/mlpol/ - My Little Politics

>>370905
>José couldn't contain a little amused snort as Trakkel went through banter city, quickly trying to mask it by softly clearing his throat out of habit.
>He doubted anyone would really mind his reaction, but if there's ponies like Starglow and humans like that asian woman at the comm station that can be easily set off, practicing a proper stoneface would be fruitful.
>Quickly jotting down the various valuable nuggets of information regarding mind reading defenses, character profiles and species knowledge, he soon started nodding pensively.
>Wait a minute, looking back at yesterday, he faintly remembered having posted something along those lines on the board.
>Oh damn, they might be talking about him.
"Did the note state a reason why?"

>>370924
>Looking between the various locations, Sunny rubbed massaged her brow with a pinion.
"So essentially I have my pick of a dangerous swamp to the south, a dangerous swamp to the northeast, and horrors-of-a-bygone-age to the northwest, also a dangerous swamp."
>They certainly wouldn't be picking that last one unless they wanted to pick a fight with whatever was there as well. Given how depleted their forces must be, if they had even survived, and then going up against constructs and a riftseeker, it was doubtful they would do that.
>She hoped, the watch guard general had asked for her advice, and she could only presume Gardenia's attitude to dying in honorable combat applied to the whole force in general, on top of liberal use of suicide bombers. Sound strategic sense couldn't be something she could bank on them having.
>Sunny stamped a hoof idly, she couldn't keep wasting time here after she'd told Mercy seconds counted. Make a decision. Act.
>South meant backtracking to the Arena, then perpendicular to the direction Mercy was headed, with her symbiote in tow.
>Northeast meant following her path, but she couldn't even be sure the roads would take her that direction since they were new and the maps she had were made before the reconstruction effort, which meant crossing difficult terrain at best, and running across whatever nasties were lurking in the thickets at worst.

>The simplest way to decide would be to divine a path of least resistance. So she looked over the map again, noting marked paths and roads, along with topographical features, particularly the distance involved. Even if they were out of date, she could at least make a reasonable guess at the fastest, most direct route either east or south.
>All other information had to be deemed non-factor for this decision, or she'd spend the rest of night here just analysing her options and learning the history of the general area, which was interesting, but not immediately useful beyond knowing for sure where it was too dangerous for a large force to use as a staging ground.

[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] < B.Scouting
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < Map Satchel: Geography

>Noting the bat mare's concern for the construct, Sunny glanced up from her map musings and looked over to it.
>It was bold to assume 'hurt' even applied to this thing or constructs in general. Damage could be sensed, and considered undesirable in terms of how it would affect their ability to carry out their directives. Emotive mimicry aside, she doubted the symbiote or any construct understood pain the way an organic would, as far as she knew, they could only understand it as negative feedback.
>Just as she had been thinking that, it began to repair itself.
"Not for long, apparently."
>The fluid being used for repair got her thinking. It was clearly a blood analogue, but what was it really? It had been damaged by acid, she knew from her alchemical experience that acidic molecules typically worked by either exchanging or adding certain particles with other molecules, dissolving matter at a macroscopic level. The esoteric variety behaved similarly for metaphysical formations.
>If the repair fluid was comprised of objects of greater than molecule size, then damage incurred from acid was the one thing it could not simply repair without expending its supply of available material, since material was destroyed by acid rather than merely rearranged or separated by other forms of damage. Cellular sized machinery could not interact with subatomic particles, at least mechanically, subatomic manipulation by generated fields was another matter entirely.
>That would be something she'd have to look into, it might even help greatly against the riftseeker if they had to fight it. The armor would resist it, but it had to expose its weaponry to use it, and it would likely have joints that could be targeted at range.

[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] < Pupil Researcher
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < Junior Constructs
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]

>>370929
>I'll just assume Kraut had a knife in Wild before Wild became Wild.
>Or she just made one for a joke.
"I certainly won't argue its effectiveness."
>Even if it was... rather unorthodox in execution.

"Sure you do, just don't smell it!"
>Smelling and smelling are two different actions after all.
>And I'll ignore the odd dent in the tendril, don't know what rightly happened to it and I doubt I want to know!
>Definitely.

"At least the wildfires would help life regrow, that's the only real boon to this whole situation."

>>370801
"We let it happen, for thousands of years. While Europeans were still tribal, Egyptians were using slave labor to build massive pyramids for Pharaohs to rest in once they died. It's a combination of religion and seated authority."
>Ancient Egypt was... quite fucking weird.
>Even the little parts of it that he's read would make him glad he wasn't alive then.

"I would think they'd be willing to trade in things other than simply money too, no?"
>Bartering in the Zone was always unpredictable, sometimes a STALKER wouldn't accept rubles at all.
"But I'll make sure I have plenty of money, just in case."

>Taking the history lesson in stride, Ivan would frown a little.
"Obviously they only met a batpony through their stereotypes."
>He paused for a moment.
"I will not argue the puns or lewdness, though."

>>370861
>As he was listening to the Assault Vanguard's lead, Clem couldn't help but notice the mares giving him...unsavory attention
>He quietly keeps to himself, ready to pounce if they make any bold actions
>So far, Clem understands that Riftseekers are no joke
>And among the two options, the first one seems to be the most sensible
>He's not keen on more suicidal charges tonight anyway

>Spying on the Arena, he spots the Constructs currently there
>Two spheres, bristling with weapons
>And a Repair unit building a giant gate

>>370873
>Clemency returns Jeff's nod alongside Lont
>He totally forgotten about the Vitriole Orb Jeff has
>Between that and maybe getting into a truce with the Constructs, maybe a plan can be cobbled together
>Watching him go, Clemency thought about getting some of the heavier weapons out of the armory
>He realizes that he was severely outclassed when it comes to handling large firearms
>And coming close to a Riftseeker like that doesn't seem like a smart move especially when exhausted
>Taking the precious time to get a breather, he focuses on the Razorback rookies
>Particularly if they needed to be wrangled into shape
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <Expert Perception/Rookie Wrangler
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]

>>370897
>Turning to Lont, he looks like he's steeled for this fight
>The Crystal pony support is certainly helpful
>Although, he doesn't think he ever saw a golem like whatever bowed to Lont
"Any plans for this fight? I'm leaning more towards covering fire myself."

>>370933
>Balling up a napkin and tossing it between the two quietly arguing, the second man waits a few until they settle down, then turns to give a half-assed shrug.
"Knock it off or both of you are getting wall duty the whole night.
Nah, all it said was don't add anything to the Board or a half-ton plus mare's gonna drop on someone's head. Around here that's a promise, not a threat, so don't try it."
>Looking up from his hands and surveying the Mess Hall briefly, Trakkel frowns.
"Speaking of wall duty.. any of you seen Mercy tonight?"
"Since we've been back? No."
"Nope. You?'
"No."
"Negatory."
"Ehh, no."
>Figuratively kicking himself into gear with a sigh, the squad lead turns around to face the other occupied tables, voice pitching into a demand.
"Razorback, got a need to know right fucking now question that better be a yes. Has ANYONE seen Mercy at all tonight"
>Among the Rookie table, a younger man speaks up, then towards the pegasus cook.
"Not since last night. Pella, know where she's at?"
"She's usually in a little past Dusk for her special order. Maybe try the Tower?"
"Been there, nopony's touched the hay piles and Clem ain't around either."
"Hmmm.. don't have a clue, sorry."
>Thumping hands on the table, Trakkel shoots you an apologetic look, tapping his radio before standing.
"Where the fuck are they all? Sorry about this man, but looks like we're the ones on duty. If you need one of us try our local channel, 52.3."
>Stretching out briefly, then grabbing a heavy, odd looking combat rifle, he motions towards the doors, the rest of his squad collecting their kit, then turns to sternly address the other tables.
"For those that aren't dead yet, off your asses and hit the walls. Last bullshit we need is some THING getting in or over that shouldn't, and if we catch one person slacking you're going straight to General Twisted Wing's month long School of Stop Dying Or I'll Kill You Myself.
For those that HAVEN'T been here more than two weeks, check in at the Workshop. Lann can make armored clothing so get yourself some nice stuff. There's a close combat weapon specialist, a batpony mare with a funny name, Mango-Spice or something like that. But whatever you do, don't fucking bother the unicorns."
>Tossing a quick salute in your direction, Trakkel and his squad head towards the Mess Hall's doors, followed by over half of the Operators.
"Enjoy your food man."

>>370938
"There is a limitation: I cannot use that tactic in less than a minimum of twenty-eight hours. It also does not feel good to me.."
>Realizing what she was holding, miniature Wild examines it long enough to read twice, then hacks the newspaper in half.
"WHO IS PRINTING THIS NONSENSE?!"
>There was definitely a strange disconnect between her internal and external thought processes.. which couldn't be from you.
>Hopefilly.

"That is a necessary component of my repair capabilities, Mom. If I had an alternative method to analyze inorganic materials, I would choose that and remove the system. Until then it stays."
>Tossing the pieces, and knife, over her shoulders off screen, the internal version smacks armored hands together before turning serious.
"Accessing data... incomplete. Moors records are far below standard levels. But mostly nonexistent. I don't think this region's flora experience significant regrowth from wildfires as certain plains and forests do."
>Removing the map table entirely and placing her internal schematic on the left screen, the caricature studies it.
>And while you were fairly sure most of those components shouldn't be marked in black, red, or covered in symbols that seemed to indicate damage, they still weren't ones you understood.
>Much.
"Most of my external repair systems are now functional.. efficiency has been moderately to severely degraded. I need access to my head unit's primary data nodes but they will suffice for now.
Now REPLACING destroyed all right leg motivators and structural supports-"
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-2
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <RT-3
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <RT-4
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <RT-5
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-6
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8

>Pinning the smaller Crag Moors map atop her body, mini-Wild circles, in red of course, the aerial convoy's trajectory towards Basin Village.
"Estimated time of aerial fleet arriving at Basin Village slash Basin City: six hours, fifty minutes, plus or minus a half hour. No course changes or deviations; the lead vessel is still repeating its original broadcast."

>>370939
>Heaving the boxpack next to Krinza's anvil to inspect both straps, Helping regards you with a faintly miffed expression.
"The equine version of slavery is, besides a few outliers, a necessity to those that need it, and should be considered as direct opposition to the common human form. Should a pony be incapable of paying a debt due to injury, illness, or other unfortunate events, there are numerous forms of service that they can take on.
We value the concept as it provides those with 'less' wealth, skill, or material possessions, far greater access and legally enforceable equal rights to those with 'greater' of the same. A large number of historically well regarded ponies across Equestria were once..."
>Turning the box sideways to face the furnace, the large unicorn frowns, ears twitching in deep thought.
"No matter how I try to translate the words, the Common Equestrian meanings are insufficient. And highly insulting. The Saddle Arabians have one specific term, 'serfi' I believe it is. The meaning is essentially a skilled servant whom was bought to prevent destitution, and is considered to be above the purchaser's standing.
Despite some ideological differences, the funerals of beloved leaders in certain countries, city-states, regions, etcetera, are marked by great works to honor the equinity of an individual or herd.
Saddle Arabia features thousands of such monumarents which are considered national treasures. One of the most enjoyed is in Buzzard's Rest, a.. grand swimming pool that can host two thousand or more ponies. The name is exceptionally difficult to pronounce correctly.
In general, slaves are to be treated with excellence, or the purchaser risks being publicly shunned, and possibly killed, by those with equal standing."
>Horn brightening, several titanium rolls and thin plates are pulled from the south side to him, spread out, squared, then quickly marked for cutting.
"Of course. Bits are accepted across most of Equestria with little concern. Gems, whether raw, cut, or refined, are more valuable in direct trade as they retain value far longer than coins. Difficult to acquire trade goods such as mystic gems or unusual materials commarend better trade margins, generally three to ten times more.
Functional weapons and armor almost never lose value, even if mass produced, though are difficult to carry around. Enchantmarents are the same, yet are limited in number. ..excluding resonant and Psionic variants which are hard to acquire.
Of note are the archaic gem coins originating from the Crystal Conclaves, Early to Middle Kingdom, and Changeling Hive. Each one is worth anywhere from twenty to a thousand times their face value, depending on the gem utilized to produce them, the stamped year, and which Conclave. But, there are few of those in circulation as is.
Information is perhaps the most volatile of trade goods. Such is highly valuable, however one must be careful as knowledge must be regionally, culturally, or productively useful. ..political usefulness is a topic I have no care for.
I would suggest taking more gems than Bits. Some ponies enjoy naturally valuable materials over metals, raw or refined."
>Neatly severing two thin sheets and matching them to a plate, Helping repeats the process three times, melding each set together before affixing to the boxpack.
"The majority of stereotypes exist for correct reasons. Batponies are unfortunately easy targets for such, though they do not seem to take offense to that knowledge. Just the opposite, in fact I believe they use those same stereotypes to surprise, astound, and outwit the unwary."
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Eidetic Fundamarentals

"They could stand to be far less aggressive in asking whether somepony desires to spend 'some time' in their cave, however."

>>370873
"I'll take it for now, don't have any AT's left."
>Handing off the duffel and launcher to another One Hundred, then passing through the daisy-chain of common ammunition into the Armory.. it was a mess, and otherwise empty as the Workshop door was closed.
('You say that but we haven't even seen the fucking thing-')
('Real question is: do we WANT to?')
('Real answer: long as there's a threat to the Moors, we can't back the fuck out. Ever.')
('Hear fucking here-')
>Razorback had grabbed every last sealed pouch, pack, canister, box, or bag, leaving the tables, shelves, and lockers more disorganized than Mercy's eating habits.
('Jeff, we grabbed every last explosive, there's nothing left either in the Command Center or lockers.')
('I.. might have stolen a couple from Twisted's stash.')
('....we'll hold a nice funeral after she gets back.')
('Fuck you too.')
>Taking up the heavy Gepard and collecting what few spare rounds were available to reload its primary magazine, the chain was slowing as those Operators with a surplus of specialized ammunition or Era Locked equipment head to their lockers.
('I remember that report. Hey, you were with me, right?')
('Yeah, we spent the next couple nights tracking down all the ponies involved. Basin's Maretriarch gave up on it a month later.')
('No, but also... potentially yes. Despite our collected knowledge in destroying Constructs and Riftseekers alike, the orange fluid is neither fully biological nor mechanical. Most describe as biomechanical but that is an incomplete descriptor. There are some that think it to be mechanobiological, and have the same problem.
Unlike Elemarentals, depending on a Construct's model or designation some are fully immune to Lightning, others are not. The majority seem to develop a tolerance, and pairs are able to share that. Resistance to high temperatures is extreme but have difficulty repairing themselves in conditions under fifty degrees.
The best we can answer is: possibly. Riftseekers are less understood by far greater margins of error. If a clear, but most importantly safe, opportunity arises, then we can only state to introduce that Core.')
>Piling everything common onto the east side, the last remaining Operators exit the Armory, heading back into the Basin Village gate.
('Looks like we're done, last one's you Jeff.')
('Fucker's joke is still rolling around in my head..')
('If it hurts you that batly then ignore him.')
('....I hate you.')
('Peel with it.')
('I HATE you!')

>>370897
>Outside the Crystal-aligned forces, it appeared none had realized or suspected the unusual ponies in their midst.
>Drowning out the thought by recalling what you could of the exotic dishes, vegetables, grains, roots, tubers, nuts, and fruits, one of the nearest Night Guard Chargers stamps a hoof.
"I can feel that you know! Which one of you is trying to make me go back to the Empire City-State?!"
"You can barely fit in that armor as is."
"Didn't you spend two nights getting a refit?"
"I'm not fat damn it!"
"Hm, you are carrying at least five extra pounds."
"No I am not!"
"I wouldn't miss out on all the tasty stuff.. if we weren't busy that is."
"And tapdance on your hooves too! I FIT IN THIS JUST FINE!"

('The humans of Stalliongrad haven't let us down once in the Tunnels, no matter the targets we asked them to accompaneigh us against. Best we can hope for is this Riftseeker has thin armor, bad weapons, and is dumber than every young Minotaur bull in middle winter.')
>Head swiveling to the closest Crystal-Hegemony Minotaur, the leadmare offers a respectful nod.
"No offense to you, sh'ar."
"Po-ny? What say?"
"....right, can't join an overherd. If I said, that I just said, I was insulting all young Minotaur bulls in middle winter, would that be offensive in any marener?"
"No, you right po-ny! We all stu-pid then!"
"Even cows?"
"Al-ways!"
>Receiving a rather careful, albeit still hearty and heavy headpat, she sighs internally, then externally.
('Didn't know what I was expecting to hear..')

>Lance tipping in your direction, the Assault Vanguard's leadstallion grunts, pulling his helmet on and sharing the same thought of having a nice cold ice bath.
('That's a giant if. No modern Constructs use external weapons, few still have jointed arms, and most older models lacked overlapping plates. Last one we saw with all three was from the early 25,000's. Had a rather odd plasma rrrr- weapon, let's call it that, similar to what some of you are carrying, and a box filled with blue canisters. Went up like somepony ripped the housing off a Spark Lamp-')
('It was pretty to watch though!')
('At close range? And stupidly dangerous to ignite at said range? Or maybe you enjoyed half your coat burned off and spending a month in the Tower's care?')
('Eh, was worth the risks. Besides, I healed just fine thank you, there's plenty of mares and stallions that love real battle scars!')
('You are beyond weird.')
('We know that!')
('Just... ..regardless, every Riftseeker we've brought down has had no direct weaknesses in either protection or capabilities. One pushes the limits of what can be expected since they're not only unique, but also respond with extreme disparities in behavior.')

>>370927
>Pareidolia looks towards the cursed blood Hodch spits out and watches as it burns.
(Cursed blood and a withering soul then. Likely more links to the past with Spiral and prior investigation than stated.)
>His eyes close in weary contemplation as he leans his helmet backwards, craning towards the ceiling.
(Stars, I miss Command. Level of information and conspiracy processing is approaching overwhelming. Not cut out for this scale of operation.)
>A long, slow exhale is heard as he maintains his posture.
('To summarize, Spiral may be a potential danger due to Dynastic Sorceror lineage of which he is somehow a survivor despite over a thousand years of absence. Lineage was wiped out by a combination of forces, primarily Lunar aligned. If he is aware of this past history, then in his current state it may result in extreme hostility. His personal lineage and origins are unclear with no traceable herd name links. Other evidence includes his abilities and expertise.')
>He continues his mental conversation as he shifts to leaning his helmet foward against his splayed left glove, propping the elbow against his knee. His eyes remain closed in consternation and recall, some of that anxiety lightly tinging his tone.
('Organizing some of Razorback's bills, I'd found a copy stating that Spiral had purchased 280,000 thousand bits worth of books on the Solar faction from a princess Yearning Touch via dam princess Golden Beet Jam. That is 'princess' with a lowercase 'p'. Another bill of Spirals contained unlisted items he had sold to Yearning Touch for 350,000 Germaneighan Ear-Marks. There was code present on the bill, but I lacked the tools to decipher it. As for Stream Lark... there was a mission where I was involved in retrieving him. Initial assessment seemed to mark it as a partial failure, but in light of Lucky's manipulation and recent events the potential of interconnected conspiracy grows higher.')
>Sighing again, he opens his eyes and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to relieve tension.
('Since you haven't asked about my other affiliations, I won't ask about yours. So long as it includes aims to remove and not enable subversive human elements and effects, our missions run parallel.')

>>370940
>For once, Razorback's lesser experienced Operators were too ragged, exhausted, tired, or hardening infield to start shit, let alone end the same.
>Catching shared, grim expressions on most faces, it was clear that defending Basin Village had changed a great deal of their attitudes towards ponies and themselves.
>Possibly not for the best, either.
>Checking over the equines that might be problematic, only the youngest Day Guard mares were still making unsubtle glances towards veterans and elites, regardless of species, though were particularly interested in the Assault Vanguard.
>...especially the stallions, but were not excluding mares, which the Lunar Guards seemed to be acceptable towards.

"I'm not about to challenge this Overherd's leadership against a Moderatis Shieldmare."
>Marentally staring each other down, the Assault Vanguard's leader gives up before the Shieldmare even bothers to forgive him.
"Without acquiring an entire Watch Fortress worth of explosives, having all unicorns and Support Strikers refreshed, our best option is, once again, to not engage and instead perform long ranged recon. Information is desperately needed, especially if the Riftseeker has indeed taken the physical features of a mutated Emerald drake.
But, in the off chance our target has gone active..."
>Attention flickering across the eager, still fresh ranks of Chargers and Lancers already in hyping each other up, the leadstallion's head tilts right several degrees, speaking bitterly against the Overherd's weight.
"They have already chosen to buy enough time to either fully engage it or cover a retreat."
>Accepting a temporary ceasing of hostilies from the Shieldmare and shutting out the Overherd briefly, the stallion's voice drops into cool warning tones.
"Convincing them otherwise is unlikely."

"Master Clemency, I do not think it wise t-"
>Without a reference or significant understanding as to how, or why, Blackhorn lifts in your hands, the bolt slamming backwards, belted shells spooling back into the magazine.
>Angrily.
>Changed belt jerking upwards, first shell into the breech slamming shut, the rear indicator shows the magazine reloaded with only recalibrated finned darts and kinetic iso-magnetic rods in sequence.
>Between amazed, impressed, and aghast at the Construct weapon's actions, the leadstallion's gaze slowly travels from it to you, speaking in a calm, firmly neutral tone.
"It is well known that Rift symbiotes, including Riftdrowners, are highly attuned to their bonded partner. As it is, you should consider-"
>Visibly deliberating on each word, his open psyche was wavering between critical incredulity and giving up on life.
"How she feels about the current situation."

>Helmet swinging towards the gateways, the Shieldmare's tone hardens at numerous reports.
('Ma'am, minor threats engaged south and north. No difficulties.')
('Other than a few burns that aren't doing much-')
('West end clear, small swarms destroyed or.. convinced to leave.')
('Further details?)
('Disregard earlier reports, Void spectrums here are incredibly thick at the momarent, risk of infestations or reality breaches are low.')
('That is strange. Probable causes?')
('False reverberations, misread echoes, incorrect spectrum comparisons.. a few dozen more possibilities.')
('Understood, those are indeed easy to miss. Lancers and Chargers first in stated orders.')
>Hundreds of the smaller Guardmares eagerly storm forwards into the outermost gateways, setting up external lines on the pathway, which sparks some interest from the few awake batponies clustered in front of the barns, lazing atop stalls, or hanging out of windows.
('Lunar and Watch Guard, secondary ranks are yours.')
>Striding forth into long, secondary lines inside the Day and Night Guard's outer ranks, the Shieldmare sweeps her focus across Razorback, then the unicorns that weren't at risk of burning out.
('Unicorns, Razorback: organize yourselves as before. Shorter ranged casters and weapons closest to front, progressively longer ranged combatants and specialists stretching across the rear.')
>Staring into the gates as Operators separate into new squads, submachine gunners and those carrying shotguns first, the leadstallion suppresses a sigh, head shaking in disbelief.
('Vanguard, five of us per human, we're on escort duty. How marely puns does it take to write a book?')
('I do not know. Why do you ask?')
('Because I can feel a few thousand new ones being made right now....')

>>370956
>Taking a deep breath, Hodch blows on the mass, the same anti-Elemarental energetics dispersing it from reality as he glances up with a short nod.
('Absolutely correct on all accounts. Now that you understand the majority of my fears, concerns, and troubles, you also understand why I'm leaving the third option open and the fourth as-of-yet undefined until we know far more.')
>Leaning forwards once again, this time to allow a short, rolling yawn, the deep purple stallion starts to relax, then stares downwards flatly.
('Underprincesses Yearning Touch and Golden Beet Jam? I know of them yes, they help lead the Gold Court's higher echelons and are well loved. Never met either though. Both are directly descended from Princess Celestia, though I'm not sure how marely generations distant. That doesn't answer how they could ha-')
>Burying front hooves in the cloud, Hodch snarls aloud, eyes shut in severe anger.
('Oh that fucking LIAR! ...yet another pain in the asses that needs to be tracked down and either silenced, suppressed, or thrown out! ...thank you for informing me of.. this. Certain factions shouldn't have attempted to help Razorback from the sidelines and instead done so in the open. Less I say now the better off you and Razorback might be.')
>Eyes opening, the right brow raises, taking on an annoyed expression as he makes a slight leg breaking motion.
('What I'm going to say will forever remain OFF all records until either I die, you are forced into swearing oaths to those factions directly in the know, or one of the Lunar Council directly orders you to speak on their behalf: I know every single detail of that Operation.
Linara, Sha'Ro, Lark, two Princesses, at least ten Crystal Empire Spireguards, two Imperial Generals, five Kingdom Wardens, an unknown but presumable Councilierge, one Grand Ethereal Champion, an unaligned human that I know nothing about, two Watch Guard Master-Generals, at least half of the Tower Guard, well over twenty Stalliongrad aligned humans, and a large number of Canterlot's Royal Guard planned it out. Together, I must add.
While I was in Canterlot to perform a certain diversion that you will hear of, in the next week or two, several ponies contacted me and asked permission to perform the go-ahead on a plan that will shortly become known.
Now, whom signed off on all of it? The Starborn's General, Executioner, Luna's Guardian, and a few other titles-)
>Ears rotating in terrified yet furious motions, Hodch clenches his jaw several times before continuing.
('Don't ever piss her off without an exceptionally solid reason. You have no idea the amount of favors across Tallus and the Planes are owed to her. She is NOT what you might think or believe she is.
Moving on: Valden had a hoof in the neighgotiations between all factions and parties, then allowed certain Solar artifacts, coins, and valuables to be used, which should have been a dead giveaway to the Vigilites and Psions watching the auction. A few may not have been told relevant details in time.
A certain Master-General didn't realize, or ignored, the following: Steel Oak is a Free Agent, a former noble that ditched Canterlot after the Changeling Hive was assaulted. His daughter is friends with a large number of Very Important Ponies, mostly in Neighvada, And, best yet, his two bodyguards are independent elite marecenaries with deep ties to the Minotaur Hegemony, hence their particular and unusual names.
I'm quite sure you don't know anything about that, of course')
>Eyebrows raised in a moderately smug marener, Hodch visibly feigns ignorance by turning both forelegs outwards, though immediately turns serious.
('I also know how much certain humans hate Stream Lark for all the wrong reasons, but Razorback had best be careful: he's always treated Shanis as family. Tartarus Isle, the same. A vast amount of resources from across Stalliongrad and parts of Rushya were funneled to her, without any expectation other than to root out whichever ponies from.. certain places might have infiltrated Razorback.
And I sincerely hope no humans have spoken ill of Lark to Shanis' brother. That one.. reminds me too much. He considers forgiveness nothing more than a weakness to be stamped out.')
>Left leg crossing chest and bending forwards in a formal bow, Hodch's left leg makes a forget it motion.
('I serve equinity first and by extension Tallus as a whole. Let it be known that the majority of Lunars despise having to lie, even if there are exceptional reasons to do so, which I still hate. Killing and destroying to protect others, prevent certain events, or remove problems, those we consider honorable. Just the same, if I had the option I would have disposed of Filth long ago, but that damage is done and there's no information of his current whereabouts. Yet.
Your agenda, so far as I care to understand, and that isn't an insult, seems to be aimed at creating either a disconnect or a more manageable state of affairs for Razorback. Normally I'd suggest care in how to proceed, though I suspect much is now impossible to manage.
However, in the interests of numerous parties that must not yet be revealed, I would ask that you ignore all humans outside of Equestria whom are not direct threats. As you have likely noticed Katyal is quite.. efficient.')

>Clearing his throat, the Reservist Nightblade rolls forwards to stand, creating an arrow above his head to point at the expanded bracelet with a cheerful smile.
"Now then, let's see whether or not the Elemarental Plane of Lightning, Storms, and the connection Tempests greet you as an ally, or at least as a friend. There's a chance you might be considered too Otherworldly and not accepted, though knowing how certain Dynasty projects in the past have been, shall we say, exceptional, such a risk is minute."

>>370952
>As Razorback continues to dump surplus munitions into the Armory, Jeff decides the impromptu break had gone on enough.
>He walks over to where he had grabbed the Gepard from and collects its extra pair of magazines and stickies them wherever he had room on his chest.
>Continuing on about the Riftseeker through he gateway, he shrugs at the thoughts on the Vitriole Orb. Either way he's got it in case it become viable.
('Organic or not, it's got to be volatile enough to to something at the very least. Maybe scramble the gooey parts to where it can't function properly. Doesn't have to necessarily kill it. On the other end it could easily have an immunity to poisons giving the creature it's emulating.')
>The daisy chain waning, he heads over to Anon's Ash Box to grab another Iron Sphere to replace the one he almost vaporized the gestalt with earlier.
>Poor guy. Hope he's re-amalgamated himself.
>Hearing him get called being the last man, he stretches his arms before hoisting up the heavy rifle onto his right shoulder and heading out of the Armory and back through to the Basin Village.

>Back on the side of the next battle effort, the main force were getting ready to move through.
>A Shieldmare takes charge over the forces, checking though the gateways for any news from the scouting party.
>Sounds like they were encountering light forces. Didn't sound like any casualties, even chasing them off.
('What are they coming across?')
>Were the Constructs hostile, or were the scouts engaging first? Sounded inconclusive.
>The Shieldmare starts lining up forces in front of the gateways, the humans bringing up the rear with any unicorns not fried from keeping the matrices open.
>Jeff gets in formation, positioning himself center rear to have an unhindered view of their ranks.
('Machine gunners, spread yourselves evenly through long guns. Launchers, anti-tank, and unique ectetera: save your rounds for any special targets of opportunity.')
>As a quintuplet of Vanguards form up on him, he awaits any further updates from the Shieldmare.
('Are we still going to have the Overherd on the otherside, or is that going to dissipate once we cross over?')

>>370959
>He watches Hodch come to yet another unhappy realization thanks to the information he provided.
>Nodding back at the Nightblade, he turns his head away.
('Understood. Will provide the bills if we successfully return.')

>Memories of the harrowing operation in Stalliongrad are dredged forth as Hodch recounts the list of everyone involved. The Master General Lapis Thorn being paid particular note.
(At least that operation was clean then... no apparent manipulation by Lucky... )
>He shakes his head as Hodch adds an unknown clarifying detail.
('The implications of their affiliations are unclear to me.')

>Nodding once at Hodch and tightening the grip of his clasped gloves, he sighs and shakes his helmet.
('Currently, Razorback needs a major withdrawal from active political affairs. Control and management of human element vectors is impossible without consolidation, and yes current protocol is strictly damage control.')
>Loosening his left glove's grip long enough to make a dismissive flicking motion towards the ground, he adds:
('And yes, that was the plan regardless with such limited resources. Katyal and your benefactors won't see interference from me. Will request you contact me if you ever find Filth however. Protocol dictates his removal.')

>Following Hodch's cue he stands rolling his shoulders, smoothly pocketing the Moonstone Orb as he adjusts his vest.
>Running a final check of his electronics before entering the portal after Hodch, he silently nods at the invitation.

>>370952
>Finished loading his Spiker, he cradled it in his arms as he watched the members of Razorback work as efficient as Ash Ants in taking everything from the Armoury, even down to the last bullet. Or maybe Termites.
>"Anon was going to break his back in carrying out a resupply of the entire Fortress."

>>370953
>He snickered. It was always a delight to hear ponies mewl at each other. Equines in general were just...great to pet and fawn over.
>As he continued to stare off into space his mind wondered away from food and to all the times he had pet ponies. him cradling Nao the seal came and went as the heft of his Spiker reminded him of that ball of blubber too.
>Something clicked in his head, telling him he was daydreaming at this point and broadcasting it into the Overherd for all to imagine. He shook his head dispelling the string of thoughts, but sadly not before a flash memory slipped in at the last second. Akin to a freezeframe, it was of his hand massaging a Particularly Pretty Pristine Pink Princess Pony's frogs, in an act of intimate Hoofholding.

>wishing he still had his helmet on, he turned his attention back to the reality of their grim situation.
('"If it bleeds we can kill it", A wise man once said back on Ferrundus. It will die this night I am sure of it.')
>He said before looking up to the moon, seeing how long before day broke.

>>370940
>Hefting his helmet up he gave Clem a wink.
"Same verse as a first, cover fire and shoot at it until it dies like last time."
>Then, his helmet was back in place.

>>370957
>Being a good little soldier he went where he was needed.

>>370957
>Clemency was surprised and worried at the same time when he saw the faces of the Rookies
>Them not starting shit felt almost unnatural
>For their sake, Clemency felt he needed to stick with them

>Snapping his attention to Blackhorn, he feels the gun lift and rack itself with a new belt of shells
>Darts and rods, sequenced
>Clemency closes his eyes and realizes Blackhorn's intent
>"Alright, we go then. It's like what Lont said. Shoot it until it dies."

>Opening his eyes, he sees the formation and fills in, positioning himself to get a center view of the Rookie squad
>There seems to be light skirmishes already with the scouts
>Clem figured if they were light enough to repel, then they should have no issues
{Alright, rooks. This is Clemency. Time to embrace the suck. Space out those MGs and save the AT.)

>>370944
"Thanks."
>With an amicable salute of his own, Gallo watches them leave out of the Mess Hall with a soft smile as he jots down the channel 52.3 in case he ever needs to contact Trakkel and his squad.
>So he should visit the Workshop according to the succinct announcement.
>At least for the common operator.
>To be fair, right now he might as well be.
>Before José committed to following those instructions, he took some time eating his food and silently trying to listen in some gossip from the other tables if he could.
>Although he doubted to learn much since the ones that stayed will probably be as clueless as he was.
>It wouldn't hurt to try either way.

>Unless the human somehow managed to overhear something particularly of note, he'd soon take off towards the Workshop.
>Good thing he remembered to look at the map yesterday.
>A brisk trek next door. Shouldn't take too long before he starts actually developing his diplomat career.
>Hopefully.

>>370934
"You're being serious? That's illegal in some of the Moors-"
>Switching from humor to an externally blacked out mood, her face slackens in favor of deeply thoughtful, practical batpony-against-everything violence.
>Reaching up to crumple a miniature STOP sign above her head, the tradesmare's head shakes solemnly.
"Not right now please."

>Cross-referencing topography against distance, then applying the newly information information to each, all three would be equally negative combat locales.
>Support ponies would be necessary to allow open area crossings, prepare teleports, deliver small numbers through Psionic-Warp Gates, or set and and launched preplanned ambushes against larger targets.
>If available, and most importantly fresh, unicorns and Support Strikers would have close to thirty minutes of such actions, though since you had no idea the current status or numbers of each, all three options were equally poor:
>The big, yet fairly shallow swamp south of Basin Arena would be great to trap a big target, though not anything more than a large Endless March Golem.
>If a target could be held or pinned at range, ponies could move around for cover, and there would be large amounts of water to put out fires, yet close combatants wouldn't reach easily.
>The deeper swamp northeast of Basin Arena would be best for challenging a huge target, featuring a significant amount of linked ambush potential, but there were no assurances that a Riftseeker's actions could be intercepted or comprehended beforehoof.
>The half-swamped out orchards and farms northeast would be best against a massive target, similar to the mythical Titans some Ferron talked about now and then, yet would most likely become a four-way battle.
>What little you know of the Late Dynasty's more problematic multi-species magical corruption was to never enter those zones at all costs, unless said costs could be mitigated by a number of lives, at which point the chances of Malformed or Abominations increased significantly.

>The tradesmare's ears and eyes swivel at the batpony-assumed Construct repairing itself, then at you.
>Her left trio of wingclaws sweep outwards in the common pegasi 'warning ahead' motion before muttering quietly.
"The more you know, the less you can't."

>Thinking back on the few Construct armamarents which mostly Crystal ponies were in possession of, then working forwards to consider how such a Planar substance, or pseudo-substance, could function independently on Tallus, it was clear that the older models and variants were far less compatible with ponies.
>Judging the amount and width of studies the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair had undertaken, combined with the rather secretive, modern symbiotes, a major shift had occurred:
>Instead of copying the physical functionalities of blood, it was clear that Constructs had, in the regions you knew of at least, greatly increased that same capacity since older symbiotic armors, weapons, and the tiny number of utilitarian systems were known for high periods of dormarency or inactivity.
>As they were adapting and becoming able to repair from near-complete destruction to full readiness, the timeframe between improvemarents had decreased from centuries to much shorter periods, but this was forcing Construct models and variants into hyper-specializations.
>You realized this knowledge could not be shared to anypony outside those few that already knew, and what Mercy had 'neglected' to speak of was its own series of distinct threats.

>Well.
>I can't say I'm surprised.
>If I wasn't on the job, I'd probably be lazing about like that.
>Kind of jealous, not going to lie.
>Though, it may be because it's the fact they're not a ruler of a minor faction by saying some dumbass shit that you shouldn't have said, why would you do that to yourself?
>Oh, I'm berating myself mentally now, that's neat, I guess.
>One of those piles twitched, though.
>Who's to say that it isn't Pella in there?
>Walking over, I began to remove blankets from atop the thing, looking down.
"Hey, wake up. I know you're comfy in there, but I think you might be able to help me find someone."
>Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
>Wait.
>No, I ventured, and gained something I didn't want.
>Here goes, anyway.

>>371009
>Glancing up briefly from the map Sunny replied.
"As serious as I know how to be, I owe that much to the ponies my decisions may have gotten killed, and quite permanently given what the Tainted do."
>Looking back down at the map, Sunny deadpanned.
"If you report me to the authorities, I forgive you."

>Somehow, annoyingly, getting lured back into analysing tactical positions rather than routes to those positions once again, Sunny heaved an irritated huff with herself.
>Glancing along the road east, she reasoned that was a path she knew was more or less clear.
>The map indicated south was a no-go on hoof without support or flight, and there was no way to ascertain whether that was the actual case without going there and physically checking. That was too much of a gamble for now.
>Northeast it was, it was farther to travel, but she really had no way of knowing how far the scrambling field extended anyway, so the longest, easiest route to travel would be the best for getting back in contact quickly.
>If she were wrong and they'd hypothetically pop in south instead, maybe they'd be able to teleport herself and the symbiote.

>Sunny shot the bat pony a nervous smile and shrugged.
"It hasn't killed me yet. Or you, that's a good sign."
>Gathering up and repacking her map. Sunny came to a decision.
"South seems a likely location, but I can't reach it at speed, so I'll continue east and try to get back into contact."
>She offered the bat pony a short head bow.
"Thank you for your help, and your understanding, I hope you stay safe."
>Looking over her shoulder at the symbiote, Sunny indicated she was ready to move on and left at a trot and then transitioned into a gallop.

[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]

>>370978
('Their names simplify the tasks of locating which group was to be allied. Either way that is another migraine out of my hooves.')
>Taking on a near-human pose, the deep purple stallion leans forwards as his right hoof reaches his temple, a small, yet comfortable smile given.
('Pareidolia. Your codename resonates incredibly well with batponies. Lunars and Moonborn enjoy it too. I find myself in bizarre synchronicity with your phrasings, meanings, and open intentions.
Had Fankil lived and taken the position within Razorback he was supposed to, he would have been a far better ally. Despite the differences.. you greatly remind me of him in the best possible mareners. For that, I honor you,')
>Extending a short 'all is forgiven' motion, the Reservist stares down at the Overlander's floor.. you feel sharp notes of grim longing.
('That they do. I am not fit for such a role, nor are the majority of ponies that have willingly joined Razorback.
Belltower is a living anachronism.. I will not say more out of respect. Should you live, seek her out. She belongs on the Lunar Council. By force or guile matters not.
Roust's dedication to Hollow is sincere and none can harm her, outwardly nor inwardly. Such honorable Changelings only exist in my Order's records. Roust is a sacred mare that we believed could not exist, yet, exist she does. What she has suffered perhaps not even her Queen knows, and that makes her all the more important.
Naliyna has begun to recover from such forms of tormarent that.. few of my Order can comprehend. Thrill has battled millennia of lies, mistakes, wrongdoings, ignorance, and deception on her behalf, all without bias. By the goddesses they deserve a harmonious life together, no matter the end results.
I dearly wish Serrated Feathers was here. Despite her Lishanki-aligned beliefs and difficulties, she brought such joy and life to Razorback that none have spoken negatively of her. Or could, in full honesty.
Twisted Wing is a thousand megatons of anti-matter catalyzed weaponry awaiting the wrong signals. I know her. We're close to the same age, visited the same locations quite often,.. her Enchains were performed in desperation, not through fear or jealousy.')
>The Nightblade cracks a distant, pained smile, glancing up at the roof.
('She fully believes that one of her sisters or half-sisters will continue her grand-dam's lineage, but that will not happen so easily.
Sapphire Kiwi, that is her true name. Even should I destroy our memories, you will remember that above all my friend.')
>Eyebrows narrowed and ears flattening, Hodch makes a slightly disgusted 'forget it' motion.
('Your orders are the same as mine. My benefactor is dying on the Citadel after repulsing two hundred some archaic, ancient, pre-modern, modern, and newer Argus models. Alone.
If Luna is not reborn before Dawn occurs then her followers will suffer as she has and another Season must be chosen to herald the next few centuries until a proper balance is restored. I do not foresee them taking such duties.
The Lunar Council... I will not speak the secrets of those whom are now deceased, or may die. Unless ordered to do otherwise, their integrity will be upheld. Their ignorance and uncautious natures are not stupidity.
Others I hold dear are historians, archivists, researchers, and seekers that want to understand that which they do not. Distant as they are I cannot fault them for being disconnected from this world. Unbiased, external views are precious. And, unfortunately, in ever fewer amounts now.
Countess Folunasi and Katyal hold such love together that they need a stallion to be shared, one which they have not.. yet chosen. If she were to hold a grudge against Razorback, Katyal would have slain fifty if not more. Avoid not the wrath of honest mares spurned once. Instead, fear mares that have been spurned twice.')
>Head tilting in agreemarent, Hodch tosses a deeply amused expression towards you.
('Should I locate Filth then you will be immediately summoned. If, however, one of my Disciples does so... use every means necessary to assure his recompense. Every, and any. There is only so much irrationality and insanity that I can allow to exist at one time or another.
And, I am glad to have found such an immarensely positive role model amongst the humans of Razorback. Next to Thrill, Bubba, and Clemency of course. Zigri likes you, and, do not take that as a threat. Shanis needs progeny. Perhaps you will accept that role. Or.. perhaps not.')

>Making a faux-theatrical bow, Hodch turns, clopping into the gateway while carrying a tense, yet relieved expression.
>Shutting all electronics down into hardened or protective modes, the advanced model had already prepared to do so, you step into the electrically charged gateway-
>And find yourself in a place that could easily be called home.
>To the left, a gigantic forge, furnace, anvil, and smithy complex was being inspected by Lonestar, the older man merely interested in how such giant tools were used.
>And failing obviously, given that he was incapable of learning an entirely new trade.
>On the right, a colossal rug made from the pelt of an arcane predator was being lounged on by Katyal, holding NIbbles aloft in both hands with a charming smile.
>Despite their mostly incompatible natures, the woman and feline were enjoying the Plane for what it was: a place to relax, learn, or enjoy.
>A bed large enough for a 30M tall being was centered towards the rear, covered in yellow-white streaks of raw electrical energy, neither organic nor inorganic.
>It was, instead, a composite of solidified electrons and protons, designed to be comfortable except those that were weak to the essence of Lightning itself.
>Directly behind you was a massive pair of double doors that dwarfed the largest possible Tallus-Vortex gateways, capable of admitting freakishly large beings without having to crouch.
>This Plane was equal parts admitting, inviting, trusting... and exciting.

>>371016
>Hodch's comfortable body language and remarks spark a twinge of annoyance and resignation that causes Parediolia to near imperceptibly wince.
>The discomfort remains as they complete their dialogue and stand to leave.
('I... appreciate the trust and the appellation of being a 'role model'. But I will stress that I meant what I said of my mission being parallel. Don't overextend your communalism to me beyond what is necessary.')

>Stepping through the portal divide, the faint momentary sensation of all his hairs standing on end glides over him.
>He flexes his fingers twice to dissipate the sensation as he cranes his neck, taking in the gargantuan scale of the Storm King's work.
>An odd sensation of a spark remains, a strange feeling suffusing itself into him.
(... Likely the effects of this Plane.)

>Focusing his attention back to eye level, he observes the rug Katyal and Nibbles were seated on with a critical eye.
(One of the Lightning Plane's predators? A personal kill of the Storm King's? A penchant for hunting trophies?)

>Surveying the rest of the room, he notes the suspended energy comprising the bed and moves for a closer inspection sparing a glance along the way at Lonestar and the forge unfit for his stature.
(No requisite skills for forgework. Bedding material may be analyzable. Apparent suspended photons? Manipulation of electromagnetic fields likely. Suit core battery should be fully charged. No risk of altering stability of energy field. May be useful for future applications... )

[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]

>>371007
>Overhearing subdued chatter from the remaining Operators, the majority were irregular mixtures of angry, angrily confused, depressed, depressingly confused, and plain confused as to why they were on an entirely different world.

>Finishing the highly enjoyable meal, a bright, multicolored series of neon tubes on a signboard pops up across the table in clear text:
Ponies enjoy calling this meal Duskfast! Look it up in ANY Common Equestrian dictionary, or any equivalent pictionary! Yes, that does mean a picture-book crossed with a dictionary. Batponies created that word and it stuck. You know what THAT means?
ATROCIOUS PUN-FILLED FILLINGS ARE EVERYWHERE, AND YOU SHOULD FEEL GREAT FOR KNOWING THEM!
Not that I blame you, but I do blame YOU! But not you, Cheto, THAT one gets the blame!
Who, you are asking, and why, you are also asking? THE ONE REVEALING THIS SCRIPT!
Which JUST so happens to be me! But it's not me because I'm not here right now!
"Really? Is he that fucking busy to only leave a text?"
>Spoken by one of the presumable Rookies.
"Try not to ask. Discord's either a nut at the best of times or barely helpful at the worst of times, but only one of those-"
UNLESS I CHOOSE TO BE, ISN'T THAT RIGHT?! And your next words will be:
"Exactly! See what I mean? Dude's great!"
"The fuck is this? What kind of r-"
"It's a broken wall or something. Don't think about it."
>Silence holds for twenty seconds until the younger woman in a battered high tech helmet speaking up, her inflection Coastal Asiatic with some Central Mediterranean.
"My world didn't have gods. This one, Discord, also called the God of Discord, God of Chaos, God of Batponies, among way more, is the least worst."
"That doesn't explain how a fucking SIGN is reading the future! None of this makes sense!"
"Ignore the God of Chaos or you're going straight to the Clinic."
"Y'know, experiencing two absolutely random concussions that in no way occurred together is real hard for Doctor Tipper to treat correctly. Might take a few nights."
"And if for some reason that real beauty is in, you'll be there for week."
"Fuck you, you, you, you, you, and whatever YOU are! I ain't going to be stuck in some podunk-"
>Snapping up a small, odd looking pistol at near-point blank to the offender's head, the barrel slightly less than 1CM in width, interior displays shut down as she snickers loudly.
"Make me pull this trigger. Go ahead. Come on, push that buttons. Any of you want to chime in? No? All right then.
Boyo, you have zero clue how lucky we are. I am from podunk, broker than broke, all that. All we have to do is be gracious guests on this planet, and not fuck up being a good, gracious guest. This place is a million dreams coming true. I'm not going to let one piss-stained idiot say otherwise.
Been reviewing every report on local mainframes, be glad you aren't assigned yet. A few places have flora, with tentacles of sorts. Local ponies love riling them up. By that I mean the flora have rough sex with said local ponies. For fun. Plants don't get much out of the deal other than most of their predators avoid equine scents."
"The WHAT!?"
"Yeah. This stuff's hotter than a Metropolitan reactor tuned to full power, could make a fortune from vids alone. And I didn't stutter, dumbass."
"You're full of shit a-"
"I don't lie either. How would you like to see at least ten hours of videos taken by humans that've been on this world much longer than all of us combined? No?"
>Right hand spinning the weapon out of sight, the young woman shrugs heavily in her damaged armor as the man stands and stalks towards the Mess Hall's doors, one of the older Operators calls after him.
"Keep your radio on! Don't steal, don't harm sapients, self-defense is acceptable but don't be a bitch about that and don't be a dickhead either! A local pony has already claimed the rape monsters so leave them alone!
Also the closest village by train tracks is about ninety miles away and it's snowing, don't go more than five miles!
And as for you.. that a real needle pistol?"
"Yes. Not in good shape though."
"What's it powered by?"
"Dunno."
"Dart or fin type?"
"Never looked. Or had a reason to."
"..you were being serious about the videos, right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Wouldn't happen to have see a bright white pegasus in them, possibly a blind one?"
"Not that I've found. Want me to check the rest?"
>Thumping the table with both hands, the man shakes his head in clear relief, though was a bit disappointed.
"Nah, don't want that type of trouble. You've seen how disproportionate the tech levels on this world are, yes?"
"Yep. Mind explaining why?"

>Leaving the plate for Pella to wash, already busy scrubbing down some that had been left at her station, the remaining humans stay seated as the man speaks in quiet, possibly conspiratorial tones.
>Exiting the Mess and heading straight east towards the Workshop, the variety of symbols and text nearly impossible to miss.
>Noting a pair of large clamshell doors above two sets of sliding vehicle doors, an obvious, highly expensive armored helicopter pad had been installed on the second level, plaques pointing out an entrance to it around the Workshop's southern wall.
>Taking the north side's door entrance, it featured several handles, hoofles, and a pair of levers at different heights, ranging from ultra-short to an actual giant.
>Entering, it was.. entirely like what you'd expect mixed cottage industries to be:
>The north tables and wall were loaded with furnaces, anvils, hammers, files, gauges, measuring devices, and a variety of somewhat familiar tools spread out.
>Central tables held vast amounts of refined metals in sheets, rolls, and stacked bars, the majority common metals you were positive didn't exist on your world, or couldn't have.
>One large clothier's setup, stand, and sewing desk was in use on the southwest side, a chunky, bright yellow earth mare seated behind the second, racks of thread and various glowing green needles forming a large winter coat.
>In the air.

>>371011
>Taking the first moving blanket off, one that was mostly jean material, the second a standard forest camo, the third, a highland winter variant, is stubbornly clutched by a trio of upside down, indigo fruit-eater batpony claws.
"I'm not working when it's battime, this is comfortable so go away!"
>....
>The batfilly's voice was definitely one from earlier.
>Claws letting go as you lift the third blanket, that was indeed Foggy Patches lying down on stacks of cardboard, wings folded over her head to avoid the Mess Hall's light.
>Pausing for a second, her snout pokes forwards, pointing one claw westish.. probably at you.
"Who?"

>>371035
>Was it a bad thing that I was relieved that it wasn't her under the mass of blankets?
>Probably.
>It was so, so very easy to just...give up for the day, put it off.
>But no, this day was shit, it would be forever shit, so might as well taint it with as much bad news as possible.
>Then tomorrow could be...
>I hesitate to say 'better', but at least an improvement over this.
>Squatting down, I gave my best attempt at a smile and gave her a nod.
"Hey, Foggy. Just need your time for -one- moment, then you can go back to bat-bed. I meant bed."
>Ugh, curse these kee's.
"Have you seen Pella? If so, where is she?"

>>371036
>Sticking her head out briefly, Foggy squints at you, past, around, then snickers, stubby wingclaws spreading out and wiggling.
"Batbeds are beds made from bats, but there are no bats anywhere in the Moors. There are ponybats, horsebats, and bathorses though!"
>Making a loud puffing sound, she wriggles back in to avoid the dirty lighting, chin set down on cardboard with a sour tone.
"Hundreds of times. Was helping move all this junk and bad and rotten food from the other end of the big building that way."
>Pointing directly west past you, she reaches up to grab the winter moving blanket and pull it down tight over her head, whispering faux-muffledly.
"You didn't saw nopony here, especially not me!"

>>371037
>Ugh, god, why do I do this to myself.
>Gonna be all night with this shit.
>That smile I wore started to slowly drift down on my face, the pull of the long hours finally making itself known.
>I realized this, corrected it, and gave the little bat a small pat on the head, though it was dampened by the jacket.
"Alright, I'll go there and check her out-"
>A pause.
"...check to see if she's there."
>Not anything I haven't seen before, but great, now I'm starting to confuse diction.
>Wonderful.
>If this night doesn't end in me getting way too drunk to remember things, or with a neat new tattoo on the inside of my gray matter, I'll worship...
>I don't know, like, some new pony god borne from the sheer insanity of the bullshit that happens in this land on a daily basis.
>...Not Discord.
>Hopefully he can't read thoughts
>I stood up, moving for the far side to the west, exiting the mess hall to make for the indicated building.
>Seriously, why did she feel the need to move all of this stuff, randomly?
>It was just decided today, it seems.
>Which begs the question, is it connected to the bullshit I did?
>Or somewhat metaphysically caused by it in some grand wave of cosmic bullshit?

>>371025
>Head high and striding around the bed, the First Responder stops twisting Nibbles around so both of them could glare at the visibly retreating unicorn.
"Tell me you didn't do exactly what that smug grin is telling me you did!"
"I did not perform what you may be thinking I might have do-"
"Don't deflect you candy-apple eating smartass!"
"Those are quite good when made properly, but I need to check the table-"
>Lifting the winged Nebelong-like in your direction, and speaking in the Moor feline's place, also taking control of front paws to point where Hodch had gone.
"When a CERTAIN TYPE OF PONY talks about A POSSIBLE IMPLICATION OF MARERIAGE with their FAMILY, COWORKERS, COLLEAGUES, OR BEST FRIENDS, I will say to CLOWN ON THEM HARD every single time that happens. Isn't that right?"
>Whiskers twitching at you.. apologetically, Nibbles lifts both wings overhead to stretch.
>Then the middle of each minute wingclaw trio raises towards Hodch's last visible location, snicker-hissing derisively.
"The pretty kitty Heroine of the Moors agrees! Now.. you aren't related to the Purrsians at all, hm? No, you're not cuter than them. Yet. And.. why did you have to grab that nasty insect? Freaky little thing-"

>Beyond reading sensations or moods, the Storm King's Room was open to inspection, knowledge flowing from it with ease.
>Clearing the woman and winged batcat out of thought, deep imprints of a short, desperate struggle form:
>An archaic, colossal Tallus predator, that of a long, spine-covered Lightning Elemarental proto-ursinoid, solid rippling muscles propelling two rows of flesh-shearing teeth
>Snapping at grand, highly charged filigree-covered spear and shield, five jagged, six-jointed claws furiously tear into a barely taller biped's armor, the being forced back numerous times.
>Staggered sideways from a raging blow, the being hurls his shield into outstretched claws, ducking into a roll and lifting the spear in both hands, bracing it on semi-magma ground against the predator leaping chest first.
>Bending, and nearly shattering the spear, the predator's Lightning charged existence ruptures, taking a final, left sided heavy swipe that rends through the giant's partially ripped open helmet.
>Examining the external scene, the first was long extinct, yet had a number of similar, though much smaller evolved descendants: Blister Cats were an uncommon type often found below stationary cloud cities, and considered easy to befriend by ponies that didn't mind their Planar-touched nature.
>Medium sized variants of numerous naming conventions were found across most of the Minotaur Hegemony, particularly under Wild Clouds, and were rarely hunted, let alone encountered, due to being necessary predators of nuisance herbivores, and the general ability to shock even a prepared Minotaur unconscious at range.
>The largest were known to inhabit Lightning, Storm, and Tempest regions throughout the Dragonspines, considered sacred due to their long lives, Elemarental balance, and lack of hostility to anything other than specific prey.
>The giant resembled some mythical versions from numerous Otherworlds, yet had a sharper face, elongated, upturned ears, a partially flat, wide nose, and deeply set, brilliant yellow eyes that flickered between electrical spectrums.

"Biped? Triped? Quadraped? Wings? Extra arms? What could even use one of these?"
>Muttering to himself, Lonestar turns to stare at the rest of the room in a subdued what-am-I-even-doing-here mood, looking quite small while spreading both hands in ranging comparisons.
"Thirty feet to the top, sitting down would be fifty feet? No, it's two to three-point-five or four for us. Taller. Longer legs. Hammer must be twenty-five tons. Makes.. eighty feet. Or more.
....giants. Actual giants. Actual Lightning giants. Holy shit."

>Reaching a hand towards the bed, an accepting, friendly series of resonances flow:
>The Plane of Lightning is a sequential side-state of Tallus norms, created at the same time the, so far as you knew, majority equine-inhabited world was.
>From packets to civilizations' worth of photons and electrons could be called upon to perform negative or positively charged actions, whether defensive, offensive, or utilitarian did not matter.
>Matter and energy were technically 'living', equally interchanging and vital concepts that shifted, changed, estranged, charmed, joined, or rejoined endlessly.
>Not a single erg was untouched or unknown once it was felt, nor could it descend or ascend; Planar Lightning was equal no matter the source.
>Age did not matter here, only intention, relevancy of the same, information, and emotion were important.
>When combined for lesser or neutrally aligned effects it was possible to regenerate from non-Lightning caused harm, though several instances of neural reshaping had been performed in this Room.
>Brushing past the open thoughts, the bed itself was a singular waveform created by actualizing 'rest', a concept learned from interactions across Tallus.
>In directly technical terms it was equivalent to a magnetically-controlled sequence of high-sided photons intended to remain coherent, though in its actualized state the electrons allowed non-Planar beings to interface with the Plane itself.
>Noble and royal Lightning, Storm, or Tempest-aligned beings had argued for centuries whether or not they had met the equine definition, concepts directed at, from, to each other, conceptual thoughtforms and wavestates open for interpretation in hundreds of layers, though the vast amount of information would take weeks to deliberately comprehend.

>>371039
>Tufted ears flopping happily to both sides at your touch, Foggy starts to wave her right wingclaws, halting-
>You feel it, and SENSE before that.
>The world shifts: first, upside down, then leftside out, then rightside inside in patterns, outsides folded into anti-mirrored pinatas of glorious, darkly colored equine-chiropteran hybrids dancing.
>But.. no.
>It wasn't to a song.
>The unyou more you triplethink, it was a... sideways shuffle.
>The place? Dark, warm, and humid all year round.
>Mangoes. Definitely involved,
>How was it possible?
>HOW could such primordial, small pastel bathorses devise such an elaborate, four-step dimarensional shuffle based on a Moors fruit with which to tormarent existence with?

>Despite unimaginable odds Foggy Patches contains her universe shuddering glee, rolling around in the blanket and trying to choke off her snickering.
"Oh I bat you WILL-"
>It was enough.
>The dams could contain no more.
>As you hurry out of the Mess Hall, hysterical filly laugh-screech-keks hound a second retreat this night.

>Bypassing around the Workshop north in case human, equine, Changeling, or OTHER could hear, then reaching the Armory's rear entrance and stepping in, it seemed whatever desolation took place had reached here.
>Ammunition packs, boxes, canisters, tins, and crates were piled on the east side in no particular order or care, the same for explosives or warheads.
>Damaged or extra equipment, clothing, kit, armor, optics, magazines, among more debris littered the tables that had been properly sorted.
>Tonight though, the old squad lockers in the central north side were flung open, an aerily annoyed Pella tossing out cans, bags, bottles, jugs, packets, pouches, and cardboard boxes.

>>371043
>Oh, good, there she is.
>Oh, no, she's already pissed.
>I think?
>Either way, mail will calm the savage mare.
>Hopefully.
>There was quite the mess around her, it was actually incredible how much work she was putting in.
>Kinda...cute, if I was honest.
>But I can't be thinking distracting thoughts right now.
>Plan of action.
>Lighten her mood with mail.
>Begin roundabout discussion.
>Cut to heart of matter.
>???
>Profit.
>...maybe.
>Knocking my knuckles on an empty locker, I smiled down to the candy colored mare in front of me.
"Hey, Pella."
>Step one, go!
"Mail call!"

>>371044
>Taking a step backwards to glance you up and down, a forehoof stomps.
"If it so much as marentions some kind of food I'm going to eat i-"
>Cutting that off with a snort, her face scrunches, super sour candy style.
"No, I'm going to chew into tiny pieces, spit those pieces into a bonfire, then start scream all over again!"
>Flicking both wingtips out and pointing over the Armory, Pella glowers at the mess.
"Half of them think this place is safe enough to store a few tons of food, but NO! There's two Moor cats, maybe three, ten ponies, and someTHING else that can go right through solid walls. They've been leaving crumbs everywhere! Right before Midneight I was coming back from the Neighsian tradestall and saw a fluffrat climbing over the gates! OVER!"
>Snapping feathers together, luckily without her cooking blades, the dual-toned mare's head shakes angrily.
"I had to chase it out and take a shower so I could start cooking! This all makes me so MAD I COULD JU-"
>Biting a mostly empty MRE pack and slinging it behind her, Pella inhales deeply, then releases an incredibly... dull sounding neigh into the locker.
>Which, judging by the sound, had either been refit for cold storage, or possibly sound proofed.
>Her ancestors were definitely proud of other, more rational neighs, but not this one.
>Sighing out some stress, her right wing lifts to rub her neck, left wing turning over expectantly.
"Hi. Sorry. Also hi, sorry."

>>371041
>Blinking rapidly at the unexpected flow of information, he slowly pulls his glove back as the torrent abates after but a minute.
>Taking a moment to process everything, he leans against the stilled energy comprising the bed.
(As expected... nature of this Plane dictates a different modality of existence. The arrangement of ideas and their direction via the Latin animus determines reality here. A constant summarized "state of being" outside of known entropy models as a result of the passage of time.)
>Looking back towards the forge, he attempts to assess what could even be made at such a scale.
(This plane is... fascinating, though inimical in the long term to humans. Apparent cordial if not harmonious relationship with Equestrian inhabitants given the wholesale adoption and adaptation of such fundamental concepts as rest. Question remains as to why they would want to shape their Planar concepts in that way to begin with. Possible risk vector from human activity, pending the Lightning Plane's method of concept integration. May be more resistant to contamination due to intentions being more easily identifiable here.)

>Recalling the vision of the past and the massive weapons the giant held, he moves closer to the forge and its tools.
>As he passes by Katyal and Nibbles continuing their hunt for Hodch, he pauses.
(Implication of... how did they-)
>Suddenly turning to face them, he calls out.
"How did you know what Hodch said? Was Nibbles eavesdropping?"
(Hodch assured me of the security of that conversation... nothing sensitive revealed necessarily. But risk of breaches is unappreciated... )

>>371045
>Oh....no.
>This does not bode well for me at all.
>She is irritated, clearly, though it is not at me.
>Yet.
>Still, I sat down nearby and chuckled softly at her antics, and wishing I had been a better man for her.
"Oh, no, everyone gets angry, or frustrated, at times. I'm not gonna get mad at ya for doing that."
>I patted my lap, offering her a gentle expression.
"Take a rest for a moment, Pella. You look like you've been running yourself thin. We can go over your mail together, if you'd like that?"
>I couldn't help the grin that came across my face.
"Hi. You're fine. Also hi, and you're fine."

>>371046
>Bending proportionally to accommodate you, the waveform in bed shape creates a short, relaxing depth, an emphasis of expected rest becoming known.
>Objectively comfortable, it takes a comprehensive thought to disentangle from the welcoming respite, returning to its previous awaiting state.
>Short pulses of distant, succint thoughtforms are evoked during inspection of the unreasonably sized work space:
>Those that align themselves with this Plane and abide its rules are accepted, all inhabitants must contribute in manners they were able to, and an equal offer demanded an equal trade.
>Merit was an equally compatible concept between Tallus and here; to serve under an individual's accepted expectations, and to be served without complaint were twinned standards held by communal law.
>Excluding the non-sapient existences and guests, reasonable guiding distant-to-future thoughts oblige.
>While not specifically liked, or often endorsed, Otherworlders were welcome, yourself and Lonestar included..
>And Katyal mostly excluded unless for short temporal visits.
>The Plane's closest inhabitants were alike in thought to this Room's designer: shapers of that which will be and must become, accepting the flow of differences for what they were, not out of individual thoughts, moods, emotions.

>Massive hammers, tongs, pliers, chisels, swages, shears, punches, mandrels, nails, drifts, planes, sanding belts, files, and more were conceptual in origin, yet plain in appearance.
>Intended to forge great works, they would change shape when necessary or by request, now silently awaiting their use once more.
>Unlike the rest, the forge, anvil, and furnace were brought to existence by the concept OF solidity, meant to shape, refine, then define material, energy, gas, plasma, liquid, and all interim states no matter the material.

>Rolling onto her left side and placing Nibbles on the rug, upside down and batting at her right hand, Katyal stares confusedly, gaze hardening as she motions where Hodch had left a trail of thin, deep purple wisps.
"Her? Nah. He's got a certain lying horseface he always makes after that kind of offer. Unless there was an actual threat involved he's not serious, or was testing to see how far he could go with something.
I dunno, usually not a big deal. On the off chance he was serious I can always stomp on a leg. He can limp around.. with the other four remaining."
"Is.. that a dick pun?"
"Yep."
"Can you please not?"
"Hmmmmmm.... I reserve all rights to sprinkle shade when anyone or anypony deserves it. Which is all the time for him due to having ten plus lovers. Not that I'm jealous but, damn, he's got moves even I can't make and I'm a solid six-point-five out of ten."
>Sighing and reaching up for a hat that wasn't there, Lone rubs his face instead.
"That's not a yes or no but I'll take it. I thought guys were bad enough when it c- ..has to deal with.. open talk like this."
"What, you think only guys endlessly harp on each other for fun? Here's how the other side works:
A mare will push her stallion for another mare. She'll find and point out, oh, nice flanks, long neck, lovely eyes, great smile, solid hooves, strong wings, sweet voice, that sort. Then he'll have two pushing for a third, then however marely more he's willing to accept. They won't stop until the stallion has precisely what he wants. That's a herd.
They'll quietly nicker each other into 'taking care of' their stallion, or openly if he's into that. Or do just the opposite, have him take care of the others when they're feeling down. You get the point."
"...wish I didn't."

>Following the trace essences around the giant's bed, what greeted you was uniquely abstract:
>A table, in theory, but physically a hundred, perhaps more, levels of mass-energies taking up the corner, Hodch sorting through layers of shared Tallus-Planar concepts.
>His intentions were simply finding castoff or whole Lightning essences for weapons, armor, to be thrown, infused, set as traps, or shaped when necessary.
>Thoughts rolling off him, however, were bitter; at what precisely the Plane was unable to share.
"I'll be a while, going to need every damned one of these that can kill a Scoriae Wyrm.
Time differential between is fifteen percent quicker here but you won't notice it. Matter, energies, spells, living beings, etcetera, brought from Tallus degrade approximately twenty percent slower."

>>371047
>Side eyeing another box and kicking it out with slightly less force than the last, Pella shoves aggravated feathers backwards towards the rest of the Armory.
"That's the second fluffrat tonight and there's a lot worse outside the walls that COULD get in, then there'll really be a lockdown. Everypony knows better than to leave food out.. which doesn't help when humans should know the same-"
>Staring up at the locker's interior, then shaking her mane out with a raucous giggle, remaining packages, boxes, ration cans, and bottles are shoved backwards.
"Do I look like Allys? She's three months pregnant and always been a bit pudgy. Not me, going to stay slim like my dam and more fit than my sisters. They're not fatflanked but I really don't want to be huffing and puffing after half an hour's flight. I'll check it in a second-"
>Leaning out of the locker to make a slight, faux-pouty face, her right eye closes, same ear flopping at you.
"Hi, I know I am. What're you going to do about it later?"

>>371048
>Nodding once at Katyal, he turns away pointedly losing interest as she switches tack to lewd puns.
>Leaving the trio behind him, he steps into the space between the forge and the bed while experimentally probing his mind for any evidence of resonance between Empress Silver's granted interference ability with this plane.
(Can my ability be used to forge something? Or enhance itself? Highly unlikely. Lack requisite knowledge of forging and elemental techniques. Ownership of tools also likely. The... Plane implies equal trade, but... )
>Shrugging as he stands within touching distance of the forge, he reaches out to press his glove against the surface of it.
>Exhaling, he focuses within for any potential spark of lightning or sensation of energy possibly awakened by his presence on the Plane of Lightning.

>Both hearing but moreso feeling Hodch's animosity, he looks over towards the corner at what appeared to be the equivalent of a pile of "books" or what passed for information storage on the Plane.
>He waits for Hodch to finish before asking.
"Understood. Is this 'Scoriae Wyrm' weak to lightning?"
(Bitterness at what the Plane can't provide? Related to his condition? Or even more past history, most likely.)

>>371034
>...
>Well, José had to admit, whatever just happened was indeed interesting.
>It would seem he just witnessed some sort of reality bender that seemed to know forbidden knowledge.
>Heck, whoever he was actually used his codename.
>Couple that with the fact the others have already experienced something like this as well as some sort of plant-based escort business, things were truly getting wackier by the second.
>A part of him wondered if he'd succumb to such apparent madness.
>...may be likely, but alien worlds always surprise.
>Gallo opted not to listen in further, his curiosity satisfied and feeling the answer to such a question is going to become apparent real soon.

>As the FNG two-day-old diplomat entered the Workshop only served to further display just how diverse the tools at hoof were.
>Truly, there were no holds barred in terms of specialized equipmarent.
>Not to mention the unorthodox working stations in place that were set up.
"Uh, hello? Is there anypony in here with a few minutes to spare? I've been advised to come here for quote-on-quote nice stuff."
>Not the fanciest of inquiries but it'll have to do.

>>371052
>Portions of conversation between hundreds of equines, pegasi the majority, unicorns the minority, Minotaurs, Crystal ponies, then Otherworld, Planar, and Extra-Planar Dragons, last subjects to this Plane share a sum of comprehensions; you had already made a trade without openly realizing it.
>All Lightning on Tallus was shared from this Plane as it provided a necessary balance between Elemarents, but could function as a sieve, filter, or bypass when required.
>Pegasi were the first to discover clouds, formed from joining Air, Lightning, Gravity which was often mislabeled as Force, and Water.
>This allowed them to produce a multi-Elemarental state that could be used in any number of mareners; at this several angered, past voices raise, objecting the subjugation of earth ponies.
>Unicorns weren't content to merely use Lightning, instead desiring to apply it into ever more useful tools, with defensive purposes as second and weapons last, except during war.
>A great deal of study had taken place in this Plane, though not here by Dynasty-aligned sapients; .
>The Cores and parts of beings brought here to compare caused intrepid few began obsessing, a new, dangerous desire shared between them: to streamline and 'Perfect' that which should, by all means, never be.
>Refined Batch 11, Project 220 began here, and was finalized on Tallus, which you and possibly some descendants would be in eternal possession of.
>It existed equally within you, here in this Plane, and across Tallus in neutrality, yet with either coexistent acceptance and will, or guidance, could be reshaped into taking on more natural paths.
>One cold, isolated thought informs that the Otherworlder alicorn was banned from traveling all Planes due to her later disregard of mortal life, and while you were welcome, such actions would never be tolerated again.

>While not a student of forging or mechanical arts, the furnace seems to wake, its purpose granted use by all that enter the Room so long as their intentions were sincere and.. technically noble.
>The Storm King that once lived here until his mortal death on Tallus cared little for ownership: a tool is a tool, created to create, to care, to craft, shape, repair, refine.
>To define.. that was the most important one.

>Sifting through purely offensive, defensive, then utilitarian concepts, the Reservist picks out several examples of each condition, from poor to pure, ignoring unstable sections as his mood lifts, feeling useful once more.
"Highly so, but not for reasons most expect to hear: they're an unusual non-flying wyrm, of sorts, on account of being an inorganic species that successfully integrated artificial Magma Elemarental cores.. by eating them. That was the result of an honest mistake.
Original non-living species once consumed raw magma, yet those cores were among the few that had been Perfected. As a species each was greatly modified, the core itself granting a limited state of organic functionality; pseudo-neural pathways, blood, skeleton, digestive system, organs, and having a basic genetic profile. Somehow.
Between the Early to Middle Dynasty a shared research center was built near the Lower Dragonspine Volcanic Tidepools. Purpose of study: all cores related to heat, magma, or life from across Equestria, Hegemony, Empire, Neighsia, Ewerup, Argenta's Lands, and various Planes.
An elder dragon, not sure of the name or species, discovered a peculiar method of aligning Elemarental imbalances with aid from the few heat-tolerant researchers. She destroyed most of the center in a frenzied rage after an unknown number of Perfected versions were mistakenly dumped into the Volcanic Tidepools instead of the damaged ones. Records state that was in the late 28,300's, no injuries or deaths by the way.
Scoriae Wyrms themselves are incredibly weak to Rime for obvious reasons, Lightning due to their semi-artificial organic state and large amounts of highly conductive minerals, and sonic capabilities, including Crystal Runes and Air Elemarentals, for all of the above. Rarely seen due to extreme heat, atmospheric pressure, and baffling variable gravitational anomalies, however."
>Lifting a flat 'plate' of metastabilized Lightning in a form that could only be described as liquid, Moon Orb's communication was partially static laden.
('Canterlot Underground had a theory: Perfected Elemarental cores were produced in such a marener that each one is able to self-modify its internal balance to a single closely matching being. If true, that is a step in explaining how and why an entire species of inorganic beings became half-organic.
Ponifally I think one or two processes used were Extra-Planar or a derivative of, which is beyond our currently abilities to safely explore, let alone study.. Eleyana believes that a few sections of the Late Dynasty may have been Eldritch-touched. I do not disagree, but I also do not understand why.')

>>371058
>Forehooves lifting, the yellow mare pauses the in-progress coat, calling out in a cheery, not-quite-30's warm northern accent.
"Hello there! Come on in and take a seat if you like-"
>Resuming her work, the southern central and eastern side tables were darkened, though you could see a number of human styled tools, boxes, fuel cans, and spare components littering them.
"I'm the only one in tonight. Lann, Master Seamstress for Razorback, and the Starborn sometimes. I make clothing and light armor for every season and places that aren't under minus fifty or over a hundred-fifty degrees. Camouflaging stuff is a hobby but I'm getting better at it.
Can repair just about anything you bring me made from natural fibers and silk, including Spectral and Planar. And.. well, I don't like artificial stuff, kevlar, Spectra, nylon, that sort, but those are fairly simple to patch.
That work is all paid for by the way, got to love snagging a full one year contract up front! Oh, one second-"
>A line of red, purple, and green lights around the clothier's area brighten to a comfortable level, waving at a selection of.. completely mismatched chairs in front of her desk.
"I also make dolls, plushies, pillows, sheets, blankets, and special orders too. If you provide the materials I charge twenty Bits an hour, otherwise materials plus work time."
>Head tilting right, her voice drops into a humored measure.
"And if you're into that sort of thing I've got a huge amount of lingerie designs for that special somepony or someponies."

>>371059
>Pareidolia sways for a moment, shifting a boot out further to steady himself.
>The influx of information was akin to a transmission beamed directly into his awareness.
>Encompassing, but not discomforting in itself.
>His gloved hand resting on the forge half curls into a fist however.
(I see... involuntarily perceived, due to the nature of this Plane. What was traded? Confirmation of Silver's presence and involvement here to create those experiments and downstream context is appreciated, but not all concepts should be freely taken at face value.)
>Closing his eyes and sighing, he relaxes his fingers.
(Not that I can change that now. Need to focus. Deal with this later unless pressing.)

>Head angling up to see and feel the forge spark with a sensation of "activation", he notes the additional flow of ideas into his mind with a slightly bitter thought.
(... 'Noble', huh? By the Lightning Plane?)

>Turning to look at Hodch, he shifts to lean his back against the forge while examining his gloved hands.
>The fingers methodically lock and weave as he idly runs them through a series of motions while Hodch gives a brief historian's rundown and secretive speculation.
(Clear preference for the Teacher's role. Impending mortality likely causing increased strain. Can only hope this operation succeeds.)
"I see... so the product of accidental experiment procedure mistake."
>He briefly touches his pocketed Moon Orb in a facade of searching through his vest rigging.
('And potential Eldritch or Otherworldly influence over the cores.')
"If we manage to retrieve the elemental core, can it be returned to the elder dragon who led this project? Or have these cores grown too complex to be safely separated?"

>He leans forwards off the forge and looks down at his hands.
(Apparent use is based on will, centered on defining clear concepts. Opportunity to create new tools and weaponry. Recent engagements demonstrate a clear gulf in combat aptitude If conceptual grasp of the graviton is definite, then... )
>Setting his pack down and pulling out the box of Crin Feathers, he takes one out and rolls it along his thumb with his index finger.
(This Plane encourages experimentation and idea refinement. So...)

>Closing his eyes, he draws his memory towards a weapon demonstration.
>"Understand, esteemed guests that we may only demonstrate this once. Please ensure your Vis and media feeds are allocating adequate processing resources for this period. The Graviton is a fickle muse. Our best efforts have only managed to capture this one little morsel, and holding it still is truly an endeavor."
>An image is projected before a seated audience, detailing the inner mechanisms of a seemingly innocuous handgun.
>The same handgun is held in the metallic hands of a smooth metal bodied frame made to resemble a human in suggestion, except for the face which was fully sculpted.
>Sleek silver and gold accented the metal body's lithe frame, though deployed bracing struts from the rear of her inverted claw-footed metal legs belied a hidden weight.
>The android's fingers clasp.
>The world ripples in less than a blink.
>Gravity visualized orients the space before it as light curves to follow its demand.
>The blocks of orbital grade armor structure composite buckle inwards without a sound.
>Air trapped in the flow of gravity never reaches the senses.
>The world stills.
>Sensors furiously process events, playing back what reached them.
>The world breathes again and faster than the eye perceives, the sound of shuddering air, sensation of heat, and the flash of yellow white beams downrange.
>Fifty kilometers downrange according to the readouts.
>A perfect hit through the center on all three of the five meter thick plates. Offset, alternating bullseyes.
>Bullseyes that could only be struck if what was fired could alter its path mid-flight.
>"Blink and you miss it. Hmhm, yes. Our beloved Graviton Pulse Emitter. Naturally penetration depth is influenced by the number of gravitons. Particle behavior adjustable by user input. Waveform trajectory following suit. We're still sprucing up minor details, and sadly the graviton is so elusive but-.."

(A handgun with the force of gravity behind it. Internal construction designed to direct electrons to hold a graviton in place. Shear it in an ordered manner, direct it, and unparalleled range. Unrivaled ability to deny any form of defense. Dimensions controlled by will and aperture adjustment. The nature of the graviton's expulsion results in minimal recoil. Gravity merely adjusts its orientation along axis of travel. Bracing only used for management of displaced heated air expanding. Drawback of that model. Can be improved. More efficient field containment can be achieved with this Plane's grasp of electrons and particles. Heat and air displacement can be reduced further.)

>Removing the glove from his left hand, he takes the point of the feather and lightly jabs his palm prompting a pinprick of pain and the familiar sensation of training flooding his senses.
(Enhance focus. Identify. Observe. Dismantle.)
>Inhaling and applying pressure to his palm, he attempts to will his thoughts into existence.

(Can take advantage of its properties to link it to me. A unique particle signature and spin, to always return it. Strong enough to overpower Earth Pony psionics, ideally. If problems with the model appear, power or range can be downsized... attempting fabrication. Uncertain how this functionality is utilized... )

[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Expert Small Arms + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Extra Roll Shifted GCS FINA

>Finally opening his eyes, he eyes the current results with some trepidation.
>After assessing the current project's progress for a span, his left hand splays to make room for a second slight jab.

[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Expert Small Arms cont. + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization (M.E.CC.T.)
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]

>>371060
>José didn't really take the offer to sit considering all the clutter on the tables
>Might inadvertedly mess up whatever semblance of order there was in here.
>He knew some people like that back in plain old reality.
"Greetings, Miss Lann. I'm happy to make your acquaintance."
>He curtly bowed after.
"Since I'm brand new here, I'd love to know what sort of recommarendations you can provide for social events and gatherings. Particularly pertaining to the lands of Argenta."
>Ah, it seems Gallo's intuition was driving him further into what he felt he knew.
>Hopefully he can manage to find a good outcome from it.

>>370970
('Given the sizes and individualistic nature of each we've brought down.. I doubt the amount in that Core will be sufficient. Consider it a last call weapon.')
>Clearing back into Basin, the gateway shuts down behind you, Luna's Villagers at near-burnout conditions and receiving unsubtle appraisals from the remaining unicorns.
('You can do no more here. Return to your homes and rest, that is an order.')
>Breaking off from the Overherd, the majority chooses to sit, lie down, or flop over where they were.
('...that works too, I suppose.')

>Stretching out far ahead and behind, the outer lines of Day and Watch Guard spread their limited awareness to the scouting parties.
('Reptile here, not like an iguana.. worse. Big claws, bigger teeth, thick hide, covered in scales. Dented my helmet pretty good.')
('...THIS THING'S BIGGER THAN MY COFFEE TABLE! Oh, uh, big flat insect with nasty pinching claws, tried to take her leg off but couldn't. We got it.. ...all over the place.')
('Predatory water skimmer of some type, poor armor penetration, they prefer smaller targets.')
('Majority seem to be swamp-skitters-')
('They are. Approximately nine thousand species in the Central Moors alone, perhaps two thousand in Deep, and six to eight hundred elsewhere. Most are not individually named.')
('If any have colored bands transfer it to me, the teeth can be extracted for use as a weapon addition.')
('That is beyond gross..')
('Lunars use what is available, not what we want to.')

>Shorter ranged Operators leaving into the frontal ranks, five Assault Vanguards deploy in a wedge formation ahead of each one, the leadmare's tone crass.
('Until I burn out or die it will remain, no matter the distance. In the event of either, another Moderatis will commarend the Overherd.. so long as they are not an idiot.')
('Visibility's decent in front, hundred meters at ground level.')
>Entering singly, combat and scout rifle carriers take stations starting at the garrison-barns facing each other.
('That means ninety for us..')
('Where's a giant fan when we need one?')
('Bad idea, bio-electricity and lightning enchantments attract the bad kinds of attention across most of the Moors.')
('How, exactly?')
('Every living being emits some form of electrical charge.. well, there are exceptions but not common.')
('So?')
('A lotta creatures sense bio-electricity, bigger or specialized ones can make out objects and living beings at greater ranges.')
('You mean like sharks, right?')
('Exactly, which means all of us, humans and ponies, are emitting thousands of signals that're screaming: hey, tons of prey here.')
('And we're already attracting shit..')
('Yeah, can't prevent it either. That's why everyone that takes a job or gets assigned here slips into the Void and doesn't leave them unless absolutely necessary.')
>A lighter Day Guard mares in the front ranks sighs, wishing she hadn't listened in.
('Won't ever find me in that mess. I need to see clearly, not deal with constant fog and haze.')
('That is another concern: if you are not attuned to the Void or Pitch Black, do not spectrum-slip. The presence of Crystal forces here is dangerous as is.')

>>370985
>Agreemarents and argumarents break out in earnest among fruit enjoying ponies, then berries, vegetables, leaves, vines, roots, melons, nuts...
>All strictly avoiding the topics of batpony foods.
>Settling on a suspicion that one of the Crystal ponies, or a crystal-unicorn more likely, had slipped that idea in, a lone stallion declares ryegrass unfit to eat without being fried.
('.....what's ryegrass?')
>And the chain starts anew.

>Tuning out of that mess, the Councilierge Assault Vanguard's leadstallion sighs, finding himself confused at thinking of both cold black iron from his city-state and short, athletic, painted oceanic mares.
('Constructs do not bleed in the biological or even technical senses. The living fluid is more like ichor, though not even remotely similar to Changeling ichor.
There is] a pony that may know but she's fucked off and nopony knows where.. why i-')
>Shutting those thoughts down hard and scowling at everything in particular, he addresses the Overherd directly, syncing the leadmare's wandering thoughts into seriousness.
('Enough, we're ALL hungry. Forage en route and leave enough for local batponies, don't need to irk them more than we already have.')
('...to whomever shared that thought: keep it to yourself or there will be consequences. I have enough problems with small hyperactive ponies.')

>Exiting into the center most gateway as one of the two heaviest shotgun carriers, five Assault Vanguard mares position themselves in a five-pointed star formation around you, their thoughts strictly held to protection first, aggression second.
>Each was most definitely NOT thinking about certain ponies, the quadruple lines ahead starting into a slow march, Crystal-Hegemony Minotaurs and Spireguard spreading out to take on paired detals.
>Or hoofholding.
"Stop."
"You stop-"
"Shut up!"
('Problems in front?')
('Nnnnnooooooooo...... I don't think so.')
('Minotaurs?')
('Can't tell yet.)

>>370592
>Bubba would suppress a sigh that might rattle a window or two.
>Best to just focus on Stream Lark for the moment.
>And hope Naliyna doesn't start a fight.
>Taking in that information, Bubba would slowly nod.
>... Before nearly putting his palm into his hand as Amerose leaped at the heavily armored mare.
>"Why."

"I am very aware of such, yes."
>Bubba neutrally stated, patiently listening to Stream.
"And I took no part in that, evidentially. Otherwise I'd be among the casualties."
>He pressed his lips together, tightening them for a moment.
"I don't control anyone in Razorback, but I can pull some weight to see about at least stopping our hunting of your daughter. As it is, I've already pulled all current job offerings until we can sort this ordeal out."
>He would offer after a moment, returning his gaze.

>>370989
>Emitting a faint, recognizable whine, Blackhorn's weight in your hands decreases by half, the Assault Vanguard's focus drawn to it immediately.
('Sir, does that sound like a.. non-Gravity Elemarental in use?')
('....definitely. No Construct symbiote's actions or features are similar, though that is unusual.')
('Thought so. Only times we've recorded antigravity functions are those bonded to pegasi that've suffered injuries or otherwise become incapable of flight.')
('Three of those, to be precise. Master Clemency, do you have an image or record of the object that became.. what she is now?')
('Hold on, that's a FEMALE?')
>Briskly facehoofing his snout, the leadstallion's regret is palpable as is the wish he hadn't asked the question.
('I hate my job... not going to repeat this again tonight so remember it well: Constructs occur in PAIRS. One is a stallion, the other is a mare. Do you understand that at least?')
('I guess? Sure.')
('Good enough. If a sapient of the opposite sex makes physical contact with a damaged, or whole, still functioning Construct weapon or component, there is a CHANCE that it may bond with said sapient. Despite intensive studies we do not know what the chances are, what conditions increase or decrease said chances, let alone why, when, or how symbiotic bonding occurs.
Trying to answer those questions has driven more than a companeigh's worth of ponies insane in the past decade alone.')
('Which led to us banning that research avenue entirely and now focus solely on Constructs and.. Riftseekers.)
('At minimum we attempt to understand and categorize basic behavioral patterns, which most don't seem to have. At maximum we dispense with that entirely and destroy them.')

>Five moderately heavier mares take a narrow diamond formation around you, which would have been concerning if they didn't feel professional and upright.
>Either that or they could smell burnt feathers.
>Or they knew.
>Receiving a slight, rolling hip motion from the lead, silverine-trimmed helmet swiveling partway, emeraldine eyeslits faintly glowing as the middle aged mare speaks quietly.. at the Construct weapon.
"You are held by excellent hands and surrounded by duty-bound hooves, be calm. We have no quarrel with two-that-have-become-one, nor shall we ask of your secrets."
>Whether she expected a response or Blackhorn had limited capacity to comprehend was, frankly, hard to imagine.
>Head forward, the mare's Impact Seal lance flashes a sequence of earth pony sigils that read out as 'safe paths ahead', though the second meaning was closer to 'we assure your safety'.

>Entering the gateway behind Lont and his assigned Vanguard team, you experience great satisfaction at a significant number of shoulders tightening, heads straightening, spines stiffening, and potential diplomatic blunders rapidly disappearing.
('Shit, last time I felt this fucked over was... huh.')
('That night you landed in the fountain?')
('Kind of, but.. not really? No, this is different.')
('I don't get it. What're you talking about?')
>230 meters ahead, the Rookie stops to, in view of numerous Guardponies, lifting his free arm to make a fist.
('I can't be the only one. Don't you FEEL different being here? Lighter, not dog tired, miserable. Yeah I'm physically tired but I'm weirdly clear headed, more free. This isn't like being in the Fortress at all. Anyone else?')
>Farther behind, an FNG with a bad track record of close encounters and terrible rather, nonexistent reporting behavior frowns, stretching out as the forward Day and Watch Guard settle into a slow march.
('Can't put my finger on it.')
('Then, try?')
('Okay. I feel almost back to normal. Burned out, sure, like he said though I'm clear headed. Can think straight. And.. this is fucked. Anyone else stopped hearing the voices?')
>Immarensely concerned, both the Shieldmare and Assault Vanguard request all nearby ponies to focus on the FNG.
('What voices?')
('Ones I kept hearing in the Fortress. Not hearing as in actually speaking words but pushing to do shit now and then.')
('I jus' thought it was Mama Razorback talkin' to us.')
('Uh, no dude, the actual Fortress used t- nevermind. Thought it was just me or something for a while, but I'm not hearing it now.')
('Starting to worry me but, no, I ain't feeling them either.')
('Jeff, Lont, Clem, you three experienced that sort of thing? Like getting nudged to do something you normally wouldn't, getting talked to without words, or shown ways out of making a stupid decision?')

('Sehr?')
('Yes?')
('Is that part of the human gestalt?')
('As a matter of fact, no. We've been in quite a few Overherds with the humans of Stalliongrad, they've never reported voices or experiencing conceptual-speak before.')
('Then, should we be worried?')
('Doubtful. Then again..')
>Keeping amused eyes on the Spireguard and Minor Champion awaiting their turn to enter, the leadstallion shrugs, mostly to himself.
('I don't know. Make sure the Crystal forces are spread out evenly among our numbers, hopefilly we'll be able to mask their signatures.
Forward ranks: four-hooves per second, this line is long and unicorns are burning out quickly.')

>>371013
"Eh, you might get a one twig fine or something silly. Commarend sucks anyhow, that's why we leave boxes of bombs and mines everywhere instead of staying in the milit-"
>Tossing the berry into her mouth, the tradesmare swallows, beginning to nod, eyes and wings snapping open as she half-shrieks at the air above you.
"TAINTED?! We've been keeping them separated for centuries! They can't even form themselves properly! What the fuck is happening in Basin?! YOU-"
>Eyes glinting angrily, she takes a short flying-hop to land in front of the Construct symbiote, snarling while reaching out to grab it's terrified face with both sets of wingclaws.
"Battalk me, now!"
>Releasing her grasp, the young batmare and batstallion sharing what could theoretically be a pair's dance, excepting the first's aggressive displays, second making quick, efficient yet choppy gestures.
>They weren't shuffling, at least.

>Ending the impromptu interrogation and reaching out to pat the symbiote's faux-tufted ears, the tradesmare's mood is incredibly sour.
"He won't because he can't. Don't understand some of what he's said. And there's no paths to them anymore, those are long gone."
>Quietly kee'ing towards the Construct, the tradesmare transitions to screaming upwards.
"And I'm way ahead of you on that, choosing between flankloads of Constructs and pacifying EVERY SINGLE TAINTED FROM EVERY REGION OF THE MOORS COALESCED INTO ONE GROUP ARE BLOODY REASONABLE OPTIONS-"

>Ears flicking in 'accepted' motions, the symbiote leaps up, taking wing after you with a severe grimace.
[1d6 = 6] <???
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]

>>371073
>>371071
>A sense of déjà vu came over Lont as he stepped out of the portal, here he was again. Travelling through the Moors, again. The destination being the Arena, again. To slay a hideously dangerous creature, again.
>Even though it won't bleed in the traditional sense it will still die this night, that he was sure of.

>With his escort of mares in formation he acknowledged them with a thought, he wasn't adapt at this whole Overherd business but he visualized very hard on patting the mares on their helmeted heads as a sign he was thankful for the extra security.
>Looking away from the marching army of humans and ponies the winged Operator glared into the surrounding Moors, no harm in adding his own sight to watch out for threats.
[1d6 = 4] >E.Scouting
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] >Thermal
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] >H.E

>>371078
>Hearing his named called the Operators wings flicked as he tilted his head, he had trouble remembering the FNG calling out to him, Jeff and Clem.
(I...)
>Confusion was writ across his hidden face.
('I honestly do not know what you're saying. Maybe I have heard voices but since I have been so busy coming and going they have not registered to me. Can you give me an example?')

>>371084
>Glancing up, Sunny realised it would have been easier to catch a cloud and ride it out of the area.
>Oh well.
>She caught sight of the batstruct and examined the damage it had taken from stepping on a bug.
>It was making a grimace, emulating pain expression, the only reason it could have for that kind of display when it seemingly lack one earlier is an unspoken request for help. Was the acid still eating away at it or was it simply missing the loss of material? She couldn't be sure until she examined it more closely.

[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] < B.Perception
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6 = 5] < Apprentice Alchemist
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] < Junior Constructs
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]

>Sunny doubted her concoction would repair it, it aided organic healing, but perhaps it might be able to use the raw material and energy to replace the matter it had lost, which she supposed served the same purpose.
"How severe is the damage? What sort of material would you require for full self-repair?"

[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]