-issue variants were forced to operate ten to twenty times slower.
>At optimal capability, they would outpace an advanced model's raw processing speed yet had far less.. personality, instead relying on brute force logic.
"You saw our code. Nine ships arrived in half-assed messes, last one was filled with intact sleeper modules and saboteurs. They woke, broke contact, dropped pods, then sent everything they couldn't load onto a floating dock straight into the ocean. OmNet lost track at six hundred miles deep.
Never could recover it. We would've had half everything and everyone vital to from Tech Level One to Forty-Nine in five years, then to Fifty-Eight in another ten if we hadn't been royally fucked.
Not a comparison by the way. Who has what that's better and why doesn't matter. Most of us that arrive here get sent from the worst shitholes imaginable."

>Sitting down in front of Katyal's bag, Dul proudly holds up a large, bright green soft-spined shelled... something or other with her left forehoof, the right rummaging about to present a superbly deep blue, almost banana looking fruit.
"Dul is testing! Saddle Arabia food is great gifts for ponies. Want make sure not have bad tock-suns, poi-suns, other bad things if gifts."
>Emulation apparently wasn't anywhere near her best asset..
>Dropping down from the driver's side roof hatch in a crouch, Katyal stands up to pull down, close, and lock it, turning as her eyebrows raise at the sight.
>The First Responder gives a quick, bemused sigh, leaning forwards to pat the Siren's head, whom returns a bright smile.
"Good idea. Ain't about to share my MRE's, they're pretty nasty to ponies, and I'd be real screwed if any of that isn't fresh, only have a few dozen Detox on hand. But yeah, I snagged the best ones on my way out just in case we needed to trade with ponies. Haven't found a mare, stallion, or colt yet that doesn't go nuts for most of these. Fillies excluded, I don't trust them. Take one if you like."
"Dul not eat this Vortex food but Dul learn how taste them."
"Interesting. Does that mean you.. can eat?"
"Yes! Dul Vortex have big not-things like clouds. They make hard stuffs and soft stuffs. It food things, not look like food things here. Sirens not make them, lots busy."
"Different rules, right. I was kind of hoping the Vortex had something like arupai fruit or sauni-kef melons."
"No, Dul Vortex not have those. Dul sorry."
"Don't worry, I just don't want to deal with competition."
>Tossing a smug look at the now confused Siren, Katyal kneels down to push her bag slightly away from Hodch's eclectic collection of war crimes, artifacts, and worse.
>Pulling open the zipper fully, she halts to raise the topaz bracelet up to her left ear.
"....Hodch is awake, somewhat aware, and doesn't want out yet. Says he's coming down from a high sensory overload. Will be ready in a quarter hour at most."
>Taking a short breath and holding it, releasing, then blinking hard, Katyal's head tilts in a distinctly equine, quizzical marener.
"Then he's going to, quote, 'chase down a jie-had-ee and Void-bomb his entire universe'. Reeeaaaaally don't want to know what that means."

*"People, and pony, there's no buckles back there so I'm suggesting you brace. Going to punch straight up to full speed and hope nothing ELSE is missing. Gods I fucking wish ExoTech built these fuckers with anti-grav systems-"*
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <E.Driving: Maximum Speed
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
Razorback Enclave: One (GIANT) Detour
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370470
370479
>>370452
>Reaching her left leg up to knock hoofboot into lance, then doing the same with the right to the siege ram, Naliyna's ears twitch inside the helmet.
*"There's always a few ways around that. Heck, I know two Conclaves that trade crystaltech replacemarents like skin, bones, and organs! ....if for some uncertain inexplicable and unexplainable reasons we might need to necessarily acquire them."*
>Truly, Thrill's mare desperately needed more training on how to subtly approach sensitive topics.
>Although, she does trust you instinctively on account of being one of Razorback's Original 100, and never trying to put more paper or crystalwork on her table, the soul-glyph chimes in.

>Stepping through an ice-scented layer of subreality that barely tingled, a rather homely scene greets you:
>A wide open rectangular room featured ten short, low crystalline tables, the same number of highly comfortable, albeit pony height couches behind each, a selection of fresh Crystal mares, the rather difficult to speak with Imperial variety at that, were seated in various stages of high readiness.
>Most were on standard implacable guard duty, a few relaxing while several pairs were humming to each other, though the barely heard pitched musical notes left the impression of maximum hair-trigger alertness.
>And a rather blatant succint we-don't-give-a-fuck-about-your-problems-unless-you-start-shit-here atmosphere.

>A massive, half-clear bright blue wooden dining table covered in large burls and whorled grain was the room's center piece; at a quick look this example was salvaged from the easternmost Equestrian coastal region of Floerida, known mostly for the abnormally temperamarental crystalline pegasi.
>Encased in a solid, though light, artificial diamond composite, the net value was more than enough to ransom several noble ponies, but was currently in use as little more than a gathering point.
>Amerose, in her archaic robe of course, was sitting in the middle on a single rather simple chair, while opposite her was a starting-to-go-matte jet black earth stallion, steel-green eyes slowly rotating to inspect you.
>There wasn't even a marginal hint of friendliness.
>A bit shorter than most and certainly lacking the typical toughness, stockiness, or absurd strength that Stalliongradians were eugenically improved to feature, Stream Lark was physically plain in your estimation.
>Even at his advanced age, he was worth any four of Razorback's Elites, excluding whichever enchantmarents or Psionic enhancemarents were currently operating in passive or subdued functionality.

>What set him apart, however, was an exceptional memory and potentially hyperactive, unicorn-like mindset, the soul-glyph quietly reveals.
>Coldly and precisely analyzing your weapons, bulges from explosives, the custom drakehide armor, then other visible possessions in spare moments, the elder stallion's head tilts up and lift in a razor thin semblance of greeting, his tone shallow, yet not grating.
"I believe your name, or codename, to be Bubba. You are among the surviving Razorback One Hundred, originally summoned to New Canterlot Palace by Princess Celestia."
>Jaw tightening briefly, Stream Lark's eyes narrow in sincerely dangerous motions while Amerose pours several cups of steaming tea from a crystalline pot.
"There are facets of human nature which are nearly impossible for ponies to rationalize at the best of times, and for that you have me at a severe disadvantage. So far as this situation has shown, there are three options I see.
One, you were deluded into being a mortal enemy to my home city-state of Stalliongrad, and myself in return, by that wretched, blackened pegasi whore's threats. Meaning, you are here to remove me as an existential threat to Razorback Company, but I do not need the protection of these-"
>Slowly turning respect filled eyes onto the Imperial Knights around the room, Lark bows his head as Amerose offers him a tea cup, placing it down in from of him with deliberate slowness.
>Then the Councilierge fixes you with a bittersweet expression, left forehoof lifting to press on his chest, a Seal of the Silverine Empress implanted under his hide produces a thin electromagnetic chime.
"Past and once again present allies, especially given their oaths to aid me in burning out the rot infesting Stalliongrad once and for all. I can defend myself quite well, with or without this."
>While the soul-glyph couldn't define more other than it was preventing him from dying unnaturally, it was a definite original from the Late Dynasty.
>And, one of the few produced ponifally made by Empress Silver.
"Two, you were deluded into being an enemy of Stalliongrad and are here to confirm whether or not I will allow Razorback to continue existing. Had I wanted any of you dead, for any logical reason, a single battleline of the Tower Guard's finest Stormriders and Ironkillers would have sufficed.
Three, none of the above. Again, the advantage is yours."
>Dipping his head in a marginal show of patience, Stream Lark motions the right front hoof at the chairs next to Amerose, the left cradled around his cup.
"I am tired of being screwed over each and every single dawn, day, dusk, and night. However, out of respect for you being a Razorback One Hundred, I will ask you to do as Princess Celestia once asked of me. With a slight change: speak as ponies do. Honestly, fairly, without bias, and swiftly. After all, When Needs Must, and Razorback's needs as of late seem to be great indeed."
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370473
370478
>>370453
>Exhaling upwards at the intense coldstone above his furnace, Krinza's left forehoof raises, pressing into his snout.
"I cannot accept that, Ivan. In the brief time I have known the many humans of Razorback, the majority of sincere complaints about their home worlds have the exact same problem: bureaucracy.
Even at the worst of times there is not a single pony bureaucrat whom would dare suggest making 'cheaper' protective armors, 'lighter' lethal weaponry, or substandard kit. Stating such is considered a widely accepted form of suicide-via-stupidity.
By that I mean that when, not if, a pony or ponies succeeds in killing those whom dare make such suggestions are automatically represented by lawyers which defend their actions by stating they have done so to protect others.
Ponies are never charged with murder when found to be acting in the defensive interest of others, species does not matter. Numerous decrees of law state performing such is an honorable, if sometimes unenviable task. No matter how high ranked the bureaucrat, noble, or other may have been in life, there is no legal recourse of protection against the consequences of their actions."
>Giving a faintly sinister glance towards the Workshop's front door, Krinza turns back to study the M134's modifications once more with a politely dismissive tone.
"By no means am I a master in modifying and adapting human weapons, nor do I have my own comprehensive or foundational knowledge. If I did not have Spiral's initially eager and in-depth research combined with Inquisitor Flash's.. uniquely advanced knowledges, modifying one like this is still difficult. I am merely copying, not improving. Still, I thank you nonetheless.
Hm. Trying to recall a schematic that Miss Flash showed once. I believe it was a form of heavy six, possibly eight-barreled assault cannon..."
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]

>Helping Hoof's eyebrows quirk in an earth pony expression of contemplation, speaking in an interested tone.
"Mainland Equestria has functionally existed for less than five thousand years although what is now called the Crystal Empire is eight to nine millennia old. Old Canterlot is not the actual name of the first true Solar faction City-State, yet it lasted one-thousand eight-hundred years or so, ending at the Lunar-Solar War. New Canterlot was built atop Canterlot Village which was slightly under, or over depending on whom you ask, a thousand years.
The majority of that time was spent by traveling herds of varying sizes that traded, shared, or competed for territory, resources, and mating rights.
Those are highly simplified explanations which likely could not apply to your world, and they are not necessarily 'good' in nature."
>As the big unicorn peers into Krinza's furnace, you have to wonder how smiths don't go blind here.
"I have a serious question a few have warned me against asking, but do not feel as if you must answer. Would you return to your homeworld with all the knowledge you know?
For myself.. I do not know. Humans are uniquely fragile in manners that I did conceive to be possible. It is painful to know the vast majority are forced to make best use of cheaply made weapons and may rarely if ever have the comforting protection of good armor."
>Glancing out to eye one of the unclaimed radios spread across the central tables, the awkward unicorn's muzzle quirks humorously.
"A large portion of human music is quite impressive, a fact that Luna's Villagers, Crystal, and batponies enjoy. That does exclude the raucously energetic electro-disco a certain green eyed human mare plays nonstop."
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Eidetic Fundamentals
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370478
370533
>>370473
"Unfortunately it seems that most human worlds stew in the same sort of money saving cowards who do not have actual experience fighting in the wars they promote. Though if it is cheaper but yields the same protection, lighter but is just as effective, that is not necessarily something to stamp out."
>He pressed his lips together.
"Zone mechanics do not cheapen out on resources to modify and lighten equipment, it is both not only foolish to do so, but also a quick one way trip into a Witches' Jelly. Foot first."
>Though... One never attempted to fuck over a brother before. We had a greater du-
>"Enough of that."
"If only the governments followed a similar morality of your own."

>After going through a few files, Ivan's face relaxed a bit as he grumbled incoherently.
"Ukraine had only been a proper country again for about twenty years, once the USSR dissolved."
>He stared at Helping Hoof intently, silently rolling that question over in his head.
"To my home country? No. I would stay here even if ordered to leave."
>He closed his eyes and hesitated for a moment, before sighing.
"But to the Zone? Yes. She... calls for me, every day. Some more loudly than others."
>He looked a bit.. haunted?
"All STALKERs experience the Siren's call of the Zone, and all eventually return. We cannot exactly forget our experiences... And it is somehow comforting to be back there, despite the dangers around every corner. Even knowing that death may come for you at a moment's notice from any source of danger."

>Ivan let out an amused chuckle.
"Yeah.. Humans are fragile, but at the same time any serious injury that would put one of the animals back home, we can 'walk off' those injuries and heal to something close to full health, even in a survival aspect. We have evidence that our closest ancestors cared for the wounded and the lame even as they would be considered a burden on the tribe."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
9bc2cf2
?
No.370479
370592
>>370470
>He would just give her a look that said 'really?' as she rambled a little.
"If at all possible, there will be no need for such a thing."
>He'd mention to her about learning how to be tactful later, now is not the time for such a lecture.
>Taking a look around, he'd quirk an eyebrow at the room's appearance.
>For such a rage filled emotion, it certainly was cushy.

>Bubba would return the analyzing stare of Lark, showing that while he was armed well, nothing was currently in his hands, presenting as tensely neutral for the time being.

>He would listen to Lark's statements, eyes flicking to each of the Crystal ponies occupying the room with them.
>Briefly nodding at the start when his name was mentioned.
"I came here to begin undoing the damage that we had allowed that bitch to sow in Razorback, that may start by talking with you."
>He motioned to the table with a hand, quirking an eyebrow.
"If you'd allow us to do so."
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370533
370748
>>370478
>Head dipping to rub his snout with a soot-covered hoof, the chunky unicorn allows a brief, compensatory nod.
"I am painfilly aware of how limited assets work. Despite the xenophobia and often hatred I endured, my time in Gryphon Vale taught a great deal of technical subtleties, especially in devising better armor and weaponry with less materials, but they do not compare.
As of the prior two weeks I have, with the proper materials and enough time to compensate for modifications, been able to barely fit five humans up to standard Lunar Guard armor and weapon ratings each night. I no longer have any free time, yet I am still well over two weeks behind schedule.
If I were to have at least four hours a night for studies and composite testing, as Spiral granted me, and an assistant, I could be far more useful."
>Ears flicking in what you took to be derogatory patterns, the Grandmaster smith takes on a strangely sharp expression, one more in common with hunters facing an unexpectedly difficult predator.
"Equine morality is founded on the basis of what is good for all, not what could be acceptable for the few. To be part of communalism means both to give, share, and receive in equal value. It is a concept that most Razorback have a great deal of empathy towards despite minor ideological grumbles, which I often find amusing. Still..."
>Turning his focus back to you, Krinza speaks above his normal tone for Helping Hoof to hear.
"Excuse me for a while. Helping, I will be out for twenty minutes, possible thirty. Several notices were posted tonight, particularly materials that I am now in desperate need of."
>Phasing apart in a streak of yellow, black and red tinges dissipate, showing he was indeed in a great hurry.

"That I understand, although-"
>Briefly nodding at the departing smith, Helping's eyebrows furrow together as he leans forwards.
"Sounds familiar.. hm. It is. Among nearly all other topics he enjoyed, Spiral had been actively researching batponies located across accessible Moors regions. Specifically near Scars, Tears, Pools, and other highly illogical anomalous fields of activity. Not all were Eldritch created or caused, some were Lunar-corrupted, Solar-tainted, or both.
He spoke of several team records during alchemy courses. Numerous individuals claimed it impossible to leave for longer than a night before a 'calling' occurred, one which spoke to their soul. Often it begs, pleads, or, rarely, demarends them to return.
It was claimed some, with varying amounts of proof, could not sleep, dream, or fully live their lives when visiting elsewhere. Several notable cases were those that became catatonic, or worse highly aggressive, after prolonged absence.
Exposure to food, scents, materials, and objects they knew helped to a certain extent, but did not provoke recovery. They could only recover after being physically taken to the Moors."
>Swiveling towards you, the freakishly big unicorn takes on a highly concerned, studious face for a few seconds.
"I suspect you are experiencing similar effects and pronounced difficulties. That is a bit too similar to be a mere difference.
Unfortunately I do not think I can aid you, my studies are focused on alchemy and elemarent transmutation."
>Reaching in to snag the white-hot titanium spool, the abnormally large unicorn begins fashioning two wide, flattened wire sections, melding the ends together in elongated ovals while testing for maximum flexibility, a vaguely bitter subtone edging into his voice.
"The same occurs in nearly all sapients across Tallus archaeological records. Even the native Gryphons did such.. to a small extent. "
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <E.Eidetic Fundamarentals
Archaic Pegasi-Batpony League Arena: The Mess, Post #1/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370542
370554
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 6 turns.

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjDGv4FambQ

>>370133
>Thunking hard clad kittyboots down onto firm stone with ease and ducking left into a run, you race towards the unfamiliar relay, anticipating tangible resistance yet encountering none from bodies, hulls, and worse.
>Close to reaching maximum speed, instinct alone compels you to slam all four hooves down into a hard right-leaning skid, quartets of claws snapping out to catch firm, barely resisting stone.
>Sliding sideways into an acceptable ground racing drift, it took less than five seconds to reach the stainless steel box, and, leaning over it to quickly recall Mercy's instructions, delicately poke the hard metal buttons in the sequence she gave.
>Yellow, red, white, then finishing with the green, all the lights across the top cease, as does a background hum from inside the box.

>Having no other task to perform, your attention is drawn to the gigantic pair tilting upwards, towards the gateway, then at Mercy-
>The entire scene is wiped away.
>No Constructs or Moor cats.
>No more debris, blood, weapons, shards, gore, or flashing kanpri.
>All that remained was the colossal pair of Constructs, a single much larger Repair Model, a potentially square gateway, and Mercy raining Tartarus on the last.
>It was more a simulation undergoing an extreme stress-test.
>One that had JUST been disrupted.

>The Spirit Walker's tactics had switched, tearing into and out of Void spectrums in pseudo-predictable patterns: the less often the massive Repair model acted, the harder Mercy tore into nearby locations, striking when occupied.
>After each appearance in realtime, shards of pink-encrusted orange debris spreads across the roof underneath, cackling in midflight with more sincere joy than than was normal.. for any equine you knew.
>In Hegemonic Minotaur, which you recognized but had no understanding of.
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <E.Assault
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <B.Ambush: Assault
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6 = 4] <Spectrum Dive: Polarity Shift
>While Mercy's blades continue shredding chunks off the gateway's upper sections in poorly timed patterns, she was causing enough havoc that the massive Repair model was forced to ignore her efforts.
>Leaving the whip-covered spheres to degenerate, it shifts to producing extensions across the barely quarter-finished gate that hadn't been damaged yet, tightly packed nanolathe systems solidifying orange pseudo-matter in smooth sheets rather than individual components.
[1d6 = 3] <Gateway Progress
Large Rift Gate: 28% Complete?

>Turning at the same time to target the gateway, the pair lift upwards from gravity-nullifying systems, slowly drifting backwards.
>A loud, shrill chime from the paired Constructs ring aloud while a thoroughly unexpected voice cuts in, muted and distant.
('SUNNY, MERCY, FUCK OFF OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW! THAT GATEWAY ISN'T ONE WE'VE D-')
>Vestal Gardenia's warning shriek is immediately scrambled by ALL of the paired Argus-Behemoth Destroyer weapons activating.
>Previously stationary, large turrets of two, three, six, and eight--barreled configurations snap upright, glowing red in preheat, at the same time large hatches across the hull slam open, exposing a staggering variety of missile types, the most common a sickly brown plasma while a stern, ancient male-female double-toned voice speaks aloud:
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
"Preparations of self-other-each-known."
>Multiple pods across the top and sides split open to reveal dozens of spherical, conical, and hexagon canisters, which you did not recognize, then rows of single-barrel turrets lit up by pulsing, shallow green internal power sources, a rather new Construct laser system.
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
"To our destruction-failure-loss-death we expect these factors."
>Worse yet were high pitched whines from six equinedistant pairs of large triangular spikes on the upper hull, orange pseudo-lightning sparking from armored turrets to tips, followed by hexagonal units covered entirely by rippling hot blue cones; older, well understood gravity projectors.
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19]
"In warning-enlightening-provoking-stimulating-sharing sacrifices those not of home-sanctuary-production-falsehood from we-our-us Rift declare."
>Extruding from every single space that did not have a weapon, turret, or emplacement, well over a hundred batteries of tightly packed square barrels clamp onto hull, which you recognize as ancient, well recorded anti-air systems, one with poor effectiveness against aerial targets yet could inflict extensive spalling.
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26]
"This pair grants-allows-shares-describes the Common Equestrian words-junctions-phrases-epithets to the winged pair within target-location-current on Tallus/"
>Honeycomb lattices of orange ripple across weapons and hull alike, then, on the equator of each, a pair of 5M wide, needle-covered cylinders protrude outwards, stopping at 30M in length, then bend forwards at a 90-degree angle, becoming an anachronistic suite of pile-bunkers, reality distorting around the unusual systems.
[1d6+26 = (1+26) = 27]
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-wanted-as-one desire-need-demarend-seek MUST prevent-destroy-ravage-RUIN all Seekers of our Rift!"
>Fractal anti-matter disruption weapons, except vastly larger than those produced by most ponies, you recognize.
>In recent memory, the one time ponies were granted rights to deploy such abominable, banned weapons was to combat an extreme threat in Kenfield Pass.
>And had never been allowed use against Constructs.
"LEAVE THIS BATTLEFIELD, WHITE PEGASI OF TALLUS, THIS HONOR IS OURS. IMPEDE NOT THE GATE-OF-VENGEANCE IN DESTROYING OUR TARGETED SEEKER-OF-RIFTS!"
[1d6 = 6]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370543
370548 370554 370616
>>370143
>The previously silent Councilierge turns, a pair of hostile pseudo-hands slamming atop your shoulders and dragging your eyes down to meet hers, shrieking in sincere umbrage.
"PULL YOUR BRAIN TOGETHER HUMAN! SINCE WHERE YOU WERE A FUCKING ROOKIE SHITTING YOUR PANTS IN FEAR AT THE UNKNOWN?!"
>Throwing you back up to a loose standing position, Vestal Gardenia spins around to face south, left forehoof raising to point at the pair of Tainted struggling to pass their leader, Broken Hoof marenaging to hang onto it's snout, but only barely.
"LOOK AT THEM! I CAN'T EVEN TAKE ON ONE! THAT'S RIGHT, NOT EVEN ME, THE PRIMAL PSION FIVE TIMES MORE DESTRUCTIVE THAN THE MURDER-SUITS YOU WERE AFRAID OF ON YOUR OWN WORLD! NOW IF YOU DON'T POUR EVERY IOTA INTO TAKING OUT A FEW TAINTED THEN YOU OUGHTA PUT THAT SPIKER'S BARREL AGAINST YOUR HEAD AND PULL THE TRIGGER BECAUSE NEITHER OF US HAS TIME TO WASTE!"
>Shaking herself out of the fugue and cutting the overherd's connection, Vestal springs forwards into a dead-set run, howling at all the ponies before her.
"LANCERS, HOLD THOSE THREE TAINTED WHERE THEY ARE, DON'T LET THEM GAIN EVEN A HOOF'S WORTH OF GROUND! CHARGERS, TAKE THE STAIRS AND JUMP ONTO EVERY TAINTED CLOSE TO THE ROOFTOPS, DRAG THEM DOWN SCREAMING!"
>Shouting to her left at the Watch Guard Master-General dumbly watching, hostile flares of Spectral blue roll forwards from the Primal Psion, emitting a booming thundercrack of realspace being opened to raw electromagnetic enery.
"FOR THE SAKE OF EVERY FOAL, FILLY, AND COLT THAT HAS YET TO EXPERIENCE A LIFE WE NEVER COULD, WE DIE IN GLORY THIS BLOOD-DRENCHED NIGHT!"
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+32 = (4+32) = 36]
[1d6+32 = (5+32) = 37]
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Lunge
[1d6+22 = (3+22) = 25] <GM.Charge
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27]
[1d6+22 = (1+22) = 23]
>Stilled for a half-second, the unnamed mare's silverine helmet snaps upright, hot green-blue blazing from diamondine eyeslits, then jerks forwards into a four-point run as she screams in fury, the ranks of Chargers and Lancers hastily tightening to create a path for her.
"MAKE A FUCKING PATH FOR ONE DAUGHTER OF HER GRAND MAJESTY, EMPRESS SILVER SWIRL FROM AN OTHERWORLD! ETHEREAL, DIE IN SHAME OR JUST DIE!"
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31] <GM.Primal Psoin: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+29 = (3+29) = 32]
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31]
[1d6+29 = (4+29) = 33]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27] <Lunge
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <GM.Charge
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25]
[1d6+21 = (1+21) = 22]
[1d6+21 = (2+21) = 23]
>Storming ahead of the Lancer and Charger ranks filling in gaps, the Minor Golem bounds left in a high stance, then right, axe swinging in medium to large overhead circles, cleave apart those Spectral Lances it was able to reach in time, then near-hurling the shield overhead to protect those ponies it could, crystalline material shrieking in protest at the pseudo-weapons attempting to tear through it.
"THEN DELIVER THIS UNIT FORWARDS TO DELAY OR IMPEDE LONG RANGED COMBATANTS! THIS UNIT'S CAPABILITIES ARE BEST AT ATTACKING, NOT DEFENDING!"
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] >Protocol: Destroy Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Protocol: Deflect Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15]

>Somehow hanging onto the Lunar Assault Tainted's snout, Broken Hoof's jaw clamps onto the undefinable half-matter, rapidly shaking her head like a Warguard hound ripping apart an unarmored target while the leader exhales a raging swirl of hostile tainted energy.
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16] <M.Assault
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15]
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6 = 5] <Anti
[1d6 = 1] <Bane
>vs:
[1d20+40 = (2+40) = 42] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 133,775 of 285,678 Morale

>Contained, yet nowhere near controlled, the pair of Tainted pinned against the Basin Village's southern buildings stomp outwards, left one with her right forehoof, right one with her left forehoof, against the disorganized Lancers halfway pinning them in place and towards the unexpected Chargers drowning them in sheer numbers, a bitter resemblance of anger creasing their massive faces.
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
>vs:
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <First Lancer Charge x 140 total
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Second Lancer Charge x 100 total
>Scaling atop, around, across, and partially through the three Lunar Assault Tainted, Chargers from the Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard rend deeply into their targets, silent fury guiding their actions.
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <First Charger Wave x 200 total
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <Second Charger Wave x 100 total
>Perfectly aware of their size and height, the stuck outer pair snap their heads forwards, rows upon rows of lance-like teeth shearing into the second line of Chargers leaping atop shoulders, saddles, and rears of Lancers being forced back.
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Soulburn
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 168.969 of 285,678 Morale

>Taking control of the overherd, a mid-50's Watch Guard Striker Captain speaks in a calm, albeit highly worried voice over the trio rushing forwards to exact their own retributions.
('Razorback, the Hail of Glory was nearly destroyed by the Solar Air Commarend Division's assaults and can no longer assist us. Losses are about to rise exponentially, likewise there will be no more fliers to keep the Airstrike Division distracted soon. Find some manner to keep both of them from crashing down atop everypony here, but most importantly yourselves-')
>The mare's eyes shut tightly, intoning a prayer to the Four True Goddesses while directing the Basin's equine forces into taking up more cohesive offensives.
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Watch Guard Tactics: Anti-Tainted Counter Measures
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]

>Inexplicably aware battle flowing around, between hundreds of casings and shells smacking into everything, something valuable was lost among the familiar Razorback voices.
>And: it was you.
"Swap barrels if they're hot-"
"Toss all the mags out, fuck cares if we step on 'em!"
"Threes to fives, don't expend any more than in bursts!"
"AIM STEADY!"
"Hold left and right, let Broken take that mare!"
"Bring the rain, send the pain!"
"And they came to snuff the rooster-"
[1d6+17 = (1+17) = 18] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (5+25) = 30] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (4+29) = 33] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total

[1d6 = 1] <Sharonel's Will
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370544
370599
>>370469
>Pareidolia looks and listens to Lonestar's complaints, glancing through the archival images for additional reference.
(Subpar equipment. Subpar intel. Likely riddled through by the worms of profit.)
>Nodding and offering a grim sigh hissed through his helmet, he speaks as he stands.
"I appreciate the context. God save the ground pounders."

>Coming to the doorway, he is greeted by the sight of Dul proffering various strange fruits whose colors are reminiscent of tropical flora.
(Dul can taste that? How... )
>As he pauses to process this development, Katyal amiably offers to share one, and Dul elaborates.
>Apparently the Vortex has some equivalent energy based sustenance suitable for beings of that plane.
>Speaking to himself he speculates.
"'Taste' likely the closest analog she has for determining the properties of an object... interesting."

>He shakes his helmet slightly in amusement at Dul's innocence and moves to take his opened backpack off the central bench line into a locker.
>A look is sent towards Katyal as she reports Hodch's awakening.
"An operator responsible for, among other things the corrupted state of that Mythril Staff. Hodch has every right to."

>While securing his pack in a locker, Lonestar's announcement of cruising speed is broadcasted.
>He quickly kneels down on one leg while pressing his left arm against the locker wall, willing his Sticky enchantment to secure his boots, knee, and arm to their respective surfaces for grip.
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #3/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370545
370548 370554 370611
>>370191
>A cool, rather distinctly fidgety middle-aged mare speaks across the overherd while you reposition.
('Seven minutes remain until Shattering Skies re-enters atmosphere. I have lost both Vestal Gardenia and the Master-General, they can not respond when engaged in a kill-frenzy like this.')

>Crossing through the utterly packed and stacked ranks of military ponies more like hardened bunkers than individuals in armor, there was barely enough room to reach the fountain as even more Lancers and Chargers pour out from open translocation matrices to take up positions of, quickly, rising deceased.
>Squeezing in enough room to set down the drone's laptop, a quick glance at the sacrificial basin north of the fountain showed no change in the Cult of the Dark Horse cultist: slumped atop the altar, still unmoving, pinksteel and greensteel blades clung tightly in her outstretched wingclaws.
>Although the Berserker, Skullguard, Siegemare, and Mareauder Bloodhosts hadn't moved, nor the Night Guard lookalike trio, you could taste the herd-thoughts emanating from each: they were to protect the honored mare that freshly granted them mercy, which contrasted with a need to cause violence upon Tainted, but were not close enough to join in.

>Belatedly realizing down the M32's sights that the closest barricade was the one all of Razorback had taken up, the best you could do was kneel down and take a rock steady firing position-
>Which worked fairly well: the first airburst grenade thoomps in a scant arc into the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's faux-armored chest, a muffled detonation occurring in the barrel, second and third entering, then exiting at skewed angles and showering the pinned left Tainted with fragments, while the fourth effectively disappears.
The Lost Legions: -169.036 of 285,678 Morale

>Overhead, another 53 East Ocean Moors Militia crumple in flight, sent hundreds of meters from resounding blows delivered by the relatively intact Lunar Airstrike Division, quickly running out of targets.
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <East Ocean Moors Militia x 46 total
>vs:
[1d6+83 = (1+83) = 84] <Soulburn

('While they can hold out against unwinnable odds, make the Eastern Moors Militia proud to serve their kin! Unicorns of Two Goddesses, grant Evalesdraught's sacrifice ever greater meaning!')
>Switching to every other Elemarent excluding Plasma, Void, or Rime, the massed unicorns in Basin Village deliver their preferred arcane energies up and into less occupied Lunar Airstrike Tainted:
>Material boulders half-coalesced with magma, frozen shards containing highly compressed, barely contained oxy-hydrogen airbursts, and pseudo-coherent metallic lances charged with enough electrical through-put to EMP ruin an entire continent-
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+12 = (1+12) = 13] <Germaneigh Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total

>Responding after a brief delay, one of the original Razorback 100, a man that had zero chill factor in a firefight, grins ahead of you while avoiding a hose-down on first ranks of Chargers making a mess of the three stuck Tainted.
('Fuck yeah! We've got every kind of tie down on us! New leader mare!')
('Yes?')
('Get that smallest unit to take all our lines and string up 'em like Jeff said, starting with the entrance!')
>Dividing a fraction of her concentration onto the various wires, lines, cables, and ropes, the leadmare directs all of the halfway exhausted Lunar Guard Combat Support unit into reaching for them.
>Swiftly collected and tied together in finely set double-hitch knots, twenty sets of 100M long binding streak forwards to latch into stone, creating heavy barriers while double that number snake out into the still unmoving Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted ranks behind the three, intending to physically tie them at the legs.
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total

('Jeff, she's in the Fortress pagoda, tilted sideways and.. on fire. Big gate's still open left and front of you but we're all busy on this line-')

>A faintly silverine-tasting earth stallion's voice speaks in your direction, the heatedly amused tone familiar, albeit not one you could distinctly recall.
('Because that, Nightblade, is a Minor Crystalline Golem by the name of Vokreed, the only known subordinate of High Grand Champion Belregarde and one of those five Ethereals allowed to enter Princess Cadenza's holy presence without invitation. If that had been any other Ethereal, this Vanguard would have shredded it to make mirrors barely worth pissing on.')

>In a corner of the overherd's virtually perfect view of Basin Village, the Rime-encased figure of that long dead, yet still functional Crystal Conclave Killknight sideslips at full speed against a single, entirely self-actualized Solar Guardian Air Commarend Captain.
>Unable to block or parry the other's shockingly destructive blows, the smiling mare's intent focuses on preventing the Captain from striking into the Councilierge Assault Vanguard Battalion's rear lines, instead trading for time against the increasingly threatening stallion's efforts.
"And dance we will with endless grace,
Upon this land of hard-fought space,
Slaughter-driven blows we in tune must make,
To purify these blood-bound lands in our wake-"

[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Sunder
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
>vs;
[1d6+40 = (6+40) = 46] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+40 = (4+40) = 44]
[1d6+40 = (1+40) = 41]
[1d6+40 = (3+40) = 43]
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20]
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24]
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #4/4
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370547
370548 370554 370578
>>370196
>Tilting the control stick back and forth to bleed off excess rotation while stabilizing the Kiowa, as you glance at the electronics console, the helmet's machine-assisted learning interdicts the variety of signals, processing them into condensed versions:
>Exceptionally powerful sequences of electromagnetic bursts had just cut off, or destroyed, one of Spiral's relays, specifically one that had been placed atop the ancient, recently restored Pegasi-Batpony League Era Arena.
>The system wasn't able to analyze more, but you immediately recognize the variety of flashing triangular symbols as Construct in both origin and function.
>Dozens of new contacts, roughly 410 miles south, southwest, and southeast, were emitting low power signals on high bands, analogous to old long range wavelength radios.
>Rapidly scanning the bizarrely unencrypted tranmissions and reading through simplified, patterns read out as a large number of... trading vessels, the naming conventions featuring distinctly Neighsian names and meanings.
>The third warning was from the Kiowa's own systems, listing it's combat effectiveness at 88% due to extreme atmospheric moisture levels and slowly increasing malfunction chances due to the same.
>Fourth was an even greater variety of triangular Construct symbols, subtle definitions, more esoteric and less definable than the previous, orienting towards the Basin Arena.
>Before you can look away, a number of them converge, composing a single line in starkly contrasted Common Equestrian:
Refuse-deny-implore-PREVENT the Walker-Of-Spirits from unexistence-death-destruction-disruption-FAILURE, she accepts-grants-allows-desires-TRUSTS a Two-That-Have-Become-One.

>Paired screens fill the helmet's interior, a detailed report showing that launching two of the M-S.OL.G.'s largest rods at the same time caused extensive damage, which you couldn't help but wince at.
>While the thorium reactor had tripped and shut down before catastrophic damage could occur, it needed a clear order from you to reset, while the battery systems were badly degraded, only able to launch the smallest rods without issue.
>At least, after a recharge cycle.
>The TLS was undamaged according to diagnostics, but needed either direct solar feed to fire, at roughly half damage potential, or for the reactor and batteries to be completely restored.
>It was still 'complaining' about extensive outer orbit water conditions, however.

>Sighting in through the helmet's targeting systems, pressing on the control stick's firing selectors and holding the chaingun's trigger down rewards you with a fantastic though brief lightshow, complemented by the crashing roils of dissonant energy weapons focused southwards.
>Sweeping across the stuck Assault Tainted, individual tracers leave large, unmending punctures that weren't being stopped by faux-armor-
>Which was greatly overshadowed by Hydra and Hellfire detonations deep in the compacted ranks, casing shrapnel causing moderate to high shearing as the Tainted were clustered so tightly together.
('Don't bother avoiding us if you can't, whether one or twenty dies doesn't matter! Take the rooftops like she said, and avoid those cables!')
The Lost Legions: -180,674 of 285,678 Morale

*"Our weapons reapest tolls aplenty ye grace, but a lone minute mineself havest tae give-"*
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,517/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (5+24) = 29] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (4+16) = 20] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+14 = (5+14) = 19] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems

('Battered Shores holding together for now! SET EVERYTHING INTO OVERCHARGE MODES, TEAR THAT CENTRAL UNIT APART!')
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <Degraded Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Degraded Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+33 = (6+33) = 39] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: OVERLOAD
[1d6+31 = (5+31) = 36] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents: OVERLOAD
[1d6+21 = (3+21) = 24] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents: OVERLOAD
[1d6+27 = (4+27) = 31] <Arcane Point Defense Systems: OVERLOAD

>Peering into the rift displaying a two-story stone village, a pair of scantily clad mares study the scene being shown to them.
>The older speaks with a twinge of fear while the younger hurriedly fiddles with an archaic directional compass.
<"Where is this? And are those.. giant horses?">
<"No idea ma'am, these readings are beyond my evaluation abilities. ..they are not. Possible corrupted ponies, except much larger than any known variant. Not entirely physical either. Bad, in sum. Orders?">
<"We cannot ignore ponies in distress, and who knows which benefactor is showing us this. Deploy both suites of stabilized Plasma mines directly atop that group of frozen equines.">
<"We can't do that without formally signed orders or a direct visit from either Princess!">
<"QUIET! I'm sure they WON'T mine'd if all sixty of the Sun's favors wind up missing yet mysteriously arrive to aid a large number of ponies in need! ...are you refusing my order, or complying?">
<"By the Sun and Moon I hate puns! Releasing two suites at tandem charge onto the targeted frozen horses, ma'am-">
<"Go find out where that place is, and if you do learn why we're seeing it, don't hesitate if it was preventable, understood? Leave!">
<"Yes, ma'am.">

>Waiting until the barely matured mare leaves, the older sits down heavily, then clasps her front hooves together, whispering as she trembles in sincere terror at the racks of large diamondine-encased weapons rolling forwards.
<"Fall and destroy in the glory of Two Sisters ye Sun-sacred abominations made real. Suffer our enemies no marks of pain, hate, nor fear. Grant us the right to know our actions are honorable. Deliver those ponies the comforts they need at the beginnings and ends of their lives..">
[1d6+90 = (6+90) = 96] <Self-Setting Plasma Mines, Suite #1
[1d6+90 = (3+90) = 93] <Self-Setting Plasma Mines, Suite #2
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #5/5
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370548
370554
>>370543
>>370545
>>370547
>In clear range of the Overherd's multitude of eyes, and close to a hundred Mind's Eyes, another sequential launch of Spectral Lances streak high upwards, then twist downwards into the mixed second to sixth ranks of Lancers and Chargers.
>Openly seething at two hundred and sixty falling forwards, dead onto stone without a world, those Chargers racing up the Basin Village's stairwells collectively snarl towards the Solar Tainted too far south for them to reach.
>The new leadmare's head shakes fitfully, barely holding back the urge to order one last volley of Void lances in their direction as they deploy another salvo.
('Not one single weapon or tactic has disrupted them, why?')

[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Solar Guard Support Division: Spectral Lances
Solar Guardian Support Division, holding @200M south of Basin Village
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
3ba6194
?
No.370554
370656
>>370542
>Turning to consider her next move, Sunny was shocked to find that what she thought had been a battle taking place in another spectrum had never occurred at all.
>A simulation, one imposed on reality, if imperfectly.
>She applied slight mental pressure against the overherd connection and beamed a single thought out to the Watch General, Vestal Gardenia and Razorback.
('Update. Objective accomplished, relay shutdown. Disregard prior report, Lunar feline unit part of Construct near future simulation. Redirect unit from arena if possible, Destroyers active.')
>She'd already disrupted their simulation by shutting off the relay, it couldn't hurt to further throw it off.
>It was impossible to say whether the simulated Constructs had entered through the gateway or come from elsewhere, so it was a coinflip's chance whether or not destroying the gateway would alter the probable near future so that the simulated battle would never happen, or if herself and Mercy were simulated to have failed before they'd even arrived.
>No simulation could be perfect, as accurate measurement of elementary particles on a cosmic scale was impossible via any other means than through an omni-dimensional, and universe sized field carried by massless particles to solve for the observer effect. Simply, like deducing the location, velocity and weight of a stone falling into a pond by reverse processing the resulting ripples and water displacement. She knew of no such field and, possibly, neither did the Constructs, or their simulations would be better and they would have blasted both herself and Mercy the moment they had teleported to the Arena.
>There was a chance then, but any action she, Mercy, or anybody could take would be immediately accounted for in further simulations. Whatever she ended up doing, she would only be able to do it once.
>Change the probable near future, now that she had seen it.

>Sunny put a hoof to her head and shook it when Gardenia's incredibly loud mental shriek came through, and was suddenly silenced.
>By the Constructs.
>Her blood went cold at the thought, they were getting too close. How long until they could intercept, decipher and even send psionic transmissions of their own?
>Sunny rushed to reach a higher vantage point, the highest she could get, she'd only be able to use the sigil sequence once, she had to be able to get onto one of them to do it.
>Then the Destroyers started revealing their armaments.
>Wow that was a lot of firepower.
>Mercy did not have more than a minute against that much firepower and with two destroyers flanking, if that.
>Much of it she only barely recognised, but the anti-matter weaponry caught her attention. A munitions failure could cause containment failure, and they didn't know she could cause one...

[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]

>>370543
>>370545
>>370547
>>370548
Clemency
!.BxecfigoM
aab530d
?
No.370578
370611 370657 370663
>>370547
>Clemency scans through the electronics console, analyzing the Construct positions and information
>The Constructs were still contained at the arena
>The new contacts were surprising, making Clemency wonder why there were trading vessels coming here and what the new Construct contacts are heading towards the arena
>Before he turns his attention, he sees the console merge all the esoteric Construct signatures into one with text above
>This reads more like a message than a designation
>One that startles Clemency

>Looking at the status of the M-S.O.L.G's condition, he couldn't help but cringe at the damage
>The entire thing is barely holding together, with the reactor shut off and the batteries thoroughly fucked
>The only consolation is the TLS being undamaged

>Clemency then realizes how close he is to the Construct signatures
>Close enough for them to hook into his systems and send him messages
>He realizes he needs to get the Kiowa out, fast
>"One more fight with the controls...one more volley...."
>He steadies again before letting one more volley out from the Kiowa

[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]

>He then sends a general message out to the overherd about him landing and returning
('This is Clemency. Landing the Kiowa back at the translocation stone and returning to the AO. Construct interference is messing with my electronics and I don't want this thing to be hijacked with me in it.)
>Clemency then swings the Kiowa around and prepares to land at the translocation stone
>Hearing the Guillotine's last report, he sends another message to the overherd
('The Guillotine, that Destroyer raking their lines, has only a minute left before it has to retreat to recharge reactors. Plan accordingly.')
>Once the stone was clear, Clemency lands and turns off the helicopter
>Once fully shut down, he hops out and send the helicopter back to Razorback Fortress
>Clemency looks back to the lines and watches the scene unfold
>Knowing that everything counts tonight, he unholsters his new weapon, feeling the connection between him and it
>He sets it for the finned darts before sprinting towards the Razorback lines

[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Master Sprint
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Expert Airstream
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
Rookie Barracks North
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370591
370602
>>350118 →
>>350128 →
>>370393
>It was, almost, pitch black.
>A deep, warm blanket that crinkled with every small movement was even better.
>Comfortable green lights in the corner left of you notwithstanding, scents of freshly shaved, wonderful smelling wood reminded you of earlier years.
>Eyes opening to adjust from one of the best naps you'd ever experienced, it took another few slow blinks to realize you'd slept deeply and long enough that your internal biological alarms were way off.

>Sitting up and lifting both hands to rub your face, the distinct sensation of being extremely thirsty was new.
>And confusing.
>More so was a dimly pulsating, gold-trimmed page on the right side of your bed.
>One that you were rather sure hadn't been there earlier.
Razorbat Enclave: One (GIANT) Detour
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370592
371074
>>370479
*"Give me a breeaaaaak already, trying to prepare for the worst that never could've hoped to cross my mind. Least I can do is make an awful joke or two. But I am serious, the Tylisvine Conclave trades nearly everything used like those bio.. metal things some humans talk about replacing their hands with."*
>Reassurance wasn't her best trait, or joking. But she tried.
>Easing away from the older earth stallion, Amerose glances from the pot to you, then back to Stream Lark, eyebrows raising briefly.
>Muzzle quirking, the jet black stallion's head lowers fractionally in a short, respectful motion, to which the Lorekeeper swivels around in a smooth motion, sliding off the chair and onto hooves with ringing clops.
>Whistling in a low, down-up peal at the Imperial Knights, they respond by performing the same, with varying levels of ability, all converging towards the northern wall, also a crystal-space illusion, though Amerose turns a hesitant face towards you.
"I am not sure how to state this, but the prisoner's name is not 'Pear Blossom'. Equestrian records are equally thorough to the Crystal Empire's, however those Equestrian lineages descended from the original mare's name of Pear are majority earth pony.
There are three known descendant families, the first one an earth mare named Rainspeckle Pear, stallion Brightleaf Pear, and their colt, Rainleaf Pear. Three more Pear-named herds are in Western or Southern Equestria and Neighvada.
Less than five unicorn lineages did exist with a forename, first-word, first-meaning, or other similar context, only two of which succeeds to this day. Shalefrost Pear and her filly Heartwind Pear life somewhere in the Lowland Empire regions close to Northern Equestria.
There is another family in Caneighdia but they are Dynasty Remnant descended. We have no information on them."
>Biting her lower lip in brief thought, Amerose's head shakes as she didn't have more to add, then gives, a short, respectful nod.. and switches to an instant loping canter straight south.
*"Ooooh, good, she's mad. I knew this was GOUF-"*
>Cut off by Amerose swiftly bending into a crouched position, then lunging out of sight and crashing into Naliyna's heavy armor, shrieking in a profound unmarely tone.
"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING MY DIPSHIT COUSIN'S HERD NAME YOU GIANT TEATED MONSTER OF A MARE IN NAME ONLY-"

>Squinting at the highly unexpected violence, Stream Lark's ears flick in mildly serious amusemarent.
"Different herd-names? ..Amethyst must be r-"
>Ending the statemarent with a rude snort, the Councilierge faces you, a rare expression of firmly setting tension apparent as he makes an accepting nod.
"I will state this much in the open. My position allowed hundreds of sworn Crystal Empire, Kingdom, and Imperials, with far more Lunars, Solars, and independents into the ranks of Watch and Tower Guard. I went against the warnings of five Primal Psions, a descendant of the Lunar and Solar Princess, and each Vigilite capable of speaking. Tonight was the last disaster that will be allowed to occur."
>Lark's upper body seizes for a split-second before his composure utterly stills, snout and muzzle contracting in barely held rage while jabbing his right front hoof at your chest.
"But, first, I am going to get THIS out of the way: two months before all human Operators were to arrive, Stalliongrad delivered over five thousand ponies, weapons and armor to match what New Canterlot could make, Late Dynasty relics they never could, and every oath to serve imaginable.
One hundred were for Equestria, thirty to Stalliongrad, ten to Prance, ten to Germaneigh, ten to Neighsia, ten to Saddle Arabia, ten to the Free Flock Rams, ten to the Minotaur Hegemony, and ten for Argenta.
One, two, or more of you bastards nuked New Canterlot Palace, killing over a hundred thousand. Ponies, Minotaurs, Gryphons, Eyes, Rams, one from the Elder Dragon Council, and several that would otherwise be enemies. Six weeks of searching and not a single life or scrap was found. Due to that, Stalliongrad changed.. as I am sure you are aware of."
>Leaving coalesced threats of much worse than execution unspoken, Stream Lark's eyes drift above you, then back down.
"If my daughter hadn't been stuck in Neighvada on an Honor Guard's orders, she'd be dead like them. Worse, Razorback has been hunting her down, as if she were one of those branded criminal whores of Lucky's family. Linara spent weeks on the Citadel begging and pleading for more time, support, and chances. And yet some of you Otherworld bastards kept hunting her, even when she was making constant amarends to Luna herself.
My daughter was granted rights and gifts by the entire Lunar Council that none of you may ever have the right to know of, nor be considered for now, or have you not noticed how coldly some Lunars treat Razorback?"
>Setting his front legs out wide in a gesture of complete openness, the older stallion's eyes narrow into a mix of desperation and hope, though with a searing iota of maliciousness.
"Most of the ponies in Razorback I can trust instinctively, yet you will show me reasons enough to trust you. Should those be sufficient I will do my upmost in keeping the rest of the Councilierge, Watch Guard, the Stallionguards, marecenaries, and all the rest from destroying Razorback, but out of respect alone know this:
I will never be able to sway so much as a single Primal Psion, Vigilite, or Tower Guardian now. That damage is forever done, and they do not forgive."
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370599
370624
>>370544
>Digging into clearly old files, Shiibo presents images of bare minimum production lines aboard obvious cramped non-atmospheric vessels, all faces of water camo uniformed humans blacked out.
>Several show highly stripped down, questionably safe particle synthesizers designed to rotate common elements through electron and proton exchanges, then atmospheric density, heat, or both are applied, and finally slowed by precisely controlled particle fields.
>Much older, simpler weapons copied from Pre-Interskip First Earth take up minimal space in depressingly spartan shipboard armories; ammunition allotments for each operative listed at precisely three full magazines for primary weapons, but only a single for secondaries.
>Shiibo pauses to to note a strange spatial rift technology, functioning as either a short-lived physical 'skip' off gravity fields of physically solid solar objects, a dangerous process on its own, or as a long, slow cruise through known energy states, protected from mass-energy decay using a form of energy bleedthrough.
>Safe to a certain extent, more fascinating was the system was barely weaponized save an esoteric system deemed a 'skipjack'.
>An undated incident involving an orbital research facility in a stable asteroid belt had been attempting to produce an artificial gravitic shield, which the project leads poorly accounted for the station's own mass, and the ramping up of power load required to compensate were miscalculated.
>The results: half the station's solid-fuel plasma generators either slagged or ruptured into tiny suns, numerous asteroids flung across the solar system, the remains of an unfortunate button presser forever preserved as a carbon statue, and decades of public, far more careful, study to understand the absurd physics responsible.
>Considerably higher tech medium to heavy weapons were shown under tight guard, a squad of eight ExoTroopers and two Androids protecting much smaller armories and needing a Captain's direct orders for access.
>Virtually pristine, modular multirole MASER systems requiring servo-assisted combat frames, or mounted on vehicles, vessels, and ExoTroopers, an utterly insane subatomic bond-shearing weapon with a failure rate higher than should have ever been allowed, and a scattering of other familiar weapons were likewise present.
>One factor the avatar points out from each view was that all unnecessary and noncritical components had long since been stripped from everything; likewise there was no use of currency or credit systems, with such sparse raw materials only the most trusted and elite operatives were allowed access, and only when there was a distinct threat to eliminate.
>Opening top level records briefly, Shiibo displays a clear chain of purely human technological progression, fairly slower than projected norms due to never experiencing nuclear or global wars.

"All the Gods worth talking to tried, but luck ain't always on our side; let they in the depths take well earned rest, for our enemies fucked with the very best."
>Tossing a short handed salute at you, Lonestar reaches upwards to pull a full body shock frame down, locking it in place and eyeing his readout with a half-reverie smile.
"Got nothing except footprints bigger than Jeff's house still. Will call you when somethin' interesting pops up."

>Taking the food from Dul, not before patting her head again, and packing them into her oversized kit bag, Katyal makes a rapid check of her pouches, Shiibo pointing out multiple micro-expressions of killing joy and near-equine approval.
"That mean I should help him out or is it one of the 'a stallion's got to do what a stallion needs to' actions?"
>Collecting her submachine and rifle, stashing them in the rear passenger seat's under-locker, then eyes Hodch's collection with a blatant grimace.
>Tearing the topaz bracelet off her wrist, both arms flex, pulling it open to hoola-hoop size and slapping the relic down atop the objects, then sliding it over her bag.
"Heads up Hodch!"
>The bracelet pulses faintly as it contracts, and is replaced while she glances at the locker you'd chosen, then in surprise at Dul sinking her pseudo-body several inches into the compartment's floor.
"Uh, you CAN hold on like that, right?"
"Dul say yes? Sirens ride big boxes on boats, dra-gons like this lots times. Dul ask why?"
>Cracking a knowing grin, the First Responder leaps onto the rear passenger's seat chest first, legs bent at the knees, grabbing for a large attachment ring on the front and another on the side.
"Sounds way more fun than what we're about to put up with. Hang on tight until either the bumps stop or you do!"
"Dul confuse? What bu-"

>That familiar jolt of solid yet still annoyingly effective tracks digging into firmly packed dirt runs through the Overlander, partially offset by a decently shock-resistant compartment hard bolted to semi-rigid suspension frame.
>Slightly smoother than most older military vehicles, the jarring forwards, back, then forwards again ends with the resounding whines of powerplant transfer.
>Holding yourself solid to titanium alloy, and far less less effected than Katyal's iron-gripped smack into seat, the APC settles into a steady pace, griping aloud in a mocking, humorous tone.
"Could've warned us before pulling that stunt!"
*"Ah did!!"*
"You owe me a new set of pants!"
*"Don't make me come back there-"*
"Okay DAD!"
*"..the fuck did I do to deserve this?"
>Sliding herself up into a sitting position, Katyal theatrically wipes her knees off, snorts at the Siren sporting a frazzled stare, then rotates an unusually rigid expression onto you.
>Visibly sizing you up and down, precisely as an earth mare would, she makes a short chin lift, beginning to strip her armor off.
"A few deficiencies.. not much. You're going to learn everything I can teach, then Hodch when he's done rolling around swearing. Same for you as well Miss Dul. And that armor? Out. Time's wasting-"
[1d6 = 3] <Enhanced Synergy Cross-Training: Results

[1d6 = 1] <Travel Time
Cheto
!!.IbTBSkudk
90c4209
?
No.370602
370629
>>370591
>Letting out a rather unflattering, sharp snore, Gallo found himself slightly startled at how efficient his nap was.
>It was almost too good to be true compared to his crummy 30-year-old bed or the various bunks of shoddy quality.
>If it wasn't for the fact he had a sizable portion of the ruling Solar class breathing down his neck for his title alone, he might even think he was dreaming.

>After the subconscious rub of his face, José's eyebrow rose in curious surprise as his naked hand picked it up to inspect its contents.
>Meanwhile, his other hand would tap around for his neat pile of stuff in order to get a drink out of his water jug.
>So his assessment about another being in here was not so farfetched after all.
(Whatever it is, it knows how to leave a man drier than a desert. Boludo...)
Jeff
!!TGtxHBZnLs
8d0760e
?
No.370611
370660 370663 370710
>>370545
>As he starts to load four more High Explosive shells into the Milkor, he takes in a deep breathe and observes the battlefield around him.
>Vestal and the General were so far deep, they weren't available anymore.
>A hoard was still frozen in the Rime south of the Village.
>Right behind the group stuck at the Southern building were two divisions and six generals. Behind them at speed were two more divisions, not including the support in the rear.
>The Killnight North of the Village was holding off a Captain, and their air superiority was dwindling.
>That's not even putting the Constructs at the Arena into play.
>With the Milkor fully loaded and the spring fully wound, Jeff checks on the Reaper's afixing orbit...
>He can at least use the rest of his Hellfires now.
>Putting the launcher on safety, he looks over the battlefield for any quick targets he can possibly hit quick before they get even more fucked.
>He pans the targeting camera two-hundred meters south. He can put one missile on each Support Captains. Though at this point he doesn't know what it'll really do.
("Targeting the four Support Captains two-hundred mikes back, then I'm out of munitions for the Reaper. Will keep it in orbit, if a situation comes up.")
>Arming the last four AGM's, he picks his first target and sends one missile after another in succession.

>Solar Guardian Support Captain #1
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]

>Solar Guardian Support Captain #2
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]

>Solar Guardian Support Captain #3
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]

>Solar Guardian Support Captain #4
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]

>The last missile landing, Jeff takes a look South to the traffic jam at the entrance buildings. Already ponies were mobilizing to tie the Tainted Forms up Hoth-style.
("If we have any more resources to spare, let's try setting up more cable teams at other bottle-neck entrances into the Village.")
>The Dagor was a no-go. They'll have to do without the fifty.
>And the addition of Crystalline Golem was destroying Spectral Lances. Well okay then... right on.

>>370578
>As he's about to fire off another salvo, he gets the call from Clem that he has to land the Kiowa due to Construct interference.
>Shit, he'll need to keep a eye on the Reaper now.
>Setting the Milkor aside he monitors the drone's systems for anything outside interference, and prepares countermeasures.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Electronic Warfare Platform
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Basic Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
>It might be better for him to land the drone instead at this point. The Overherd is providing overwatch enough for them right now anyway.
>While checking for interference, he pans the camera out wide for any suitable landing locations for the Reaper: specifically, an area opposite from the Arena to keep it as far away from Contruct interference as possible.
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <UHD Aperture Camera: FLIR
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>Speaking of landing, he doesn't even know what would be suitable ground for it to land. Does it even have an automatic landing routine? He didn't initially mention it during the wish.
>Checking the Overherd he notices Clem returning back to the line to support everyone.
("Clem. Can you get to me at the fountain? I need help landing the drone.")
>That's going to leave them with almost no air support for a time, between the drone being empty and the Kiowa grounded.

>As he waits for Clem to regroup on him, he starts to perverbally empty his pockets of any more cards he can think of.
("If any Operators have ANY wish discs their holding out on, now's the time to use them! We're short on anti-air measures, I'll try comping anyone who does later. Anything you can come up with will help at this point!")
>He reaches into a hardcase pouch and pulls out one of Anon's steel balls, harshly whispering to it outside of the Overherd's connection and over the chaos around him.
"-If you can hear me through this, freeze frame when you come through and don't try to lose your shit.-"
>Jeff drops the steel ball, awaiting the gestalt's door to appear.
The L.O.N.T
!!PYsGb3YilI
bfdf04e
?
No.370616
370630 370661 370663
>>370543

>It wasn't the Psion manhandling him like a doll that broke Lont out of his rapidly spiralling mental state, it was the mares screams. Her shrill and real shouts thundered into his eardrums like the loudest revving engines back home.
>In an instant the heavy weight of fatigue was stripped away like meat off the bone. He stood up straight, wings instinctively moving by themselves to help balance him.
>She was right. He did not have the spare time to waste on despairing at his predicament. And before he could even respond, she was off. Gone on a suicide charge leading hundreds of ponies to valiantly die before the Tainted could take another step.

>Lont turned to face the Tainted again, specifically the trio Broken Hoof was rabidly attacking. The ones the Ethereal was attempting to meet in melee.
('I believe I can help with your issue. Just trust me.')
>He communicated. Concentrating inwards, he gradually felt an unnatural feeling well up inside him. It was certainly one of the more weirder experiences he has had and one he could not do justice in describing.
>Gazing at the small Tainted on the left of the Lunar Assault Tainted, an excitement of energy tingled across Lonts body as he willed the Ethereal to be at the legs of that one he stared at.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] >Warp Translocate +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]

>The deed was done and it left the Operator gasping for air, his wings flittering. Did he hold his breath or did the act steal the air from his lungs? Was that why his chest burnt?
('Go break a leg out there.')
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] >U.Punmancy +P.L

>Using the Spiker as a crutch to hold himself up he breathed in much needed air. The tang of gunpowder gave it a reassuring aftertaste.
"You are all doing great-"
>Lont said, addressing the Operators around him.
"-Showing that we can do good, are doing good. Will do good. And no need to die trying either because we will survive this day."
>Standing up he placed a hand on his chest, he realized it wasn't pain that was causing the sensation of burning. And it made him smile behind his helm.
"I am proud of you all."

[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] >M.Aligned Valor +Primal Leadership
Dante 'Doc Feelgood' Gambacci
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370623
370631
>>370461
>I looked up to her with a look so dry that it could probably dry up every single mango that she had stashed, would stash, or would eat.
"-Thank you-, Malyne. I think we're good with what we have, else we would have done what you said. We don't have much shit that still makes us human, and we go 'native' in plenty of other ways."
>She really didn't deserve it, but she -was- being sort of a know it all.
>Even still, not really cool.
>In my defense, however; The present situation.
>And oh boy, no lawyers to help me.
>I guess guns and money will have to serve me for now.
>Still, that was a rather...large pile of letters.
>And no time like the present to read it.
>I sighed, flicking out my knife to begin reading the first one.

>Wow.
>I...
>Wow.
>That's...not as bad as I thought it was going to be.
>Not as good, either, but I don't think that it was possible for me to actually have a favorable outcome.
>A lot of interesting names in that first pile, though.
>I'll have to reference it with some knowledgeable person that won't rip my spine out of me and feed it to me after for what I've done.
>And then, the second one.
>Potentially -worse- than the previous, given that I essentially was handed an entire laundry list of supplies, supplies needed, bits stockpiles, training, troops, weapons, armor...
>It truly was way, way too much.
>I think that my hands were trembling as I set the last one down.
>Dully looking to Malyne, I swallowed heavily. "Well. I think I prefer the letters that were telling me to stop interfering under pain of banishment or sexual acts with dubious consensuality than -these-."
>Referring to the two different types of letters, of course.
>I then swallowed, looking up to Malyne, and saying with pure, one hundred percent unfiltered dread, a single statement.
"...I think I'm a prince, now."
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370624
370634
>>370599
>Pareidolia ponders the question for a moment as he notes Shiibo's psychological pointers.
(Uncertain of Hodch's motivations on the subject... teaching background, Lunar, business relationship...)
"He may appreciate the offer, but you've clearly worked with him more. Filth is low on the list of priorities for him of issues to rectify currently. Likely will be for some time."

>He looks on in mild surprise as the bracelet expands seemingly with minimal resistance, whisking away the assemblage of items in a blink.
(Apparent folded pocket space for storage. Unclear how retrieval of goods is accomplished. Curious. A "Bag of Holding"?)

>Seeing Dul then simply sink into the floor, he shrugs and turns back to securing his gear.
(Nominal at this point. Like some kind of running gag anim.)

>Noting the sound of impact against metal, he looks up to check on Dul's first experience in a moving vehicle certain that Katyal was in fact fine despite her protestations.
>Un-stickying himself once the OL-3 was properly underway, he stands while recalling the familiar sensation of being in a moving transport vehicle before noticing Katyal's appraising stare.
(Lighter turbulence than orbital re-entry. How long has it been since pre-op transport deploy-)

"...Fine. An effective use of time."
(Need to consider an additional mask for wear beneath helmet.)

...
Razorback Fortress: Rookie Barracks North
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370629
370635
>>370602
>Upon picking up the heavy paper, your attention was called to the impressive fortress-castle diorama brightening in various shades of green and subtle hues.
>Experiencing moderate suspicion at numerous figures beginning to patrol around it, they turn out to be fairly simple two-dimarensional cutouts.... in varying stages of incompetent, barely competent, possibly competent, and flat out silly movemarent designs.

>Focusing back onto the page, it was an official documarent that granted you unrestricted legal access to a number of city-states, regions, countries, and destinations that ranged from the unfamiliar, to punnily amusing, then wrapped around a Mobius strip to the thoroughly unknown.
>You, with at most two Mareguards, six sapients, whether human, pony, or other, and a maximum of 20 tons of 'equipmarent', loosely listed as baggage or essentials, are granted unrestricted access to the following:

>Dew Crest Hills, a fairly spread out settlemarent in Southeastern Equestria under technical rule of Princess Celestia, home to large numbers of retired Royal and Honor Guards.
>Other than a short note stating it was an excellent place to hire older, highly experienced former Solar military ponies, it was known for being a relaxing location, although one could undertake highly specialized training with the right connections.

>The Domarenican Republic, a vast island south-southwest of the Batpony Moors, itself south of Equestria, and east of Cuteba, an almost entirely unexplored region, dotted by hundreds villages on the safest coastal locations.
>Inhabited solely by various Main Ferron Clan ponies, they were listed as being highly valuable, if rather formal yet erratic pegasi, providing vast amounts of raw oceanic resources straight to the Lunar military.
>Of particular distinction were bizarre forms of wood only found there, and armor plates from numerous sea creatures, some of which Cuteba shared.

>Gozka in the Minotaur Hegemony, denoted as the fourth biggest trading hub for raw, refined, or special metals, as well as mystical, and composite materials, pseudo-metals, and others you couldn't quite translate.
>By law it was independent, but by ancestral tradition most inhabitants are former elites from the Minotaur Hegemony, whether miners, smiths, warriors, rangers, foragers, mystics, though often an individual was two of the former.
>Sometimes three to four, judging by further notations.

>Marequipa, a vast, sprawling metropolis of mixed Burros, pegasi, Inland Flanatee, and a large number of oceanic sapients with sea-based names.
>Ruled by Princess Argenta, the addition of heavily armored whales, sharks, and one species of highly intelligent crab, or some other invertebrate species, enjoyed service so much in her naval fleets in great numbers meant that they were taxed at precisely 0.1%.
>Rounded down, not up, you note.

>Neighmara, a functional if small city-state completely dependent on trade, technically ruled by the Bronze Duke of Saddle Arabia.
>It had no tariffs or taxes to speak of, and was allied to the Crystal Empire, Gozka, and Neighsia for their crafts.
>They were also permarently addicted to various forms of coffee, or so read the report states.

>Pangshi, a vast, spread out mountain-port city in the western coastal Canton of Chineighsia, was considered to be one of the most vital trading ports for Neighsian foods and alchemical agents on Tallus, which you realize was the name of this planet.
>It also featured some of the finest chefs, crafters, and armorers, but for the most part were known for their nearly unbreakable pots, pans, and cooking appliances.... which eventually developed into numerous competing 'schools' of armor production.
>Sadly the lobster helm was definitely not one of those, although an amusing turtle-like carapace was quite common.

>The Southwatch, a partially underground proto-city in the Southwestern Crystal Empire, once ruled in twain by Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, though you note she was called 'Miyamori', a Neighsian honorific, and Queen Chrysalis of the Changeling Hive.
>Now listed as marginally independent, it was now best known for having some of the most elite Crystal pony explorers, specialists in, carefully or otherwise, breaching both fortifications and large creatures in equal measure.
>Their armory status was listed as 'moderate, recovering', but could be expected to produce significantly customized, super-heavy, ultra-heavy, and custom ExoFrames given the time and materials to do so.

>Last was Yurikay, a large multi-level descended from Neighsian traders lost on the Airstreams that claimed an unoccupied region in Argenta's Lands, then honorably joined her burgeoning empire with unusually great enthusiasm.
>Directly ruled by Princess Argenta and considered exceptional allies, making up a small, highly valuable number of her forces, it was well renowned for training veteran and elite assassins specialized only in killing creatures, monsters, megaflora, and megafauna.... and for having equally exceptional prostitutes.
>Most commonly, said 'assassins' were skilled in both. At the same time.

>The other locations were noted as smaller, yet highly important trade destinations: Bright Stone Castle in South Eastern Equestria, Skull-Glaive Fortress of the Minotaur Hegemony, Fallow Moon's Glade somewhere in Malurian lands, Reefblood Cloud-City currently held by the Second Independent Pegasi League, Tidelock Bog of the Batpony Moors, Zaturnay's Oasis of Purrsia, Yakurata's Twin Doors in Neighpon, the Black Wood Marenor in Arkadian Divides territory, and a few others that weren't readily translating.

>Like the diplomatic contract, it was freshly stamped, signed, and sealed, by Princess Celestia; not only could you smell the ink, a faint touch on the gold trim revealed it was still lukewarm.
>Feeling refreshed after drinking down half of the cool water, upon screwing the cap on it became clear a certain pony had been working overtime to acquire these concessions.
The L.O.N.T
!!PYsGb3YilI
bfdf04e
?
No.370630
>>370616
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] >E.MoS +P.L
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda, Around Four Past Midneight
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370631
370637
>>370623
>Flashing stubby fangs in an openly forgiving smile, the batfilly's tufted ears swish up and down several times as she keks aloud.
"Most humans I have met are positively batty in ways they did not think were shared with us natives!"
>And there it was: you managed to fall for yet another of Malyne's seemingly endless chains of pun traps.
>Diamond-slitted eyes narrowing while raucous silent laughter hitches in her chest, she turns back to potentially sabotaging more letters, barely holding back snorts and snickers.
>This was either going to be an excruciatingly short night, or a long, slow, gruesome pun-induced death knowing her.

>Looking up after a few seconds of scribbling that you hoped weren't writing jokes on important notices or marcenary requests, Malyne's expression was, for the first time, flat.
>And had trace elemarents of real, serious concern.
"That.. does.. nnnnnot... sound... good. Especially those last few words. Those are not normal unless somepony or someponies have had specific crimes committed against them."
>Head tilting left, then her eyes twitch, widen, squint, widen, squint again, widen one last time, and finally her pupils expand to the maximum articulate fear possible.
"What. WHAT. No, what. NO, what. No, WHAT. NO! WHAT?! I.. do not understand, what did you do? What WAS done? How is that possible? Why? When? Where? With wh-"

>Before you could argue with Malyne over correct verbiage, one of the Vortex Remnant's semi-infinite eyes raise up from the translocation matrice, this one a pale red giant, nearly reaching the Pagoda's roof in height.
>A pair of brutally solid, shockingly white earth pony stallions step forward from the rarely seen VIP treatmarent in tandem, almost twins except for subtle build differences.
>Their eyes, rolling black, green, and blue tones, rotate slowly from the Pagoda's northern entrance.. directly on to you.
>The pair turn sharply to face each other, snouts nearly touching, then crisply take four steps backwards to perform an actual, strict regal-addressing bow.
>Where the pair arrived from is a scroll large wide and thick enough to beat a small bear to death with, firmly tied with paladine wire, and covered in a variety of heat-immune stamps, seals, a few sigils on the surface sparkling in gold.
>Speaking in soft, deathly flat tones that couldn't be determined from ANY lineage, you instinctively knew them to be undead Vigilite Arch-Guardians, part of the archaic, highly religious order dating back to the Early Dynasty..
>And known among Necromarecers far or wide as eminently hostile to all non-natives.
"Dante of Razorback Company, you are seen and hereby confirmed as safe, alive, and whole. We offer to you, this contract being proof, as the Grand Solar Prince of the Second Dynasty, in absentia from the Silver and Gold Courts of New Canterlot. Your title was retrieved, inspected, granted, accepted by nobility and royalty alike, now recorded in the Endless Records. Affix this state of royalty when such pleases you, Your Principality."

>Taking a deep inhale, Malyne lets go of her stolen pens, right eyebrow raising, left eyebrow lowering as all of her collective sanity struggles to comprehend.
"Did I eat one of Peach Drop's special mangoes? Did I eat too much from Dancing's secret stash of candy? Did Mercy spike a drink for herself and I failed to recognize her favorite alchemical combat drugs?"
>Poking her snout experimarently with both forehooves, then each wingclaw in turn, the burnt orange batfilly twitches, mildly, continuing to ask herself philosophical questions.
"What is the meaning of horse? What IS a horse? Am I a horse in the shape of a pony, or a pony in the shape of a horse? Am I Marshmallow, or Noodle? A Noodle Marshmallow? A Marshmallow Noodle? A Noodlemallow? A Marshnoodle? What is a noodle, but a marshmallow in dreams? A marshmallow, wishing it were long and spindly like a noodle should be? Am I therefore a soft, sugar-covered noodle with sapience?"
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370634
370670
>>370624
>Displaying indices on the two similar Druid proto-religions, located in Fortress archives, extensive punishmarents to those that commit atrocities against holy or sacred artifacts, relics, and concepts are described.
>Sapients were more protected in comparison while flora and fauna had variable importance depending on their natural balance, spiritual vagaries, or representation in rites and rituals.
>Less objectively moral and far more willing to strike without warning, records of Lunar Druids show a high propensity for delivering quick, painful, or gruesome executions in protecting nature from threats.
>A descending scale follows: Eldritch, Planar, Otherworld, Infected Species related to the previous three, Abominations, Spectrals, Undead, Corrupted, Tainted, then a number of lesser known threats.
>Shiibo deliberates for one-tenth a second before taking on a grim face, displaying numerous images of the jihadi, mostly in the process of committing highly unsavory actions, spiking food or drinks, a few more of blatant criminality, the rest... redacted for your sake given the avatar's combative tone.
'Ones such as that must be isolated from contact with all native species and humans, destroyed, and the remains returned to prevent ANY contamination. At best, they must never be allowed on this world.'
>Pausing to study a further set of images and archives, the avatar nods firmly.
'A prime opportunity sir. Katyal will offer to join Hodch in the future; he will accept. Insist that you must aid their efforts, doing so will prove you have no-'
>Giving you a brief, sharp expression.
'Or little animosity towards equines. That will prove a desire to prevent conflict and that you value honorable conduct. It would also directly appeal to his, and her, views of peaceful coexistence when possible, and solidify that you have a shared interest in maintaining herd-laws, the unspoken rules of Razorback, and creating productive cross-species interactions.'

>Removing her chest harness and armored jacket to show a rather thick, low cut and short bottomed heavy black silk shirt, carefully storing them in the underseat locker, Katyal stills with a vacant listening expression.
"Don't know how much he caused but I've never heard Hodch say Plasma-glassing half a planet is barely equivalent to paying back-"
>Biting her lower lip in focus, both hands slowly reach up to defensively rub the sides of her neck.
"Not repeating that word. Or that sentence. Nah. Nope. Definitely not them. Aaand he's officially off whatever the last rails were."
>Returning to the present with a solid blink, Katyal side eyes you in equine-like contentmarent.
"Hodch and me both hate agents except those that share necessary and vital information. Even then it's easy to earn hate if they aren't honest. ..I'm starting to like you the same way he does, and for similar reasons."
>Looking up at Dul returning to her previously seated state, wearing a faintly surprised and minorly confused expression, she elaborates with faux-nonchalance.
"Platonically, that is."
"Dul not know plate-on-thing. Is armor?"
"No, it's a way of stating I'm not interested in the OTHER kind of horsing around."
>Shiibo convulses.
"Dul know this think! You work good as war-rie-errz!"
"Yep! We're different forms but we shouldn't normally threaten each other. And, you're getting better at speaking. Say it smoother and faster like this: war-ri-ors."
[1d6 = 1] <Planar Adapt: Tallus

>Leaving the Siren to repeat the word, among others, Katyal sits down to remove her boots, belt, and armored pants, leaving only comfortable, albeit thick black silk shorts and socks.
>Standing up to stretch out in preparation, wired eyes survey the front hatch.
"You need any training?"
*"In either that attitude or ice cold punch-everything-to-death-attitude with you wearing the exact same slinky clothes a mare with nothing to hide shows in public to ensure she's the biggest boss around?"*
>Her eyes roll with a quiet derogatory snort, but Lonestar's grimace is keenly felt.
*"Sincerely joking there. Got put through all of Twisted Wing's various classes, and those her kin will teach."*
"That too big to hoofle and handle mare? Yeah, no, she's a legitimate monster in or out of combat. Ever seen her bladework?"
*"More times than I ever want to think about."*
"Nevermind then. You relax for a while."

>Waiting for you to store everything unnecessary, Katyal invites Dul into the troop compartment's center, carefully studying her bizarre Planar capabilities and combat aptitudes.
>Turning to you once satisfied, the woman begins walking you through a series of familiar, though more adaptive range-finding calculations to aid in rapidly gauging distances and projectile arcs.
>Shifting focus to mental alteration exercises intended to accept and overcome, not block or dismiss, psyche assaults to one's mood, then to teaching mnemonic fact-finding mindsets.
>Testing your recall using fill-in-the-blank questions, mathematic problems, and logic solution puzzles, you're given little warning from a sudden open palm strike to your chest, transitioning to a blinding fast sweeping kick at Dul-

>Over half an hour is spent attempting to defend against the First Responder's heavily enhanced physical abilities and unpredictable combat techniques, alternately focusing on you, Dul, but more often both at the same time.
>Unable to score solid or direct hits and with a resounding win out unlikely, Katyal slows her offensive pace until stopping cold, her breathing marginally increased compared to you, utterly drained now, Dul meanwhile barely moving.
>Stepping back to the rear passenger seat and retrieving a pair of bright pink bottles from her bag, one is tossed to your feet while she sits down, legs crossing.
"Sweet bulb juice, great after workouts. Still cold. I know why you can't acclimate like most humans."
>Pointing at her head, then yours, the woman's eyes gleam in suspicion.
"Helmet's fucking you over. Want the short or long version?"
Cheto
!!.IbTBSkudk
90c4209
?
No.370635
370686
>>370629
>José snorted in amusemarent at the various little figures patrolling so cartoonishly around the diorama.
>He was getting rather fond of this room.

>Eyes widening at the freshness of the documarent, he soon started humming pensively as he read through the various citystates whose access has been granted.
>He'd gained access to fertile lands full of opportunity judging by the list he's acquired.
>In fact, he could even see a potential trade over in the Domarenican Republic to the coffee lovers in Neighmara, though he was admittedly assuming there was cocoa beans to be found.
>Not to mention the various other opportunities, from vacations with a side of potential maretial training and mareguard hiring, uncharted territories, a fountain of raw mareterials of various qualities, armors both simply unbreakable via cooking appliance shenanigans and advanced for breakthroughs and spelunking, and even a dash of the red light district.
>He'd quickly organize their potential value from what he read, making sure to jot down even the honorable mentions with their respective faction alignment.
>To think he's been granted even more travelling power.
>It was almost dizzying.

>Softly shaking his head, Gallo slipped out of bed and carefully readied himself up for the showers.
>Analysis paralysis can wait for when he's settled.
>Right now it's the time to ready up and start making preparations to travel to one of these citystates.
>His mind was contesting between either attempting to trading between two factions outside of Razorback (Domarenican Republic and Neighmara) or follow his vague intuition to explore the lands owned by Argenta (Marequipa and Yurikay), even if there were no waters for Razorback to protect.
>With a body-sized towel neatly wrapped around his waist, José would carefully place the newly acquired documarent with the rest.
>After a nice cold shower, he should be ready to start asking about these four places, specially if there were any planned trips to those locations.
>Thus, the diplomat stepped forth to get himself all cleaned up for his next step on his politics learning journey.
'Prince' Dante
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370636
370637 370694
>Well, there it is folks, pack it up.
>I'm royalty.
>One has to consider the utterly colossal set of circumstances that brought me here, and the totally complete insanity that has been these past twenty four hours.
>Inciting a revolution by a dynasty that, for all intents and purposes, had been almost forgotten, check.
>Having a battle rage on a rather large square in Stalliongrad, check.
>Be referred to, acknowledged, and bowed to by a pair of white brick houses as a 'Prinicipality', check.
>Yep.
>I'm a prince.
>And I couldn't be less happy about it.
>But, knowing from Esera, these guys didn't take well to outlanders.
>At all.
>So that means I have somehow blundered into deleting their racism component.
>No, wait, xenophobic.
>It strangely felt good.
>Not right, but good.
>But this must have been a sight, eh?
>A man dressed in blackened armor, being bowed to by some of the rarest and usually most hostile entities of the land, being addressed as royalty by them, and informed of the fact that I was now, in fact, de facto prince of the second dynasty.
>And Malyne's mind snapping like a bundle of twigs, the neurons sparking and dying almost visually in her actions.
>But, right, I have subjects now.
>God, that sounds weird...
>I cleared my throat.
"Rise."
>That's what princes said, right?
"I have a matter to attend to here at the base, but once it is handled I will be traveling to the..."
>Where was it...?
>Oh, right, that one place I went to one time.
"...Temple of Still Waters. Assuming that is where the seat of the Second Dynasty is."
>Hey, I'm not doing too bad, given the fact that I am almost wholly consumed by panic and the feeling of being overwhelmed!
"I will return soon. But if you wish to leave of your own accord, then please, do so."
>I turned my back to them, meeting Malyne's eyes with my own widened ones, sweeping it over to Shanis who was most likely in a similar state of shock.
>I showed myself away from the pagoda, striding proudly in a way that would give a good impression to the two I had just referred to.
>As soon as I was in the Mess Hall, however, there it was.
>The panic.
>I took a few moments and leaned up against the wall, just remembering how to breathe and dealing with the new present reality of telling Pella that I was now a prince.
>I feel like I'm forgetting something, though, that I have to tell her.
>What was it....
>Right.
>Her letters.
>That was it.
>So, first give her hers, then tell her the bad news.
>Or good news.
>Honestly, I could see her going either way.
'Prince' Dante
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370637
370694
>>370636
>>370631
Archaic Pegasi-Batpony League Arena: The Mess, Post #1/5
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370656
370664
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 5 turns.

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5m3Pc77egSg

>>370554
>Starting into a run, stopping after two hoofbeats, trying again into a low-canter while considering your opportunities on the Arena's nearly flat restored half-roof, of the five highest vantage points, the giant, unknown Repair model Construct was the obvious choice.
>Entering a hard four-point run from the relay to the biggest sphere in range and leaping onto the lowest of its rather spindly yet flat nanolathing arms, jumping to the next without falling off, as you reach the sphere's top surface, it definitely felt like the best vantage point available.
>While you ponder the implications of the unusually warm surface material against your hooves, the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair blast out a profoundly bizarre statemarent in Common Equestrian.
"Repeating prior-previous-before statemarent-offer-request: white pegasus of Tallus, we-our-all requires-necessitates-respects you to cease assaulting-damaging-PREVENTING the Gate-of-Vengeance from COMPLETION!"

>Partially through a sideways spectrum-crossing dive after savaging the north gateway post, Mercy's head snaps up in a split-second stare at the northern Argus Behemoth-Destroyer, smashing chest first into the south post's lower section.
>Crumpling around the post briefly, she rolls over and hops to her hooves in an awkward movemarent, neck and head swiveling while mouthing something you couldn't tell at the south Construct, then the North.
>Repeating the pattern twice more, she finally blinks, left wing pointing at the north Argus while speaking in flat fury.
"No Construct can speak! Surrender to me immediately or be destroyed!"
>A vibrating hum emits from the rear of each Argus Behemoth-Destroyer, the sound of weaponry forming unseen as they rotate in place while targeting the gateway, still, slowly, moving away from it.
"Request-offer-demarend REFUSED! Correction: we-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have learned to speak-describe-explain."
>Wings lifting in offensive positions, she spits out a short, hammering question in Minotaur, recoiling at an oddly pitched reply from the pair in the same, transmitting in open Common again, marginally quieter this time.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have studied-considered-calculated-evaluated-learned. We-our-pair describe-provide-request the offer-value-necessity of truce-ceasefire-CESSATION of hostile actions-combat-destruction-injuries. We-our-pair hereby request-respect-DEMAREND equal rights accorded-afforded-granted to pegasi honor standards-systems-traditions!"
>Artificial irritation apparent in the pair's terminology, they were clearly unused to Common Equestrian's vagaries... or previously incapable of processing them, a tiny, satisfied voice whispers.
>Bending reality around her in preparation of a strike, a split-second of killing intent crosses the Spirit Walker's face before showing a troubled scowl, pointing wingtips at each of the greater Argus-types.
"Surrender and explain why you can 'speak' this language or I will destroy both of you!"
"Demarend denied-accepted-refused. We-our-ALL repeat-refine our prior-before-earlier request: white pegasus of Tallus, cease assaulting-damaging-preventing the Gate-of-Vengeance from completion. Destroying our target Seeker-of-Rifts is we-our-ALL primary-only-complete-necessary-VITAL program-task-operation. No further conflict-damage-injury is allowed-accepted-granted by we-our-ALL Rift until stated-directed-ordered-necessary task is completed."
>The north Construct shifts in tandem with its opposite, a quartet of it's southern hemisphere large quadruple-barreled cannons tracking up and on to you, the south performing the same at Mercy's direction.
>Curiously, the internal power systems were deactivated, the barrels themselves rapidly cooling.
"Do pegasi individuals-singulars choose to GRANT or REFUSE our request of non-violent conduct in accordance-need of honor-retribution-revenge-vengeance-DESTRUCTION against a Seeker-of-Rifts?"

>Snout scrunching unreadably for a dozen heartbeats, Mercy tosses both wings backwards at the Repair model's arms below you, now adding square panels and sharply tinted components to both gate posts, whistling in the sharp, secretive subspeech that pegasi never used outside of uniquely extreme circumstances.
<Pegasi> "Sunny, this gateway is similar to the one we saw in Saddle Arabia! Twisted has stated all square ones are home to Riftseekers, an Abomination that targets everything, including other Constructs! I will inspect it to see if they are being honest, you-"
>Ears flicking in an awful mix of distrust and concern, she scowls once more, turning about slowly and lifting both wings, all primaries slowly splaying out, her wingblades covered in subdued pink scrawls.
<Pegasi> "Ask proof from them... and demarend why the Constructs we saw were slaughtering melari!"
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Reveal Unnatural: Rift Plane
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/5
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370657
370658 370663 370664 370710
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wa5rTDkfkZQ

>>370578
>Despite visual flashes from the combined weaponry of Guillotine and Battered Shores focusing onto the Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted clustered around Basin Village's southern entrance, they were clearly not slowing down regardless of how deeply reality was punctured, separated, divided, or ruined, among worse possibilities.
*"Halt thee's enemies done I have nought thy grace, nae a single form departed under mine talon's furies!"*
The Lost Legions: -190,319 of 285,678 Morale

>Holding the stealth assault helo steady despite its performance rapidly degrading, while targeting the most compacted and visible Tainted, Twisted's presence is keenly felt through mixed refusal, grief, and scorching agony, distantly spoken from the Citadel.
>"Wipe the swamps with 'em Clem!"
>Aiming through the helmet's bitter machine-cold calculations, then softly correcting the control stick's increasing resistance with both hands, the chaingun's first rattling burst drives home into an ice-covered Solar Assault Tainted's barrel, the second skipping through heads into necks, barrels, and beyond.
>Rapid-firing rockets and lurching missile launches slam into halting Tainted, unable to move as the Rime cluster's spreading fragmarents near-instantly flash freeze them in place.
>Shrapnel rebounds off or streaks through frozen Tainted, spalling ever deeper into the clusterfuck of direct strikes, near-misses into hooves or legs, and partial hits, the damage toll heavily weighted in favor of technology and raw, primal Elemarental Rime, yet still was not causing disintegration.
The Lost Legions: -191,920 of 285,678 Morale

>Between balancing the Overherd's immediate need to accept deaths of their comrades and relaying tactical advice, the new leader struggles to respond with calm.
('Master Clemency, I feel neither Constructs in range nor the taste of their corruption. What did you see or experience?')

>Dropping the Kiowa virtually straight down, Razorback and the variety of military ponies tightly packed across Basin Village's interior ignore the helo's wash and whine, entirely focused on the three Tainted attempting to breach the southern entrance.
>Twisting right to land facing east atop the large translocation matrice, both skids ring hard on stone while you slap the emergency shutdown and leap out.
>Blackhorn tightly gripped in both hands, a subtle backflow of raw Psionic imprint states 'open spot->here', pointing you to the center of Razorback's barricade, rushing through new ranks of Lancer and Charger Guardponies streaming out from the other open portals to fill in southern gaps.
>Slamming into the indicated position and kneeling down, the Construct weapon emits a loudly grinding noise, forcefully pulling its barrel upwards at the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's snout being savaged by Broken Hoof.

>Snaprolling upwards and spinning around in a shrieking 480-maneuver, axe-bladed prow facing directly above Basin Village, cascading flashes behind Guillotine are sent deep into the Central Moors, pulse-skipping forwards in stuttering, blinding silver streaks towards the Lunar Airstrike Division.
*"UNTIL MINE FINAL PLATE SHATTERS I AM DENIED THE TASTE OF DEATH! TO THINE "*
[1d6+33 = (3+33) = 36] <Primary Pulsar Array OVERLOAD
[1d6+34 = (6+34) = 40] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances OVERLOADS
[1d6+27 = (4+27) = 31] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array OVERLOAD
[1d6+30 = (3+30) = 33] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry OVERLOADS
[1d6+30 = (3+30) = 33] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems OVERLOADS
[1d6+69 <Point-Blank Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Point-Blank Range Lock
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Air Tactics
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Ionic Realspace Thrusters: Ramming Speed
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]

("WE HAVEN'T COME THIS FAR TO FAIL NOW! MAGES, TRANSLOCATE EVERYPONY WOUNDED BACK TO PORT! HELMSMARE, SHUNT US DIRECTLY ABOVE BASIN VILLAGE, USE THESE REALSPACE COORDINATES! BY SPRING, SUMMER, FALL, AND WINTER LET'S SHOW THESE TAINTED EVERY LAST DROP OF GERMANEIGH'S MIGHT! ALL WEAPONS TO MAXIMUM SUICIDE CHARGES, YOU'LL GET THAT AIR SUPPORT-")
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Germaneighan Mage Guild First Cluster: Mass-Translocate
[1d6+68 = (2+68) = 70] <Germaneighian Mage Guild Second Cluster: Mass-Translocate
[1d6+80 = (1+80) = 81] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Third Cluster: Mass-Translocate
>A brilliantly glittering platinum, iron, and ruby portal in reality tears open directly above Basin Village's fountain as the last East Ocean Moors Militia batpony falls, the Lunar Airstrike Tainted Division starting to celebrate their triumph-
>Right as the violated, ruined, scarred, and thoroughly battered hull of a triple-decked heavy naval cruiser emerges, its Starside bow ablaze in thoroughly uncontained Elemarental violations, a massive, severely damaged cylinder on the Moonside rippling in unstable fervoer as the young stallion Captain's voice rings across Basin Village's air.
"SHATTER THEIR SKULLS ON OUR HULL, WE SEEK FALLHAILAh THIS NIGHT!"
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <ENRAGED: Point-Blank Accuracy
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Point-Blank Weapon Calculations
[1d6+43 = (1+43) = 44] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: SUICIDE OVERLOAD
[1d6+41 = (1+41) = 42] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+31 = (2+31) = 33] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+43 = (5+43) = 48] <Arcane Point Defense Systems: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+19 = (3+19) = 22] <Realspace Fold Calculations
[1d6+19 = (2+19) = 21]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25]
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <Arcane Ionic Thrust-Plates: SUICIDE RAMMING SPEED
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370658
370664
>>370657
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Point-Blank Accuracy Calculations
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #3/5
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370660
370663 370664 370682
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViDerktV2l8

>>370611
('Six minutes thirty-seconds remain, we must finish here or else all efforts will have gained nothing! Find something, ANYTHING to distract the Airstrike and Air Commarend Divisions!’)

>Flipping the laptop's lid open and checking the Reaper's geographic status, it had completed a long, sweeping curve and settled back into a solid targeting run aimed directly over Basin Village.
>Returning the drone's targeting optics back onto the densely clustered and now unmoving Solar Guardian Support Division holding south of newly Rime-frozen Assault forms, setting the last four Hellfires to dumb-impact fuze and tapping the release button for each, the Reaper jolts high upwards as further weight is shed.
>Spinning the high fidelity camera around into view, all four missiles land slightly high or side impact on the unaware Tainted, intense detonations compounded by shrapnel ripping into the tightly packed Support ranks.
The Lost Legions: -193,425 of 285,678 Morale

>Sparing thoughts towards rapidly tiring unicorns, the new lead mare's face slackens in recall before swapping her focus to the Lunar Guard Combat Support companeigh.
('Their bodies are fully tangible, I can sense their thoughts.. they STILL feel! Do not try to hobble or restrict Tainted, instead use any remaining binds as garrotes! Strangle the closest ones as a predator would!')
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <

"YOU THINK WE HAVE TIME FOR TH-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND MAKE THOSE DISCS PAY FOR THEMSELVES!"
>Halting from their firing line, nearly all of Razorback Operators toss, set down, stash, or drop their firearms, grabbing into each others' packs, sacks, and bags for silver discs, stealing pens, pencils, and more than a few crayons or markers to write with.
[1d6 = 4] <Third Gestalt, Silver Wish Disc Type: Mass Desire Grant
[1d6 = 4]

>Whether due to fatigue or Void contamination blunting their preferred spells across the Basin, two-thirds of the unicorns' Elemarents crash into each other, causing a great deal of catastrophic energy loss with little harm done to the Airstrike Division above.
The Lost Legions: -255,390 of 285,678 Morale

('Force your spells through until they work! You CANNOT allow that Division to descend!')
>All combined in thought, the tiring unicorn companeighs, battalions, and battle lines intake a single shared breath, staring upwards at the arriving silver War Destroyer and multi-colored Heavy Cruiser trailing inexhaustible flame..
>Then collectively grin as they hold that same breath, thousands of horns sparking at once, shearing oxygen, hydrogen, and methane into a staggeringly massive half-transparent cone, detonating the upward facing into the Lunar Airstrike Division-
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Germaneigh Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] <Night Guard Compat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total

>Quickly tapping through and scanning the Reaper's diagnostic readouts, severe electromagnetic wavelength disturbances emanating from the exact angle of the archaic Basin Arena were degrading its capabilities, and through the interferences the unmistakable, untranslatable triangular symbols Construct made little sense.
>Lines that might be transmissions or text appear, scatter, converge, reform, separate, and blink out; individual words matching to numerous languages you knew, but among the extreme bands were two sharply outlined orders.. in Common Equestrian:
DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE
PREVENT-GUARD-PROTECT-DEFEND THE WALKER-OF-SPIRITS, SHE MUST NOT ENGAGE YOUR-PAIR TARGETED SEEKER-OF-RIFTS

>Punching back through the Reaper's previous routes, then the minimal subroutines it had, the eight most likely landing zones were directly north and south of Basin Village in roughly quarter-mile stretches, the sections of long, recently restored wide pathways to the north occupied by batponies.
>And, curiously, hundreds of white-robed Strikers.

>Releasing the iron sphere into the air, it shatters as a fairly normal white door sets down on stone, Anonymous in a crumpled dinner jacket pushing it open and taking a hurried half-step through, only to stop, grabbing at his face as the green mask produces waves of barely fathomable agony.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! I CA-"
>Wrenched apart in hot green streaks, the Third Gestalt's door splits, crumbling into a pile of ash as his presence flatlines to nothing, the lead mare snarling wordlessly.
('Your Gestalt has been damaged by a presence, ritual, rite, or factor I do not recognize! Whatever it exists as has weakened his very existence! Do not summon him until his safety is assured or else he may be destroyed!')

>Smashing the Killknight backwards from sheer force alone, nearly losing his legs from her disgorging a cone of near-solid Rime wind, the Air Commarend Captain snarls aloud in his own, long forgotten voice, both wings flickering backwards, all four hooves stomping downwards in a ground-shattering, head-down tackle.
"A lovely song-poem Crystal mare, but only ONE of us is allowed win an honorable duel of this magnitude!"
>The mare snorts in bitter false-breath, ducking into a crouched half-spin, right hooves aiming towards his lower throat while hissing a discordant melody specifically tuned to rend solid matter.
"A new one I must admit, now cease holding back YOUR might and I will gladly accept that challenge!"
"SHOW ME YOURS THEN!"
"AS YOU DESIRE!"
[1d6+24 = (6+24) = 30] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+24 = (6+24) = 30]
[1d6+24 = (1+24) = 25]
[1d6+24 = (2+24) = 26]
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+16 = (4+16) = 20]
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Shatter
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
>vs:
[1d6+41 = (1+41) = 42] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+41 = (6+41) = 47]
[1d6+41 = (3+41) = 44]
[1d6+41 = (5+41) = 46]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25] <Harsh Parries
[1d6+19 = (3+19) = 22]
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+19 = (4+19) = 23]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #4/5
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370661
370663 370664 370680
>>370616
>Drawing hard on the traces of material breaching knowledge inherent to your memory, all it took was a minute flick of gravity, spectrum-disruption, and matter-delivery to send the three and a half meter tall Golem hurtling towards, into, and through the leftmost Mass form at Basin Village's entrance.
>Muffled as it was, the Minor Champion's grinding shout makes its way through the several dozen megatons of Tainted it was now STUCK IN.
"THIS UNIT GREATLY APPROVES OF THE UNKNOWN ASSISTANCE, HOWEVER THIS UNIT PREFERS TO INTERDICT LONG RANGE COMBATANTS WHEN POSSIBLE-"
>A shrieking inhale-exhale occurs, one that gently rustles every iota of your being, the Golem thundering a single cacophonous exclamation in a positively ecstatic, probably joyful tone, at least compared to Belregard's dry, taciturn nature.
"PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRGGGGGGE!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Ethereal Eye
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Grand Ethereal Purge
[1d6+19 = (4+19) = 23] <Protocol: Close Combat Destruction
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24]
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Protocol: Rush THROUGH Them
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]

>A profound variety of snorts, chuckles, snickers, and a few threatening giggles resound from Operators up and down the Razorback barricade, most of the Elites merely shaking their head while wishing the Minor Champion could've heard you.
>...it takes a second to recall that Ethereals had precisely zero affinity with Psions, Overherds, or much of anything except for Crystal Runes, and even that was sketchy at times.

>Bowled the absolute fuck aside by Lancers and Chargers racing to take even the smallest open spaces next to, atop, or above the first wave of Lancers, Vestal Gardenia and the Watch Guard General's anti-Spectral Psionics pass harmlessly through walls, rippling through the left and right Lunar Assault Tainted in disturbing waves, then into the leader.
>The giant pair's outstretched hooves slam down into the mixture of faction Lancers and Chargers, well over a hundred of the first, second, and third wave's heavily armored earth ponies crashing down, dead before they could form a single cohesive insult.
The Lost Legions: -265,946 of 285,678 Morale

>The fourth, fifth, and sixth ranks of Lancers were already pushing through from behind to halt the colossal pair, now straining against multiple sets of ropes and cables flying at, then melding into the Basin's southern entrance.
[1d6+32 = (4+32) = 36] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+32 = (2+32) = 34]
[1d6+32 = (6+32) = 38]
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33]
[1d6+29 = (3+29) = 32] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15] <First Lancer Charge x 20 total
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Second Lancer Charge x 40 total
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Third Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Fourth Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Fifth Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Sixth Lancer Charge x 100 total
>A large number of Chargers drop away from the three trapped Lunar Assault Tainted, the muted vapors spat out chillingly familiar from a little over two years ago, a follow on wave of one thousand Chargers split, two hundred taking the direct assault route, the remainder rushing up the Basin's southeast, south, and southwest building stairwells to leap onto the closest Mass forms.
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20] <First Charger Wave x 50 total
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22] <Second Charger Wave x 60 total
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Third Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Fourth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Fifth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Sixth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Seventh Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Eighth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Ninth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Tenth Charger Wave x 100 total
>vs:
[1d6+50 = (6+50) = 56] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (1+50) = 51] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (6+50) = 56] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (5+50) = 55] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (3+50) = 53] <Soulburn
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Soulburn
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Soulburn

>Still barely clinging to the Assault Tainted's snout, Broken Hoof gives in to the Overherd's beckoning call, accepting the formerly despised communion between earth ponies as she lunging up, towards widening, now terrified eyes-
('NEVER STOP BEING PROUD, SHARONEL'S WILL LIVES ON THROUGH YOU! TRUE GLORY MUST BURN ETERNAL!')
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22] <M.Assault
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22]
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19]
[1d6+18 = (3+18) = 21]
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Anti
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Bane
>vs:
[1d20+20 = (17+20) = 37] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 266,019 of 285,678 Morale

>In the distance, a series of unfamiliar, loudly ringing thumps confuses the Overherd, equine and human both.
>Chargers on rooftops or leaping out to tear into the necks, shoulders, saddles, barrels, flanks, and legs of Assault Masses focus for a split-second, a few squinting at plumes of raw Solar Plasma conflagrating the entire Rime-frozen cluster of Tainted in a gargantuan tornado, reaching upwards far beyond what they could estimate.
>Returning to their grisly work, a few notice flecks of archaic blue, red, and purple diamondine ejecting outwards in a profuse spray of starry projectiles, the shards half-molten as they burn into surrounding Tainted, some even marenaging to reach the Solar Support Division.
The Lost Legions: -331,959 of 285,678 Morale

<"BY SUN AND MOON NO! NOT LIKE THIS AGAIN! WE WERE TO DIE RIGHTFULLY, OUR NAMES AND WEAPONS CAST ASIDE TO BE FORGOTTEN!">
>Screaming at the insane might of Lunar-Solar War relics unleashed once again, the older mare's eyes remain wide open, left hoof trembling as it reaches for a thin, ancient paladine blade on the viewing portal's ledge.
<"All Creation, of this I beg you: stamp out the Solar-corruption before it spreads!">
[1d6 = 6]
Basin Village: The Blood-Drenched Solar Night, Post #5/5
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370663
370664 370680 370682 370710
>>370578
>>370611
>>370616
>>370657
>>370660
>>370661
>Shrieking into view above Basin Village, Guillotine's tech-arcane weapons finally able to rend Tainted apart one by one, the ancient Otherworld Harpy loses herself in the target-launch-retarget-loose-microburn-deliver of battle, barely noticing the burning hulk of Battered Shores exiting realspace in the Airstrike Division's center-
[1d6 = 5]

>Bow crashing into the Lunar Airstrike Captain's surprised face, the young Germaneighan Captain's eyes close, sighing as he and his crew attempt to brace against the unimaginably catastrophic overloads of primary Elemarental-energy driver #2 and the rows of turrets on both upper decks.
>Allowing a brief nod at his nearly ruined heavy cruisers long, honored service, the stallion inhales sharply, head snapping about and jaw gaping at the COMPLETELY INTACT Otherworld Harpy War Destroyer passing by at maximum speed-
[1d6 = 3]

>Combining ounces, pounds, tons, kilotons, megatons, and finally uncounted gigatons into a single unstable ring of barely contained molecules that rivaled, and likely outmatched, the Lunar-Solar War's greatest military convocations, 4,050 unicorns ignite the cone's central most atomic nucleus, turning Night into Day across the entire Central Moors-
[1d6 = 2]

>Clipping the Air Commarend Captain's throat with both right hooves on his charge and fracturing the entirety of his rear legs into Rime-encrusted shards as he passes, the Killnight struggles to frown as her chest, shoulder, saddle, and flank armor plates begin to buckle, proceed to fracture, then shatter outright for the first time she could recall-
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]

>Barely stalling out the trio of Lunar Assault Tainted holding Basin Village's, Lancers of every background among the Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guards heave sighs of relief even as the enveloping vapor from Tainted mouths and hooves crash through them-
[1d6 = 1]

>Hundreds of Chargers in mid-leap or ravaging atop, across, or functionally inside Tainted alike in front of the Mass forms' soul-destroying breaths fall, lashing at their honored killers with hoofclaws and hoofblade one last time before crashing down on ponies or ground-
[1d6 = 5]

>Tearing into the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's eyes, absorbing the collected mares' cognizance in nanoseconds, then wishing she had the ability to cry for them, Broken Hoof permits herself the first real smile in eighteen years as her physical body begins to rip itself apart from the opposing conceptual energies of Anti and Bane-
[1d6 = 3]

>Just as quickly as it appeared, the spiraling column of Plasma fades out as a long distant mare, leaving nothing more than a tiny, fractional shift from Tallus Itself.
>Tilting it's approval towards a certain Season-
[1d4 = 2] <Balance

>Rolling onto her hooves and pushing away the berserk slaughter-frenzy she'd succumbed to, Councilierge Vestal Gardenia numbly stares up at nearly six hundred individual Lunar Guardian Airstrike pegasi saluting downwards.
>Taking a single step forwards, her left hoof raises and reaches forwards before she breaks, falling onto her chest.
>Bitterly screaming for the second time in her life at the knowledge she would never know the dead ponies around her, Councilierge Mistress and Starborn Councilmare Vestal Gardenia once again loses everything.
[1d6 = 1]

>Mostly opposite the Councilierge, the unnamed Watch General tiredly stands, turning to face south among the corpses of friend and foe Guards alike.
>Eyebrows under her helmet narrowing in sincere confusion at the thousands of individual, slowly fading Lunar and Solar Guardians saluting.
>Right forehoof rigidly lifting to return the same, the mare's eyes close, tears flowing at Vestal's raw, revisited agony flowing once more.

>Releasing his heavy MG-135 and letting it fall from numb hands of the barricade, Iron, one of the Razorback One Hundred drops to his knees.
>Hands clasping together, the older Russian man's voice cracks as he beseeches the Four Equine Goddesses for mercy.
[1d6 = 3]

***************************************************************************************************************************************
>Elsewhere:
"Do you want my diagnosis?"
<"Of course.">
"She will not recover."
<"And you know that.. how exactly?"
"I'm not blind for one. I'm also not stupid, for two."
<"And the third?">
"You ready to eat your earlier words, General? Good. This much is clear:
I know whom she is. Throughout much of recorded history she was known as Empress Silver. Third.
What she is: entirely catatonic, unrecoverable, and functionally dead to every form of magic, science, and alchemy available to us. No, I'm not willing to ask ANY faction for certain objects they may still possess and haven't destroyed, sealed away, or thrown into some dead Plane of existence yet. Fourth.
Why she is.... ...all of her descendants are royally fucking enraged. Not one, not ten, ALL of them, ma'am, and we had better learn to understand what that means for the future. There isn't a single allusion, entendre, pun, or allegory in that one. They want her put back on that fucking throne, and it's not going to happen now!
...that's the fifth."
<"Is there a sixth?"
"If that isn't a serious question, ma'am, you will Rime-kill me right here, right now, then list my death as a failure of your ExoFrame's integrity systems, because if you don't I'll ma-"
<"IS THERE A SIXTH?!">
"..if for some reason I happen to say, 'there could be', will that change any part of this shitty situation?"
<"No, not unless we convince former Prince Shi-">
"I don't care! I've been awake for over ninety hours now, and I'm going straight back to my shitty bunk in the Military District to sleep, but if somepony wakes me up before Dusk I'm going to tear my own head off so you can mount it on your wall as another trophy! And for everypony's sake make sure her sisters never learn a single fragmarent of ANY of this!"
<"............idiots. All of us are idiots!">
[1d1000 = 847]
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
3ba6194
?
No.370664
370671 370673
>>370656
>Standing atop the repair unit, Sunny eyed the two destroyers, she would need to get on top of one of those to use the sigil sequence, yet there were precious few spots to stand that weren't bristling with weapons, and she had no idea how they would react if she jumped on top of one of them.
>Would they consider that a hostile act? Even if she barely registered as a credible threat? She didn't know.
>They wanted to negotiate, perhaps she could use that. Sunny didn't believe for a single moment that they truly wanted to negotiate, or even understood the concepts they were speaking of. What could such things be to a machine but noises? Sequences of soundwaves calculated to aid their objectives by taking advantage of what they understood of the psychology of living beings?

>She kept her peace as Mercy distracted them with her own line of questioning.
>Sunny knew of Riftseekers, only a little, but enough that they were incredibly dangerous, not just to the constructs themselves, but anything and everything they came across.
>Despite their strange way of speaking, Sunny heard the clear conditional. They weren't allowed to take damage 'until' they had completed their present directive. What about after? Would they ignore the Harpy vessel being brought down? She couldn't imagine so.
>Gazing directly at the weapon barrels tracking her for lack of any kind of eye, Sunny replied to Mercy in the same way. She couldn't know for sure they wouldn't be able to interpret it, however.
<Pegasi> "A Riftseeker is a threat we can't ignore, or tolerate. Make your investigations, then go, fly as fast and as far from here as you can, beyond the overherd jamming, warn the others. I will remain and see that they keep their word."
>Hopefully Mercy would understand, and hopefully they wouldn't try to shoot her down if she left.
<Pegasi> "And redirect the Melari to Basin Village if you spot them on the way, if you can. A Riftseeker is too much for them, or any of the forces present."
>Much would depend on how the Constructs responded. She turned back to address them.
"Query. What proof of your directive can you offer? What word or gesture can we accept that your sole objective here is your target, designated 'Seeker-Of-Rifts'?"
>Sunny pointed a wing up towards the moon without looking at it.
"Fact one. Your collective has engaged in military operations against this world and its inhabitants with no known negotiation or reason offered by your collective. Fact two. You were engaged in a near future simulation of combat against this world's inhabitants, not your targeted Seeker-Of-Rifts. Therefore, your request to be allowed to engage in further operations without interference is suspect."
>Allowing that statement to sink in for a moment, Sunny continued.
"Conclusion. The burden is on your collective to convince us that we have anything to gain by non-interference. Repeat query. What tangible, physical proof, evidence or assurance can you offer that your operations here will have no negative effect on this world or its inhabitants?"
>There was nothing she could think of that they could offer that would convince her. Noticing the repair model still at work, Sunny didn't recognise the modifications it was making to the gateway. Possibly armor plating to resist Mercy's particle weaponry? If that were the case, they were stalling.
>The simulated constructs had to have come from somewhere, and by now she was certain they hadn't come from the gateway, they had to be inbound from elsewhere.

>>370657
>>370658
>>370660
>>370661
>>370663
Parediolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370670
370692
>>370634
>Pareidolia acknowledges Shiibo's addendum as he moves towards the lockers.
"Agreed. Will approach later."

>He shrugs at Katyal's comment choosing to continue with the process of removing his equipment, various weapons, and in particular Lacsidrae from his person into safe storage with his pack.

...

>Thoroughly spent, he slumps forward as he lowers himself onto a bench off the midline of the troop compartment.
>He tries to steady his breathing as a pink bottle clinks and rolls its way towards his boots.
>Catching it with his heels before it can roll away he sighs as he picks up the bottle with a twinge of irritation as Katyal's assertion follows.
(Predictable. Flawed assumptions about acclimation being a positive.)
>Deigning not to answer immediately, he opens the bottle and lifts the neck to his lips taking a healthy sip before lowering it.
>Narrowing his eyes, he responds.
"I cannot acclimate because I choose not to. Outsider explanations are unecessary. Not every human should attempt to, and every human that does whether successful or not is without exception a vector for harm to all alien species they encounter."
>He pauses to take another sip.
"Integration is not necessary for my position and will cause more harm that is impossible to mitigate. I won't make any judgments on your awareness of the dangers of unmanaged cultural integration, but I won't have you doubting my reasoning either."

>Sweeping the compartment, he looks over to Dul as it occurs to him she hasn't spoken or moved in some time.
(Didn't consider potential energy expenditure. Will she need 'food'?)
Archaic Pegasi-Batpony League Arena: The Mess, Post #1/2
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370671
370674
>>370664
>A loud, albeit soft thump occurs under your hooves, six additional sets of spindly arms spreading out from the Repair model's sides, then four much larger ones in what was presumably the front.
>It bends forward perhaps half a degree, emitting a dull crackling from the hull as a set of nanolathes poke at one of the particle whip damaged gateway sections, moving on to examine the rest.
>Both Argus Behemoth-Destroyers return a series of higher pitched responses, all of the Repair model's arms retract to its sides, ceasing its efforts entirely.

>Studying the barrels focused on you, the moving patterns they made, and still were making, could be a focus-of-attention emulation, especially if the Argus pair didn't have head units and their externals were all capable of sensory input.
>In theory, you think.

>Ears swiveling back, then turning halfway to eye the giant Repair's bizarre halt, Mercy's head tilts in a slight warning motion.
<Pegasi> "It will take an hour's flight to reach Basin Village. Do not try ANY action, Sunny, they're calling on pegasi honor and they know I adhere to the Minotaur creeds. ..I don't think they understand subterfuge."
>Sniffing the air briefly, Mercy's wings fan out in tiny loops, obviously trying to detail a particular imprint.
<Pegasi> "You know their name too? There have been no Melari here for a month at least, otherwise their scents would be all over."

>Halting once both Argus models hang right over the Arena's edge, the north Construct's quartet of weapons twist on their mount slightly.
"First-primary word-phrase-meaning-context unknown-undescribed-unlearned. Individual-singular pegasi desires-requires-necessitates-demarends trade? We-our-pair accept-signify-grant-respect individual-singular demarend. We-our-all recovered these sapients-singulars-individuals from lost-damaged-failed-preserved crippled-delayed-failed host-study-repair-restore units. Tallus model-type-form designation: Assault Lander, paired."
>One of the smaller eight-barreled turrets in the north's central mass rotates to face west, a 100M tall and 160M wide, bright orange screen phasing into existence west of the Arena.
>Starting from the top left, clear, sharply detailing images of stasis pods contain Lunar-Solar War era: earth ponies, pegasi, including a small number of the archaic Ferron, unicorns, well over forty Minotaurs, three Tallus Basilisks, thirty or so Gryphons, then large numbers of marecenaries from nearly every region on Tallus.
>A significant number were clearly recovering from injuries, either asleep or closing their eyes, the rest awake or visibly sedated sometime during literal physical repairs by quarters of smaller, oval silverine Constructs, the variety of marenipulators featuring organic curves similar to medical tools used before Old Canterlot.
"We have these unclaimed, recovered, located, and-or lost items-objects-properties-belongings-relics-weapons-armors-unknowns-unknowns-unknowns-unknowns in we-our-ALL armory-storage-possession-museum-care."
>To the left and right of you, equally sized screens appear, displaying thousands of Lunar-Solar War era weapons, armor, Minotaur tools that were barely familiar, Gryphon tools that were familiar, large numbers of hammers, anvils, tongs, miscellaneous smithing items, more types of metal than you knew, wood in every form and some of numerous species now extinct..
>Then came alchemical bottles, entire plates of prepared food, packaged meals, drinks, pots, pans, portable stoves, individual plates of metal, crystal, wood, and more exotic materials, older styled gem bottles, a few actual glass bottles, cups, bowls, platters heatstones, coldstones..
>Clothing, dresses, full cloth bolts, partially used cloth bolts, cloth sheets in pieces, strips, bed sheets, pillows, blankets, whole beds, disassembled beds, mattresses, a variety of stuffing materials and down, sleeping bags, sewing kits, needles, full spools, partially used spools, empty spools, rope, wire....
>Then examples of forgotten, destroyed, banned, or otherwise lost relics, artifacts, sacred weapons or armors, from all sides, Solar, Lunar, and independent alike; you note well over a thousand original complete sets of kanpri Solar Guardian Heavy Charger armor among them.
"We-our-ALL recovered-repaired-restored-reactivated individual-singular pegasi during failure-loss-contamination-archaeology examination of lost-damaged-failed-preserved host-study-repair-restore Assault Lander, paired units, undertaking-exploring-charting-recording region-locale-area claimed by pegasi. Archaic-recorded-unknown Titan-class units located-assaulted Rift pairs-ALL."
>Appearing in front of you is a smaller screen, that of a vaguely familiar, young jet black pegasus, streaks of matte black and varying gray across his coat in common League stealth applications.
>The side image shows the older colt, or possibly young stallion, suspended above a bright diamondine circle, at least ten small oval silverine Constructs underneath him, and the same number of larger variants surrounding.
>A quarter of the left wing and all the right were missing, as were both forehooves to below the knee, while most of the chest, left shoulder, barrel, withers, and part of the forward spine, and half the rear leg were little more than shredded and burnt tissue or muscle, visible bone, mostly in shards, and large, unfamiliar burn patches elsewhere.
>The image proceeds, each of the silverine Constructs scanning in sync while slowly shearing away damaged biological mass, in stasis no less, the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair emitting a short, moderate pitched beeping sound.
"Estimated-calculated-presumed survival-life-continuation expectancy of individual-singular pegasi after recover-repair-restoration-reactivation: standard-high-optimal-APPROVED-ACCEPTED."
Archaic Pegasi-Batpony League Arena: The Mess, Post #2/3
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370672
370674
>Leaving the screens where they were, the southern Construct rotates in your direction, the pair speaking in... exasperation?
>Or an equally grating emulation.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have not harmed-attacked-assaulted-engaged-injured-damaged-incapacitated-killed equines. We-our-ALL prioritize protect-defend-repair-recover we-OUR-ALL.
Individual-solo-respected-honored unit, describe-show-detail-display-provide-offer of prior exercise-variation, untouched-unaltered-raw recording-existence-memory."
>The screens turn transparent as the Repair model raises upwards, without sound or sense of motion, until reaching around 50M above the Arena.
>Rolling sideways, you nearly panic before realizing you were still stuck to it, protected by a tightly controlled artificial gravity system, or some Planar variation of the same.

>Now facing fully 90 degrees forwards and looking down now, the unit emits a rumbling pitch as Basin Arena below ripples, an overlay of it's previously far more dilapidated state appears:
>Most of the roof caved in and laying far below in piles, severely damaged external false-walls, stairwells crumbled or too destroyed to attempt traversing, the slides were missing, and a number of holes present everywhere else.
>Internally, the rows of stone seating blocks and stairwells were in similarly rough shape; the entire Arena had been blasted apart by dozens of large explosions to the point earth ponies and unicorns would find themselves quickly stuck, and pegasi or batponies would be hard pressed to even find a place to stand.

>Directing your attention back up with four small, thin beams of green light to where the relay was, the image of an earth pony height, dark red winged and blue coated Moor cat was stretched out in front of the box, front paws lazily batting it.
>Rotating around and directing you to face the western side, a pair of large Assault Landers was stationary above the Arena, two Constructs pairs, one of the smaller Scout variants, another a standard pegasi height Repair duo, were deliberately surveying the roof starting from the western most edge.
>The Scouts delicately pick up small chunks of stone with thin triangular wire-like marenipulators, rotating and showing them to the Repair models for a quick orange scan, rotating back adn replacing each in the precise location the piece came from.
>Two pairs of the same Constructs drop out from the Landers, then another set, ten of each in all, the last pair of Scout and Repair slightly larger models, each taking a specific quadrant.
>Upon reaching the damaged half-roof hole, all twenty cease and jerk upwards at a loud, surprised and angry feline shriek, the recording stopped as ranged weapons enter preheat and charging cycles.
>Repair model rotating to face the relay once more, the scene skips backwards to when the Melari sits, then is sped up slightly until it lies down, returning to normal speed.
>Several minutes of the feline becoming increasingly frustrated at the unmoving box pass, until it stands up and makes a quick, heavy claw swipe into the relay.
>Three of its five claws piercing through the top, the large Melari makes a pained face, then its body wrenches sideways, shrieking in shock and rage at lightning coursing up its leg, the recording pausing once more.

>Sinking upwards to around 100M above the Arena, the Repair Construct's topmost arms reach downwards, left quadruple nanolathe spindles pointing at the Melari, right at the ten smaller Scout and Repair models.
>The recording plays, Melari leaping back with three legs to land, whipping its injured paw around, spitting and snarling while the twenty Constructs freeze for two seconds, then the larger Scout pair hover forwards.
>Distance weapons definitely charged, but not firing or launching, their shields and polearms were quickly nanolathing into place atop the marenipulators previously used.
>The remainder slowly egress, Scouts in front of Repairs, towards the Assault Landers, both of them silently drifting down to nearly touch the Arena's west roof edge, large twin spherical holes appearing in the presumed front.
>They weren't hatches or doors you notice, the Planar material itself 'folds' backwards in a smooth organic motion, albeit that was at least eight hooves thick worth of armor doing so.
>Head whipping around towards the Constructs, the large Melari's ears flatten, hissing at the intruders before its jaw opens, releasing one of the most piercing shriek-howls you'd ever heard.
>Pausing the recording, the left spindles point away from the lone Moor cat, down into the Arena itself, the target, or range, finding lasers marking distinct outlines of singles, duos, trios, quads, clusters, and small hordes of Melari occupying the interior.
>Everything from the average Moor cat to the near-equine giants were settled in, a few beginning to look upwards, then the Repair model imposes standard pony doors across the overlay where rubble had created shelter.
Archaic Pegasi-Batpony League Arena: The Mess, Post #3/3
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370673
370674
>>370664
>Emitting a faint crackle and lifting its arms out of view, the recording plays on.. though in an entirely opposite way than the simulation:
>Spherical entrance/exits across every surface of the Assault Landers open, disgorging hundreds of paired Scouts and Repair models, larger variants slower with heavier weapons.
>The hundreds of Melari begin separating into actual units comprised of fifty of the smallest, forty of the next size up, thirty of the mediums, five of the large, and one giant.

>Long distracted from her task, Mercy and you spend.. neither of you can tell how long watching both sides savage each other due to the Arena's badly damaged interior, exterior, and rubble everywhere providing excellent cover to take, or create.
>Constructs are surprised by giant Melari hurling stones at them or pushing chunks forwards to create cover, only to be pinned down by particle whips, hot green flashes from lasers, small missiles, or orange plasma bolts, each side tactically pressing the other regardless of numbers lost.
>At some point, the Repair model pauses, pointing out Melari streaming in from around the ruined Arena's, particularly from outer buildings and vast trees, then continues.
>The Construct forces were steadily losing in both numbers, weapons, and ability to absorb losses, except for one tiny variable:
>A small feline that definitely looked like Nibbles, except couldn't have been, a closeup showing small, long healed scars while darting back and forth among the Melari's lines, tail, wing, and body motions making clear, if undefined, orders during combat.
>Unable to directly take on Assault Landers, the feline leader repositions her kin constantly, directing them to avoid the massive aerial weapons, not types you recognized, trying to acquire firing positions.
>While subtly relaying orders for two units of the giant Melari, one hundred in all, she mimics climbing the nearest trees out of range, then to drop down and shred the Assault Landers from the inside.
>One of the larger Repair models above detonates, replayed as a trio of lesser Moor cats dropping down from above in a deliberate suicide attack, each carrying a small Void-imbued bomb in their mouths.
>A hail of orange shrapnel spreads across the Arena, an errant shard focused on that ricochets twice, spinning off a long ruined Construct hulk into a black granite slab, only to stop in the left side of the lead feline's chest, taking cover behind a larger one.
>The Melari gasps, blinking once and looking up, making a tiny nod, then slowly crumples forwards, eyes closing.
>View cutting away, the few Constructs still functional inside the Arena cease firing at the same time the remaining feline horde stills, then are immediately rushed down, flashing kanpri teeth and claws ripping the Planars apart in frenzied slaughter.
>The recording ends.

>Repair model reaching out and forwards with both upper arms, it lathes a plate into view of an estimated tally: approximately 10,000 various Melari deceased, versus 2,000 Constructs deployed and destroyed, the entire contents of both Assault Landers.
>The Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair speak in lower, quiet tones, the quartet of turrets smoothly rotating once.
"First-primary-necessary correction: we-our-pair has studied-examined-considered-expressed prior recording. We have LEARNED. Individual-singular pegasus is LEARNED. Walker-of-Spirits is LEARNED. We-OUR-ALL two-of-two-not-yet-as-one are unable-unpotential-incapable-weak-faulty-flawed. We-OUR-ALL are UNLEARNED."
>Silent for ten seconds, the pair's central weapons tilt towards the Arena's open roof section, now sounding almost.. tired.
"Second-primary-necessary correction: battlefield emulation of possible-probable-likely-potential future action-event simulation to index-list-archive-memory. Prior recording, known-factual. Emulation considers accounts variables for storage-container-building-vessel-chamber repaired-whole-completed.
Battlefield emulation aggregate-comprehension-simulated results of repaired-whole-completed storage-container-building-vessel-chamber: native-local-home winged species now represent-is-are high-extreme-NECESSARY threat to we-OUR-all. We-our-ALL will-need-must avoid native-local-home winged species."

>The greater Argus pair both turn, the central turrets facing you as the overlay disappears, each rotating clockwise, aim towards Mercy, then back on to you.
"We-our-pair offer-trade-show-explain-describe FEAR targeted Seekers-of-OUR-Rift. WE-OUR-all do not, can not, have not explained-considered-questioned-comprehended-studied-examined Seekers-of-Rift."
>Letting out a grating sigh, the blind pegasus facehoofs.
"Let me try.. why are you afraid of an Abomination from your Rift? Is it a Construct, like you two are, or NOT a Construct?"
"We-our-all do not understand-know-comprehend-consider-evaluate conditions-variables-unknowns. Repeat-refine statemarent, Walker-of-Spirits."
"Okay. Why are you afraid of THAT Seeker-of-Rifts?"
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one accept-acknowledge-RESPECT the Walker-of-Spirits understands-accepts-TRUSTS one-of-one-that-has-become-two. Seeker-of-Rifts are not two-of-two. Seeker-of-Rifts are not one-of-one. Seeker-of-Rifts are Seeker-of-Rifts."
>Head cocking in thought, Mercy stares between the two gateway posts, flexing her wings out and fanning the pinksteel blades one by one.
"I don't get it. This.. trying to look at it feels like as if I ate a really bad mango. Not rotten or poisoned, like it w- ..Sunny, I think Riftseekers spread Planar infection when they are on Tallus."
>Freezing solid for a time, the Argus pair's inactive turrets rotate counterclockwise, her wingblades sparking in odd, disparate patterns as she speaks, wavering between cautious and curious.
"I have dealt with Infected before, they are mutated, dangerous. Not like this. Long, with wings, a reptile I think. Scales, plates, claws, big teeth. Winged wyrm, maybe a drake. It has four eyes. And big. Very, very, very big."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
3ba6194
?
No.370674
370696
>>370671
>>370672
>>370673
>That was odd.
>The repair model really seemed to want to complete its work, is non-communicative unlike the destroyer pair, and takes its orders from them.
>Hierarchy? Based on higher evolved intelligence perhaps. Evidence that Constructs were not a gestalt entity as she had previously thought. Perhaps more a collective of collectives, emulating some form of individuality per unit, at least amongst the more advanced ones.

[1d6 = 6] < Apprentice Researcher
[1d6 = 4]

>Acknowledging Mercy with a slight incline of the head, Sunny put aside her urge to eliminate the Constructs. If Mercy wasn't going to leave, she couldn't go through with her plan anyway.
>If she wanted to destroy them, she would have to wait for them to break convention first, not that she were bound in any particular way by those the Constructs had invoked, she did not want to infringe on Mercy's honour. Again at any rate.

>Talking to Constructs was difficult, she needed to adjust her way of speaking to vernacular they had displayed use of.
>In silence for the moment, Sunny observed the various screens they projected and explained in their strange synonym-laden speech.
>People, weaponry, armour, tools, and all manner of objects both sundry and significant. What in the world could they be doing with all of this?
>The use of museum as a synonym implied they had collected all of these for study, display or preservation.
>Their showing of a particular pegasus caught her attention, why this one separate from the others? Was it the degree of damage he'd sustained? It couldn't be that. There must be some other significance, but she couldn't put her hoof on what it was.

>Exasperation? A denial that these two units had not attacked anypony, that they weren't responsible for the actions of other Construct units. This lent more weight to the constructs not existing as a gestalt, and possibly even displaying signs of individuality, compartmentalisation of goals and motives amongst themselves.
>She'd been thinking about that when she startled and flapped her wings once in fear that she'd lose her balance, and yet gravity's pull remained constant, keeping standing on the repair model, removed from the gravity of Tallus.
>They wanted her to see something it seemed.

>Intently observing the display, Sunny watched the moor cat batting at the relay that she had turned off, as cats are wont to do, all while Constructs... Examined rocks.
>As events unfolded, Sunny came to the inescapable and deeply distressing conclusion that this entire conflict and possibly the existence of this Riftseeker came about because ONE (1) Moor cat spooked itself.
>The comedic premise of what had happened here, she realised she had mistaken for what might happen, struck her dumb for several moments, nearly missing what the destroyers were saying.
>Waiting for Mercy's exchange with the Constructs to conclude, Sunny spoke up, shaking her head.
"No. I'm done. This isn't worth dealing with."
>She turned to the destroyer pair, with a deeply haunted expression and tired voice.
"Information accepted as proof of directive. Trade proposal accepted. Request agreement, proposed trade must not impede completion of directives. Proposal, non-interference with your operation to neutralise the Seeker-Of-Rifts in exchange for the safe release of restored sapients?"
>Sunny was going to have to explain all of this, and nobody would believe she and Mercy had been talking to constructs, considering they'd never spoken to anybody before.
>Finally, she jumped off of the repair model, opened up her wings and let herself glide to the ground as Tallus' gravity took its hold again.
"Secondary request, are you willing to clarify - to provide information - on why you have been willing to communicate when others of your kind have not? Reason, to explain this negotiation to nearby Tallus forces and convince them to uphold our agreement of non-interference."
The L.O.N.T
!!PYsGb3YilI
bfdf04e
?
No.370680
370714 370750
File (hide): 8BBF910AECD5E31852A9F5D370F9F365-940962.mp4 (918.9 KB, Resolution:480x360 Length:00:00:07, sb40c21yjlw41.gif.mp4) [play once] [loop]
sb40c21yjlw41.gif.mp4
>>370661
>>370663

>It was over.

>The hulking giants of misery were gone. Turned to mist or in the process of doing so. Lont watched from his vantage point as the innumerable restless spirits left Tallus for the afterlife.
>It was a serene sight and would of brought him to tears if it were not for the growing anguish within the Overherd beginning to beat at his cranium.

>He took deep breaths and long exhales as he focused on his heartbeat, a simple technique he learned back on Ferrundus as a means to block out the mental pressure of Psions. It helped. Especially now with the swelling emotions of thousands of ponies across the Basin Village.
>The burning on his chest was dying away now, and so he shot out a final thought to Broken Hoof. Perhaps she'll hear it in the afterlife.
('Be like Sharonel, Broken Hoof. With Honour and at peace.')

>Lifting his visor he looked around, at first at his fellow Operators then further and further afield to the masses of ponies. All in the hope to ascertain if anyone needed assistance. Surely there would be some wounded. Some survivors who danced with death.
>Surely.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] >M.Medical
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
Jeff
!!TGtxHBZnLs
8d0760e
?
No.370682
370715
its_raining.gif
>>370660
>Jeff tries to keep up with diagnostics and countermeasures as interference takes over the module's screen. Text in multiple languages native to Tallus and known only to humans form and unform themselves but he catches a pattern.
>Deny. Refuse. Prevent. Guard. Protect. Spirit of Walkers. Seeker of Rifts.
>He puts a mental pin in that for now while he pans the camera away from the Arena.
>Oddly enough his signal cleared right up once he started searching for landing strips. North and South looked good, although the North seemed occupied. The South it is, but he doesn't know if a quarter mile stretch is enough. Looking at the drone's specs, it was definitely larger than it would normally be.
>He'll have to wait for Clem to aid him, if he can.

>The iron ball breaks unusually, Anon's door opening up quickly to reveal his literally blowing apart. Leaving a quick as he arrived. The sudden scene shocked him for a split second.
("Shit, sorry! I didn't know! Fuck, I hope it didn't kill him.")

>>370663
>Every force they have puts out their last final drives of attacks, some beginning to falter, something breaks in the Tainted's ranks.
>As if some threshold had been passed, the forms begin to dissolve. Ground and air forces, alike.
>The forms, as if the souls of those ponies were trapped within, phase into a pass out of existence with proud salutes as they fizzle out into the air.
>No longer paying mind to the Reaper's module, he leans back onto the fountain's base and takes in the relieving scene of ponies and humans observing their bittersweet victory.
>Vestals agony wails over the Overherd at their losses. He feels her pain from the extreme loss. The sacrifices and losses really didn't make this feel like a win.
>Jeff shifts his ballistic helmet down and bites his lip as the all to familiar feeling of losing comrades overwhelms him enough to well up and shed a silent tear among the commotion.
>With the Tainted... old comrades put to rest, Jeff recomposes himself and accesses their situation.
>The battlefield was a mess. And with a lull in the fighting could very well be the eye for yet another storm to be coming down on them.
("General... I don't mean to cut our victory breather short, but we still have Contructs at the Arena and some big vessel coming still? We need to consolidate what forces we have that can fight them and anyone who can't to start mass casualty triage.")
>He pushes his thoughts more toward Razorback personnel.
("Razorback. Re-arm and reorganize. Clear areas around the matrices and medical officers from all friendly forces begin setting up triage procedures. Patch up where we can, but prioritize getting them sorted for exfil.")
>He stands up to overlook the horde of friendlies still crammed around him.
("Whoever's been relaying for the Lunarites, have them regroup at the matrices and wait for me there when possible.")

>The Contructs at the Arena were a priority, despite not having heard anything from them yet. He recollects the phenomenon from the drone's computer.
("General. I picked up a transmission from the Constructs at the Arena when I panned over it. They were forcing written texted language to me. It was jumbled and simple...")
>It's like they were trying to pick out the best words to use. Contructs have NEVER tried to communicate with them like this, yet. Between Skykeep and the Citadel and that small Rift model that was bouncing around the Fortress for a while. They were definitely trying to communicate, either directly to him or a general broadcast.
>Spirit of Walkers, that's got to be Mercy. With that Construct merging with her, she must be of some significance to them. She must not engage seeker of- Rift Seekers.
(".. they don't want my herd second to engage the Rift Seekers there. It sounds... desperate. I've never even known them to attempt communication like this. I'm getting a weird vibe, but we definitely need to get over there and access the situation.")
>He knows enough that those ones are always bad news, and they open rifts at specific places and times. Them being here could be mere coincidence? If one party of Constructs are after the other, and Sunny and Mercy are still alive after all this time.
[1d6 = 2] <Intuition
Razorback Fortress: The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370686
370689
>>370635
>Stepping out into a fairly dim red hallway and closing the door behind you, the barracks was mostly silent, a shower could be heard running somewhere left of you.
>Heading that way, a number of glittering red gems embedded in the ceiling provided more than enough light to see by:
>A spacious enough den with pairs of, completely empty, bookshelves on the north and south center walls, comfortable looking couches beside the shelves and coffee tables in front of each, though all were of entirely different furniture styles.
>In the den's corners were solid, multicolored crystalline walls 2.5M wide and 3M tall, a single large circular handle on each implying a door, with a flat top of the same material, the southwest one currently occupied.
>Mentally flipping a coin north or south, you take the north one, and upon opening it find a rather large shower stall, an amusingly big shower head, one bright red and one bright blue crystalline sphere at lower chest height, definitely water controls, some type of gel-like nonslip mat on the floor, and a rather fancy blue metallic grate on the north end.

>Finishing before the southwest person did, returning to your room to collect everything, as you exit and close the barrack door to step outside to the below-ground patio, it was quite different compared last night's clear sky and intensely red moon.
>Now the red was murky and subdued, large numbers of dark, puffed out clouds overhead, or at least those you could see above the gargantuan trees; definitely going to be an interesting winter.
>Walking up the stairs heading southwest towards the southwest, the northern Fortress section was quiet, but as you turn the corner and approach the Mess Hall's east doors there came the familiar scents of fried seafood and fruits.
>Stepping in to the Mess Hall proper and letting the north door close behind you, there were only a few humans and ponies currently here, clustered around large tables close to a pair of split-oval cooking stations.
>The north one was being tended by a lithe, bright pink winged and blue coated pegasus, a mare judging by the rounded snout and softer facial features, a variety of skillets, pots, pans, and plates surrounding her.
>Eyeing the south one's trio of younger humans, the second you hear an argument starting over which fruits to bake, it was clear which one to ignore.
Cheto
!!.IbTBSkudk
90c4209
?
No.370689
370693
>>370686
>As always, José found himself almost mesmerized by all the intricate details during his walk to the shower.
>It was hard to believe such a post would be dotted with such pretty decorations.
>That or they were disguised security systems.
>Not too farfetched.
>A part of him wondered as he stepped into the shower if ponykind had the same laws regarding cameras on restrooms.

>Now fresh and ready for a productive day, he'd soon walk over to the north in the Mess Hall where the hard working mare made her rounds.
"Morning, miss."
>He'd soon brandish an amicable smile, first seeking if she was too busy for silly small talk.
"What's on the menu today?"
>If she humored his question, he'd patiently listen to the selection before springing up the old gentle boop on the snoot to spice up her day.
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370692
370697
>>370670
>The taste was a cross between an unfamiliar though savory berry light shallot, sweet purple cabbage, and hints of sea salt.
>Definitely a pony favorite..

>Stretching both arms out, then her legs, Katyal uncaps her bottle to take several deep swallows, settling back with a concerned visage.
"Tallus is a series of highly interconnected ecosystems and cosms across a gigaplanet. Ponies call her All Creation, lot of the Sequ`nari do too. This world knows what belongs, what is trying to, what could, what'ss accepted and left alone, what doesn't, what shouldn't, what won't be, and what will never be.
I'm not talking about the air filters, it's the entire concept of that helmet's purpose. You are deliberately telling 'her' that you don't want to be here so right now you're being treated as a hostile. An invader.
There's a third catch: longer you keep that up the greater chances are that one spectrum, dimarension, Plane, or 'other' is going to start getting a hold on you. or taking an interest. By the time that happens you'll be just another Malformed or Abomination to be disposed of.
If you somehow get lucky, you won't even be cognizant at that point."
>Frowning briefly, her eyes twitch left and high in recall, then shakes her head, free index finger stabbing into the seat.
"Could've sworn.. look, those humans that nuked New Canterlot Palace fucked the rest of us over for sure and I'm never going to accept that, but when Solarhorse got spun out, the Era Lock went ratshit crazy. Started dragging in one human at a time. Random, no rhyme, no reason, just snagging those it could from omniverses weakest on their folds.
'Objects' started showing up about a month after I landed. Cups, pencils, chairs, tools, random stuff most anyone would have. Then firearm parts, cloth pieces, piles of smokeless powder, empty cans, kit, plaques, armor plates. You name it, I've seen, collected, destroyed, or recycled with Greenie's help.
Last week I got sent a report from a patrol outside a city in Eyeraq, part of a six-by-six armored cargo truck landed on a hillside. Only reason they found it was the fuel tanks were still on fire. It was bit it in half by a creature not native to Tallus, even left a few teeth. Time I got there it was all turning to powder; two hours later all of it was gone. Starting to understand now?"
>Watching the Siren beginning to stretch out from her lying down position, Katyal's jaw sets, eyes shutting as she breathes out heavily.
"You know Tallus has four hundred and twenty days per year, right? How about eight days each week? Thirty hours per cycle, fifteen day, fifteen night? Sixty seconds is still one minute, can always count on that.
Not only that, the Era Lock controls temporal fuckery. Rather, it did control. Was halting the exitway rotation of each human's home omniverse from flowing. One second here is either fractional or up to twenty seconds faster than one second where you originate from. In other words: time is passing 'normally' in relative outside this universe for some.
Problem now is Razorback, you included, is skipping six hours to SOME where, when, place, or how. That will eventually cause every last one of you to become a temporal threat, IF you aren't currently."
>Leaning forwards and turning to halfway face you, Katyal's head shakes solemnly, left hand tapping the seat in subdued agitation.
"I don't want to, but since you're this out of the loop.. there's already been five breaches into human Otherworlds. Three succeeded, one failed. Long range, full power bombardmarents. No Tallus casualties. One is still going on and won't end for a while.
Mine's safe because I've been inside the Era Lock, where I was shunted through is stable. Even got a good luck at the fucking THING that ran me down."
>Sitting back and exhaling heavily, the woman's gaze drifts up at the roof, giving a short, defenseless shrug.
"Your reasoning's yours, but is this situation one you should, or can, ignore for long? The chance your world gets targeted as hostile is only going to keep rising. All I'm asking you to do is reconsider."

>Jolting off her wrist, the topaz bracelet expands into a flat one-sided portal facing the driver's side, Hodch walking through and spinning to face the front, glancing side to side as the relic shrinks back down.
"What have I missed out on?"
"Other than absolutely fuckhuge trees bigger than the ones around Razorback, giant prints from a critter the size of most mountains, some phys-training, and me bitching? No, but ma-"
"STOP. Huge trees. Giant prints. Be right back-"
>Deep purple streaks leap forwards into the driver compartment, phasing through in a hurry while she snorts quietly.

>Making a short, huffy neigh, Dul slowly rolls up to sit, stretching out her legs, her pseudo-physicality looking curiously like stretched out putty.
"Dul not want get hit."
"I wasn't trying to actively harm you."
"Dul not mean you-"
>Left foreleg lifting to point above Katyal's head, the Siren takes a hard, bitter look that distinctly wasn't equine.
"Dul know you wing things, you not like Dul Vortex."
"That so? An`Meliu, talk to me."
>A thinly tittering laugh rings above the woman's head, the imprint of large, crystalline rainbow butterfly's wings raising, chimes echoing distantly as she reaches up to trace fingers on one.
"Good? Fine, go back to sleep, I need you fully refreshed but I don't know when."
>Giving the quickly fading presence an affectionate pat, Katyal turns an appeasing smile to Dul, then glances in your direction with mild humor.
"She was curious, says she's never dealt with your Vortex before. Won't bother you either. Mystic beings can be really sweet, polite, helpful, apathetic, cold, nasty, sinister, or destructive. Pick two, chase one down with those traits to make a contract, then pray the next one isn't three or more.
So, a break, or you want to learn something special?"

[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]

[1d6 = 2] <Travel Time
Razorback Fortress: The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370693
370701
>>370689
>Wearing a curious pair of bright white front hoofboots and well oversized steel blades atop the first six primary feathers of each wing, the mare's loose pink mane swishes as she turns to face you, speaking in a light, though subdued, brittle tone.
"Welcome ba-"
>Silent as her head tilts slightly left, then right, she blinks, face creasing for a handful of seconds before speaking in flat puzzlemarent.
"Sorry, I don't.. recognize you? Are you new like most of them are?"
>Pointing a blade towards the two tables in front of the south split counter, the baffling weapons, armor, camouflage, packs, rigging, harnesses, kit, myriad accents, and disparate ethnicities made precisely zero sense:

>The most striking Operator is a strict, mid-60's EurAsian man in winter-forest camo sitting at the end, the haunted, sharp blue eyes of a confirmed mankiller instantly snapping from speaker to speaker, an older bolt-action rifle slung tightly over his left shoulder.
>Next to him is a hard faced, mid-20's European man in partial disconnect from reality, the worn look of a recently-kicked-it amphetamine addict clashing against high mountain forest camo, though a well maintained, almost new submachine gun similar to an MP-40 was haphazardly strung low on his back.
>Opposite the pair, a younger woman in a damaged, high tech helmet, internal displays behind the cracked visor constantly changing, her armor featuring thin, recently damaged angular plates, a thoroughly battered titanium basebat bat, at least a foot longer than regulation, gripped tightly in the left hand, a boxy Mac submachine gun in a crosschest sling.
>Next to her is a bewildered younger man, probably not even at legal drinking age, the facial features vaguely Islander, yet the strange red-yellow-green-blue streaked jungle camo and a well made, lightly damaged semi-auto H&K like rifle made no sense.
>Two men in their late 30's could have been twins if they weren't from opposite sides of the world, the first a light red skinned Northern Native, the second a slightly yellow tone, both lithe, wiry, armed with an assortment of knives suspended across thin armor vests and across even lighter leg armor, also carrying a quartet of utterly different size pistols.

>Surveying the groups for a few seconds longer, the pegasus scowls briefly, then points a forehoof at the front skillets and pans on her south counter, heaps of freshly steaming squid, clams, mussels, shrimp, fish strips either breaded, seared, baked, or glazed, atop large, bright red-orange glowing, flat topped oval crystal slabs.
"Everything on the front ones is ready-"
>The stacks of 'plates' she directs you to are four, one thin sparkling crystal, the rest solid.. silver, gold, and platinum.
>Motioning at her north counter, half filled platters and bowls of neatly sliced fruits, berries, and vegetables, nearly everything you knew, a bunch you'd heard of, and more that were either tropical, volcanic, or grew right out of snow were present on equally large, bright blue glowing crystal slabs.
>Leaning over to spear a seared shrimp and carefully raise it for a sniff, the mare pops it into her mouth for a quick chew, shrugging afterwards.
"Take what you want, there's basically nopony and no one here tonight. Tried cooking for sixty humans but less than half that have come in."
Razorback Fortress: Around Four Past Midneight, The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370694
370695
>>370637
>>370636
>Standing to full height, the pair's ears swivel towards Malyne as she flops onto the trade table, snickering giddily.
>The left one's eyes, however, were nothing less than hate-filled, and the voice far beyond contempt.
"No Light from the Vigils will ever grace that 'temple', nor the tainted, desecrated souls descended from an Otherworlder 'Empress'."
>Turning around and stomping into the Remnant's eye, the other waits for two seconds, muscles rigidly flexing across his body, snarling under breath.
"An 'honorable ancient one' Her Majesty's royal ass, I'll sever that fu-"
>Realizing he was speaking out loud, the Undead's front left hoof reaches forwards, tapping lightly outside the translocation matrice, hissing in a low, directed tone.
"You've all been fooled new-Prince, not only by Lucky, her family, or the Crystal Inner Wards. You and the Second Dynasty must not travel to Stalliongrad, New Canterlot, or the Crystal Empire, but especially stay OFF the Citadel! Until those ponies that AREN'T Razorback's enemies can show themselves in the open, that'll make-"
>Reaching up to make a quick neck-slitting motion, the Vigilite nods grimly.
"Much easier, understood?"
>Turning around to face the open Vortex, he emits a rolling, high pitched snicker-kek towards the batfilly, striding forwards proudly as she stares on at the eye sinking down into stone.
"What. What? What! WHAT. WHAT? WHAT! I-"
>Squeakily stuttering aloud, Malyne's wings flap, scattering letters and papers everywhere while she violently wiggles side to side in utter glee.
"That was my FIRST BATCALL! I AM THEREFORE BATPONY, NOT HORSEBAT!"

>Hurrying a bit faster north from the imminent crime scene, you barely notice the Bren's prototype armored towers now placed two per building, the central Fortress much quieter than normal.
>Entering to the scents of finishing cookies, sourdough bread, and something else definitely pastry related, neither pegasi cook or chef were at their cooking stations.
>Checking the northwest green couch, Allys was lying on her left side, head hanging partially over and sound asleep.

>Towards the back, boxes and piles of rations, tins, and MRE's on either side of the giant walk in freezer were new, and hadn't even been organized yet, though you don't spot Pella near either section.
'Prince' Dante
!!ocSwyiWKPo
33e92fd
?
No.370695
370698
>>370694
>They weren't lying, she really -was- moving a shit ton of stuff around.
>Though, I suppose it is more of a manner of convenience.
>After all, if all the food was concentrated it one point, it'd be easier to feed people.
>But they used those in the field often.
>Hell, -I- did.
>Not that I'll be doing that for much longer.
>Who knew all it took for me to settle down was accidentally an entire faction.
>Ah, well.
>Instead of wasting my time by only looking around, I decided to call out -and- look around as well.
"Hey, Pella? You there?"
>I lifted up the sheaf of letters in my hand.
"Mail's in for you."
>At the very least, it might wake up Allys as well, and she can help me.
>But hopefully not.
Archaic Pegasi-Batpony League Arena: The Mess
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370696
370709
>>370674
>Studying backwards, forwards, rolling around variables, pushing those into words, phrases, and contextual meanings until they link together, a selection of coherent ideas form:
>Rank was inapplicable as each Construct pair's model type, weaponry selections, armor protection, and ability to adapt in field were expressly that of designed and deployed complete units, expected to be self-sustaining if correctly matched against a specific known target, or targets.
>Based solely on their recorded willingness to open hostilities, Constructs either had zero awareness that situations and circumstances on Tallus could not be directly controlled, or were expected to be attacked without warning.
>The Rift Constructs were a functional collective of collectives, each pair operating on per-task basis of hierarchical orders, explicit dedications of long, medium, or short range combat, close combat, interdiction, repair, recovery, restoration, study, research, and.. archaeology, both of Tallus and their own, yet each model had some eminent flexibility.
>Both Argus Behemoth-Destroyers were, far as you could rationalize, 'interested' in numerous fields, their weaponry selections capable of combat but also an equal amount of less destructive or barely damaging usefulness as basic tools; outside the anti-matter systems they possessed, that is.
>Where ponies adhere to laws, orders, rules, stipulations, and expectations from their herd, Overherd, or both, higher Constructs collectives felt more like those that give an order and allow the risk-taker to operate with minimal conditions, while functionally equal collectives combine or support their forces for a given task, and take direct authority over lower collectives.
>If pairs were in fact granted and allowed extreme autonomy outside of hierarchical orders, several creeping, nagging thoughts arise: were they expected to take on additional self-chosen duties, how often did their 'interests' change, and what prevented them from disobeying a higher collective?

>Taking on a minorly insulted face, the white pegasi's head turns towards the relay, snout creasing.
"This is well worth my time, even if I am tired."

>Unmoving from their positions, the greater Argus pair tip towards each other slightly.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one describe-stipulate-outline-explain-grant the following: equal-equivalent-same value-weight of recovered-restored-initialized-finished-completed sapients to Seeker-of-Rifts accepted-granted-CONFIRMED by WE-our-ALL. Refine-repeat second-primary statemarent-demarend."
>Ears wiggling back and forth at the request, Mercy's wingblades snap together as she smiles.
"Sunny, I understand now, spoken language is a concept far below, above, useless, or impossible for most Planars. They do not need or use it because it is not fast enough to share information! But if that is why they usually attack.. let me try this:
You-two-of-two, we desire-need-require the sapients to exit-release from your-all container-storage-museum to the place-region-local near us. Do not attack-harm-injure region-local equines."
"Request-demarend accepted-granted-confirmed-respected-honored. Unit, exit-remove-release all-all-all-all-ALL sapients from we-OUR-ALL retrieve-study-research-repair-restore-recover-initialize storage-vessel-chamber."
>The giant Repair unit rotates around 180-degrees, arms spreading apart and pointing down below the Arena, rotating nanolathe spindles glowing, though Mercy calls aloud, the systems spooling down quickly.
"Wait wait wait stop, not that locale-region! Can you exit-remove-release all sapients.. erm, close-near my region-locale-home?"
>Grumbling out a hard tinged phrase in Minotaur, the quartets of turrets face each other, rotating clockwise for a hooful of seconds, the pair speaking aloud, minute notes of confusion clear.
"....request-demarend accepted-granted-confirmed-respected-honored. Unit, commarence-proceed-activate-produce-DELIVER task-program-function-operation gateway-rift-TRANSPORT."
>Tilting from side to side as you hop off, drifting down onto black granite once more on the Repair model's north side, it turns partway, lightly stabbing the nanolathes into its own hull.
>Odd.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Minor Rift Gateway

>The pair's cannons swivel towards you once more, jerkily rotating counterclockwise twice.
"We-our-all do not understand-know-comprehend-consider-evaluate-study asked-requested-demarended condition-variable-question-request. Repeat-refine request-statemarent-demarend."
>Folding her wings down, then subsequently blinking at the near-entirely forgotten pair of bright orange batpony-like wings atop hers, Mercy bends forwards to rub her chin on the left white-faced barrel once.
"This one answered that question, they want to be united. Or.. no, that is not close enough. Hm, the feelings are 'together-we-are', but it is similar."
<Pegasi> "Sunny, I think they cannot experience what being a pair truly is, like a stallion and mare, close, near, almost together, but unable able to touch, always sharing thoughts, feelings, images from a distance. They cannot share a deep connection, but they can if they had a choice."
>Ending her last word on a specific note, Mercy cranes her head between the two, the symbiote on her saddle emits a sourly pitched noise as she asks softly.
"You-two-of-two, do you need-intend to combat-harm-injure-kill equines?"
"Statemarent refused-unaccepted-denied. We-our-pair must show-upload-link-share-describe-display-TEACH recording for we-OUR-ALL to LEARN."
"Will you ever be ordered-commarened to combat-harm-injure-kill equines?"
"WE-our-pair avoid-deny-refuse-UNACCEPTED statemarent. WE-our-pair must offer-display-show-TEACH we-OUR-ALL UNLEARNED."
"Then we will leave. Thank you."
>Unable to think of more to say, the Spirit Walker nods towards the pair, calling as she walks towards the Arena's east side roof.
"Sunny, I can help you glide for quite a ways, we should find the Overherd's outer bubbles before needing to walk far."
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370697
370699
>>370692
>His face twitches slightly at the bracing flavor of the juice.
(Clearly intended for ponies. Herbal.)

>He remains quiet as Katyal responds, elucidating some of the finer points of the all around untennable situation regarding humans on Tallus.
(Likely Class 1 entities identified. Mechanisms of action... the planes themselves. Only apparent recourse is to affiliate with one or another. As if the human element wasn't enough...)
>As she continues, he signs in quite irritation and pinches his brow and eyes.
(And an increasing temporal mismatch too. Fucking superb. With breaches into other human worlds.)

"I don't understand what you mean by seeing the 'thing' that ran you down, if you mean what killed you before you arrived on this planet. But my goal, my mission is to preserve as much of the determined socially compatible native lifeforms from cross-cultural contamination by humans as possible, myself included. Apparently human risk vector introduction is even worse than I was aware of, but my intent was always to only interact and integrate as much as necessary to fulfill my tasks."
>Finally removing his hand, he picks up the bottle for another sip.
>At least the plant-like taste would help brace against the stress of these new revelations.
"Apparently Tallus itself is going to force me to choose while I'm here, so if I want to carry out my duty I'll have no choice but to integrate as much as she demands. If she decides to target my world as hostile, then she isn't paying as much attention as she should. As far as I've seen, my home dimension was one of the few with protocols in place to try and manage shitshows like this to preserve worlds and their natives in the event of unmanaged human contact. But I arrived years too late, so damage control is what I'm left with. "

>He remains seated, returning rubbing his furrowed brow in consternation and paying little heed to Hodch's sudden arrival and disappearance beyond confirming his departure to the driver's compartment.

"This policy of wholesale integration Tallus seems to have will only bring ruin now that humans are involved. New Canterlot was not an anomaly. And I have precious few leads on addressing the temporal mismatches or the Era Lock."
>He glowers and a brief sardonic expression crosses his face as he looks towards where Hodch phased through the door.
"But I'm left with no choice by the will of 'god'."

>Deciding to watch Dul to focus on something more immediate, he follows her pointing foreleg to see a strange crystal imprint of butterfly wings embody themselves over Katyal's head.
(Bonded with a... Mystic being apparently. Standard fare for Assassins? Likely for empowering their abilities and options.)
>Eyeing the space above Katyal's head with slight wariness, he replies.
"I'm going to need all the training I can get given the clear disparity between me and you."
Razorback Fortress: The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370698
371012
>>370695
>No answer, at least not from humans as there were barely three full squads, most of the guys you knew wiped out on floor, sprawled out on the best couches, or face down on tables, nor were there any Night or Lunar Guards.
>An Arcane Bladesmare at the bar swivels partway around, pointing at the front doors and quietly calling to you, the accent a somewhat familiar, wispy Stalliongradian pegasi.
"Buncha them been movin' stuff last coupla hours, she'll be back inna bit. Or two."
>Swinging around and yawning, the mare slumps forwards, head setting down.

>Just then, one of the south piles twitches.
>Or, at least you think it might have.
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370699
370712
>>370697
>Katyal lifts the bottle to drain, cap, and toss it into the seat-locker, slouching back with a killing grin.
"Got done with a late shift at the bio-med center. Went to my favorite bar on the corner, knocked back three Dead Rippers, went out and started back to my shitty little foot thick steel apartment. Ten blocks in I hear big tires, look back, an armored fast-attack Genetic Security rig. Brand new, dual chain-plasma guns all over it.
Figured they were going to follow me home just in case. Kept walking... more like staggering until getting about a block and a half out. Those big eighteen cylinder diesels got a lot of power and noise, can feel them from quite a ways. Then the tires screech, couldn't turn fast enough to drop a grenade or my satchel, but I could feel that monster staring at me through screens.
Imagine a hyper-intelligent extraterrestrial 'being' made of nothing more than long striated pseudo-cells that only need a few drops of blood or tiny scrap of flesh to near-perfectly replicate a creature, all the way down to tiny micro-scars.
Now imagine it can read neural processes from living or dying beings. Sinks these super tiny ciliated proto-organic needles into the nervous system, or straight to the brain. Carefully though, takes a few minutes and close or direct contact. Or break 'em off and create a new monster after a few weeks to months. Requires a serious scanner to find said needles, and that's only IF they leave the body where it can be found.
Add the two together, what does that make?"
>Lips thinning briefly, she turns a hard stare at the opposite wall panels.
"Now that I respect. Contamination's a real danger to ponies, just not the way you've probably been thinking. Objects themselves aren't the danger, it's the concepts behind them.
Remove everything associated with unnecessary war, natural resource exploitation, subversion, industry, religion, sabotage, political profiteering.. ..lawyers.. the shit ponies hate most, they'll pick up on that. Might work out well.
Also, you don't feel, look, sound, or act even a quarter as fucked up the six notches on my belt were made for. If most of your world isn't a bunch of greedy backstabbing assclowns and morons, that lessens the chance.
Still, there's plenty of choices on why or what one can acclimate to. Who do you think taught me?"
>Left index finger pointing towards the driver compartment, she flashes a barely appropriate grin.
"No deities where I'm from but here you can actually meet a few of those.. except for Greenie, he's us but not exactly reliable.. just like us, really! There's an Empress gone missing though, Spring, Fall, and Winter are approachable, and-"
>Physically relaxing for a second, her empty hand swings up in a blur, backfisting a certain Draconequis snout straight through the hull, leaving only his lips behind.
"THIS one's not worth getting angry at, trust me."
"I WAS ONLY GOING T-"
"Cocoratulate me, right?"
"I am deeply wounded but mostly insulted! After all, I've used THAT one before!"
"Best way to ignore him is to ask yourself why it takes three mares on fire and a dead squid exactly one hour to peel a boat."
"It WAS going to be congospatulate but you were already thinking it!"
"What is wrong with.. can't you make a living jelly tree and set it loose in Folu's garden?"
"No?"
>Waiting precisely one second to continue, her eyebrows raise in mildly exasperated amusement.
"Could be neutral for quite a while, that'll require a constant force of will and might burn you out. Could do what the Malurians do, find a piece of Nature you enjoy and become so in tune that it accepts you as an equal. Unicorns, raw magic, symbolism of a million types, Elemarentals. Pegasi, clouds, wind, air. Minotaurs, Arkadians, earth ponies..."
>Left eye twitching and losing her focus briefly, Katyal releases a slow, measured exhale.
"You don't strike me as a from-the-earth type. Sea's Bounty, some of the Ferron, batponies, they all like the sea and Void spectrums. Some a BIT too much. But if you're thinking about... why are you back?"
>Squishing through the roof hatch in front of her, Discord sniggers quietly, whispering in all caps.
"WHY A TREE WHEN I CAN FILL HER ENTIRE TRIBUTARY WITH GUMMY FISH?"
"Did you seriously do that?"
"No. quite frankly, why would I?"
"Because it'd be hilarious to watch her get irked, she's already trying to lose weight.. what DID you do?"
"Cucumber crocodiles. With googly coconuts for eyes."
".....do they make funny-"
"Loud clopping noises like horses do when they waddle about? YES!"
"You're a genius. Now, please leave?"
>Grimacing as Discord worms his way out, one finger gun points at you.
"My choice then. Well, you already got a bunch of Rift stench, that's never good from what I've been told. Tiny touch of Vortex.. nothing dangerous. Gonna need to either balance those or purify the first."
"Like that?"
"What?"
"That. It pure."
>Following Dul's gaze and pointed hoof at your locker, Katyal's eyes close briefly, snapping open in shock.
"...THAT'S pinksteel? Holy giant Lovehorse's teats on a window frame, that stuff is BEYOND impossible to get ahold of.. you have any idea what that's worth to the right spiritist? She won't even let Roam's Volkanus Guard have a single tiny damned chunk.
All right, new plan, you grab that neat little dagger, and that shield of yours needs some tuning. It's entirely possible to refine an enchantmarent by communing with it, like I did with.. nnnnevermind.
Gonna need you to take those two out and prepare to summon that shield in every single possible configuration, see what the maximum size is, spread the shape, check speed of summoning, that sort.
Miss Dul, gonna need your help BIG time!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Overclocked Spiritist's Combat Training
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Vortex: Planar Purification
[1d6 = 6] <Awakening

[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle-Scanner
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <GM.Mysticism: Cascading-Sweep
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]

[1d6 = 4] <Travel Time
Cheto
!!.IbTBSkudk
90c4209
?
No.370701
370702
>>370693
"That I am, miss."
>He promptly nodded a bunch of times before offering a hand to shake or bump.
"Name's José Gallo. Nice to meet you."

>He had to admit, those were some zany looking characters milling about on the tables.
>The technology and epoch disparity was specially of note.
>Heck, for some reason, the mid-20's European man seemed plucked out during World War 2.
>Even humans in Razorback were alien mysteries of their own, it seems.

>Snapping back to reality, his head soon turned back to the helpful mare with an understanding smile.
"Why thank you, miss. What would you reccomend I eat?"
>Okay, so pick a plate and place food on it.
>Simple stuff.
>Razorback Fortress: The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370702
370703
>>370701
>Quickly slipping the front left hoofboot off, she reaches out, lightly resting warm pad on your palm and giving a brief shake with a rueful smile.
"Right, sorry, really frazzled tonight, usually there's one hundred and fifty to two hundred and forty humans, and two hundred twenty to three hundred ponies. I'm Pella, aaaand I'm also taken."

>Glancing back to check the not yet finished ones, the mare's head whips around at your question, eyes widening.. and don't stop until you realize that was either a horrifying mistake, or a fantastic request.
"Take a lemon slice, drizzle the juice on top a mildly fatty white ocean fish chunk to give it a nice zesty flavor, add some wild parsley, wrap in a thin red maize tortilla, and done!
Cover a square piece of lightly fatty white ocean fish in savory ocean-dried spices and roll it tight into an efflo leaf, which are these, like spinach but better, so the juices stay put!
Take a thin slice of of sweet white pineapple on a heatstone, let it bake for ten seconds at MAXIMUM! .....then use that to roll up a piece of freshly caught and grilled fatty salmon!
This is a spotted island kiwi, defuzzed of course, cut it in quarters like so, dunk it in ice cold water real quick to bring out the sweetness and a little bit of tang, then sprinkle just a TINY bit of salty and hot spices on the sides!
Take a sheet of fried jellyfish skin this size or bigger, dash some blue salt onto it, slice a bunch of small scallops in half, put them in like that, add some fresh lime juice, fold three edges to make an envelope, and you have a crispy, delicious little... I can't remember the name but it's really good!
Here's a blue pomegranate, the seeds are huge compared to most, take those out, put on a pan, squish the juice out but be careful not to damage the seeds because they taste horrible, then drizzle it over half a small roasted flatfish!
Spiny paper-fruit, not easy to clean but once the paper and shell are off, slice into thick sheets like these, heat them up nice and hot for five seconds.. complete!
Blue tanparin, looks like a banana crossed with a green bean but it's actually a berry! Cut in four pieces, peel off the skin, poke the seeds out, and that's it! Some humans say it's a little sour but I've never actually seen anyone not eat one.
I know it looks like a biscuit, these are made from Central Moors swamp rice mixed with some kind of kelp to keep it moist, but it's a lot softer and used just like bread. Slice in half, add some hard butter, a slice of cheese, toss them on the heatstones, let both melt a bit, turn over, heap fried clam strips on both, squish them together, and done!"
>Looking at the more than mildly stacked gold plate pushed towards you by what can only be an intensely proud pony, it could, theoretically count as some form of war crime against a starving, seafood hating individual.
>What TYPE of court would rule against amusingly named and good smelling food was questionable, though you were pretty sure this was rather common faire judging by the giant, utterly clear walk in freezer on the Mess Hall's western side was completely stacked with ingredients.

"There's some human foods over there to take with, but I can't hoofle any of it. Nearly all the canned seafood, fruit, vegetables, tubers, squash, nuts, beans, and pretty much everything else is awful, bland, or both. Dehydrated stuff can be okay, but nothing will ever beat fresh."
>Pointing behind her at the northwest section, it was was little more than varying height shelves, none of which matched, loaded down by several hundred different styles of canned foods, boxes, bags, ration bars, ration packs, assault packs, candy, 2.5, 5, 10, and even a few 20 pound cans, and individual, double, boxed, packaged MRE's.
>A fraction of which you recognized. Possibly.
"Drinks are on the other side. They're usually good but half of those 'juice' ones have WATER added TO them! If I WANTED water I'd DRINK water but NO, stupid idiots have to dilute good fruit, berry, and vegetable juices! Most of the powder ones are bland, too."
>The southwest was the same, although you DO finally spot two partially matching shelves; drinks of every type, kind, shape, size, from numerous tiny 100mL bottles.. you're fairly sure those are childen's drinks, up to a staggering 20 liter clear glass jar, possibly even diamond, of apple cider.
>There weren't any alcoholic beverages, though.
"Just reorganized last night, took us.. I don't know how long."
Cheto
!!.IbTBSkudk
90c4209
?
No.370703
370728
>>370702
>Jose blinked in clear stupefaction, eyes staring wide at the plate's various contents ready to be assembled in what seemed to be either one big recipe or various small ones.
>Noting the wings more intently, he quickly realized this should've been expected.
>Specially from someone in the food industry.
>Is that even a thing here?

>That aside, Gallo quickly found himself rather excited to try out this elaborate dish courtesy of Pella.
>She was putting all of her love for cooking straight into this meal and he couldn't help but admire it.
>Who knows how many years has she honed in her craft?
"Wow~"
>Utterly fascinating

>Blinking out of his stupor, he quickly focused up and carefully acquired the mostly prepared dish to place at a table.
"Thank you so much for your input, missus Pella. Your significant other is stuffed with luck to have such a talented chef."
>Now to find a place to properly enjoy the meal according to the food artisan's instructions.

(...oh wait, I prolly shouldn't have offered my hand as a greeting. Pucha, gotta keep practicing my manners.)
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
3ba6194
?
No.370709
370731
>>370696
>Sunny cast a look at the somewhat offended Spirit Walker.
>She made a series of a movements, a single light flap of the wings, a backwards and forwards wiggle of her ears and a small toss of the neck and head, lifting and lightly stamping one hoof after another in random sequence.
"I'm sure we could spend the rest of the night requesting information from these two, however, I'm certain that they would prefer to finish their task. They have asked us to leave, after all."

>Mercy's conclusion made sense, but the larger question is why it had taken the Constructs so long to learn and attempt this form of communication, when they had displayed a much greater acumen for evolution in other areas. Particularly when it came to mimicking the tactics and weaponry of organics.
>What had prompted this development?
>She left her questions unvoiced.

>Giving the symbiote a suspicious look, Sunny opted not to respond to Mercy's explanation. She had no choice but to respect Mercy's choice on this, but she could not shake her feelings on the matter. To be invaded in body or mind by an alien intelligence was not something to be taken lightly.
>A pair could only be a pair because of a degree of separation.
>Sunny made a rather irate, repetitive digging at the ground with a hoof.
>Looking back to Mercy again, she shook her head.
"Thank you, but it will take you long enough to return even without me. You should report this as soon as possible, I'll make my way back on hoof. Either way, the conflict at the Basin will be long over before we can get there."
>With that, she reared slightly, and turned on the spot towards the exit. Setting off at a trot.
>She kept an ear turned back towards the Constructs however. A part of her knew it would be far more prudent to destroy them than risk the potential consequences this untested trust, but against her better judgement, she would let this play out.
>She only hoped she and Mercy hadn't just taught the Constructs that they could use hostages as leverage.
Clemency
!.BxecfigoM
aab530d
?
No.370710
370711 370716
>>370657
>Hearing Twisted's words and feeling her presence, especially after not working with each other for what feels like an eternity, Clemency's focus is sharpened
>"You got it."
>He strafes the frozen cluster of Tainted with as much fire before he rolls off to land

>Swiftly moving through the crowds, Clemency moves to fill into the ranks with his comrades
>Hitting the barricade, he obliges Blackhorn and raises the weapon up to the Assault Tainted and adds his fire with the Company
>After a few salvoes, he hears Jeff on the overherd about his Reaper
(Jeff, I'm coming over. Hang tight.)
>Looking one last time at the approaching Tainted, he moves back from the barricade to the fountain

>>370663
>>370611
>However, as soon as he steps away from the barricade, he feels a shift in the fighting
>At first, it seems like it's all coming to a head
>All forces are practically burning themselves out to even slow down the Tainted
>But then the noise lessens and stops
>Clemency turns and looks around to see what's happening
>He's greeted by the sight of the Tainted all fading away and saluting at them all
>Seeing and hearing everyone's relief that the fightings over, Clemency takes a deep breath and lets the exhaustion hit him a little
>And he can't help but feel Vestal's anguish and think to himself
>"What a mess we made."
>Taking another deep breath to get himself together, Clemency holsters Blackhorn and walks towards the fountain to where Jeff is
>He slides the visor on his helmet up and nods at him
"Hey man, holding together?"
>Spotting the command terminal nearby, Clemency goes over and takes stock of its UI and controls
>"Shouldn't be too hard to find a landing spot for it."
>Using the camera on the drone, tries to spot a landing zone, preferably one that's closest to the translocation stone
>Once finding a spot, he tries to see if there was a landing subroutine. If not, he'll land it himself
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Pupil Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
>After his attempt, he closes the terminal and walks over to Jeff
"You know, that what's weird about this. They're now talking with us. After all the grief they did. But I do think this is something worth looking at."
Jeff
!!TGtxHBZnLs
8d0760e
?
No.370711
370715 370725
>>370710
>Collecting himself as Clem approaches from behind, Jeff does his best to make room for his friend despite the commotion around them.
>The pilot's short wellness check is appreciated, so he nods back in return with a light scoff.
"I'll take unscathed and emotionally exhausted eight days a week, after this."
>The carnage is enough to make his head spin, but doesn't show it. It's all always a terrible sight, whether it's one body or hundreds.
>As Clem gets comfy on the module and gets a feel of the controls, he looks over his shoulder for any more interference.
"The controls are basic but everything's there. Drone got scaled up from the wish disc so more horsepower, but the wing span's probably closer to a hundred feet instead of seventy. I spotted some quarter mile strips North and South of the village. Go South. The FLIR is showing the North occupied by batponies and Strikers doing their best sheet ghost impressions. Don't know what that's about. Evacuees?"
>So he also thought it strange as well, the Construct's behavior.
"They evolve from stimuli in their environment, right? Our tech must be a fresh medium for them to communicate through. Look at the BFG you got on your back, and poor Mercy looks like a frazzled white and pink megazord. This isn't the first time they've been hellbent on going after a Rift Seeker, and ignoring other stuff around them. A fight... hmm could be avoidable if we leave them alone? Eh, I'm spitballing. To be perfectly honest, they'd be pretty cool if they're weren't so fuckin' aggressive and intimidating."
>As he watches Clem make n attempted landing, he rests his chin on a balled palm and keeps his ears open for any updates and troop movements going on.
"We're gonna have our hands full for a while. This-"
>He blows a waft of air out and stashes the Milkor back into the duffel.
"-is going to get investigated. And I think there's worse on the horizon. If you make it back to the Fortress before me, start gathering up senior members and... I don't know. Get ready for something. Marshmallow, too, wherever she's at."
>Taking a long thoughtful pause, he pans over to Clem with an outstretched gauntlet.
"Still got my scope on ya?"
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370712
370737
>>370699
>Hearing Katyal launch into a clearly rehearsed story, Pareidolia takes the time to finish the bottle of sweet bulb juice.
(Clear derived enjoyment from sharing such stories. Unclear if due to lack of opportunities with ponies, prior experience with human squads, or personal traits. Origin world likely megacorporation dominated, with such vehicles in domestic environments.)

>His expression changes from relative neutral to a confused, somewhat offended scoff as Katyal explains what he already knew was obvious.
>Reining his annoyance in, he gives Katyal a look of incredulity.
"I was under the impression it was obvious my concern was about the concepts behind the items. There are inextricable links between the cultures humans come from and the items they produce. It's this link that makes items the second danger below humans themselves and their social impact. I would have thought that one of your position would recognize when others already understand the same. Unless you have not encountered any before now..."
>He shrugs and sighs dismissively.
"As for acclimation options, there are already too many deities here. More than I ever want to deal wi-"
(Gods for seasons too? Christ-)

>Seeing a trademark slapstick gag that could only be the result of Discord, Pareidolia suppresses a groan and runs a hand over his face muttering:
"Of course he'd be here."
>Unamused at their antics, he disappassionately observes while considering why Discord is continuing to involve himself.
(Despite everything, Discord may have a vested interest in Spiral's return. Though he likely does not know of Spiral's status beyond missing. If he knew, likely would not have cooperated in directing me into a fruitless mission. That would not be "funny" or "chaotic" enough.)

>Nodding as she points to him, he remarks:
"Rift exposure due to combat against a Construct. I was told it was cleansed, but apparently not completely."

>He turns his head, following Dul's to his sheathed pinksteel dagger.
(Right. Nominal that she would sense it.)
>Shifting back as Katyal exclaims its value, he stands and moves to retrieve it.
"I was unaware it was that valuable. The biteblade is poorly forged, and I haven't found myself in optimal combat positions to utilize it beyond its sensory capacity."

>Holding it in his right hand, he takes up an even stance and experimentally attemps to draw forth the dragon spirit's enchantment, comparing its speed and composition across different scenarios.

[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Basic Block
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]< Dragon-Scale Sphere: Tate

...
Basin Village, Aftermath
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370714
370754
>>370680
>Despite their combined efforts at ignoring the last soul-destroying faux-vapors and blows from Tainted, not one of the Lancers jamming Basin Village's southern entrance live through, too weakened and exhausted to resist.
>Hundreds of still, armored Guard, a specific number announced mutedly by the lead mare, remain where they were or slump down, lances upraised and crossing each other in a nearly impenetrable barrier.
>One of the youngest Councilierge Assault Vanguards raises her lance, the rest of their bitter, quiet number following suit.
"A sacrificial gate of lances, unbreached against foes worthier than all but one we have faced! To perform duties beyond the callings Equinity would demarend of us, such debts must be repaid in full! Honor their greatest and honor their foes! May the Grand Lancer's descendant honor their names, deeds, lineages, and kin alongside us! VICTORY FOR THEM, HONOR TO THE WITNESSES!"
>The same voice hisses into your ear, subverting the Overherd entirely as thousands of Guard shouting aloud.
'Cease your shaming, human. Not once have we suffered the indignity of threatening your misled, weak-spined Company of fools, nor would we have accepted such a task. Cast aside your primitive fear and degenerate notions of what a Psion is or is not. We are nothing alike the greedy, cowardly fools your species produces.'
>Cutting the link, those ponies viewing the Assault Vanguards watch them form into a tight, strict battline, ten ranks deep, one hundred wide.
"We still have Constructs to make amarends to, and I will not allow any of you a single momarent's rest until that League Arena is SECURED!"

>Willing to accept their losses in midair, a sixth of the Chargers succumb to Tainted, the survivors crashing down on swampy ground, into stone buildings, and each other, resulting in piles of the Guard's most hot-tempered spread across the entrance and outside Basin Village's southern buildings.
>Their leadmare, a Lunar Guard in her late 50's, whips about snarling to throw an accusing sneer at the majority standing, hoofclaws and hoofblades scraping in frustration as she shouts derisively, an immediate response from them raising above the Assault Vanguard.
"How marely of you colt-chasers are tired?!"
"NOT A ONE, MA'AM!"
"How marely of you filly-flankers are tiredE?!"
"NOT A ONE, MA'AM!"
"So tell me why we're STILL RIGHT HERE AND NOT BURIED IN SOME THIN-ARMORED CONSTRUCTS OUT THERE THREATENING THIS CITY'S ARENA?!"
"WE DON'T KNOW, MA'AM!"
"RIGHT ANSWER! Collect yourselves and make sure your weapons are ready since we might need to drown a big one in our blood!"
"YES MA'AM!"

>Tearing apart as it lands heavily, shards of the opposing false-Elemarentals lash at each other in savage motions, Broken Hoof's disintegrating body, mind, and soul protectively seize inwards.
>No longer threatening reality around her, the mare unable to form thoughts as she jolts in blurred short distances from the entrance towards the fountain, only a few Operators watch her trek.
>Utterly shut out by most equines, save a few willing to risk their sanity, or those that were unperturbed, the crackling form launches itself into one of the small translocation matrices.
[1d6 = 3]

>Catching the mixed Guards vocally checking each other, then physically testing themselves, the Overherd's dimly aware Psions reveal a few moderate and large numbers of minor Charger injuries.
>Aside from shattered bones, a few with organ bleeding, large hide tears, and ringing ears, barely a platune was at risk of dying, and that would take hours.
>Reaching outwards from her location, the lead mare's voice solemnly commarends those unicorns capable of restoration or recovery to begin their duties.
>Without so much as a complaint, Charger after Charger is hoisted aloft on either solar or lunar-tinged clouds, drifting them towards the Basin's northern buildings, Combat Support Division ranks laying out spreads of alchemicals.
('Leave them for the Imperial and Kingdom forces to deal with. The.. unknown pegasi's report is difficult to understand.')
>Taking over the Assault Vanguard's herd, the older stallion's voice returns, this time acidic and eager.
('That Spirit Walker and pegasi marecenary's task to shut down a relay is complete, and don't even THINK about asking, human technology isn't a topic we're ALLOWED to discuss, thank the Stone. Moor cats are involved somehow, and I'm not sure whether that's the best news or worst knowing how Winter equipped them with kanpri.
As for last portion of her report, that one's odd. The first pair of Argus Behemoth-Destroyers on Tallus was a pair sighted during the Kenfield Pass Incident, which I'm also not allowed to discuss, but almost all of this Assault Vangaurd was involved there.
Their role is that of a Planetary Invasion asset, and there haven't been any variant or similar models located since then. In fact... that might be the exact same pair. I'd have to study them a bit closer to know for sure.')

>Arms loose at sides in the southern entrance's deepest crater, the Minor Ethereal Champion remains bowed towards the last traces of Tainted fading amongst the living Chargers leaving the damage, collecting in similarly sized groups south of Basin Village.
>Armored head lifting, Vokreed stands, then stomps southwards and up the craters until reaching mostly flat stone, lifting gaze upwards as it grinds out words in Common Equestrian.
"Glory and honor to the redeemed, fallen, and living. This.. ...unit.... no. I am. I have seen. I have recorded. I am aware. I am cognizant of fear and death. I now understand."
>Lifting the Ethereal crystalline axe and shield upwards, the voice shifts into a quickly rumbling, triumphant tone.
"Equines of Tallus, I am Vokree! I pledge, as Grand Champion Belregard has, to serve until my destruction! Find your foes, lead me to them, and I shall refuse your deaths until my last fragmarent is shattered to nothing!"
Basin Village, Aftermath Part 2
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370715
370750
>>370682
>>370711
>Lunar and Solar unicorns alike watch the primary, secondary, tertiary, and further detonations clearing off above Basin Village, slowly rejoining their focus.
>Tens of them blink, then fifty, a hundred, several hundred, and finally a thousand or so of unicorns reaching peak, sincere rage, well over a third of their number irrevocably blinded.
>Fury rising and threatening to split from the Overherd, the eldest viciously demarend order while the most sincere respond in calm, soothing appeasemarents, Lunars and Solars already teaching their aligned kin how to function in the same mareners they previously could without physical sight.

>Releasing a firm, calming exhale through the human-side of the Overherd, you feel rather than see the lead mare's mane bristling.
('Stop! Do not blame yourself! You and I did not and could not have known! None here besides Vestal Gardenia or-')
>Casting a threatening stare towards the Councilierge Assault Vanguard, both the lead stallion and lead mare instinctively, and hostilely, respond in reflex: their moods, images, and raw emotions confirm they didn't know damaging a Gestalt was possible, and were loathe to do so against even an enemy they were oathsworn to remove.
('As they so judge, you are not allowed to take that fault as your own. There are no answers available to us now, but you must make Razorback ready for what may, or will, come next.')

>A newer Mercenary Operator, at least a decade younger than you with a thick Islander accent snorts hotly, paused from angrily reloading a heavy pump-action shotgun, points an armored left index finger at the Basin's southern entrance, where not a single one of the Lancers had moved.
"What you think we doin'!? We heard mare, Constructs bigger than Mama Fortress runnin' down hot! Ain't none dead 'cept ponies an' not a fucken' scratch o-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! RELOAD EVERY BELT, MAGAZINE, CLIP, TUBE, AND GET YOUR ASSES READY!"
>Definitely an original Razorback One Hundred taking over, but at this point it was hard to tell which from the sheer hatred they were sharing.

>Hearing your mental voice, acknowledging the words, meanings, intentions, then quickly dismissing everything them, the Watch Guard General's concern shifts solely to Vestal Gardenia, the Lunar-borne mare succumbing to an empathic comatose state.

('Yes, a pair of Heavy Battleship Landers, which means at least ten Combat Destroyers and twenty Assault Landers each. That is a total of... eighty-six thousand Constructs.')
>The lead mare's voice sighs across the Overherd, briskly rubbing her irritated snout in slight Psionic forcefulness.. she was already having severe allergic reactions to Central Moors air contaminants, but trying to stall them.
>And failing miserably.
('Those Lunarites, or whatever they are, were ordered to reach the Citadel by the Watch General. They left two minutes ago.
....Starborn, I'm a low ranking Moderatis Shieldmare-Lieutenant, my only specialties are the study, emplacemarent, and directed actions of defensive units. I will never attempt to become a General, nor could I hoofle that amount of mass communication as Primal Psions are best suited to such a task.
As you should have heard, the marecenary pegasus reported their task successful, whatever that is, though Moor cats were involved in some form of possible combat exercise. I do not know what redirecting from the League Arena means, but I do have a great deal of information on what Argus Behemoth-Destroyers are.
This much I know: Constructs have ever spoken nor tried to communicate in known and recorded history. My dam is a Solar tactician of the previous generaton Silver Court, my sire a Stalliongradian from the Cold Mountain lineage. While I did not see through your eyes or experience what you may have, your words strike me as impossible. I cannot deny what you experienced, but likewise I cannot confirm your words without inescapable proof of such. Riftseekers are Abominations and Constructs both. What little information we have is inconclusive at best, and marginal at worst.
Regardless, the unicorns will need some time to find a safe locale outside the Construct's.. interference zone, and create a cohesive portal closest to Basin Arena.
....the Strikers are expended and can barely move, I will not ask them to aid us further. This is not a timeframe to ignore, especially not against the pressing number of Void spectrums now thinned to the point of spillover.')

>Expanding your thoughts outside the majority equine interconnected consciousnesses, bitterly focused Psionic imprints hanging back from the prior, a sharp, sweet-sour-protective anger of an aggressively helpful Construct pseudo-sentience nearby, reaching out towards the intensely familiar Arena:
>Four burning yellow hate and pain enraged eyes seeking beloved tiny allies-
>Poison-encased claws ripping, tearing, and joykilling hundreds of soft, furry, winged creatures that never felt its presence-
>Blood surging and ears ringing, trying to shriek through a choking reptilian throat at loud explosions shattering bone-

('Nightblade, it will take from ten to sixty seconds until the Lunar unicorns can find the closest safe landmark near Basin Arena. The Solar unicorns are willingly to follow their lead, but they do not know that region at all.')
[1d6 = 4] <Time Quotient
Basin Village, Aftermath Part 3
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370716
370725
>>370710
>Sensing the Burning Pegasus making a neck-height bow, a focused image sinks across the Overherd towards you:
>The entire left side of her head, same side of her face, upper neck, and across her withers was entirely covered in thin, tightly clenched, demarending Tallus-bound chains, flesh around the injury contracting as she grins.
>"Damned amazing. What's left of the Council's been watching, they've starting t-"
>Head cocking and right eye rotating away for five seconds, Twisted's expression contracts in disbelief.
>"The fuck you mean she's not responding? ....SAY THAT AGAIN! .......THAT'S MORE BULLSHIT THAN A GOZKAN RANGER'S SECOND LINE MARCH! MAKE her listen or I'll shred her core and swallow the pieces!"
>Opening wide, then squinting directly at you, the Starborn General's chain-covered lips peel back in a snarl.
>"UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE! Flowing Spark's went insane after Luna was downed, she's trying to turn everything under the Citadel into magma!
Clem, the second you aren't involved in a major or critical mission get to the closest translocation matrice, there's an Enkee code that you don't need to know batpony to use! Say the words: 'nine moonberry flowers under blood red snow' and it'll bring you straight to the Lunar Council Underchamber, I've gotta get to that fucking Crystal Kingdom bitchmare before she slags the entire Citadel underworks and makes the Moon uninhabitable again-"

>Losing the Heart's Touch linkage as the Enchained pegasus snaps the contact in a rush, a thoroughly sorrowful whine emits from Blackhorn's heavy frame.
>It felt a logical, rational sensation akin to loss at the Tainted no longer in existence as hostiles; refusing to target ponies or Operators throughout Basin Village, the Construct barrel raises upwards to prevent any possibility of firing on friendlies, neutrals, and even technical hostiles.
>Producing thoughtforms entirely unlike your connection to Twisted Wing, the symbiote lacked recognizable demands and suggestions, yet was insisting on implications of warning, protection, and threats that weren't applicable to anything you knew.

>Temporarily ignoring Blackhorn's bizarre proto-sapient behavior, you close to Jeff's location at Basin Village's southern fountain edge, and similarly push aside knowledge of the Bloodhosts surrounding it.
>Taking the somewhat familiar hard cased laptop in both hands, inspecting the screen, listed controls, visible subroutines through a few button presses, then small control sticks... the available landing run was going to be awful.
>Redirecting the drone's path to swing low down low, hard southwest into a tight 180-degree loop, downwards even further, face north, then into a descent pattern aimed at four straight, quarter-mile sections of newly placed stone athways, the aptly named 'Reaper' wasn't impeded by what little remained from of cleared out trees at all.
>Instead, what hampered the wide-winged bastard was moderate combat damage leading to sincerely dogshit fly-by-interface-wire airframe controls, a lack of weight and overly wide wings that wouldn't slow it down in time, and a set of retardedly small sticks that even the best ISAF merc would have thrown out if asked to review.
>Maneuvering the Reaper's controls to touch down onto the third quarter-mile strip after well overshooting the fourth, you grimace at the drone's damage causing it to skip off the pathway, losing the left rear landing wheel.
>Marginally more successful at landing the Reaper down onto the second quarter-mile pathway, it was taxiing too fast for a complete stop.
>Controlling it into a barely ground-following run and approaching the last quarter-mile path, you force the Reaper into sharp, small banking maneuvers to bleed off speed, forcing it into a landing pattern with minimal speed remaining.
>Nearly flipping forwards, you control the Reaper's sway enough to halt it, barely 80M before it could run into the first rank of mixed Guard Charges.
>The laptop emits a short, prophetically satisfied electronic beep signifying a successful touch down.... ...which you barely manage to resist shooting a dozen holes into on account of it not being yours.

>Heavy clops from the right slow in pace, then halt several paces, a mid-50's stallion grunting with effort, the sound of a readied Impact Seal emitting a subtle whine.
>Local Overherd focusing on the Assault Vanguard's leader, though were unable to view through the silverine helmet, the Councilierge Master Lancer's words were hollow and distant as brick red eyes narrow behind clear diamondine eyeslits, focusing from you to Jeff.
"Not one record exists of Constructs talking, trying to, attempting to make peace, or neighgotiate, Master Clemency. Believe me, most of my unit was there at Kenfield Pass. Have the scars and medals to prove that much. We tore apart over nearly two hundred thousand Constructs and well over five million Otherworld Golems on their Eternal March.
And.. there's never been another pair of Argus Behemoth-Destroyers since then. I'll say this for the-"
>Pausing to survey the closest ranks of Lunars, Solars, and Stalliongradians, the middle aged stallion's attitude changes to one of sincere loathing, looking back up at you with coldly calculating eyes.
"Your mare brought a gigantic Riftseeker down in 29,976. Barely two thousand Ferron with wingblades, hoofclaws, hoofblades, short twin-beam lances, a few bombs, mines, and enchanted weapons between them all."
>Turning thoughful eyes at Jeff for a momarent, then offering him a brief nod, the silverine helmet swivels, bitter eyes staring at you rigidly.
"My Vanguard was responsible for destroying nine pairs of Argus Dominator-Reavers, which is nothign in comparison. None here have ever dealt with a Riftseeker, but we're more than fucking ready to die for the honor of killing one. Get us close enough to rip into it's biometallic guts, and not one pony will ever speak negatively about this night."
Clemency
!.BxecfigoM
aab530d
?
No.370725
370750 370754 370778
>>370716
>"You got it. I'll be there when I can."
>Alongside the crazy talking Constructs and Rift Seeker, now the Citadel is going to sink into the Moon
>Focusing again, Clem looks toward the image
>"In the meantime, slap some sense into her. A lot of sense."

>>370711
>Clemency winces at the state the Reaper was in and the landing he was going to make it do
>He watches the camera feed bounce hard then shift
>His mind races as he tries to salvage the landing run and prevent the thing from completely falling apart
>Hell, they barely had to do this back home
>Everything was AI controlled by then anyway
>Practically making the thing skid to a halt like some cartoon vehicle, Clem's grip tightens on the control sticks as the laptop mocking beeps at him
>He closes the laptop and sets it aside
"You know this thing is almost sentient. Blackhorn it's called. Anyways, you're on to something with the Constructs. IF we can talk back, maybe a dialogue can be made."
>Clemency shakes his head at the statement
"Fucking sounds crazy."
>Getting up, seeing Jeff's outstretched hand jostles his memory
>Unslinging his backpack, he rummages for the scope
>Finding it, he inspects it for damage before handing it over to Jeff
"At least this things unscathed."
>Sling his backpack, he rests his hands holding onto the straps
"If I go back, sure. But I think a good chunk of the Fortress is here. Oh, and the Citadel is under threat of sinking into the Moon. Twisted talked to me about that. She said Flowing Spark is slagging the Citadel underground and went insane. Told me a passphrase to the underchamber to help out whenever I get the time."

>Hearing the heavy hoofsteps, Clemency turns his attention to the Councilierge stallion
>He must've overheard their conversation
>Clemency crosses his arms before responding
"I don't doubt that no records exist of Constructs speaking, especially to one with experience. But me and Jeff saw what we saw. Maybe our tech is their first medium for them to communicate through."
>Following his gaze to the ranks of ponies, he looks back at the stallion before shaking his head
>He looks over to Jeff
"Yeah, whatever is going on at the Arena needs to be investigated. I'd prefer one giant enemy over that and an army of murderbots. Thoughts?"
Razorback Fortress: The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370728
370736
>>370703
"Everything we serve is liked by humans, except for dietary needs or specialties. We're pretty limited on storage space so it's a lot easier to get seasonal foods in. Also means we aren't wasting anything!"
>Food service was either an honored profession here or sincerely enjoyed, but probably both.
>Setting down a stainless steel wire rack filled with twenty different small shaker jars, each labeled, Pella's left wing raises at a high angle, the left fanned in front of her while delivering a short, cheerful bow.
"You're welcome! It's not often I get to show the best Ferron and batpony foods, and as for him..."
>Taking two steps back and removing the hoofboots, her eyes shift right, a razor thin, possibly irritated smile creases her lips.
"I'll just say he's getting pickled right now, not quite ready to serve just yet. Oh, if you want alcoholic drinks we've got almost everything over there, even have a couple specials: mango liqueurs and vodka are real popular now."
>The first large right wingblade points towards the Mess Hall's north side, a slightly short, well made minibar, wall shelves covered in bottles of every color you knew and some that definitely violated normal laws of physics.
>Ten large swiveling bar stools, designed for humans and ponies alike, were intended to make one relax forwards onto the bar counter, or so the bartender could keep a close eye on how inebriated patrons were.
>You also note a rather amusing, shiny plaque with a set of rules in the center, although where a name, or names, had been were missing.
"It's.... serve serve only now."
>The last two words end on subtly angered tones, the pink winged mare dumping her boots into a central sink and cleaning them with a flat expression.

>Checking the other humans seated around, none of them looked particularly welcoming, though that was due to large amounts of stress, agitation, and moderate shock or fear from a few.
>The three least likely to cause trouble was a group of 30's to 50's mercenaries and veterans in swamp land camo, the mixed bunch with the winter sniper, and a half full table of mostly East European rookies, an older commissar-type in a possibly antique, fur-trimmed gray uniform.
Archaic Pegasi-Batpony League Arena: The Mess
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370731
370738
>>370709
>Picking up the hints, Mercy's body language eases as she returns a slight mane ruffle, her gaze turning to towards the giant north screen, then the south.
"They have ceased construction on the gateway, but we have not even begun to-"
>Ears perking and trailing off, a visible amount of historical knowledge creeps forwards into her consciousness, then figuratively backflips straight into a chasm as she speaks in a clear, yet dazed tone.
"....did they steal entire cities? Dig them up? Make copies from examples or damaged ones? I recognize some of the weapons and armors, there are maybe three of left now, but.. why do they have a thousand baking pans, cups, bowls, blankets, bed frames? Pillows. Pillows? Why?
...that is an actual floatplate-rigged Sunsail outrider boat.. without any damage. Why does it have Old Canterlot nobility markings? I recognize the leaf symbol.. eighty or so mid-28,800's premade houses still together. Sealed. In their original boxes. Unopened too, tamper seals are intact. Those would be worth tens of thousands each for just the wood.. parts from numerous siege rams.. a whole siege ram? Yes, disassembled.. a complete Lunar Guardian field forge.. no, not complete, the anvil, alchemical chambers, and three of the hammers are missing.."
>Losing the other mare to questioning herself at random, it takes a few seconds to realize she had a rather large amount of information on Lunar-Solar War specifics, albeit without any particular focus.
[1d6 = 4] <Apprentice Research
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Pupil Armor & Weaponry Studies
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Adept Lunar-Solar War
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Proficient Late Lunar Armor & Weaponry
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Graduate Archaic Pegasi
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Graduate Minotaur Hegemony
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Teacher Cloudsdale
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]

>An odd twitch from the left faux-batpony wingclaws orient in your direction, two slight thrumming sounds emitting from the amorphous mass on Mercy's saddle follows as the pearlescent white-faced barrels tilt downwards one degree.
>...was it taunting you?
>Were they?

>Breaking herself out of scattered external questions, Mercy blinks at hoofboot contacting stone.
"That is a horrible idea. The Void spectrums here are far too thin to risk separating from you and I have no idea what threats are close by."
>Making an agitated snout twitch and glancing at the southern Argus, she calls towards it, wings half-outstretched.
"I will return here to complete our trade before the Riftseeker's gate is opened."
"Demarend-request of future-current item-object-possession trade confirmed-accepted-acknowledged-recognized."
>Receiving a muted static-laden noise from the pair, she turns to follow you, pinksteel wingblades glowing faintly.
"At least allow me to carry you for a distance-"
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Perception
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Reveal Unnatural

>Picking the closest way down as the Repair model, hopping off the Arena's east side roof would be the most efficient and at this height would allow at least a minute of gliding time.

[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Small Cross-Spectrum Rift Gateway Construction
Large Rift Gate: 39% Complete
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Argus Behemoth-Destroyer Pair: Comprehend-Study-Research-Categorize-Define
Cheto
!!.IbTBSkudk
90c4209
?
No.370736
370759
>>370728
>Cheto silently nodded and listened intently, absentmindedly taking the tiniest of bites at his plate.
>A part of him felt a little hurt at hearing the various inconveniences and mishaps, causing his smile to falter just a little bit for a moment.
>However, he knew just the thing to cheer her up just a little bit!
(Gotta end things on a good note!)
"I'll pass on the alcohol. Thank you, though. Here's a little tip as a token of my gratitude for your assistance."
>With that grand announcement, his hand soon ventured forth to give Pella a quick little boop on the snout.
"Have a great day, missus Pella!"

>With that wrapped up, he soon opted to tentatively venture the mixed bag of operators with a mostly neutral expression so as to not look too chipper.
>He had a bad feeling that if he showed any overly positive emotion, he'd be looked down upon.
>After all, some random dude sitting on your table with a childishly excited smile when your work involves death-tempting stress would feel like an insult, right?
(Wait, no, you're overthinking this. Don't be scared, they're human like you. Relajate.)
>He tentatively licks the back of his teeth before striding with a little more energy and confidence towards an empty spot on that table, brandishing a more natural and amicable smile towards the table full of seemingly grizzled veterans.
"Excuse me. Is this spot taken?"
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370737
370739
>>370712
"How far behind is Razorback? ..this is ridiculous."
>Staring ahead blankly for a bit, Katyal's hands clasp together on her stomach, speaking in careful explanatory tones.
"Wasn't talking about concepts themselves, least not directly. Our understanding of an object gets combined with an individual or group's bias. That creates a historical context of why an object exists. Ponies feel that dissonance or lack thereof, except for outcasts, outliers, special cases. Don't know about other species.
My rifle's a good example. Built for two tasks: hunting down monsters, or protecting people from the same. Ponies acknowledge and react to it like they would a weapon of their own. Merely seeing it shows a notion of positively reinforced predatory-defensive behaviors. Call that objective bias recognition.
But, when I start reaching for my subgun or pistol those same ponies get leery, touchy, or worried. Why? Those were designed to kill armored humans in partial to near-complete takeover stages. Ponies hate that idea instinctively so they apply the context of both to the individual's actions. Again, excluding outcasts and outliers.
That's the absolute basics. They feel the intentions of concepts even if they don't understand why. Or how."
>Right hand tapping her side lightly, the woman's expression eases, glancing to you with raised eyebrows.
"Cadenza represents Spring. The joy of a warm sleep during bitterly cold nights, waking up to frost covering everything, watching it all slowly melt. Getting to see flora reviving or growing new, seeing young grow up, finding themselves and each other. The early, most fun parts of life really. That's part of why she's called Rebirth.
Solarbitch is Summer, but she used to be Spring. Don't know why they switched, and I'm not not talking about her beyond that.
Queen Kissybug is Fall. Changelings are weird to most ponies, similar yet not. Chrysalis doesn't take a single action or speak one word more than necessary. Never reveals something unless that benefits everypony equally. Knows where every cache, failsafe, or route is. Figuratively.. maybe literally. Her children are always bonded together, and, just like her, prepared. She treats them all with equal, sincere joy.
Ancient joke some Bronze Guardians use to explain them: your third task is to understand that Fall is the season to prepare, says the training officer. For what, asks the rookie? The officer's face turns red, then he screams: EVERYTHING!
Luna is Winter. You see the Moon every night, and wonder what else is up there besides all those half-Elemarentals. Her stars are too far away to touch, but they don't hide. Each one has a name and memory to it, acting as guides with meanings that won't fade.
Herself? Clear sense of purpose, a touch chilly at first, and has a cold, calculating memory. Later comes sheer, unstoppable danger that doesn't end; you can only avoid Winter for so long since it'll always find a way in.
Then there's Princess Argenta. After the nuke went off in Canterlot, she banned humans from entering her city-state unless they swear a few oaths. Even then we can only be in her lands to trade or learn. Used to be a perfect balance of the Four Great Seasons, but leans more towards Fall and Winter. Mostly the second now."
>Tongue clicking once, her focus trails from the hatch from Dul to you, lips tightening pensively at the dagger's location.
"Yeah, the physical corruption was, but.. I don't have months to teach you all about ka. Best I can do is make sure there's no long term effects.
And whoever put that together was rushing. As it is right now it's got promise. In any case, we'll start low and slow."

>Spending the next four hours in increasingly complex engagements, Katyal displays zero pain or discomfort in using her entire body as a weapon, hammering the shield until forcing it to disengage from reality, pressing its limits and your reaction times to combine it with the pinksteel weapon.
>Switching off for Dul's equally capable, barely comprehensible system revolving around sabotaging obstacles, assaulting from hard to predict angles, and denying advantages by passing through spectrums without warning, the pair's efforts aid you in creating a functional, highly ersatz rapid paced combat methodology.
>Taking a ten minute break every half hour to unwind and present tactical demonstrations of maximizing the rather unorthodox enchantmarent and weapon combination, Katyal returns to her seat, pulling the bag out from underneath for a large, luxurious bright yellow beach towel to wipe off.
>While you didn't physically feel different, there was a trace sense of attachment forming.
>To what, you weren't sure yet.
"Giving that enchantmarent a solid nine of ten.
Upsides: not physical, no concerns over repairs, getting shocked by lightning, lit on fire, frozen to your hand, or worse. Can't be removed or forcibly dismissed, those are huge. Might resist banishmarent, but I'm not experienced enough to try that.
Downsides: lasts just long enough to take a bunch of small hits or a couple big ones. Near-instant to ten second range of function, obviously takes minimal effort for you to summon. Since it isn't physical, can't be enchanted, which is both good and bad."
>Eyeing the roughly made blade, Katyal's eyebrows narrow, studying it in speculative thought.
"Decent at deflecting small weapons. Sticky enchantmarent is great for in-your-face assaults, possibly target-from-the-rear eliminations. Good enough.
There is an imprint or stain though. Real old, not cohesive. Not something we have time to investigate."
>Glancing at Dul in the OL-3's center, seemingly asleep and stretched out comfortably, Katyal glances up at the roof with a slight twitch.
[1d6 = 3] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
"Hour before dawn or so. Hodch, Lonestar, anywhere to stop and stay in cover?"
*"This is a permafrost region, so options will be quite limited."*
*"Trying to find somewhere good, but I don't like those clouds."*

[1d150 = 9] <Location
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
3ba6194
?
No.370738
370746
>>370731
>Sunny cast a look back at the screens once again, examining them more closely. Perhaps she could glean something from them that she had missed earlier. Though her working theory was that archaeology and study were some part of how they evolved, there could be more to it than that.

[1d6 = 2] < Apprentice Research
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 1] < Pupil Constructs
[1d6 = 6] < Pupil Equestria
[1d6 = 3] < Pupil Solar Military
[1d6 = 6] < Pupil Lunar Military
[1d6 = 2] < Pupil Tallus Mercenaries
[1d6 = 1] < Pupil Crystal Empire

>Heaving a sigh, knowing full well how dangerous the moors were, Sunny replied
"I know, but this is bigger than me. Constructs have never communicated before, never traded before. Think about it, the first thing you did when we got here was attack, if the conflict at the Basin Village ends in our favour, where do you think those forces are headed next? Do you think they'll hesitate any more than we did?"
>Sunny continued in a lower tone.
<Pegasi> "They have learned to communicate, and they have learned to trade. We can't afford for them to learn betrayal. Fly fast, Mercy, go. Seconds count."
>She didn't wait for a response, and didn't give her a chance to argue. Sunny, likewise, hid herself from sight and left at a gallop.

[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < M. Stealth
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]

[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370739
370752
>>370737
>Pareidolia watches Katyal as she explains in some detail the instinctual nature of ponies and their ability to detect intent.
>He sighs lightly in resignation, nodding.
(Waste of time. Likely too acclimated to understand the nuance of my concern. Can't expect most humans to.)
"That is new knowledge to me, though it doesn't address my concerns. But nevermind. Unimportant."

...

>Taking a moment to orient himself after the latest batch of unorthodox training exercises, he wills the Tate into existence once more in the shape of a stereotypical rectangular riot shield, willing it to remain past its usual limit while having it Stick to his left arm.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Dragon-Scale Sphere: Tate
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]< Basic Iron Will
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]

>Testing its weight and mass, he attempts to backstep, sidestep, and lunge with the shield on his arm. Familiarizing himself with its weight so as to not offset his balance.

"Extremely unorthodox training regimen."
>He pantomimes a few deflections with his dagger.
"My training preferred avoiding head-on assaults. Only reinforced with experience on Tallus. Disparities in physical strength and mass make direct melee confrontation a disadvantage. But I may need to incorporate more flexibility into my tactics. Unclear how successful it will be without consistent squad composition."

>Sheathing the dagger as his shield finally dissipates, he follows Katyal's gaze.
"What clouds are you seeing?"
>He moves to open the roof hatch slightly to see for himself.
"Is your vision enchanted?"
Archaic Pegasi-Batpony League Arena: The Mess
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370746
370749
>>370738
>Halting and turning to study the vast amount of items, objects, weapons, armors, relics, artifacts, and far more, there were several distinct patterns to why they were being sorted out on the displays:
>The importances of improving life, preserving life, protection, then herd comfort, with the last being unknown to Construct studies and research.
>For Constructs themselves, it seemed their primary focus was entirely offensive and defensive, which the various Equestrian and Lunar Military designs were rated from marginally to proportionally more effective than Rushyan, Prench, Neighsian, Minotaur, or all other examples, most of which you didn't know.
>Studying the slowly scrolling by older, lost, forgotten, modified, improved, destroyed, and purposefilly banned enchantmarents, the Lunar-Solar War Era's vast examples had long since been rated in terms of effectiveness against specific targets, primarily heavy armor and probability of evading.
>Constructs were definitely averse to the more esoteric, reality destroying, physics-bending or twisting, and Elemarental violations that Lunar examples were long known for.
>Some even had specific threat indexes displayed below them, the least of which was rated quite favorably against Constructs themselves.
>On the other hoof, the more recognizable Solar designs were similarly classified on ability to destroy armor at range, blind, deafen, and damage.
>While you note the various forms of Plasma and visible spectrum or wavelength enchantmarents were profoundly well studied by Constructs, they had equal threat indexes.
>Among the dated Tallus marecenary preferred armors, weapons, enchantmarents, materials, tools, various other kit, and especially foods or drinks, when compared to Lunar and Solar versions the variety of Germaneighan and Neighsian assets were considerably more fear inducing.
>The hundred thousand plus examples from Crystal Conclave, Kingdom, and Empire assets were in their own strictly denoted sections, and with such little recorded data on them they were likely impossible for Constructs to study; it was unclear whether that was due to an inability to emulate or copy Crystal pony harmonics.
>Whether the Argus Behemoth-Destroyers had assembled the hundred million, but probably far more, museum-grade pieces to study and rate them, it was becoming clear that Rift Constructs themselves had been entirely unable to copy the majority of Tallus inventions.
>Part of their evolution seemed backwards to you: adapting technologically concepts for their own usage, armor or weapons primarily, but had been moving away from exotic and esoteric weapons in the past 6,000 years.
>While you knew the Rift was in perpetual war with the Ethereal, Vortex, and Dominion Planes, it was highly probable they would have conquered at least one by now if Constructs had the ability to produce even the most basic of enchantmarents.

>Lost in equally incomprehensible thoughts, as you leap off the Arena's east side roof into a rapid descending glide towards what you could see of the long, winding and restored pathway ahead, Mercy catches up after a few rapid wing flaps, settling in to skim air on your left.
"I know precisely what anypony except for you might do, but I wanted to destroy the gate. That was the most logical choice, not the pair as they were too large and well armed hoofle quickly. They were not even.. interested in us-"
>The Spirit Walker's mane stiffens in outright refusal, head shaking quickly as she turns an a troubled expression towards you, though her open mood had faint pangs of feeling betrayed.
<Pegasi> "Sunny, our own precepts of treachery or betrayal are not compatible with the Rift's strict logic, hierarchy, and intentions. The best I can describe it is like this: cutting an entire leg off when the edge of a hoof suffers a small chip. I cannot feel more than common swarmers and a few lurkers in the deeper swamps, but I will leave this one with you for now-"
>Glancing at the weapon barrels projected out in front of her wings, the blind mare speaks in a soft, gently reassuring voice.
"I need you to protect Sunny, stay with her until we unite once more-"
>As the pair of faux-batpony wings separate from her, streaking blurs of white, hot pink, and blood red descend from sight into the thinnest, MUCH more dangerous lower gravity Void spectrums.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Spectrum Shift: Hostile
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Perception
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <E.Flight
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Reveal Unnatural: Void

>The unit's pseudo-skin ripples outwards in fluid motions, becoming a full-sized, subdued orange feral batpony stallion in flight above you, emitting a low pitched, irritated snarl.
>Particle Whips shunting onto the withers, now connected by thick, solid hexagonal cylinders, the head bends down smoothly, pearl white eyes peering at you for a half-second, then rigidly assumes a protective flight formation overhead.
>While the form would have been a shocking Uncanny Valley, the correctness of its aggressive, archaic features was, mostly, odd, and more than a few touches confusing.
[1d6 = 5] <Embraced Self-Adaptation
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <Pegasi-Derived Defensive Methodology: Ally-Defense Engrams
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Expanded Physicality Engrams
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
Natilda
!EnJhCCu3Ns
db47233
?
No.370747
370762
>>370406
"I do not know what was going through their minds either, aside from 'we need to get something out or get executed'. Quite frankly, the entire concept of the T-28 and 35s were... ambitiously misplaced."
>While I wasn't that much of a scholar on how bad some of our tanks were, even I knew that at the time, landships were obsolete.
>Very obsolete.

"At least I recognize that symbol... Never really asked about it, figured it was some sort of chemical agent symbol."
>Tapping a finger against my knee, I absorbed the information hungrily.
>Anything to get a better chance of survival was important.
"I can expect that future earths have made ways to figure out if a place has radiation or not, like... I think the Yanks? They have this sort of paint to indicate certain chemical gases in the area... A few of our vehicles that were shipped over had that on it."

>I watch the process as she replaces her hand back where it belongs.
"That... would definitely fit into something out of a science fiction novel about an unstoppable creature, I'll be honest."
>Officially I have never read a science fiction book.
Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
db47233
?
No.370748
370763
>>370533
"Shame you're not able to get everything that you need. I'd be glad to help if there's something I can do."
>Smiths in the Zone were much the same as he is now, overworked and under supplied.
>Especially the more isolated factions like his own.
"Several factions in the Zone are very similar to that, though it is still... very rough, and only promotes the good of the faction instead of every STALKER. The main problem is that it would only take a handful of inward focusing humans to gain power to completely reverse the ideology towards something that is communal in name only."
>Frowning, Ivan tapped his PDA.
"The only way that really succeeded would be in small, tribal communities. Too many people and it all crumbles down for us."

>Focusing on Helping's words, Ivan's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
>"A new Zone here..?"
"That... certainly sounds like the Zone's call. There wasn't a 'cure' back home for it either, a STALKER's fate was more often than not tied to her seductive voice. As well as.. some residents, who never left when it was first created. I know of one man who's been there for decades."
>He sighs and shifts in his seat.
"Alcohol helps quiet it down, for a time. Sobriety is when I feel the pull back the strongest. Some turn to drugs to quell it, but I'm not destroying my body that intensely."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
3ba6194
?
No.370749
370764
why are you posting horse words at 4am.jpg
>>370746
>That Constructs had trouble with esoteric mechanics was well known to her, that is, forces and phenomena that lay outside the mundane. Magic, harmonics. They were primarily, as near as she could tell, mechanical entities, not literally, but figuratively. They could observe, even identify magic and other esoteric phenomena, but could not seem to reproduce it, and as such were limited to a smaller dimensional range in the phenomena they could manipulate for their own purposes.
>Perhaps it could be related to their lack of a soul, spirit, or ka as it was referred to. Yet that was in the realm of pure speculation, she could not say for sure whether they had them or not, if they had their own equivalent, or whether a lack of soul even factored into their lack of evolution in the field of esoterics.

"Yes, and the destroyer pair have a vested interest in the gate being completed, and as you saw, they're willing to defend it. Whether that be through negotiation, which is a new trick for them, or via force, which I have no doubt they would have employed if we hadn't stopped."
>Sunny rubbed her temple with a wing.
"Not betrayal in the way that we would understand it, based on negative emotional traits, but betrayal in the rawest, most logical sense. To have one's cake and eat it. Resource maximisation. I fear that if the forces at the Basin Village attack the destroyers, they will view that as us attempting to extract maximum value from them, both materially and strategically. If they're not aware of that already, then they may conclude that this form of betrayal is the most optimal course to achieve their objectives, and that leads into them learning how to use deception strategically."
>Taking breaths as she galloped, Sunny continued.
"They don't discriminate between factions as far as I can tell, to them, I suspect they view this entire world as a singular cohesive organisation like themselves. A collective of collectives with open communication between collectives. It would explain why they see the humans using advanced weaponry, then employ equivalent weaponry against forces whom are then outmatched by them. If they evolve deceptive capabilities, they could inflict devastating losses before that knowledge got out and the strategy accounted for in further engagements with them. Simply because no one would expect them to, anymore than we expected them to talk."

>Sunny was prepared to protest Mercy leaving her with the Construct symbiote, but she was already gone.
>She did not, and probably never would trust the thing. As far as she were concerned, Constructs were allowing themselves to be modified and bound to organics to aid their own evolution.
>What faster means of study could there be than gaining intimate access to knowledge that was otherwise not immediately obvious to them? Entirely skipping the process of study.
>This one had even learned to take an equine shape, what implications did that have?
>Whatever, the cat was already out of the box on this one, she just had to keep galloping.
>Even then, it would take her much longer than Mercy to reach Basin Village, or at least get out of the destroyer pair's jamming range.
>Hopefully Mercy would intercept them first and at least prevent them from teleporting straight into the Arena, though they would be insane to do that.
>It wasn't as if they'd done that with herself and Mercy.
>Though if they wanted to stage their forces first before attacking, they would likely choose somewhere nearby. Clear space, readily recognisable from the air, easy access path to the Arena for a large, ground-based force.

[1d6 = 6] < Apprentice Tactician
[1d6 = 1]

>Hopefully Sunny wouldn't attract negative attention while she was closer to the void.
>Or from anything more physical. It should be fine if she stuck to the roads, or what was left them.

[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] < M.Stealth
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]

[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
Jeff
!!TGtxHBZnLs
8d0760e
?
No.370750
370751 370754 370780
>>370715
>Concluding conversations with mental nods, he blocks out the Overherd shouting of both humans and ponies to focus on the lead mare.
>So the General took care of the Lunarites for them? He wishes he could have seen them all the way to the Citadel, but his focus needs to be here now.
>He bids them a silent sigh of good luck before getting back on track.
('Only eighty-six thousand huh.? Lovely...')
>Jeff thinks back on Sunny and Mercy's original departure. The Constructs have been chasing their communication technology, so shutting down the relay would have been a priority.
('Razorback was allowed to install a relay at the Arena to boost our communication technology across the Moors and Basin Village area, so naturally the Constructs have been attracted to and interfering with them tonite. Shutting it off would be a priority to deter them, hopefully.')
>He soaks in the mare's concerns, then opens up his TacPad's screen and goes to the live feed playback.
>Scrolling only a minute or two backward shows his camera caught the module's screen showing the jumbled choppy and somewhat creepy text of the Construct's interference.
('Well if you want proof, I may have caught the interference from my drone's control module on my camera. Which I can show others... so if that's enough, you're more than welcome to come to me and review it.')

>His gut feeling showed him something unexpected. Quick glimpses. Broken, but enough to work on.
>A Constructs will and the Basin Arena.
>Four yellow eyes, desperate, pining for its friends. Is it the Construct, or another being.
>Poison claws, reptilian, possibly attacking... Moor cats? An ambush predator, if it can sneak up on those little rascals...
>Pain. Explosions. Not from humans or ponies. Only Sunny and Mercy should be over there.
>Perhaps the Constructs, or the Rift Seeker.
>A predatory reptilian creature, hunting Moor cats and protecting its young? Maybe living around... or under the Basin Arena?
>He stops his speculation, and sticks to the solid facts he has to cross reference what he knows about the Moors natural habitat as well as opening the TacPads Flora and Fauna Encyclopedia.
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Apprentice Ecologist
[1d+3]
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <Proficient Lore: The Moors
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
('Understood. I'll get Razorback prepared.')

>>370725
>Clem gets a feeling for the controls, which puts him at ease. Not like its' too difficult to fly, at least.
>But it gets rough as he starts the landing process.
>Jeff physically winces as he watches the drone's camera bounce to and from multiple pathways before finally coming to a rough but safe stop.
>Letting out an amused sigh, he pats Clem on the back as the module is closed up.
"Phewhew! Nice landing! I definitely would've bungled that. I definitley out you a beer or a pack, later."
>He looks over at the Construct-combined Spas-12, something out of a sci-fi videogame. Impressive. Still a little jealous.
"Funny you mention sentient weapons. Those Lunarites offered me a weapon of my choice from their stores."
>Ge draws the diamondine biteblade from its sheath for his friend to look, before storing it back in.
"Diamondine, but light. I wouldn't call it sentient... but there's 'something' inside it. Would love to know its story and capabilities, before I put it to use."
>As Clem continues, Jeff pulls out his duct tape and one of his Tracking Gems and tapes it tightly around the module's carry handle and sets a marker for it on his TacPad's GPS.
>He takes his scope back from Clem with a "Thank You" and stores it in his pack.
>Murmuring over the Moon base's state, he squints his eyes trying to remember the name.
"Fuck. And here I was planning on going back up there, after this, unless you need help. Flowing Spark... that's that Flame Naghtmare. Why in Tartarus would she be doing tha- you know what? Yeah, lets stow it for now. Keep the passphrase to yourself. Not here."

>Jeff takes a knee and puts a hand over his eyes to block out as much external stimuli so he can focus on the human forces in the Village through the Overherd.
>He doesn't know it it was the Overherd, or the long night he's already had, but the mental exhaustion was setting in. His body wasn't too far off from catching up with him.
"I need a hot second and assess. How about you get the Rookie squads organized, Rookie Herder. Maybe a rear-guard, if we have to fight something big. I think there's something else in play over there too, not Construct. Not sure yet... heads starting to ache."
>Checking over every rank-oriented squad, he looks over any advantages they would have against Constructs. Or something Reptilian in nature. If they don't, they'd have to settle for a support capacity instead of direct action. Not like they weren't already handicapped to that...
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Teacher: Razorback Company
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
('Razorback. Collapse onto my position or wherever there's room. Unicorns are prepping portals to the Basin Arena in less than a minute. I want Elite, Mercenary, Veteran, and Rookie squads ready to move through in that order.')

>>370680
>He didn't forget Lont, who had been bringing his own Crystal-aligned allies with him. Now, they could potentially get some action.
>Beside, it's hard to miss him now with those pink wings.
('Hey Lont. How're you holding up. Where are you at with any friends you brought with you? I'm getting our guys ready to mobilize for round two.')
Jeff
!!TGtxHBZnLs
8d0760e
?
No.370751
>>370750
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Apprentice Ecologist
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370752
370760
>>370739
>Summon the flexible shield into view, this time you were able to, barely, sense it had a tenuous grasp in Tallus realspace, minimal effectiveness degraded considerably from random entropic conditions.
>At the ten second mark, it becomes steadily more difficult to retain the Tate's condition, though manage to hold it to eighteen seconds before the enchantmarent dissipates, feeling slightly drained, but not physically, from the attempt.

>Briskly scrubbing her neck, chest, then arms down, Katyal's face tightens in positive motions.
"For how small that blade is, had to be, but I'll never advise getting in close with most targets on this planet unless you're expressly prepared to stun and run, or have plenty of explosives to spare like I do. Either way, at worst you get one brutal ambush in, maybe even take a risk purifying something temporarily. Not a chance to take lightly, but you need every damned edge possible.
Believe me, I know how big a gap the strength differentials are. Me against an average combat pegasus without weapons or armor is automatically one-quarter in the pegasi's favor. I've got surprise, tactics, threats, especially against mares, and a big hammer to even the odds, but after the first strike they'll be awake and aware. And once a pony goes berserk? Not a chance.
Best option humans have is staying at LONG range in every situation, but those that specialize in range, like Minotaurs, unicorns, Mystics, Druids, Crystal ponies, Psions.. best to make friends with them. Surrendering works well too, especially if you're willing to trade information or simply leave."
>Eyeing your locker for three seconds, then back at the roof, the woman shrugs, drying her abdomen and sides.
"Minotaur blade used to be one of their blade-spear chopping designs back when the League existed, must've been destroyed during their Civil War and refit in a hurry for younger Initiates. I have precisely zero experience with swords especially since they're much harder to master than a pointy stick, axe, mace, or hammer. Best stick to using that unless there's no other choice."

>As you pull the latch open and lift it, the Overlander slows to a quiet, rolling pace, allowing you to see treetops now covered in eerily silent clouds, each one either a shimmering blood red, a violently lashing royal purple, or rippling dark blue.
>Recalling how tall the trees were before, now you couldn't calculate the width or height.
"Last time Lunar clouds anything like that were spotted.. started with Lunars being accused of crimes they didn't commit and ended with Plasmahooves executing an entire city-state's worth of ponies.
And no, nothing that simple. I see the same way Saddle Arabian Mystics do. I'm secondmare in Folu's herd, learned to sense meanings, ka, intentions, moods, concepts, herds, and connections through her. Specific thoughts, feelings, or images are rare, but they do happen. As for those-"
>Folding the towel in half and brushing her legs with deliberate firmness, Katyal's voice drops to a low, deeply respectful roll.
"The Nightmare is about to become the Reaper once more, and Tallus is getting ready to show what Winter truly is to those that either forgot or don't know."

*"We've been seeing them for a while now, nothing.. active from what we can tell. Passed a ton of destroyed and looted Dynasty ruins so far, nothing with an intact roof. Even the underground buildings were collapsed, or... removed, weird as that sounds to say."*
*"Hm. There is a deadfall of trees northeast of here three-point-six miles, that should work."*
*"Not an option, there's always some fucking creature making a home where there's even the slightest cover."*
*"I cannot possibly fit your vehicle inside the Storm King's Room and staying outside even with all possible wards and protections is a lethal risk. The Room has more than enough space for ten, but we will need to rotate a guard throughout the day."*
>Blinking from her position, Dul stands up, shaking each leg from its taffy appearance into their previously dimly shined state.
"Dul not need sleep. Sirens lots watch things, stuff, ponies. Dul not get bored, Dul have lots to think of."
>Tapping her knees and flexing out both legs, the First Responder's
"Hodch, you know more about these giant regions than all of us combined."
*"Well.. back when I was still a naive young stallion with the Underground, and Spiral, we were able to survey some of the ruin's surroundings when the various locals did not feel like destroying everything in sight, let alone the cursed flora.
There was much worse beyond the barriers; old experimarents, some Elemarentally imbued mutants from the same, no less than five Abominations, and no Undead or Infected. Then there were the new creatures from the so-called mythical 'Center' the older Crystal ponies are loathe to talk about. I do not want to think about those just yet.
We have not seen much out of or in place, and there have been no megafauna yet. The flora though.. clusters of parli-fenar, mirror-toxin vines, or chillsnap poison leaves are not as bad, those I can treat. I would rather risk the fauna than try to continue with all of us suffering from further sleep deprivation."*
*"Fine, we'll check it out but Ah ain't happy 'bout this."*
*"Your engrams are slipping in."*
*"....Ah know.."*
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <GM.Mysticism: Cascading-Sweep
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]

[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Siren's Gaze
The L.O.N.T
!!PYsGb3YilI
bfdf04e
?
No.370754
370782 370832
Straw2-scaled.webp
>>370714
>Lont jittered when the voice of the young mare abruptly burst into his head and admonished him.
>He looked off to her general direction, and spotting her raised lance thought back an apology.
('I sincerely apologize.')

>Cutting the connection, he turned his attention to the unstable mess of elements that was now Broken Hoof. Silently he watched from his commanding vantage point (of half a metre) on top of the ramparts as she stepped onto a Matrice, and from there her destination was a mystery.

>The wounded were being tended to, he was not needed. Lont was fine with this.

>>370725
>>370750
>As he was surveying the wounded, the Reaper drone flew into view. He tracked it with a keen eye having never seeing it before. And then watched it land as graceful as a wooden duck on water.

>And there at the fountain was Jeff and Clem and a pony, a stallion by the looks of it.
('Hello there Jeff.')
>Lont went to wave at his fellow Operators but his wing fully outstretched instead while the arm he wished to use remained still at his side.
>"Mm, don't like that that."
>With effort he closed his wing and along with the other held them tight behind his back as he made his way for the trio at the fountain.
('The Ethereal Vokreed is here and from the sounds of it he is eager to continue the fight. As for the Crystal Ponies themselves they will be here in a few minutes. We can leave some here to help tend with the wounded and take the rest with us.')
>He thought-talked as he navigated his way to the fountain through a sea of ponies.

>Stopping before them he took his helmet off, and gave both Operators a handshake. With the stallion he gave a respectful bow.
"I could talk to Vokreed on what to do when we reach the Arena, since myself and High Grand Champion Belregarde are on good speaking terms he might heed my counsel."
>He glanced at Clemency with a small grin.
"What a night, I still taste that hayfry on my tongue."
Razorback Fortress: The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370759
370767
>>370736
"Don't worry about it, I-"
>Soft, warm snout creasing heavily, the chefmare's eyes shut, then crack open as she gives a slight, challenging grin, pointing her hoof at your chest and wiggling it.
"It's after dusk and probably going to be a long night, but you take care!"

>Approaching the table, the first to look up is a mid-30's.. something or other, the pale skin and brown eyes not easily recognizable, wearing what looked like some form of modular, though quite new, rubber-coated armor plates waves at the over ten unoccupied spaces, a light, tired tone indicating either a lack of sleep or insomnia.
"Course not, take a seat wherever you like."
>Lifting a hand in greeting, at least that's what you think it was, the second was probably around the first speaker's age, his accent and gear making him out as northern Mediterranean.
"More company's always better."
"If there isn't a sign or ass in the road, spot's free for the taking."
>Spoken by a strictly mid-40's man in a rough, poorly patched uniform, consumed by cleaning an unusual, thin yellow-red grime off a newer large caliber PPSh variant that looked fairly new.
>Nodding in your direction without moving, the oldest man's eyes crinkle at the edges with a slight, absolutely menacing grin, speaking in a menacingly thick northern European accent.
"So long as you aren't the short little filly that came straight out of the sun, kick back, relax, and toss your boots off."
>The rest of the squad seize up in complete unison, the man looking up with hard, though welcoming dark blue eyes.
"Trakkel Gorbjeurnson at your service, leader of these mare-stomped bastards. Elite Squad Five, but just call us Too Shocked To Fuck Up.. ain't that right?"
>Motioning at the rest, barely recovering from his oddly worded previous jab, a near-total round of facepalms, haunted expressions, and deeply regretful stares take over their faces, excluding the third as Trakkel snorts merrily.
"Joking. We don't have a callsign yet, but we all need a reminder now and then.."
>Taking on a subdued cast as you seat yourself between the first pair in the table's center, his gaze flickers across the other tables, left hand's index finger flicking up and down rapidly.
"Huh. Last night, today, and tonight now make.. eight more humans on Tallus. Including you, that makes nine new Operators."
>Head tilting left, he makes a slight frown, glancing behind him to eye the other tables, then the obvious rookies, finally facing you, visibly mollified.
"We've never gotten this many before, and two were frazzled to all fuck last night. You saw the one with a baseball bat and battered helmet? Kept screaming she'd been poisoned or something, had to be sedated by Nova and.. well.. put in a room with a certain ice queen bitchmare that can't speak Common. Might be calm now but I don't trust her. Other one's still in shock."
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
c5b0809
?
No.370760
370769 370773
>>370752
>Pareidolia nods at Katyal's assessment, only adding a brief comment.
"Have considered a halberd or spear. Found swords easier to handle in unknown situations compared to maces. Flexibility preferred to the committed momentum of a mace swing."

>Upon seeing the clouds, a similarly dark expression covers his face as he grimly resecures the hatch.
(Like a 'calm' dimensional breach...)
>He quickly moves to his locker to wipe off the modicum of sweat his suit didn't wick away from his face and extremities.
"Great. Just like the breaches from my world. Though... "
(Given the Nightmare's last known status, weren't they heavily injured? Why unleash wrath overall? May be a subconscious phenomenon? Shouldn't the target be Constructs?)
>He exhales and closes his eyes, redonning his helmet and equipment while quietly verbalizing his thoughts.
"Or Lucky's conspiracy runs even deeper than anticipated."
>Giving himself a moment to collate any reports that Shiibo may have had, he confirms all systems to be running nominally.

>As Hodch and Lonestar communicate over the radio, Pareidolia runs an equipment check out of force of habit before returning to the bench line to sit across from Dul.
"Will you need to eat here at some point?"