/mlpol/ - My Little Politics

>>206776 →
"Thank you."
>Snagging another of the oatmeal bars, Mercy pokes your hand with a feather, putting it on Boris' head, presumably for safe keeping.
>Facing the Spirit Walker, Boris holds his left hand up, the two returning to their game.
"Now for the honor of whom rearranges the Alchemy Lab. I have discovered where Hodch keeps his collection of cigar boxes."
"Fina.. lly!"
[1d6 = 5]
<Mercy
[1d6 = 2]
<Boris

>>206803 →
>Reaching up to remove the wrapped bar and tossing it next to Mercy in the back seat, the Belligerent slowly tilts his head.
"Cloudsdale's financial situation is grim at the moment, they could not afford to hire an assassin, agent, or one moderately ranked marecenary. Their city council would immediately lose all honor and relations with Gozka should they be caught doing either."
>Blue eyes narrowing briefly, the Golem affects a complimaretary tone.
"Not that they would be able to find Miss Mercy without severe interference."

>Eyeing the TacPad's map once again, Jeff finds the crypt's location to be presumably close enough to see, though Sunny in her uncomfortable seated position catches a large amount of movement and scores of ancient spark lamps through the perpetual fog.
>Slowing the Dagor down to a crawl, a team of roughly thirty earth ponies, mostly brown, a couple black, and a single dull blood red, were busily constructing the road ahead.
>On the sides, several giant stacks of stones were being cut down to size or compressed by psions into correct shapes, while an impressively large team of Arcane Blades were holding position on the outsides.
>The blood red stallion turns away from analyzing the pathway ahead, setting a stack of large maps off on a stone and quietly trotting up.
>Raising an eyebrow, the familiar Tartarus Isle engineer glances from Jeff to Sunny, then lifts his shoulders tiredly.
"So you're the exploration team? Huh, figured you'd bring a couple of your own Blades with. Well, not my business. If you're looking to get into the crypt we've managed to partially stabilize the north and western under-foundations. It's no longer sinking and I don't think anything is underwater but we've been ordered to stay out until."

>>203571 →
>Raidor's eyes instantly note one of the Empire's foremost traders, long thought deceased, or much less likely missing, the scar covered fuchsia mare sitting back on her low, comfortable looking couch with a steaming glare.
"A delivery? ..her weird alchemy stuff again. Her Mareguards know better than to do that! They were probably placing bets to see which one of you gets dragged off into some mare's tent or house first. Next time I go there I'm gonna buck some heads in, stupid hormone ridden filles-"
>Ears flattening momentarily, the oldest Remostrine daughter shakes her head, eyes squinting while a forehoof pokes at her chin thoughtfully.
"Your guess is probably better than mine.. I kinda remember Manehattan used to have lots of seals, well, up until all of them disappeared before the Dynasty fell apart. Let's see, I was born about 28,958 or so? Can't exactly remember dates perfectly. Um, the year after I was born the Conclaves made one last Call To Hooves, so the Dynasty fractured in the late 28,940's or early 28,950's.. Before my time really, it's somewhere around then as far as I can tell. But-"
>Reaching down to lift a gold stamped sheet covered in official Dragon Fang markings, the Captain quickly realized it was an official notice-of-sale from the Dragonspine Mountains, but not from the Mining Company or its affiliates, the trader frowning heavily.
"This got sent to me last week. It's from a group called the 'Free Traders Guild' in a just built little town way called Still Peak in the Northern Dragonspines. A pony that just got hired went there after dusk tonight and she swore up and down that the trader was a seal, which means a Mountain Seal. I really don't have any idea on why, sorry."

>>207355 →
>Placing the sheet down, Naliyna's eyebrows raise in curiosity, giving a wide smile and an encouraging nod.
"Can't believe you don't remember my name Ivan, you've been here a while. I'm Naliyna, Razorback's only trader and the one with a really horrible memory, but also-"
>Glaring down at the piles of paperwork in front of her, the Crystal mare's eyes sharpen with pure hatred, muttering darkly.
"Also the only one that takes care of THIS crap. In any case-"
>Expression resetting back to friendly, the trader lifts her shoulders.
"I can rebuild and make new crystalline stuff, or if you need those battery things replaced I've gotten really good at it, but I can do armor pretty easily now too. What all do you need done?"

>>207802 →
>>207804 →

>Upon seeing the Construct -finally- die, Astral slumped in Mallia grasp, a ragged sigh escaping her.
"We deed eet."
>She said with some cheer despite being in tired agony all over.
"Is the Clinic safe?"

>>207804 →
>>207802 →
>Pareidolia abruptly stops as the multiple detonations of C4 tear the Construct's hull open before he steadies his rifle, continuing to aim at the remains.
>He cautiously advances as close as the heat will allow him to while peering into the fluid plasma pouring out.

"From orbit? You're certain?"

>He turns to look back towards the Library and the smoldering imprint of a large fist before facing the Construct wreck again.

[Build up of energy, change in form, effective form of asset denial. Continue generating heat until your mechano-fluid changes to plasma while gaining more energy to fight off combatants and destroy evidence in the process.]

"Their contingency measures to prevent study are extremely efficient. End stages multiplied combat effectiveness while simultaneously destroying evidence. I do not know how or why their mothership would jam this model from orbit, but without samples of active fluid I have no working theories."

>He hears the Stormtrooper's announcement over the radio and deactivates his stealth suit, but keeps his rifle raised.

*"Krinza or anyone capable, requesting you make your way to the burn site near the Pagoda with as much water as you can bring. It needs to be extinguished and removed."*

[Valuable sample data lost, and the Lab's condition is unknown-]

>His head raises slightly upon hearing a familiar voice shrieking in anger instead of mirth.

[How did she get down to the Lab? I was... or did she utilize some sort of time manipulation?]

>Deciding not to answer for the moment, he focuses back on the hull with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

[Was 'dead' once. Need to confirm inactivity of internal fluid.]

>>207843
>Additionally, he asks:

*"Requesting confirmation of missile detonation site and status of assets outside the Clinic."*

>>207687 →
"If there were a tree large enough to climb doing so would greatly increase the risk of being detected by these.. Constructs."
>Tearing a large section of melted armor plating free and holding it in front of the headlights, Wild Ride makes an irritated electronic noise.
"Analysis: ocean water is heavily salinated with a large number of reflective minerals present; this should provide some protection against sensors equal to or greater than mine. The additional qualities of ash and debris may mitigate long range scans, however my biocore emits large amounts of heat and numerous wavelengths of multiple energy types. I cannot outrun the incoming vessel nor do I have the armaments, let alone armor, to withstand even basic weaponry."
>Removing a large handful of steel harpoons, the mechanical tendrils in view begin neatly slicing off sections with thin, humming shafts of red light before disappearing off screen, the Eldritch Android's tone flattening.
"One implement repaired, I should be able to restore some of my motivator functions now. ..multiple projected issues detected, recalculating.. completed. Natilda, I have approximately enough time to complete three of the following five tasks: reinforce my chest cabin to function approximately two-hundred meters below sea level and construct a secondary oxygen tank, repair one shoulder cabin for additional storage and potential underwater repair, attempt to restore the pilot cabin, or modify my personal weapon for additional range and armor penetration. Please advise."
[1d6 = 1]
<Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+4 = 8]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair: Repair Functions
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #7

>>207632 →
>Poking Void Crasher's warm snout, the sleeping colt shifts about comfortably, murmuring something too slurred to pick out what it was.
>He'd definitely felt it, and would likely remember that after waking up.
>Continuing to rub the colt's soft belly, the Champion entire patch of flora tips to one side, then the other, making a noise akin to a snort.
"The gods and goddesses of the Ethereal Plane have long slept, they no longer grace us with their presences. Unlike them the Five Alicorns are living beings despite their unknown measures to regenerate from physical death with improved capabilities and capacities. It is an honor to be graced by Princess Cadence's presence when you wish. I envy this though I hold no hostility towards you."
>Gazing down to Tacit, once more sleeping calmly, the Golem rumbles for several moments, the bucket shaped head shaking back and forth.
"Your assertion is half correct. Along with millions of Ethereal Golems, Moss-Wisps, Acoyltes, and others were designed, built, tested, and deployed to fulfill specific functions. Mood and emotion were not inherent for each of us, but we were allowed to learn them. Few did. This is.. new to me."
>Lifting her Protoform covered hoof and making an amusing 'bleugh' sound, Shattered Glacier waves it towards the wrecked Outrider.
"The Champ's right. Ethereals aren't like Constructs or your machines, they can change over time but the one in question learns on their own volition. I've seen 'em built, they're basically like a full set of armor and accompanying weaponry, only doing what they're told 'til they reach a certain rank."
>Wiping off some of the hardening substance, the Shell turns her head towards the south, then back at the motorcycle with a small grin.
"I've met N'Bruka a few times, got a perfect memory but a little too eager to please, hardly gets a chance to wander around and see what's changed since she was on Tallus last. Too bad she didn't get to watch our little endeavor, that'd be a real chunk of history for her to share!"
>Belregard tersely rumbles at Glacier, whom turns to him with a mareish glare, pointing her hoof accusingly.
"Don't you dare start this again Champ, you know I'm right and it'd damn well show your pain-in-my-flank kin how badly the-"
"Lord Tacit's condition is my primary concern. All else including N'Bruka's eventual regaling of your efforts in dealing with the criminal Ward's flesh golems throughout these past rotations are tertiary."
"Fiiiiiiiine. We'll get him taken care, but THEN I'm gonna argue with you 'til I win, got it?"
"Your understanding is acceptable."
"All right then, come along you two. Your machine will be safe here Lont, I've already told the Spire's Unicorn Guard to send it to Razorback if they get a chance."
>The Shell turns about, skipping towards the Spire's southern translocation matrice, Champion Belregard lumbering towards it while dropping his voice low in your direction.
"It is perplexing to encounter yet another immortal pony whom is capable of maintaining such unfathomably high spirits given the dire circumstances of this rotation."

>Waiting in the center for you and the Champion to step on, Glacier clicks the tip of her Protoform-covered hoof on a tiny indent.
>Delving through a near-instant vortex of many crystalline shades, the half-dome you find yourself in was a faithful copy of the Changelings Hive's third ring:
>Quartets of Empire travel tents clustered around large cooking stations being tended to by a mixture of unusually transparent colored Crystal ponies, the rarely seen Conclavists simply looking up curiously, then returning to their work.
>Large cots covered in piles of green grass, straw, and hay were interspersed between the tents along with large black crates, and in the center was a giant.. pillow fort?
>Aromas of freshly baked Empire corn, mixed vegetable stir fries, hay, chocolate, maremilk, chocolate maremilk, and hot Empire crystal assault your nostrils, a calm, quiet hum resonating in the air.

"Damn, first time I've been hungry in decades.."
>Tongue sticking out for a moment, the Crystalline Shell snickers, then skids towards the pillow fort, calling over her shoulder.
"They're getting ready for midnight lunch so go ahead and grab what you want, just don't ask them anything or you'll get unicorn treatment. I'll get Elezith's mom, she'll want to treat him first."

>>207802 →
>>207804 →
>Cheto jots the pony's description.
(I'll have to know who she is if anything like this happens again. Although from her armor and species of pony, there's only two possible candidates, and she explicitly said the other one's name. It seems I have dumped water on Kitang, if my logic is sound.)
>Nodding, he runs towards the Construct.
>That is until it catches fire and breaks down in front of his eyes.
(Oh. Well that seems to be the end of that thing. Whew. That thing is sure heating harder than a grill during a Sunday asado.)

>He holsters his Steyr inside his jacket, putting his safety on, His face a mix of relief and confusion.
>He turn towards the direction of the fountain now, walking at a normal pace to it.
(Fill water can and go back to the Clinic. The Prench Pony will surely be startled by all the noise outside, so try to appear as non-hostile as possible.)

>He makes sure to see how Kitang and Nalinya are doing as he walks towards the fountain.
(I'll give her the cloak later. Hopefully she doesn't mind that I left her naked.)
[1d6 = 3]
<U. Perception

>>207352 →
>Golden sat down onto his haunches and laid his back against the rocks hard rough surface, hooves rubbing both temples in thought.
"Most likely yes, but I am hoping this instance we're wrong."

>With a sideways glance he stared at the Chitqu, whom was curled into a vibrating ball of fluff on the Witchers' shoulder.
"I would need time to do that and I do not believe that is a good idea, if I summoned again and set my spectral upon the Construct it will no doubt call for reinforcements. And I do not want to know what it can call in as back up."
>Closing his eyes the old Unicorns' horn lit up.
"I need more information to decide on what to do."

>>207360 →
>Hand in front of his face, Spruce could see right through, apart from a vague outline he was invisible.
>This place was truly crazy.

>Golden Horn did not open his eyes, still concentrating on whatever he was conjuring.
"You may try Spruce however I like how deep I am currently in the Underdark."
>He breathed, what he was doing must be a bit of a strain on him.
"Throw a rock behind it then, there are plenty lying around in hooves reach. Can't do projection sadly, not much of a prankster. And please no, let us try other options before we commit to fighting it, yes I am scared of one floating ball before you ask."
>Spruce felt something plop onto his shoulder, looking he saw it was the Chitqu waggling its tiny finger at him. Again very human of it.
>Certainly is coming off as a smartass.

>A flash of bright yellow burst from Goldens' horn and swept across both the humans and beyond their cover, an aura materializing around the Chitqu also.
"Let us see if we can get away from it without using our little friend as bait."
[1d6+2 = 6]
>B.Arcane Awareness
[1d6+2 = 5]

Turns until upon position: 3

>>207829
>With the final BOOSH determining the Construct's demise, Malli's eyes lightly squint as the photo-visor of her helmet works to mitigate the bright flash right after her shot.
>She shifts herself infront of Astral to shield her from a probably plasma explosion of a bigger magnitude almost immediately, going as far as wrapping an arm around the elk and holding her tightly as her gaze remains on the now flaming ball of hatred and destruction.
>Mallia's glance twitches to keep track of the shrapnel and fragments that break/melt off the sphere before it slumps into a flaming heap of metals and strange liquid.

>The Enginseer at first couldn't believe it. She took a second to straighten up and lower her rifle...
>But then, upon hearing the radio chatter confirming 'Target Neutralized', and Astral's words. She turned her glance from it, to the predelk. And began to giggle.

"Hehehhaha! Victory, as expected!"

>She tightly gave the predelk a triumphant, encouraging little squeeze with her armored arm, before lowering her weapon and turning to face them fully.
>Her face was not visible behind the black visor, but her tone quite was cheerful.

"Yes. The missile was destroyed in mid-air, it never touched the clinic, though it may have damaged some electronics..."

>>207802 →
>The Enginseer paused, visibly twitching her head to one side slightly, before turning more towards the shrieking mare, that was apparently bossing Chisan around.
>And talking about 'promoting him again'.
>Now that really made her stare in disbelief, furrowing her brow as she SLOWLY connects the dots, then slowly turned back to Poinsettia with a slow sigh.

"We'll see how they're doing now. I'll carry you there..."

>She gives her rifle one last hug with one arm, followed by a brief prayer to the Machine Spirit to thank it for being so effective. Even in it's Mars Standard pattern, it had performed excellently and she was very proud of it.

(Never ever ever EVER dishearten yourself again, you're WONDERFUL; praise be to you, Machine Spirit. Praise the Omnissiah for having given us the strength to smite our enemy.)

>Then, Mallia lifts it up and holsters it on her back by the strap, securing it next to her backpack as she finally turned to face Astral.

"C-come on,"

>She gently grabs Astral's fetlocks and brings them around her neck, urging her to hold on as she smiled behind her helmet, with a soft, sweet tone in her voice.

"Hold on tight, I'll get you to your friends."

>Then, she lightly pushes herself up, just enough to get Astral's rump off the ground so she can shift her mechadendrite and slither it beneath them, so as to mitigate their weight with it, while an arm wraps around their chest, and the other close to their lower back. Hugging the Predelk and pushing them against their chest as she goes to lift them with her whole upper body.

"HHh-! Equines are heavy...!"
>Said captain obvious, as they slooowly but surely stood up with the pained Astral Poinsettia leaned against their chest, coiling their mechadendrite in a sort of cradling position to better stabilize the elk as she lifts them up.
>Not the most comfortable thing ever to have a metallic, cold strut down there but it helps.

"Let me know if this hurts you, I'm trying to be gentle, I swear."

>She said, as she grunts from the strain of having to lift 150 pounds of Elk and other things on her back, AND her armor, at once.
>But she doesn't back down from it. And soon, with Astral leaned against her chest and cradled in her arms, she begins the slow walk back towards the Clinic.

>She mostly ignored the burning Construct as others attended to staring at it, as her objective was to see it dead -- and so it became. She had learned much thus far, anyways

>At the same time, her glance wandered. And she issued commands to her Auspex once more.
>She forwarded the request to datavault the samples of Trinary they had previously detected, for further study once they had the means to decode it.
>Then she sent the signal to commence another scan as they passed by the wreckage, pointing the Auspex's focus on the burning liquid and whatever circuitry was left.
>Tagging everything that wasn't in a danger zone for salvaging purposes, if any at all.
>Uttering the Litany of Finding to honor her Auspex as it performs the action.

(All Salvage must be recovered and identified, for the Omnissiah. Holy Machine Spirit, guide me towards the start to my great Quest for Knowledge!)

[1d6+1 = 7]
<B. Tech-Use: Litany of Finding
[1d6+1 = 7]

[1d6+2 = 8]
<CQ. Auspex Scan: Post-Battle Scan report, Salvage protocols.

[1d6+1 = 2]
<B. Perception + Preysense: Salvage spotting
[1d6 = 2]

>Her glance sometimes pauses and observes the armored figure that was Pareidolia, admiring their armor and narrowing their eyes as she tried to get a feel for if she should be worried or not.

(He doesn't look Imperial; I don't recognize the design. What about the Machine Spirit?..)
(So confusing...)

>>207903
>>207352 →

>Spruce clutches his rifle tightly, glancing at the rock and muttering silently to himself, mulling over his options.
>So, if we teleported a rock... Perhaps it would be distracted?
>Well, it gives us a chance.
>Or...
"Hey, Golden. What if we teleported the Chiqtu a distance away? He's small enough to sneak around surely and take the orbs attention safer than the rest of us possibly? Or we could do a rock and if it turns all make a break for it..."
>That last option he sounds uncertain of though.
>As golden horn casts his next spell however, he raises an eyebrow curiously.
"... What are you doing?"
>He asks, but readies himself for a possible fight.

[1d6 = 2]
B. Ambush
[1d6 = 6]

>>207903
>Adon mulls over Golden Horn's decision as it seems trying to conjure another summon would make the situation worse.
>Guess that idea's out of the window.
>He'd hate to have to resort to using the chiqtu as bait. That'll literally be their desperation plan.
"Hmm..."
>>207593 →
>He listens in on Spruce's idea and Golden's add-in.
>There's plenty of them lying next to them.
>What can hurt throwing a rock to distract it.
"I'll throw a rock, why not."
>The Witcher finds a good-sized stone and aims it well past the construct coming toward them. But close enough that it will attract its attention.
>It was a lot nicer to throw, now that the chiqtu switched to Spruce's shoulder.
[1d6+3 = 4]
<B.Assault: Throw
[1d6+3 = 9]

[1d6+3 = 7]
<Heavy Stance
[1d6+3 = 6]

>Caught between the realm of a Euclid reality warper or an angry temporal assignment occultist, at least you thought so, it was definitely one of the [REDACTED] class Anon's stasis fields.
>For you can't even remember how long you find yourself staring at the Clinic's awfully drab ceiling, there wasn't even a sense of pain, nausea, or disorientation, let alone questionable boredom.

>That is, until Hodch's face peers into the stasis oval, a large Changeling skull plate floating over his head, the reservist's mental voice exhausted.
(Doctor Novus. It has been a while, and you have definitely seen much better days. Allow me to cut straight to the point: your physical body is essentially destroyed, so unless you want to spend a year or so in recovery, I-)
>Affecting a moderately annoyed look, the Starborn's head turns right, then swivels back to smile conspiratorially.
(Hm. Normally I would not even consider this option, but time is running out and Razorback has suffered enough losses. So, this is my offer: how would you like to do that one thing? You know which one. There are a number of host bodies available, ones which should.. 'fit' you. I need an answer, and quickly.)

>>208010

>For Novus, the hour(s?) passed quite slowly as he stared up at the ceiling of the clinic, examining the same spot on the rather drab, white, drywall ceiling.
>To make it worse that he couldnt move, his horribly burned, scarred, disfigured, broken, and damaged body was ever so slightly itchy, but being unable to move to scratch it.
>Not that he would be able to anyways, but being acutely aware of time passing was driving him insane.
>Eventually, with his panic attack subsiding he eventually just grew bored of staring at the ceiling.
>The lighting changed at some point, stocking a burning desire to know what was happening but eventually he just resorted to staring at the same patch of ceiling he was forced to keep his eyes on.
>OH MY GOD A PONY.
>Novus' excitement at the simple appearance of the doctor brought a small burst of joy to his heart.
(Oh Gods finally something! You know, you could really do with installing TV's or stripper poles or even some old retired ponies playing chess!)
>He mentally cleared his throat though, and adjusted himself.
(Right. I certainly don't want to be in physical therapy for the next year and some change so, right.)
>He mentally sighs.
(Unicorn. I need to be a unicorn so I can continue to have fine manipulation for tasks, plus, exploring your magics sounds like an interesting proposition for a human.)

>207804
>Zhun turns around after hauling ass from the Construct to see it fall over and burst into flames
>He sets his gun on the side of his hip and still gets a good look at the Construct corpse
>The gun gets set on safety and slung over his shoulder after hearing that one officer debrief on the thing
>He lets out a sigh before turning around to where the Clinic is
"Ok..."
>Needed to see if it was safe or was damaged
>Last thing he does is unhinge his box mag and count the bullets remaining, seeing if he needs to make a stop by the armory

>>207627 →
(Thank you Lord Slaanesh, one day I hope to emulate your carnal powers.)
>Neutrally watching Venous behind the lenses of his gas mask, the Death Cultist shrugs while keeping pace after her.
>And definitely not touching himself out of boredom.

>Surveying the sparse night life in slowly growing depression, Corsen nonetheless nods to each pony he passed, wanting to maintain a minimum level of contact.
>Pensively gazing at the happy couples and herds, he frowns at each one, lost in the strange realities of the new, mostly tame world he'd found himself in.
(Is that what Lady Whell would experience with a normal life? ..am I a bad influence on her? No, fuck off Tzeentch, you are not welcome here.)
>Shaking his head quickly at the thought and banishing it for the next few days, Corsen eyes the distant Night Guards, feeling a small amount of pride at their presence.
>Slowing his pace at realizing the familiar location and ignoring the Honor Guard for a few moments, he rolls his shoulders, grinning under the mask, then stops suddenly, blinking at the harsh reality.
(Good times. I should find flowers she likes and.. ..I miss Tusk's rants. Honor this, pride that, accept nothing less than success, stay out of the damned brothels, leave the captives alive so they fight harder next time, don't paint the Bolter Bitches..)
>Tilting his head up to stare at the moon for a few moments, Corsen leaves the melancholy behind, muttering a quiet, hard prayer in his wake for the noble Khornate warrior.

>Leaving a comfortable distance between him and Venous at the railing, the cultist places both hands on it, staring down towards the lone island in silence for a bit.
"Direct offensive is out of the question. Too difficult to reach, too open, likely hardened, personal guards, unknown layout, hidden rooms, long killing hallways, traps. And of course, magic everywhere."
>Flipping the NightVis off and storing it in a front pocket, he lifts the mask up onto the top of his head, judging the distance and whatever defensive details he could pick out.
(Almost like hitting the idiot Governor-Militant's mansion in the mountains.. maybe even worse. It was always the damned psykers and sorcerers that caused the most damage to us, not even the Khorne-damned artillery was a tenth their threat.)
[1d6 = 2]
<B.Perception
[1d6 = 1]

"I take it that the Day Guard and Honor Guard have not assaulted this.. Myndalin's residence due to internal conflicts, a civil war, politics, or coin being involved. You obviously know much more than you can say aloud so only state what I need to know."
>Stroking the mask covering his chin for a few moments, the Deathseeker is reminded of something completely evil, peering over to Venous out of his left eye and snorting deviously.
"What about an indirect assault?"

>>206803 →
>Jeff looks over at Sunny suspiciously for a short second.
"Hold up. How do they know that- eh, nevermind. Yeah, I'd takes Five's bits. Hell I'm ready to not deal with them any more, for free. Hmm... no they're correct. In the grand scheme of things, humans will probably be all gone within a generation or two. You wanna know why? There are two-hundred and forty-six humans in Razorback. Less than ten of them are women."
>The Nightblade sighs as he keeps his eyes on the road.
>Of course he doesn't mention his and Belltower's little weird hybrid babies, on the way, though.
"We could never reproduce enough to keep up a next generation. We'll die out on our own eventually. Pretty depressing, right? Maybe it's ultimately for the best. Humans really don't belong here, on Tallus, I think."
>He rolls his eyes and blows a raspberry, at Sunny's next part.
"Nine should just concede to Five. Give me a quarter million, and I won't even THINK of the Councilerge ever again. Why do you refer to them by numbers? Don't know their real identities?"
>He should look over the notes that Primal Psion gave him later on and try to figure out who this Five and Nine are. Maybe he can make some sort of deal between both of them. Might be a way to lessen hostilities against Razorback.
>Jeff looks back over at Sunny in considerable thought. He should try that method some time.
"Really now? Sounds like that takes some considerable will power to keep your own thoughts safe from yourself."

>>207812
>As they close in on their location Jeff notices the path becomes considerably illuminated, and other than sleeping batponies start appearing.
>It was the Tartarus Engineering crew almost finishing up the path. He slows down to almost a stop as who he guesses is the foreman approaches the Dagor.
"Hello, there. Yeah, that's us. You've all been doing a great job, so far, restoring the path. Took us no time to get here. Is Tartarus Isle handling most of the restorations in the Moors?"
>Jeff smiles at hearing the crypt is no long half-flooded. He was hoping they wouldn't have to get too wet.
"Ah, it was slowly sinking. Thanks for stabilizing it for us. Other than structural integrity, are there any other problems you've come across with it? Like, weird stuff?"

>>208060
"Don't be so sure about that. Your people continue to appear and you wouldn't be the first otherworldly species to settle on Tallus... Nor the last."
>She snickered.
"Though majority stallion herds might be a problem in the short term."
>Returning his raspberry with her own, Sunny shrugged.
"Nope, closely guarded secrets, their identities. Stops them from being susceptible to sudden and unfortunate 'accidents' that might be beneficial for their opposition... Or their underlings. Heavens know getting caught snooping after that information can make you prone to experiencing the same 'accidents'."
>The mare averted her gaze quickly and adopted a perfectly neutral and not in any way embarrassed expression.
"Not as much as you might think, it's less about not thinking of what you want to keep hidden and more about thinking of something else and making that thought all consuming. Like a decoy. I may or may not have spent the two weeks prior to that contract indulging a deep, some might say obsessive, interest in the profession of maidery. I was very in-character as a result. The goal isn't to fool others, but to fool yourself."
>She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, settling her forelegs against herself.
"However... It is possible they knew, and simply allowed me to carry out my tasks. The information I managed to gather was more or less harmless anyway... Inter-faction espionage, you can't keep it straight in your head."
>If that were the case, she might very well have been duped into providing free maid service for a time. Damn it all.

>>208057
"Well that's good news for some, but if experience has taught me anything, good news never lasts for long. If it does, well at least you'll be pleasantly surprised."
>As they approached the ruins, Sunny sat up a little straighter, narrowing her eye as she attempted to peer through the layers of fog shrouding everything, but relied more on her ears, perking them forwards and mentally screening out the chatter around her.
>She didn't think she'd see or hear anything threatening just yet, given that the construction ponies were more or less peacefully doing their work.
>It never hurt to be on alert.

[1d6+3 = 9]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 9]

>The mare had significant doubts about her efficacy here, hopefully Mercy's presence would be enough.
>It was at this moment Sunny realised she'd run out of ration bar to nibble on.
>Sadness.

>>205219 →
>Eyeing Snakebite over thoroughly, in a professional manner at least, the lead healer nods in satisfaction.
"Complete vacuum seal of this room, excellent. Sterilization procedures may not be necessary though I would advise limited contact with other humans, besides yourself of course."
"No arrhythmia or internal organ tremors. I put forth the theory this human and the others were flash boiled in extreme high heat and humidity. I believe the incident resulting in these injuries occurred between twenty to thirty seconds."
"No errant arterial clotting detected. Agreed."
"Muscular twitches, minor. There is some nervous system activity remaining but no unusual movements otherwise. I concur with this theory."
>Remaining mostly silent, the fourth and fifth mares stare at each other, then at Carlos, starting and finishing the others' sentences rapidly.
"We have seen this-"
"Condition twice before."
"There is an unintended benefit to such rapid physical damage to the musculature-"
"And skeleton in that he should be able to recover much quicker if re-acclimated-"
"To functional condition before physical trauma-"
"Has time to neurologically 'set up' so-"
"To-"
"Speak."
>Raising an eyebrow at the twins, the leader healer lifts her shoulders, visibly conceding the point.
"He will need selectively aggressive pain management but we will not have the opportunity to do so ourselves. Nova Flicker is on record as having skill with such fine regeneration demands, so I would recommend keeping her on standby at all times. We have enough time to complete full surgery before returning, so no exploration unless requested. Understood?"
"Yes-"
"Ma'am."

>The second mare reaches out with a dull purple glow off her horn, carefully grasping the suction hose with a short, curious glance, readily prepared for using it.
"Interesting. All Combat Medic unicorns are trained to perform a spell similar to these specifics. Human technology is much less.. drastic than I thought it would be, yet more efficient in application."
>Pulling the mirror-like creation about, both of Snakebite's forearms were as previously stated: ulna and radius shattered close to the wrist, 11 microfractures left, 10 right, 5 fracture left, 6 right.
>Marking the closest possible lines for infusion, Carlos noted the humerus of each was likewise fractured above the elbow in a greenstick pattern orienting upwards, indicating quick, violent trauma.

"We have enough kanpri for this with four strips, five bands, and a bundle of strands in reserve. The quartzine is no issu-"
>Gazing over at the few kanpri strands, strips, and bands, the lead mare frowns towards the remaining quartzine cubes, a forehoof lifting to rub her nose.
"..I see, thank you. Excellent news mares: the Medical Wing is back to operational capacity. Doctor Carlos, I must ask you to perform your incisions on Snakebite, we shall do what we can before quartzine infusion, however, we have received new orders: all unused supplies are now designated for use on surviving Starborn, and I do not think we will be able to return for at least two weeks. Gale Ironmane may remain here for as long as she desires, but Doctor Heartbreak and the rest of us must leave within the hour, patients are.. rather, have been piling up since the Barracks fires were put out. Ready up."
>Flexing her jaw grimly, the lead mare's nose twitches, eyeing the other four, their horns alighting in unison.
"Primary task: fracture stabilization. Secondary task: marrow relocation. Third task: band and strand fractures. Fourth task: avoid artery damage and relocation. Fifth task: quartzine infusion, but more carefully this time. the same applies to the forearms, after this is completed we must leave immediately."
>Mentally linking together, each of the five focus their energies on the set aside kanpri, molding the individual pieces and delving them into the incisions, quickly followed by cold-molten quartzine.
[1d6+4 = 8]
<M.Casting: Metalchemical Infusion
[1d6+4 = 7]

[1d6+4 = 6]

[1d6+4 = 9]

[1d6+4 = 7]
<M.Casting: Metalchemical Infusion
[1d6+4 = 6]

[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+4 = 8]

[1d6+5 = 6]
<M.Casting: Metalchemical Infusion
[1d6+5 = 11]

[1d6+5 = 6]

[1d6+5 = 10]

[1d6+5 = 9]
<M.Casting: Metalchemical Infusion
[1d6+5 = 11]

[1d6+5 = 6]

[1d6+5 = 9]

[1d6+6 = 8]
<M.Casting:
[1d6+6 = 9]

[1d6+6 = 10]

[1d6+6 = 12]

>>207804 →
>>207802 →
>With the cheesebot finally finished and melting into some shitty gas station cheese melt, Jamal shoots his last round straight in the air in celebration.
"We fucked him up! Bitch ain't comin back from that!"
>He swaps over to a fresh mag and strolls off back towards the mess hall, leaving everyone else to deal with the aftermath.
>After remembering to holster his new gat again, Jamal makes his way to the supposedly cursed vending machine and puts another $5 bucks in it for some Mango Fanta™.
>While waiting for it to dispense the most criminally underrated drank of all time, He takes his bag of trade rings back out and actually bothers to see if the bag has anything else printed on it.
>It might even say just what the fuck they're supposed to be for.

>>206376 →
>The freshly re-conjured elk calf image sits enraptured through Roust's story time, nodding its head at appropriate times.
"Well shit, sounds like you've been busy. I haven't done much today but drive around and abandon, kill, or almost kill every single person who went with me through my horrible decisions!"
>Kraut tries to keep his tone even, but all the barely suppressed self anger and loathing start getting through near the end.
>The fawn image shakes his head and sighs before shrugging.
"Anyways! Anyways, I'd tell you to go ahead and hop up for a nap, but I don't think a pulverized body in stasis would make the best bed buddy."
>A few moments pass before Kraut finishes digesting what Roust got involved with in Stalliongrad.
"Huh, a new dynasty and a great evacuation. Hopefully Dante hasn't brought 'too' much shit on himself now."

>>207843
>>207844
>Returning to standard operating procedures, the Spiral A.I. gives you an offended stare accompanied by forelegs folded across the barrel.
"Sir, I have multiple heuristic confirmations that the mass spectrum jamming was preventing the dispatched Construct's transmissions. For right now I'll call it the Zero Discrimination Protocol, but there's something I want to show you later in a secure Faraday environment."
>Barely getting within 30M of the quickly deteriorating wreckage, the black sapphirine helmet was barely able to prevent glare, the A.I. makes a troubled head shake.
"I have two functional theories on your first two questions, sir. Your findings on the Crystal Empire and what led to the long term isolation were sparse, however, I've managed to extrapolate some useful information from this Naliyna Remostrine, and combined it with the transmission from the unknown ultra-tech human. The first one is this: the specific Construct we are looking at is at minimum one thousand years past serviceable utility and would no longer be of use in a modern context. The second is the same as the first except for being used as expendable shock troopers. It is clearly a highly effective short and medium ranged model intended for brute force applications, by my third and fourth theories revolve around ten to fifty mixed models tactics.. in massive scale medieval styled micro-managed formations."
>Frowning quickly, the A.I. places a comparison of armaments and hull strength between the Scout/Sentry Hybrid, then the unknown on display.
"Third theory: I think but cannot directly confirm that the Construct encountered in 'Skykeep' was an experiment to improve cognitive mass tactical efficiency for mixed unit responsiveness. While startling, and effective given your injury reports of the unknown blind pegasi, the hybrid had roughly ten percent the durability and less than five percent the extended lethality of this model. Unfortunately I don't have enough data to extrapolate more, but.."
>Forehooves tapping together hesitantly, the A.I. flashes a series of encrypted Committee scenarios indicating a worst case threat that it desperately wanted, and needed, to understand.
"At the risk of sounding alarmist and fatalist at the same time, my fourth theory is this: we're both wrong sir. These constructs don't 'think' in terms of purely mechanical or biological. I don't believe that they even think. The first unit you encountered was capable of acting without communication, and when it reached a point where you would think you would be 'losing', it implement modifications and improvements based on a hivemind progression scale that combined instantaneous heuristic organic learning. At least, up to to a point that you could not record. This one demonstrated a perfectly machine-based disregard for extreme sustained damage, and when brutally efficient esoteric energy weaponry failed or was destroyed it seemed to be acting on a known effective basis of this world's close combat weaponry, particularly that halberd which could be used to deal with soft, hard, and armored targets. To put this lightly: you might as well be kicking a giant hornet nest and expecting all of the occupants to ignore the invitation to sting, sir."

>Receiving a brief, static-laden noise of curiosity from the blacksmith, a yellow-black rift forms between you and the burning Construct, Krinza standing on three legs, the left hoof carrying the eerie, temporally modified power crystal upwards.
>Staring ahead for a few moments, then glancing back at you, clearly unimpressed, the unicorn stallion's horn sparks a dense blue cloud over the remains, showering the plasma-ignited hull as a large watery spear forms, delivering it into the wreckage.
"Hmph. To quote a certain aggravating 'mare': I touched Celestia's wrath and felt naught but warmth, for her heat was quenched in knowledge."
[1d6+10 = 16]
<Auto-Fire Resist
[1d6+7 = 10]
<E.Elemental Lance: Waterfang
[1d6+7 = 11]

[1d6+7 = 9]

[1d6+9 = 12]
<M.Casting: Rainstorm
[1d6+9 = 10]

[1d6+9 = 13]

[1d6+9 = 12]

>The newly arrived Stormtrooper's frequency clicks once, tone grim and matter-of-fact.
*"Direct confirmation of sub-micro neutronic warhead detonation. No damage to grass or flowers in vicinity; localized to a twenty to thirty meter sphere. I did not sustain any harm at close range, approximately fifty meters. My visor is damaged but commlinks were only interrupted for five seconds. Extreme caution suggested, engage at maximum ranges in isolated combat zones."*

>>207930
>One of Astrals' legs wrapped around Mallia's robo-tentacles back in thanks.
"A victory nap is required..."
>She said, wishing to be still in the hot spring.

>She may not have seen the humans face, but the Pred-elk heard how happy she was when she told her of the missiles fate.
"That is most excellent, Tippers' nap will not be spoiled now."

>>208182
>She did not want to be a burden to the new human, but her legs were not fully cooperating, so she let Mallia drag most of her weight to the Clinic.

>Astral half acknowledged the Pegasi.
>'Some elk needs a headpat...'

>Surveying the interior of the Clinic, Astral gave a wide smile to the pony.
"Hiiiiii Nova~...We deed eet. We saved the Clinic and Tippers nap time."
>And best of all, she was gonna go to sleep next to her sisters, Sparky and Gale!

Nova Flicker is the one with the Scrunch Face

>>208182
>Mallia reluctantly tore her eyes away from the exotically armored and armed man as she got on her way without lingering. Though she made a mental note of them, for the next time they'd meet.
>Mostly because her visor had shut down again, which made her eyes dart, blinking twice in concern.

>She doesn't try to turn the poor thing on again.

>The enginseer busied herself mostly with carrying/dragging the predelk back to the clinic, walking by many operators whom hopefully gave her a clear way back; looking ahead to hopefully not trip and mostly glancing over the unicorn's magical efforts. She listened to the report from her Auspex, in the meantime.

>Which made the Enginseer's lip purse a little with some light disappointment...

>Though she did curl her lips into a smile when she heard back from the Stormtrooper. Happy that he had made it back in one piece.

>Likewise, the newly arrived Enginseer briskly replied to the Stormtrooper's transmission with her own. Albeit her voice is less grim, and more heavy from some kind of great effort.
>Astral could, this time, hear the quiet reply that Mallia utters byy virtue of having an ear close to her helmet's face.

"*Acknowledged, Stormtrooper.--Hhgh*"
"*Auspex Scanning confirms the hull, weaponry, fluid, and components within the sphere are not salvageable. Over.*"

>>208253
>After that little statement through the radio, she visibly turned their head to glance more towards Astral,
"One.. Hh- Victory nap the great Astral Poinsettia, comin' right up!"
>Mallia playfully said, with a stiff, heavy voice. Yes, she was struggling, but that doesn't impact the overall happy tone in her voice.

>Huffing and lightly grunting with effort. She wasn't particularly strong, most of her hefting power coming from her mechanical limb, which coiled itself beneath the predelk to reduce the stress on her arms.
>Her mechadendrite giving off little clicks as the limb shifts and locks to ensure Astral doesn't drag their rump along the ground.

>When she saw the pegasus after the doors had opened, she stopped there abruptly, stiffening as if she was expecting a overly hostile response despite where she was.
>It's not like she hadn't seen pissed off Medicae before; she just had never seen pissed off XENO medicae before.
>And that prompted Mallia to step aside and follow the mare with her glance as she darted off, Mallia's breath audibly softening and quivering with a brief twang of fear...

>Until the pegasus left, and she resumed walking along with Astral, lightly hopping up to adjust the weight of the Predelk along her upper body.

"Someone's very angry..."

>Then her glance went to the stasis pods, her glance lingering on them as she passed them. But she didn't paused to inspect them yet, looking forward again. To see the unicorn.
>Without pausing for longer than a split-second on those star-shaped pupils, Mallia nodded her head in understanding to the unicorn and turned towards the bed.

>She puts a little bit more effort into lifting Astral as they approached the bed, lifting Astral up to set her rump on the bedside.

>She instantly breathes out a huge sigh of relief when her arms stop baring the weight of the predelk. holding her by the sides as her mechadendrite coils back to a resting position along her back.

"There we go!.. A good exercise, hehe! **Uff**..."
>Said Mallia, before gently, slowly helping Astral lay down on her side; even lightly lifting the elk's head to rest it on the pillow, and making sure the legs are properly coiled in, so Astral doesn't have to put much effort into moving into a comfortable position.
>The Enginseer gives the Predelk's shoulder two, gentle pats, nodding to them once.

"Goodnight. Get well soon, okay? You seem nice; sorry if I seemed scared of you, earlier..."
>Mallia lowered her voice to a quiet, caring whisper. Lingering there for a moment just to be there for the reply, before she'd likely be forced to leave.

>Idly listening to the voxbead as she waited. And also letting her thoughts wander.

>She still wasn't sure why she felt so much empathy for these xenos. Yet she genuinely worried for Astral, even if they scared her before. Was this wrong? Was she a bad enginseer?
>Mallia was sure she was doing something wrong... Something she couldn't quite pinpoint in that moment.

>Luckily, Astral couldn't see the troubled, distant look in her eyes in that moment...

>>208357
(There is a lot of movement around here. That Construct sure put this place on alert.)
>Cheto shrugs it off, not minding the current situation too much.
(Still, those uniforms. Why were they all so different? I don't recognize most of them. I suppose there are more worlds than Earth and this magical pony land. Fascinating.)
>He makes sure to cap the full water can, screwing it shut at a careful pace.
(Don't want this to spill all over the floor. That would be wasteful.)

>Slight discomfort arises at the number of scarves that sleeping bag has.
(Is it really that cold here to warrant all of these?)
>A shake of his head.
(No, no touching other people's property, especially ones that are seemingly mundane.)
>His legs start carrying him to the Clinic, hoping that the place is intact and Frost Egg is inside.
(She has waited too long for her robe. Hopefully she's fine.)

>After reaching the Clinic door, he opens it gently and enters the building.
(Priority list. Find Frost, give back robe. Find Flicker. If she's awake, ask about Prench Pony's status. If Prench Pony is conscious have small talk with him. He would like some company, I'd believe.)
>He nods to himself, confirming his current goals.

>>208012
>Staring down with a great sense of unease, the deep purple stallion rolls his eyes.
(Believe me. I tried. And yes, I was serious about the stripper pole too. Tipper is a nice, warm, but wet and heavy blanket. She knows that nothing but bed rest is damaging to the body and mind. The problem here is that she does not have an entire squadron of nurses and other doctors to supervise each and every patient.)
>A slow, satisfied, potentially Keter-class smile covers Hodch's muzzle while one of his eyebrows raise in truthfulness, the other lowering into deviousness.
(Excellent choice, Doctor. I will have to warn you that non-unicorns take much longer to teach spellwork to, but I know a few great teachers. Hm, Gale was wondering when exactly I would get to break just about every law made across Equestria in one night. My dam would be so proud of this!)
>Hodch lifts the skull plate directly overhead, along with a host of other objects, several of which you could feel were not right, though the miniature translocation disc was definitely out of place.
(I should also mention you will not feel anything, Necromarecy is the more gentle of my options when a sapient's ka needs to be removed elsewhere.)
[1d6 = 5]
<????? #1
[1d6 = 2]
<????? #2
[1d6 = 2]
<????? #3
[1d6 = 1]
<????? #4
[1d6 = 4]
<????? #5
[1d6 = 5]
<????? #6
[1d6 = 4]
<????? #7
[1d6 = 1]
<????? #8
[1d6 = 6]
<????? #9
[1d6 = 2]
<????? #10

>The process, from what you could tell, was instant, your consciousness 'seeing' through the skull plate down at.. your body.
>It really HAD seen much better days.
>Tapping the disc, your view of, well, you, distorts in a dull rainbow vortex, Hodch yawning while speaking through the mindlink.
(Now then, off to a certain place that is, in your own words: 'classified to fuck and back.' Say, share, draw, send, deliver anything about what you see to anyone, anything, yadda yadda yadda, you can guess how severe the response will be, probably including dropping a comet or meteor on you. The rules are not mine, I am merely allowed to enter and take what I want.)
>Shifting perspective, the Changeling exo-skull mask and plate drops down, obviously onto the unicorn's own, while rows upon rows of double stacked, pony sized stasis cells appear, shrouding in a heavy fog, hover above a jet gray floor with no ceiling in sight.
>Ambling into a walk, Hodch's head, and your 'sight', turn from side to side, examining each one too quickly to tell what he was looking for.
(Acquiring a unicorn host body is going to be difficult, generally those are the first to be re-inhabited. Hopefully nopony else has been in here tonight or I might have to go pay the damned Cult off for one.)

>>208396

>Staring up at Hodch or well, more aptly, just past him at the ceiling due to his current condition, he just laughs at the explanation of breaking every law on the continent.
(Well doctor, some laws are simply far to restrictive for this world for you just NOT to break them!)
>There's a bit of a weird, almost insane laugh echos throughout his head.
>As he takes more of Hodch in and sees the more... Curious objects on his strange skull plate mask and the whole thing itself just gives him an off feeling.
>Hodch could probably hear the badly burned agent mumbling to himself in his mind unsure of this object's exact classification.
(Necromarecy? Not my specialty, mine's more... Spacey stuff! Like otherworldy beings, rockets, and Godlike deer entities that have come to our world with an unknown purpose, likely to get prayers and grass and stuff while it turns humans into giant pillars of [REDACTED] for not praising its all holy flanks correctly.)
>The sudden and quick transition from staring up at the ceiling now to staring down at himself and seeing just how bad he truly looked distrubed Novus, just a little.
(Good God, what is that awful looking creature?)
>He remarked sarcastically to his own horrible looking burns, misshapen limbs, and other various parts.
>As he taps the disc, and they are... Translocated, presumably.
>The feeling is strangely benign without a body to be nauseous with.
>Truly only an observer now, as their vision returned to a storage facility that was quite... Strangely unsurprising to Novus.
(I am familiar with blacksites yes. This whole site doesnt really exist, yadda yadda. That was part of my job back on Earth was working at a place with a similar nature of classification. Several, actually.)
>The stasis cells all around them seemed to catch his attention.
(I won't lie, I almost didn't think that you also had a storage facility for spare bodies. Is this facility also in the case of a world ending event for post apocalyptic re-population measures?)
>As he looks with hodch, his vision at the moment through the skull plate apparently not the best he muses to himself.
(Quite understandable, Hodch. I would expect nothing less, unicorns and pegasi, even bats. You probably have a surplus of earth pony bodies, don't you?)
>Novus lets out another, strange toned chuckle.
(Like I said. Unicorn. Batpony wouldn't be... Too bad? But having a mango addiction and or need for blood isn't very high on my priority list here. Pegasi also could work at the absolute worst, but only for the purposes of mobility. But... Again, Unicorn please.)
>There's a pause.
(And I suppose with you I should also specify adult?)

>>208094
>Carlos listens intently at the twins finishing eachother's sentences as he himself finishes up the cut lines on Snakebite and begins sterilizing his utensils.
"That is good, si? I am well versed on the human nervous system, and am aware of Senorita Flicker's abilities. We should be able to handle his therapy"

>Pleased that the ponies took well to the suction machine, it frees his hands up while he prepares his equipment and puts on new gloves.
>The Doctor furrows his brows at the lead mare's sudden change in duties. Injured Starborn? Must be the attack on the Citadel.
>He mulls over Snakebite's current state as well as the other three awaiting treatment, or death declarations, in stasis.
"Very well, I understand. If we can get Snakebite stabilized Senorita Flicker and I can handle post-op. This will give me plenty of time to assess the other's, as Senor Verde can keep them in stasis until they can be properly looked at."
>The mares prepare the kanpri and quartzine, and Carlos begins to sterilize Snakebite's arms and picks the lead mare's diamondine scalpel again to do the cutting.
"Alright equinas. Promptness aside let's continue."
>He adjusts his forehead light and magnifying lenses, bringing the blade down to the unconscious man's toughened skin and begins.
"Making first incision. Once I set the retractor, you may begin applying."
[1d6+4 = 8]
<M.Physician: Surgery
[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+4 = 9]

[1d6+4 = 8]

[1d6+4 = 9]

[1d6+4 = 9]

[1d6+4 = 8]
<Lead Mare's Surgical Tool Set
[1d6+3 = 6]
<Juan's Surgical Tool Set
[1d6+15 = 18]
<Clinic Supplies
[1d6+20 = 25]
<Surgical Suite

>>208185
>Pareidolia's eyes begin to squint as he nears the glaring wreck as he turns his head to shield his eyes.

"Then your conclusion coincides with mine. The only question remaining is intent. Why would they deploy an oudated, defunct model in such large numbers to assault the Citadel? Their fluid is capable of creating independent Construct units limited by their initial starting volume. There is little to stop them from systematically overwhelming the planet over the course of a century. The potential for espionage with models the size of a marble or even smaller is incredible."

>Looking up as Krinza steps through the rift, he lowers his rifle and sticks it across his shoulders.
>As the hiss of steam and evaporating water flows over the yard, he raises a hand in thanks.

"Thank you. I don't know if there will be anything left worth analyzing, but if you have a use for Construct slag I'll give you the remains once I'm done with them."

>He absorbs the Stormtrooper's report silently as he looks back towards the Library trying to see what Inquisitor Flash was doing.

[Narrowly averted catastrophic loss. Duly noted for the future.]

"Will need to add new addendums to our knowledge of Constructs. All hulls appear to be purpose formed as housing shells from a base fluid. The Construct "entity" for all intents and purposes is the fluid itself. Any experimentation with it must be in separated volumes minimal enough to deny the Construct the mass to form a credible threat."

>>208060
>Glancing behind him at the crew hurrying with their construction efforts, the Tartarus stallion swings his head back with a proud smile.
"Shanis told us to go nuts, take whatever we could scavenge from around the Basin. Only took us two nights to get this far! You wouldn't believe how pissed off the other crews have been, and no, there's two others but nowhere near as big as my teams are. One's from Gozka, bunch of giant Rangers with hooves the size of my head laying down half ton slabs, pretty impressive. Other is about two hundred unicorns, much. I think they're a consortium from all over Equestria, definitely saw a few from every big city I can think of."
>Shaking his head quickly, the Tartarus earth pony glances back again, unfolding a map and peering at it, giving a humored chuckle.
"No to the first and yes to the second. This 'crypt' is basically the same as a few that were built underneath Stalliongrad, after the Lunar-Solar War when the Nightmare helped our ancestors out from a bunch of Undead. Nopony save for the Tower Guard or her knows anything about why they were built or what they were for, but I did overhear a conversation once.."
>Pausing to glance up at Mercy, whom you could sense smiling at the earth stallion, he grins before raising the schematic or diagram up to peer at intensely.
"I get why you didn't bring any Blades, hello again Mercy!"
"Greetings once more. How is your.. herd?"
"Happier than ever, and thanks for letting us know about the.. well, you know! But thanks again, the little ones are sleeping a lot better now. Anyhow, there was this bunch called the 'Lunar Collective' that demanded them to be constructed built, might have been one of the Nightmare's more esoteric units. Here, you can have my copy, it's the more general crypt design built but should help out."
>Floating a rolled page off his saddle to you, the stallion turns to eye the construction crew, dark brown eyes rolling at a shouting match starting, then tosses a hoof at you, trotting off and calling over his shoulder.
"Go on in if you want, we'll leave a few to guard your cart!"

>>208068
>Ears and eye roving about, you were forced to ignore the oddly high number of Arcane Blades on protection duty, the mixed sapiences of their armor and weaponry humming in sinister manners.
>The mares themselves were relaxed in striking stances, much like batpony hunter-killers, though simply more prepared.
>They'd obviously had trouble recently and were definitely eager for more.

>Picking between the sounds of ponies, an unusually somber, tiny chime was barely heard emanating directly from the crypt, and following that was a hollow wind flute.
>Listening again, the chime intones hollowly, the flute somber this time, both sounds ceasing after the ninth.

>Finishing the bar, you knew there were three more, and, according to the growl your stomach gave, the one simply wasn't going to be enough.

>>208490
>...Da fuck is this shit?
"Da fuck is this shit?"
>Jamal removes one bottle and placing the rest in his bag, tentatively sipping from the one he took afterwards.
>Regardless of the taste he pockets it separate from the unopened bottles.
>It could taste like piss but vending machines don't do refunds so he's stuck with it.
>The trade rings are also simply put back into Jamal's backpack until such a time as he has a centerpiece for his chains.
>Having stocked up on food Jamal strolls back to the armory to reload his spent mag and immediately runs out and to the pagoda so no one has opportunity to drag him into more bullshit.
>Once there he lights up the cheap cigarillo he didn't get to finish early and tells the translocation matrice to take him to Potswana.

>>208183
>Trying to smile, and visibly being too tired to even do so, the Changeling settles for snorting and projecting her own calm, unruffled mood.
(I will maintain my potentially immortal patience until proven otherwise by such a detonation that I could not possibly regenerate from my core by. Even then, if such an action would have greater positive consequences than the loss of my own life, I would affirm and glorify your deeds as my last act of consciousness. I have served in far worse capacities than Razorback's weirdnesses, Kraut.)
>True eyes closing behind the mask, Roust tilts her head down, chin on the stasis oval with a wry, metallic chuckle.
(You would be surprised at what I am comfortable with, but I have been told to stay off the Clinic beds, they cannot support my weight.)
>Cracking an eye open halfway, the Vanguard's false-lips curl backwards into a deep frown.
(That was... not all of what occurred. I shall continue.)
(The 'Second Dynasty' bombarded the Watch Guard lines multiple times while advancing in a giant marching formation. It went better for.. 'us', I suppose, since Dante commanded far more professional psions and Support Strikers. Broken Hoof, and I am not sure how this occurred, called herself the 'Knight-General of the Second Dynasty', then demanded that those whom wished to follow Empress Silver's lineage turn against the Councilierge entirely. Perhaps thirty or forty percent of the Watch Guard turned against their own. I believe that was not expected so the ruling Councilierge killed a number of them with the Eldritch weapon.. which was able to reform into other variations. I do not understand it.)
(While all that was going on the Lieutenant, whom did not share her name at all and I could not find out what it was, organized her Watch Guard into a Double Lance Formation. That is, lighter lances to one side, heavier lances to the other. Broken Hoof made some Formation that I had not seen before, but it was quite effective. When they charged the Lieutenant and her Formation met severe resistance. Broken Hoof was credited with nine kills alone.. and I believed she bent her lance. Both lines were trapped in close combat, but the situation kept getting stranger.)
(The Eldritch-wielding Councilierge was intercepted by a FORMER Councilierge whom was, according to the earth pony overherd's information, one of the four primal psions outside of Silver's lineage, and the most unstable. The fight they put on was..)
>Pausing to stare blearily up at the Clinic's white ceiling, the Changeling shakes her head slowly.
(I do not know how to state this. They destroyed the entire North Stalliongrad Market Sector trying to kill each other. I do not mean they leveled it, there are less than a Ferron foal's hoof sized pieces remaining of all those buildings. I am not sure what happened to them other than I felt their energies detonate in suicide maneuvers. Both are presumably dead.)
(Denra was directing the rather creepy golem towards the Watch Guard battle lines when I heard an elite unit, something called the 'Tarusian Crests', had been fooled by illusions. Right after that I felt an elite unit of earth ponies coming off a translocation stone nearby. I had ordered the Foalguard and Shieldmares to protect the civil earth ponies during their escape, so.. so I did something I should never have done: I tried to shapeshift into a human mare matching Hollow. Armor, shield, blade included. It was agony. I am still not sure ALL of my organs are where they should be.)
(The last of the civil ponies escaped, but some of the Scouts surveying Stalliongrad and all of the Shieldmares came to help me. They did not need to since I was winning, and, this part I find most amusing, both the Lieutenant and the Watch Guard all surrendered at the same time. They were even arguing about who surrendered first!)
>Snickering loudly at this, the Changeling's armored ears wiggle in large circles, nostrils flaring in something akin to placidity.
(It got even more weird. Ten or maybe fifteen thousand Undead broke out from the stoneworks directly under the Main Square. They attacked everything on sight, but the defense went well. Denra formed a Cantabrian Circle, using his golem for support, but not before he had a mental breakdown. The pony and his unit I was fighting dove into the middle, the Watch Guard and Second Dynasty gave up and attacked.. but then a bunch of vampire ponies tore free and destroyed every Undead they could get their hooves, claws, wings, and even teeth on. They went berserk, saved Denra and the rest of us a great deal of trouble. And no, only a few of them were batponies, which I find quite odd.)
(There really is not much left to tell. The golem stepped into one of the tunnels and began sinking, then a bunch of Tower Guard and Watch Guard translocated onto the eight stones the Second Dynasty had brought. The vampire ponies were helping them out, too. Denra negotiated a short truce so that the Second Dynasty could leave, and.. I was too tired to stick around longer.)
(Hrm... I feel as if I missing someth- oh! Dante was propositioned by a filly from the Watch Guard, her dam even allowed it. Dante did accept so I suspect that she will demand it to be completed soon. I may have heard somepony speaking of enforcing the mareriage, but I was quite busy at the time so I cannot be sure.)
(..Kraut, I just had an idea. What if I grow you a temporary body like how I make my own armor? It is psychoreactive and not all that different to use.)

>>207854

>This day was weird but at least he had a cute colt to belly rub that made things all the brighter.
>'In fact.'
>He went and scratched behind the small colts tiny ears too.
[ 1d6+2] >M.Ear Scratching
[ 1d6+2]
[ 1d6+2]
[ 1d6+2]

"That is good to know, Champion."
>It really was, knowing Belregard was not truly hostile towards him.

"They sleep? Has anyone tried waking them up?"
>He jested slightly, though he was curious why the Ethereal gods were asleep. So much so he let the fact there were gods fly over his head.
>Ah, so they are built, much like back home. Except back on Ferrundus the robots were simply robots, not thinking machines. Oh Ferrundus.
>He listened more intently to clear his mind of his home.
"I see...In that case Belregard, don't fret! I am sure Glacier will help you in learning how to live."

>Lont glanced down at the Outrider, it will be safe here, he reasoned.
"Good, but only when the get the time. They are busy enough as is without me having them do errands."
>At the Ethereal's low words, the Operator shrugged before following after the Shell.
"Better to face challenges with a smile than let the burden overwhelm you."

>Lont absorbed his surroundings, slowly turning his head back and forth to take in the whole scene before him.
>No wonder Glacier wanted to be here, the comfiness of the Conclave soaking right into his bones.
"Well then, sounds like you have a decades worth to catch up."

>He looked down at Void Crasher then the myriad of cooking stations.
>'I'll eat later.'
"What does she mean 'unicorn treatment', Belregard?"
>Lont was tempted to place Void into the pillowfort, he couldn't cradle the colt all day, even if he was so damn cute.

>>208525
[1d6+2 = 3]
>M.Ear Scratching
[1d6+2 = 4]

[1d6+2 = 7]

[1d6+2 = 8]

Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>Silent for a moment as his horn was bright with magic, Golden was deep in his mind as he analysed the Construct heading towards them.
>Then with a flutter of his eyes and a gasp he snapped out of his meditative trance, wild eyed until he remembered where he was.
"...Oh dear."

>>207953
>The old Unicorn glanced at Spruce, beating chest calming down but still wide eyed. So did the Chitqu, letting out a tiny squeak at being betrayed.
"I...Yes. That sounds like it could actually work, I am sure the small fellow can find his way back to us with no grudge whatsoever while not being spotted by that-"
>Golden shuddered, as if a vision resurfaced to his fore-thoughts.
"-thing."

>>208007
>Cocking his arm backwards, the Witcher aimed and then threw his newly acquired rock a good 50 metres away in the direction from whence the Construct Orb had come from. The "CLACKLE" of rock pattering off rock was heard echoing in the distance, evidently Adons' throw saw the rock hit another boulder.

>There was a moment of silence before another wet, organic gurgling noise came from the Orbs direction then more silence. Peering around his cover the Witcher observed the Orb was now moving backwards, towards where he threw his trusty distraction rock.

>Slumping down, Golden Horn sighed.
"Did it work, can we move on from this terrible place?"

Turns until upon position: 4

>>208055

>Venous snorted, head still laying on the hard surface of the railing, periodically flicking an ear because the wind tickled them.
"All the reasons you listed off are correct and more, it is a fortress that cannot be so easily assailed like other Royal strongholds within Canterlot."

>Slipping the Night Vision goggles over his eyes Corsen stared intently towards the Mansion in a means to find something, anything interesting of note.
>And all he got for his effort was unexpected pain, making him reel backwards.
>The brightness of the lakes moonlit surface was enough to white out the NVGs, this all encompassing blinding light played hell on the Cultists retinas, as they were accustomed to the low light levels of the Canterlot night-life.
>Through this stinging agony Corsen knew it was Tzeentchs' fault somehow, that is what he gets for bad mouthing that giant warp mollusc!

>With a small amused smile, Venous rolled her head side to side on the railings golden surface.
>'Very amusing, my mood is brightening up much like a sun over the horizon.'
"He is yet another terrible Royal to be targeted, another head to be decapitated on Princess Celestias' orders. However due to politics and his currently impenetrable Mansion he is a low priority for now, by the time the full might of the Day Guard and Honour guard get to him it will be too late for Mistress Duo Whell."

>She grew agitated then, eyes narrowing to stare daggers at the Island below. Lifting her head up from its perch the off duty Honour Guard medic straightened her back, regaining her regal posture as she looked into Corsens' lenses.
"By that do you mean something underhoofed, something the Lunar faction would be proud of. A 'sneaking offensive' as they call it?"
>'Desperate times call of such measures, my pride must be swallowed for now if it means Mistress Duo Whells safety.'

>>208253
>Doing a double take at Astral, then Mallia, the Ward's eyes widen, only now realizing what she was looking at, putting on a welcoming smile.
"I.. well, I am glad that you succeeded. I will inform Doctor Tipper of your efforts when she awakens."

>>208260
*"..damn it all to the Warp, the Inquisitor will be furious if she learns of this. Remain on standby for further orders-"*

>Lofting two cases into the air with a cloud the same coloration as her coat, the strange horned mare's star-shaped eyes peer at the mechadendrite with a hefty amount of suspicion.
>Transferring Astral onto the clinic bed, the horned equine clops towards you and around to the bed's opposite side.
>Setting out both hardcases on a short table, the horned places an apple shaped bottle next to the Pred-Elk's head, following by a thin vial filled with a dully glowing, blood red substance.
"I am sorry to demand this but you must leave the Clinic. There are too many patients here at the moment, I cannot treat more than six sapients at once. Any more than that and my auric field will destabilize."

>Hearing a click from the voxlink, Chisan's voice returns, straining heavily while carapace boots can be heard thumping on stone.
*"Enginseer Mallia, report to the Librarium immediately, the Inquisitor is demanding your presence. You will find an entrance to an underground lab in the southern section. You are hereby ordered to place all weaponry in sleep mode, failure to abide by this order will result in severe penalties-"*

>>208260
>Astral reached out and placed her legs on the bed as to help Mallia, she did do a lot of the carrying.
"Thank you very much Mallia!"
>At being patted the Pred-elk snorted happily, then in response craned her head towards the Engineseers and licked the human on the face. What face that was there.
>It is the effort that counts.

>Laying back down she nodded, a bright smile on her face as she looked to her sisters.
"It is fine, you're new here! Besides when I get out of here I shall introduce you to my family! A big, happy, tight snuggle pile with all the Pred-elks!"
>Both of her ears were freely flapping back at forth as she beamed with happiness.

>>208585
"Also can you boop her snoot for me please?"
>Astral asked, giving the Ward the puppy eyes.

>>208455
(Most laws on Tallus were made so that ponies would be more peaceful towards each other. Ritual combat became the norm, not the exception.. and some, like myself, do not look upon them fondly.)
>Sensing one of the objects containing you, albeit only able to see through the skull plate, Hodch pauses to glance at a quartet of black coated earth ponies, his eyebrow raising felt but not seen.
(Interesting you should mention that.. there is a Plane consisting of biotechnological spheres which have plagued Tallus for at least fifteen thousand years. If you would agree to this, in exchange for your knowledge and hopefully some ideas on how to deal with them, I will supervise your training and grant you quiet access to several tomes in my possession.)
>Turning from the earth ponies, the reservist shakes his head slightly, the motion rather bland and not nauseating.
(This is one of several, you know the rest. Several humans in Razorback and one I met elsewhere were unsurprised at learning how deep some of our security measures were. One even helped me refine safeguards for the Enclave which are now being used elsewhere.)
>Stopping to look at a bright pink batpony, Hodch emits a troubled, tired chuckle.
(I have no idea how many there are but I can state I am allowed to access three sites similar to this. According to the contract I signed these facilities were designed to prevent, or recover from, much worse disasters than a complete invasion from any of the Planes, Otherworlds, or the Void. I do not trust the Founder's words at all, but from what I have seen so far.. I believe they are necessary measures, even if she should be executed and replaced with somepony much more logical.)
>Continuing on through the growing numbers of various ponies in stasis, the unicorn nods slowly.
(Correct. I estimate ten thousand earth pony bodies in this facility alone. Many of them are pre-modern, that is, partially or fully feral and thus kept in reserve due to their greater physical, mental, and esoteric characteristics. There are some which I have not been allowed access to, specific blood lineages with specialized inherencies that would be considered wasted without a dire need of their use.)
(Theoretically, if you were to inhabit a batpony's body you would not be subjected to addictions, that is a cultural-psychological necessity, not a physical one. Most you might get would be an urge every few hours. As for pegasi they are far less important. There are no Ferron, pre-modern, or post-modern host bodies kept here, only ancient, feral, Saxoneigh, and a few others that I was not allowed to study.)
>Snorting aloud at the question, Hodch's head raises upwards, curiously still while he chokes, then snaps down, retching a mass of dull red, black and purple speckled fluid onto the gray flooring.
(Not now Luna damn it-)
>Lifting a forehoof and wiping his muzzle, the unicorn inhales with a sickly rumbling sound, now sounding mentally exhausted.
(Of course. I was not going to subject you to endless harassment and the potential for life altering 'experiences'.)
>Stepping around the mess and ambling forwards, your vision flickers once while Hodch turns right through an empty space, heading for the far side as he coughs, spitting out of side.
(I will do my best to find a suitably young host body, one that is both heavily resonant and physically fit to minimum Lunar Guard standards. Options will be limited after the invasion earlier. Regardless of that, I can make no promises on if there are any unicorns remaining.)

>>208595
>Mallia's eyes return to focus on the predelk when she licks her across the visor. The Enginseer doesn't seem to mind -- or, at least, doesn't recoil from it. Infact, the woman even snickers a little bit as she stands back up to her full lenght.

>Full length being 5' 3", not counting the Omnissian poleaxe that was a little taller over her head; but still.

>>208585
>She didn't add anything else to that. Her happiness quickly soured by the vox communication sent by the Stormtrooper, prompting her to sigh slowly through her respirator, and nod her head to the unicorn.
"Of course. Thank you."

>She then swiftly began to step off back onto the middle portion of the clinic to avoid getting in the way.
>And perhaps more out of mechanical instinct of walking along certain parts of a medical area at all times, also walking rather slowly to cause no trouble. As the second communication hits her.
>To which swiftly replied calmly, as took a step to go around the Operators that were just coming in. Hand on the side of her helmet.

"*Solid copy. En-route.*"
>And then she audibly sighed HEAVILY, her voice coming out bitterly towards herself as she largely ignored everybody as she sped up into a stride towards the exit.
>Her mechanical limb visibly shifting to drape itself across her backpack and poleaxe, partly around the big red shield, as if to secure it.

"Welp..."
>She muttered, only loud enough for the operators passing immediately beside her to hear; in a distinctly depressed tone.

>She then quickly reached back behind her back to the side of her rifle, to quickly toggle the safety of her weapon on, and then send the command to enter 'sleep' mode to ensure that her machine spirits were properly disarmed.

>Almost IMMEDIATELY she stops abruptly in her steps, as the realization dawns on her that she doesn't really know which building was the Libarium...
>... But then Mallia simply, after her one second pause, starts striding again; breaking into a hasty jog, instinctively turning to move towards the south on a whim as soon as she was outside. Tapping into the voxbead again to send a very sheepish message back to the stormtrooper.

"*... Stormtrooper, forgive me, but which building is the Librarium?*"

>Then, as she asked that, she began to peer around and crane her head, looking towards all the other buildings curiously, hoping that there'd be a big sign saying 'Librarium' so she has a target to run to immediately.

[1d6 = 4]
<B. Perception
[1d6 = 6]

>>208471
>Running multiple simulations based on records, the Marquis A.I. lifts both forelegs in a wide shrug.
"Too many possibilities to list, sir. Scarce resources, outdated soldier models that can't be reclaimed and are instead sent on suicide missions, possibility of corrupted protocols, could be so far outdated that the rest simply want them removed.. I don't have near enough data to formulate specific answers. I still require confirmation of hivemind logistics, but we can safely assume that there is always high level data traffic between those in close proximity. According to your reports and some speculative information, it is highly possible that small models were encountered long enough that native security measures were overdeveloped to counter them."

>Stepping into the billowing steam, the cloud above reforms along with a second water spear, Krinza calling over the loud, constant hissing of vapor.
"I am unaware of any uses, though I have read many excerpts requiring complete destruction through either immersion in lava or disintegration."
[1d6+7 = 9]
<E.Elemental Lance: Waterfang
[1d6+7 = 13]

[1d6+7 = 12]

[1d6+9 = 10]
<M.Casting: Rainstorm
[1d6+9 = 14]

[1d6+9 = 15]

[1d6+9 = 12]

>Sighting the Inquisitor's leather overcoat smoking, the oversized hat nowhere in view, she was lying half-out of the doorway, struggling to pull herself forwards as if her rear legs were entirely immobilized.
>Across the left side of her equine face was a streak of black, scorched tissue, the eye above a patchy white-silver coloration, thin trickles of red blood streaming downwards.
>Running into view towards the Library, the recently arrived black clad Stormtrooper pulls a small red kit from underneath his blocky pack, slamming to a halt on his knees in front of the Inquisitor, fully obscuring her now.

>Visibly annoyed for a moment, the A.I. pauses further analysis, rendered expression flattening at the scene.
"I think we need to add around four hundred critical addendums, sir. Greatly improved medical treatment for one, and, depending on how important this 'Flash' is.. figuring out how to placate, then extract all necessary information."

>>208590
>A simple wave back at the humans is all Cheto gives back, a little worried that he borrowed the coat for too long.
(Need to give coat back. No time to waste right now. Maybe I'll try to talk to them later, when things settle down a little more and the Construct cleaning is complete.)

>He first goes towards Frost Egg, his hand waving her robe from side to side.
"Hello Miss Frost. Thought you'd need this back, now that the threat is over."
>He stands next to the Prench pegasus' bed on Egg's side, his arm with the robe extended towards her, awaiting her to take it.

>Whether Frost's clothing is taken or not, he turns towards the Prench Pony, a little pout on his face.
"How is he doing? I assume he's recovering, right?"

>>208605
>>208260
>A little note is made about the two newcomers to the clinic.
(Huh, an elk and a woman. I think it's a woman. Her tentacle thing makes things a little confusing. Is she even human?)
>His eyes widen at the elk's licking of the human's face.
(Pero que carajos? Is that how these species say hello?)
>He visibly lowers them as the elk speaks.
(It seems the elk thanked her for some reason. I suppose that robot carried her here. A cheery elk, as far as the eye can see. No idea about that possible woman that got licked. Still, they're both alongside Nova, so it's only polite to greet them when I go talk to her.)
>That was his thought process until the robot woman just left the elk and exited the building.
(Well, the elk seems interesting still. Maybe she'd like dried fruit? I'd have to keep in mind the lick if she wants to thank me too.)

>>208599

>The offer of exchanging knowledge to deal with the realm of biotechnical spheres? An interesting proposition, one he was uniquely situated to potentially deal with.
>And one that sounded like a lot of fun.
(I accept wholeheartedly Hodch. I would love to return to my old job again of containing lifeforms and objects that want to wipe out or can wipe out humanity. Or well, I guess equinity in this case. I suppose I should tell you a bit about where I worked for back on Earth then?)
>He pauses first, thinking a moment, then slowly as his vision travels around as Hodch's does, he explains.
(The Foundation I worked for back on Earth was a organization that for all intents and purposes "Did not exist". We were above and funded by various world Governments, organizations, and our own front companies to continue the funding of our various projects. Our goal was to Secure objects too dangerous for mankind to know about or handle, Contain them and knowledge about them, And Protect them so we could learn from them and at the same time protect mankind.)
>There's a amused snort at the last part.
(I was an expert on various extraterrestrial matters most of the time. I worked on projects for destroying alien battleships crashed on other planets, a ball of matter in orbit that could destroy our world, strange alien satellites, and like I said, a god-like entity which took the shape of a stag and wiped out half of a country. My last assignment though was researching a psionic entity. We were transporting it in a cage of psionic absorbent material when it managed to physically force its way out. Killed most everyone on board in mere moments or drove them to bloody madness.)
>He pauses as Hodch vomits, and wonders curiously how well that pony is doing to be puking up something THAT color.
>Probably not well, but he continues his rambling in spite of that.
(Ultimately I survived its psionic attacks, just barely though. The thing ripped my mind apart while I was there and I lost quite a lot of myself in the process, I managed to detonate the nuclear device on board our ship and I was atomized along with the monster and the ship. And I woke up here. A madman.)
>He clicks his nonexistent tongue, pausing another moment.
(After I died the first time here, I was brought back by some shaman. I was a whole lot more... Sane after that. Bringing you to the me of today. Like I said though, I'd love to help you in the war against the constructs. They actually were my next planned entity to study and they represent a possibly grave threat to this world.)
>Novus seems pleased though as Hodch affirms he will indeed, not subject him to what he'd rather avoid.
>He chuckles.
(Okay, thank you.)

>>208486
>>208068
>Jeff listens to the foreman roll off the other teams working around the Moors, and whistles impressed.
>Minotaurs and unicorns helping rebuild everything!
"Wow, you guys work fast! It's just nice to see the Moors getting spruced up."
>So the stallion apparently confirms there IS weird stuff going on in the crypt.
>Crypts under Stalliongrad? Luna? Undead?
>The mystery only grew as the foreman explained more.
>Jeff scratches his chin with heightened interest at the possibilities.
"Undead, you say? Well, maybe we'll figure out exactly why they were built by exploring this one."
>He stays quiet as Mercy and him exchange pleasantries. Sounds like she helped him out before in some way. Small world.
>But the foreman looks distracted, producing a rolled scroll that has the crypts general layout and he takes it graciously.
"Thanks. Good luck with the rest of your work."
>Jeff turns off the Dagor and quickly hops out of the driver seat to go collect his gear from the back.
"Alright you three, turn out and get ready to crawl some crypt."
>He throws his pack on and keeps his helmet unclipped for the time being while sticking the collapsed Honeybadger to his outer right thigh.
"Sunny. How about you take point on approach, while I look over this schematic."
>Reaching for said scroll on the driver seat, he begins to casually walk in the direction of the crypt while unfurling the map and begins to examine it.

>>208525
>>208526
>Making a sleepy, chiming rumble in his chest, your fingers glide across the warm half-Crystal, half-Void colt's head, the coat behind his ears softer than expected, definitely more pleasing and real than his dam's grown bio-crystalline Shell.
>Head tilting into your hand's ministrations, Void Crasher's snout and hind legs twitch as you finally encounter skull, the material barely visible, yet you could feel, and even see, small rhythmic pulses of crystalline blood flowing through small, clear purple veins.

>Taking silent, carefully measured steps towards the closest cot, the floral patch spreads out flat across Belregard's shoulder, kneeling down and carefully rolling Tacit onto the fresh grass.
"Trillions of attempts. All failed."
>Gazing down at the troublesome earth stallion, the Golem places his shield under the cot cross ways, kneeling down and turning his helmet your direction, gesturing the fractured left hand upwards.
"Perhaps so. I know little save for what I have experienced in the past sixteen rotations. Should the potential to remain outside of Princess Cadence's court occur I shall ask to accompany the Shell on her journeys. Perhaps then I may learn more of Tallus equines and their manners, and teach her honored colt."
>Head tilting downwards, the Champion emits a low, rumbling laugh.
"Ask a unicorn but one question and they shall answer it to the best of their knowledge. In return they shall ask one hundred of their own whilst demanding the same perfect recall. They are inquisitive beyond an Acolyte's waking dreams. Now I must egress, my time during this rotation will be short if I do not shut down to recover. I have been active too long and expended more battery than can be sustained. I am a Planar being, thus inimical to this world."

>Returning from the pillow fort, and munching on what suspiciously looked like an Empire crystal in the shape of a common rose, Glacier tosses a glance to the Champion's four yellow eyes dimming to gray.
>Swallowing the piece whole and sneaking up behind the Ethereal Golem, the Shell leans forwards as if to sniff the patch of flora.. then commences licking each and every one of them carefully.
>Ponies doing horse things out of necessity, as the saying in Razorback went.
>Satisfied with her inspection after a bit, Glacier's eyes swivel onto you, muzzle splitting into a wide smile, her merry tone breaking into faux-hurt, left foreleg lifting and crossing over her face in an overly dramaretic motion.
"Ohh no, what a terrible fate this is! A human would rather touch the REAL pony rather than the not-entirely-correct one!"
>Dropping the act with a chiming giggle, the Shell drops an expectant wink while grinning, prancing around to the cot's other side and peering down at Tacit's sleeping face... which she also licks.
"Eugh.. sweaty. Doesn't he ever bathe? Well whatever, Melodine will be out in a bit to treat him soon as she gets done with the great tickle war going on."
>Straightening up and stepping away, the Shell's nose scrunches while she shakes her head quickly, tongue flicking out at whatever the taste was disturbing her.
>Turning towards you, Glacier lifts her Protoform covered hoof, placing it on her chest with a sincerely thankful expression, though her eyebrows wiggle in an unofficially sassy motion.
"Seriously though Lont, thanks a whole bunch of sweet grapes, I'm glad to see him finally getting some sleep. Cady's still not sure how his biology even functions and I'm not willing to put any stress on him through testing. In the mean time.. can I treat you to dinner? It'd be my pleasure!"

>>208532
>Scowling under his mask at the affirmation, the Deathseeker shakes his head, breaking back into his clipped city accent and thumping a palm on the railing.
"Like the damned Governor's mansion again! I'm sick of losing all the fucking time!"

>Slapping both hands up to rip the NightVis free and turning around to bend over, Corsen claws at the gas mask's lenses in pain, screaming a series of exotic swears in languages both foreign and domestic.
(FUCK YOU TZEENTCH AND FUCK YOU AGAIN AND FUCK YOU A THIRD TIME! YOUR GROXSHIT TRICKS SHOULD BE PUNISHED BY KHORNE GRAFTING A PAIR OF BRONZE JUGGERNAUT BALLS ONTO YOUR FACE SO HE CAN PUNCH THEM OFF!)
>Failing to see beyond the DICKLESS stars in his eyes, he grunts angrily, one hand raising in the Calixis Sector sign for 'fuck you', the other nearly throwing his precious NightVis into the lake, but stopping with a growl.
"I'm starting to lose every fucking ounce of sanity that I've gained since coming here due to bureaucratic BULLSHIT-"

>Settling on a murderous course of action, Corsen jams the NightVis into the same upper pocket again, turning to face Venous and desperately hoping that his vision would clear.
"I don't blame your Princess. A leader can't be blamed for what they can't control. In fact, I would very much like to meet your leader and thank them personally for even allowing you out like this."
>Both of Corsen's gloved hands lift palm upwards manner, mostly to not annoy the incredibly helpful equine xenos, as the fifth most evil plan he'd ever come up with is devised, speaking in the coldest, most hateful tone he could manage.
"Oh no, no Miss Venous, that's for later, I prefer something that even my own previous mistress was horrified at. We called it 'suicidal humiliation'. What WE are going to do is spread word that this dickless Myndalin bitch-colt who's balls haven't even dropped yet was in such supreme terror of my completely harmless Lady's very existence that he ordered a raid on her residence by his blood thirsty, cruel forces. Then, he had her barely trained, civil, completely pacifist servants slaughtered so he could feel just superior enough to take over the rest of Canterlot's nobles without resistance.. and that I'm putting a quarter million gem bounty on his head. All three of these are true, you see."
(Oh how I loved mining!)
>Arms folding over his chest and shutting his eyes, the plan continues, Corsen nodding along to the ancient ArchaeoTech music he'd heard long ago.
"You see, I don't understand equines much though I do know very well how fear works, but-"
(Thanks for the wild Juggernaut tearing my leg off, Khorne!)
"If not a single pony dares to help me in this endeavor, then that will be even better. Suspicion gives way to paranoia.. and paranoia I can abuse."
>Left handing lifting to point upwards, presumably towards the moon, the Deathseeker nods in slow, illogical contempt.
"Miss Venous, I swear upon the goddesses of your world that I will either kill Myndalin with my bare hands, or die trying and pray that a good pony does what I'm unable to. Now, I need some improvements to my hatchet and I would eat a bear's heart raw for some of this.. magic that I see everywhere. Know where to start?"

>>208595
>Facing north, Brume and Sparky's distinctive though separated by an empty bed, and one containing an unusually slim pegasus, the pair had been well taken care of by Tipper, both sleeping noisily.
>Sitting down in front of Astral, the odd half-Crystal pony, half-unicorn nods slightly, lifting a green bottle into view.
"I shall do so when I have a chance yes, but I have many patients to deal with tonight."
>Placing her left hoof under Astral's head gently and lifting a rounded, green bottle in front of the Pred-Elk's nose, Nova Flicker holds it up to her lips, eyes half-lidded in seriousness.
"Now, you must drink all of this, no matter how strange it tastes. It will alleviate the pain you are experiencing and allow me to perform regenerative efforts much more easily."

>>208658

>The little colts' biology was certainly intriguing, which made him all the merrier the Wards' bad apples were being excised.

>Lont watched silently for a time at Belregards shut down body, it was jarring to know now that Ethereals were akin to robots.
>Eventually, his eyes wondered down to Tacit, whom was sleeping blissfully in the cot the Champion had placed him in.
>He was curious as to why he was all alone in the Empire helping eliminate the Wards, the help was appreciated greatly yet he was the last pony he would of expected to see on those crystalline streets.

>With Glacier back from the pillowfort, the Operator watched as she went about licking everything.
>A silly thing that made him chuckle.
>And at her over dramatic display he responded with an over dramatic eyeroll.
"Save the moaning for later, I will gladly touch you all over!"
>He had no comment on her licking Tacits' face.
"I do not know what you expected. And that is good to hear, may she come out triumphant."

>The face was wholesome, the wiggly eyesbrows...they...they promised things not so wholesome.
"No need for thanks, cute little thing deserves all the naps he can get. I agree, it should be up to him whether he should want to know more about himself or not."
>Lont said as he looked down at the colt, which he gave one final belly massage before looking to see where to put him.
[1d6+2 = 6]
>M.Belly Rubs
[1d6+2 = 5]

[1d6+2 = 6]

[1d6+2 = 3]

>At the mention of dinner he returned his gaze at Glacier, a smug expression on his face.
>'Guess I shall eat then.'
"Oh~? Taking me out for dinner before the real fun begins, you are quite the Lady! In that case I accept the invitation, the pleasure will be all yours."

>>208605
>Receiving a polite, thankful nod from the odd horned unicorn, the mare returns to Astral with a serious expression.

>The Stormtrooper's voice instantly returns with a hard bent, like that of an angry Commissar who was just told that all the recaf was gone and there was an inbound wave of feral Orks.
*"..the southernmost building in the Razorback Fortress map I sent to you earlier. I expected better, Enginseer. Your thought for the day is this: neither failure nor hesitation shall ever be tolerated."*
>Chisan cuts the commlink off while the back portion of your thoughts deliver an order to the micro-cogitator, placing an image of the two-story building on the south side of the fortress, marked with 'Librarium'.

>West of the Pagoda, the Construct hulk was covered by a massive cloud of steam, though you spot the rounded shape of a pony walking through the molten slag inside, seemingly unaffected by the heat.
>Passing by the mess, the professional trooper from before with the impressive Rogue Trader-like rifle, curved local weapon, and heavily modified hazard armor was, apparently, supervising the recovery effort.

>Running towards the Librarium, confirmed by the micro-cogitator's datavaults, the lighting inside turns to a pleasing series of purple, red, and orange hues, the double front doors featuring a number of small laser and plasma scorch marks.
>Stepping inside, unusual scents of burnt flesh and various leathers hung in the air, none of which were familiar.
>Processing the earlier command, the micro-cogitator pans in to a small grid layout, directing you through the main library into the south side where a small entrance to a spiraling stairwell awaited.
>Jogging down the stone staircase, the disturbing scent of burnt sweet flesh steadily became stronger, spotting streaks of streaked blood on each stair, accompanied by what looked like tiny bits of ash.

>Reaching the lower floor, in reality more like a tiny foyer, Chisan could be seen hurriedly working over something in a large, well worn brown sitting chair, several medicae kits and hardcases opened and scattered across two tables next to the chair itself.
>Hearing ragged, pained gasps from a definite female obscured by the Tempestus Scion, your MIU and auspex transmit a series of Alpha-Level AdMech protocols to your micro-cogitator, registering the presence of a Inquisitor within very close vicinity.
>The auspex's Machine Spirit blares multiple alerts of Throne-energies while your vision turns several shades of gold, immediately feeling like you had to vomit and losing roughly a quarter the strength in your organic limbs.
"Ponessiah and Solar Empress damn it all Inquisitor, stop moving! The more you move the fewer chances I have to save your eye! Do not force me to knock you unconscious!"
>Meanwhile, a dull gold hoof is thrown over Chisan's neck, loud cries of agony accompanying his movements, the Stormtrooper continuing his likely poor medicae work, shouting aloud.
"ENGINSEER MALLIA CASTELLA, AID ME IN RESTRAINING THE INQUISITOR OR I WILL EXECUTE YOU FOR HIGH TREASON!"
[1d6+2 = 4]
<B.Medicae
[1d6+2 = 7]

[1d6+2 = 6]
<E.Assault: Pin
[1d6+2 = 6]

[1d6+2 = 4]

[1d6+4 = 10]
<Sanctified Alchemical Drugs

>...this was nothing like what you expected.

>>208612
>Glancing up at you for a split-second, the Combat Medic's eyes narrow, lightly keeping a hoof on the Prench stallion's neck, most of his wounds now closed over.
"It had better be eliminated Mister Gallo. We lost over three thousand ponies and other allies tonight. There are less than six hundred that might survive. Emphasis on 'might'."
>Ignoring the offer of her robe, Frost leans in close to listen to the pegasi's breathing.
>Pushing herself back into a sitting position, the Crystal mare's nostrils flare, turning an angry scowl at the fractured off red blade.
"Better than expected but on the other hoof he could be dead right now. Internal bleeding in the lung and large arteries was halted. Now I'm worried about other organ damage as the kinetic effects of redsteel are unpredictable at best and lethal if not treated promptly."

>Watching the human leave, Nova Flicker sets about to treating the small copper horned elk, visibly concerned over the cow's condition.

>Lying down next to the Prench pony, Frost turns her head upwards for several moments, then extends her right foreleg over the stallion's barrel, humming gently while she speaks in a harsh tone.
>Crystal ponies, it seemed, were capable of multi-tasking quite well.
"His heart and other lung is safe.. the kidneys and liver may have suffered harm. I'm not going to leave until he's fully stabilized, so fuck Gale and fuck Sleethoof. This pony's very existence is far too important in leaving to Tipper's half-baked hooves."

>>208616
>Winding back towards where he'd entered from, the unicorn stops midway to spit another mass of unknown fluid, a knee lifting to rub at his muzzle.
(..agreed. However, I will caution you in being extraordinarily selective. There are many sapients and sentients that may seem and act hostile though are rather beneficial. And, please do, I rather enjoy hearing about the varied and many human omniverses, even if such knowledge does not help myself nor Razorback directly.)
>Meandering through the stasis cells and checking over each one, the vast majority were indeed earth ponies with a handful of pegasi, batponies, and even a pair of Saddle Arabians viewed, then immediately disregarded as Hodch silently silents.
>Winding around and through eight more rows, the deep purple unicorn stops to behold a curious blood red pegasus, the wings covered in large, white blade-like protrusions instead of feathers, sensing him raise an eyebrow.
>Head shaking, Hodch continues his course into the previously unexplored far right sections, encountering several unicorn fillies and immediately disregarding them.
>Reaching the end of the cells and turning towards the back, Hodch's breathing becomes steadily more ragged while he snorts in a light, amused manner.
(No wonder the earlier reports on you were simply filed as: 'incommunicable, avoid contact'. I thought Denra was pulling my tail, now I know he was being dead honest. To be quite honest Doctor Novus, I am rather impressed. Most do not survive even a Support Striker's wrath, much less an unknown psionic being with little known about it. Your species continues to show an interesting, if not troubling, resilience to esoteric effects.)
>Pausing again to survey an odd dull black colored unicorn mare, the small horn slightly curved back towards the skull, Hodch can be felt lifting his shoulders, maintaining his course towards the facility's rear.
(I am rather glad to hear much more of your sanity has been restored, Doctor. It is.. refreshing to come across one that understands secrecy for the good of all is necessary from time to time. And, you must mean Old Horn whom is also responsible for the sapient Predator-Elk? A rather interesting fellow. I have seen him a grand total of twice, both times in the Fortress. That is one ancient minotaur, he predates the Lunar Lorekeeper records by at least half a millennium. The Druids that cross the New Everfree every year to reach their grazing grounds do not like talking about him, though I suspect that is more a matter of pride than anything else. They are notoriously difficult to contact if they do not wish to be found.)
(As for the Constructs themselves I place them in the top five threats to Tallus, and the primary one for humans. I have some experience in forcing their two smallest models to obey my orders.. probably due to their total impending destruction, but the other fifty-nine models I have encountered are utterly hostile. I did hear from Mercy that a human team that went with her to Skykeep encountered a particularly strange pair. One of the pair was destroyed, then the other performed a Minotaur Hegemony surrender before it could be destroyed, something that has never been included in any report I have had my hooves on. To be perfectly honest, I have read nearly six hundred thousand reports, which should tell you that Constructs are not an enemy to deal with normally.)
>Missing a half-step and nearly falling onto his face, Hodch chokes once more, this time vomiting a stream of dull, almost looking blood laced with black crystalline shards.
>Taking several steps back, the stallion hangs his head, leaving you to stare at the gray flooring while he dry heaves several times.
>Left forehoof lifting, the tip grazes across his muzzle, flicking the fluid off as he snorts amusedly.
(Doctor, even if you asked for a colt or filly host body I would have automatically denied the request for three reasons. One, I cannot change physical biology, nor would I even dare to. Two, you will still be forced to deal with physical spring hormones. Three, number two is more than enough misery to take care of without worrying about every opposite sex pony within a mile trying to claim you, or you trying to claim one or more for your own. I may be a filly fiddler but I do have standards, however low they may seem.)

>>208486
>Ignoring the hunger for now, Sunny thought on the noises emanating from the crypt, too preoccupied with listening to them to interrupt the stallion's conversation with Jeff.
>What was that? It was like music, but...
>She furrowed her brow a bit, it'd have to be something to figure out if she could determine the source. A song for the dead, perhaps?

[1d6+3 = 6]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 5]

>Despite the somber, almost peaceful notes coming from the crypt, she knew the Arcane Blades on duty had seen trouble, and recently at that.
>Whether that trouble had come from the crypt itself or elsewhere from the fog shrouded Moors was something that wasn't entirely clear to her.
>Assume the former. Best case scenario, undead defending their final resting place. Worst case scenario, hostile spectrals. Old traps to deter looters extremely likely, not likely to be listed in any floor plans of the crypt. Probably debilitating near the entrance, increasing in lethality within the deeper chambers.
>She almost felt bad that they were essentially there to loot it, but whatever goods were held in the crypt weren't doing the dead any good while the living still had need of whatever help they could get.
>Sunny took solace in that, at least, though the dead probably weren't likely to hold the same view of the matter and would try to add herself and the others to their ranks.

>>208653
>Gathering herself and jumping out of the shotgun, Sunny began stretching and testing her muscles, hopefully her wounds from earlier had healed enough that they wouldn't cause any mobility issues.
>That would be bad.
>Looking up at Jeff, she shot him a quick acknowledgement of the order.
"Sir."
>Taking a half step towards the entrance of the crypt, common sense took over and demanded she get a look at the map first rather than charging blindly into an old crypt of questionable structural stability.
>Getting back in the vehicle, Sunny peered over the map from the shotgun, head cocked as she was forced to view it upside down.
>Hopefully the floor plans weren't extremely complex, or it might get easy to get turned around, or worse, get separated. Especially given her lack of communication equipment, though getting a clean signal through the walls might have made that difficult anyway.
>She'd need to resolve that, but for now she'd stay in shouting distance.

>>208695

>Novus began to become progressively more concerned as Hodch continued to spit out fluid and vomit.
>He wasn't the medical kind of doctor (usually), not enough at least to identify whatever Hodch was sick with.
>Not that he could be infected as but a ghost stuck in a changeling's skullplate mask for the moment.
(Well doctor you have to understand, humans are not a magical race. We are quite mundane on my world, and exceptional people stand out quite badly. My organization does what it can to keep man safe, though that does not mean everyone's intentions there are... Benevolent. There are people there who only see numbers and are rather desensitized and cold, but most are determined to see our race there survive against threats we dont yet understand. Some do get declassified and released. But zombie viruses and other assorted things that cause lethal or transformative reactions in humans or animals are not.)
>The ponies in stasis also begins to garner Hodch's observer's interest, giving them all quite... Curious looks.
>But again, Hodch's health seems to be deteriorating to the point where it's becoming distracting and possibly harmful to the pony.
(While humans do seem and are physically weak Hodch, our evolutionary strength is creativity. We're quite inventive and, standing upright, we have finer control than hooves or even magic would. We're also not subject to... Hormonal breeding seasons. And like I said, while weak, we can still function with even quite horrible injuries such as loss of limb or even some major organs. It's quite impressive how resilient we can be, as weak as we may seem in comparrison to a stocky pony.)
>He takes in the strange looking mare, but doesn't comment.
(Old Horn? Yes, and actually, my soul is actually spread throughout those adorable little elk. Interesting stuff though on the constructs. I'll probably have more questions when I learn more about them.)
>This time, as Hodch vomits quite heavily onto the gray floor and Novus gets a clearer picture of what Hodch is throwing up, he finally asks.
(... Hodch, are you alright?)
>Obviously he isnt.
>But thats not the point.
(I mean... Your species does have its mating season yes but... Well, Hodch, I really don't care. Being... Inconvinenced by that is a lot better than a painful year or more of physical therapy, assuming my physical body even survices a moment longer outside of stasis.)
>He pauses a moment as Hodch continues to walk down towards the end of the complex, his hopes starting to diminish.
(Being a unicorn is non-negotiable though. I need to be one for the purposes of fine manipulation.)

>>208608
>Pareidolia exhales heavily, shaking his head.

"Will file those questions away for when more data is acquired."

>Raising a gloved hand, he wipes the thin layer of water droplets that had accumulated from the steam cloud as he steps towards the side trying to keep an eye on Krinza.

[Incredibly high heat tolerances... ]

"It also covered part of my suit and knife in Silverine. Can you remove it?"

>Looking back towards the Library, he adjusts his helmet.

"Considering the highly sensitive knowledge that Inquisitor has and her apparent control over time as she claims, it would be ideal to ensure her survival. I doubt she will be cooperative to overt Committee protocols. Unless she displays otherwise, knowledge of Committee assets should be kept to a minimum. That Stormtrooper must not be well trained in field medicine."

>His face makes a brief grimace as the Inquisitor retreats further into the Library to avoid the trooper's ministrations.

>>208690
>Cheto nods
"I would believe it was taken care of if that Construct catching fire and falling down is any indication."
>He lets out a little chuckle.
"Don't worry, we have won this battle and with seemingly no casualties to boot, only a moderately wounded mare that I dumped some water on since her armor was burning hot. I'm not sure how Miss Nalinya fared, but she was doing fine if her brisk pace back to the Pagoda is any indication."

>A hum can heard from Cheto's mouth, a little concerned over the Prench Pony's wellbeing.
"How long do you think he needs to be fully stabilized, Miss Frost? Will he be able to eat dried fruit or drink the fruit juice if he wakes up? I am pretty sure he will need some companionship the moment he wakes up."
(Tipper, huh? Seems there's some quarrel between the two.)

>Her ability to hum while talking is kind of impressive to Gallo.
"Woah, that is a neat trick you're doing, Miss Frost. I could never hum and talk at the same time if I tried."
(Flicker can wait. Maybe if she falls asleep again I can continue my petting session with her. I have not explored her body fully yet.)

>>208687
>It was safe to say that the Enginseer was forced to take that embarrassing mistake to the chin. Blushing furiously as she doesn't reply through the vox, and simply breaks into a sprinting run to clear the rest of the way to the library ASAP.
>Praying the entire way there, as the closer she gets to the Librarium, the more fearful for her life she gets.

>She was pretty sure there was a non-zero percent chance that she would simply die upon meeting the Inquisitor, simply because she had failed to ask her Micro-Cogitator for direction.
>She began to pray, and also repeat the thought of the day like a mantra beneath her breath as she ran.

(Techna-Lingua) "... O' glorious Omnissiah, forgive thy fleshy, filthy, useless, failing servant; please don't let me die again; I don't want to abandon my Machine Spirits!"

(Techna-Lingua) "Neither failure nor hesitation shall ever be tolerated, neither failure nor hesitation shall ever be tolerate---"

>She practically bursts into the Libarium at a full running pace, running as if her life depended on it -- because it did; and then slowing down just enough to not trip as she moved down the stairs to the lower floors.
>Then, seeing the stormtrooper working on something amidst medicae equipment, she slows down to a stride, before the psyker wave hits her in full force.

"UGH--"
>Her prayers are cut short by a pained, muffled yelp, as she stumbled a few steps -- briefly disoriented by the flashes of gold, prompting her to pause and grab at her visor, blinking frantically, as she pants that much more heavily.
>She manages to clench her jaw and swallow back the nausea, as she quickly pings the Micro-cogitator and BEGS for help in resetting her suddenly slowed synapse responses.

>At least, until her Auspex tells her there is a Inquisitor in the vicinity. And The stormtroopere refers to this, as far as she knows, equine xenoform, as THE INQUISITOR.

>She was so horribly confused and disoriented by everything that she has witnessed in the last 10 or so minutes that she simply ceased questioning what was happening, to save her sanity. But THIS, and the sight of the golden hoof, makes her head recoil slightly, and her eyes widen like dinner plates.
>Though that stun doesn't last more than a second, mainly because Chisan had threatened to execute her; which snaps her to attention almost instantly.
>He doesn't have to tell her twice.

>She screamed internally, and whimpered externally.
(HOW IS THE SITUATION GETTING WORSE AND WORSE THE MORE SECONDS PASS!?)
"Mh-hh-hn..."
>Slapping the top of her helmet to wake herself back up as best she can, while she grits her teeth FIRMLY.

>Without further hesitation, she ran around to the other side of the side of the tables, threw her hands down over whomever's arms/forelegs there was to hold still; with the help of her mechadendrite and mere, weakened biological arms!
>A sharp whirring sound emanating from her mechanical limb, as she used her mechadendrite's manipulator claw to, as gently as humanly possible at this moment (which was not very much), grab at the hoof wrapped around Chisan's neck and return it to the owner's chest and keep it firmly still.
>Using the other hands to hold down the other foreleg, while another tries to find a suitable spot, hopefully on the Inquisitor's forehead, to keep it as still as possible.

>Still panting quite heavily in contained discomfort. Forcing her arms into functioning despite the still present urge to vomit, which kept her from even whimpering in her quiet despair!

[1d6 = 1]
B. Assault: Pin
[1d6 = 5]

[1d6+2 = 4]
Mechadendrite Claw: Pin

>>208473
>Clemency would lean against the railing, but he's afraid he'll snap it
>Instead, he paces due to the fact the vessel isn't Construct
>Or it is and there is only harpies in it
>That electronic jamming was only making it worse; being cut off from Jeff making it hard to even try to understand the language
>He looks over the craft, knowing that this thing had been swarmed by Constructs yet seems fine
>The thing even crashed into the mothership
>Even though it's probably wrong, he attempts to speak in the radio at it
"Is there someone there?"

>>208707
(Hah, I am no doctor, more like a.. a very broad spectrum savant in many disciplines, fields, and studies. Not even close to Spiral's knowledge mind you, but I can certainly hold my own in debates with him.)
(Right there Doctor Novus, is the problem with ponies. We are excellent when it comes to planning for the future but we do not have the luxury of merely assuming that we CAN win most of the time. In fact, I would go so far as to state that your experiences and mine are much closer than either of us would like to think. ..if I do find you a host body, I will take you to meet the Founder's Executive Officer, perhaps he might be able to grant you something extra from storage to help out.)
>Paying no more attention to the wide array of earth ponies in stasis, Hodch spares passing glances to the odd pegasi with blades instead of feathers.
(Believe me, I know all about human capabilities, spent most of my time studying Razorback in close proximity. Humans have fine motor muscle control only when properly trained or motivated, unless they inherited such a skill from their dam and sire. All the weapons, armor, and various trinkets you come across in Equestria made by ponies are from what you call cottage industries: small scale efforts to produce the best possible results. It is rather amusing how much humans and equines share in common, but can never agree upon. Nearly opposite maretalities with similar expected results, I suppose. The human mind is extraordinarily difficult to comprehend, even for me.)
>Glancing up and down the next row, Hodch turns into the next set of cells, trotting past a profusion of darker colored batponies.
(If that were true, Doctor, then I would be unable to bring your soul into the piece of Changeling plate I am currently wearing. Perhaps the Predator-Elk rapidly developed their ka due to pressure, or the dormant portions of your psyche aided them in the task. It is a question that I will have to ponder much later.)
>Slowing to eye a pair of pink coated unicorn twins, the reservist glances them up and down carefully, then shakes his head.
(Damn it, close to mature but not enough. And, no, I am dying from a curse that has managed to spread despite the finest alchemical, Crystal Rune, spell craft, and Druid treatments available. I have perhaps six months, a year at most, before it takes me.)
>Crossing the two-third cluster of stasis cells, Hodch briefly chortles, glancing upwards to eye an odd minotaur, one without horns and fur on the upper body.
(It would if there were enough healers, perhaps a couple hundred or so, but Razorback is in a tricky environment. Acquiring a Consortium's aid for one human would be a difficult sell. The option I am trying to find for you would prevent most of the potential consequences.. that is, even if you are forced to learn the highly specific and wholly troublesome problems of Anima, Animus, and Draughts along with the problems of estrus or rut. Not that you should worry about the last two, only that they are merely inconvenient at best. Now, if you wanted a Crystal pony host body for highly complex, ultra-fine manipulation, that would be impossible. Princess Cadence refuses to allow any of hers to be held in these facilities. She has a far better method for saving the lives of her own than we do.)
>Reaching the second to last row of stasis cells, Hodch stops, backing up to eye a curious, previously unseen shade.
(Hm? We may be in luck here, one moment-)
>Turning in and ignoring the earth ponies, Hodch slowly clops into view of a relatively young unicorn mare in a comfortable sleeping pose below a dull green pegasus.
>Eyeing a white plaque on the lower end, the mare's coat was a light shade of neon slate, mane a dusky pink, the reservist's left forehoof lifting and reaching through to poke the frozen, unmoving horn, then the snout.
(..no injuries, trauma, virii, bacteria. Death record says she was involved in a defensive action around thirty years ago in a place called Skyrock Hold.. I know where that is, this is a Germaneighan body! No wonder nopony took it yet! Other than being a bit overweight this one could work out quite well for you, Doctor. But on the other hoof, you may get some dirty looks from Equestrian unicorns if you don't wear a robe all the time.. should I keep looking before you make a choice on this one?)

>>208712
>Placing a hoof on the display, the A.I. makes a solemn, acknowledging nod, saving its progress so far.
"Further extrapolations are running into null defined territory, at best I can offer small guesses sir. I'll reserve all future questions until further data is acquired."

"Of co-
>Bathing the area in cold water, the steam begins to rise upwards, the soaked blacksmith glancing about in the mist to identify anything still heated, stopping to swivel his shrouded head in your direction.
"..what? Silverine? I.. one minute please, I may have stepped on something."
>Carefully backtracking through the previously molten orange substance, Krinza pauses to dig something out.

>Watching the Inquisitor's actions, she was trying to exit the Library towards the Stormtrooper, rolling onto her right side and ceasing all movements, the Spiral render tapping his chin.
"Agreed, the protocols of making contact with an advanced, future, or temporal human civilization are.. well, you know the risks on those sir, but I advise at least asking if she is willing to share some information freely."
>Stabbing the post-human equine with a pair of large needles, the A.I. winces at the black armored trooper heaving her up, carrying Flash inside towards the stairwell and leaving the small hardcase on the ground.
"That.. looked painful. They must know each other sir, should I look into possible subterfuge methods for acquiring that human's knowledge, or at the very least attempting to monitor their communications?"

>Lifting something above his head for a few moments, Krinza half-trots out of the cloud to shake off, fortunately not dousing you.
>The pudgy unicorn frowns at a tiny, partially melted flat square plate in front of his nose, peering at it from side to side while ignoring the water dripping into his eyes.
"Interesting. There are neither electrical impulses nor mechanical components. At a crude guess this may be some form of solid state hard drive much like the one Jeff's wrist-mounted device uses, unfortunately I estimate that eighty percent of it is destroyed."
>Lifting the piece out to you, the smith glances back into the mist with a sour tone.
"I could swear that I felt something dying inside the wreckage. It was.. happy, I think."

>>208762

>The human doctor chuckles ethereally.
(Possibly, Hodch. There is quite a lot I am leaving out here because, while I'm likely to never see my own world again, it's still quite a real possibility and knowledge of my... Organization is highly controlled. I don't think you'd be a potential hazard to their secrecy since we're another universe away, but others who are have their memories carefully erased by our experts in those fields.)
>He lets out another, somewhat amused chuckle before Hodch responds on a more serious note about his condition.
>If Novus could have frowned, he would.
(I see. That is... Troubling.)
>He says nothing more on that note.
>And once more, doesn't respond other than a light. (Hmm) in response to Hodch's explanation.
>His physical body was likely not to survive, but if he had to spend another minute awake in it in stasis he would go mad!
>Again!
>Suddenly, as Hodch looks at the new mare, the Human soul gets his hopes up.
>She's not... Bad looking, but at the same time her physical characteristics left a little to be desired for a host, as she was a little... Rounded about her edges and had a little extra weight on her posterior.
>Not the best shape for the kind of operations Novus partook in, but it would work for a purely study heavy role.
(I see doctor. Given there's... Not a lot left to this facility let's take a look at the last few cells and see if there are any other options? Otherwise, this one will do. She is just a bit... Plump for what we do at Razorback in my humble opinion. Not too bad, but still.)

>>208714
>Gazing turning towards the door, the Crystal Combat Medic's expression slackens, her eyes half-lidding in hostile recall.
"Mister Gallo.. I need to report this immediately. My faction must know of this without any delay whatsoever."
>Tilting her head upwards, Frost merely flicks an ear, visibly unsurprised.
"Must be one of the Honor Guard. As for Naliyna Remostrine we of the Crystal Empire avoid her. She is.. no longer 'normal' by any stretch of the imagination. That does not mean she does not carry great honors. I will not talk behind her saddle when you have the ability to ask of her rather dark history."
>Shuffling a bit closer to the Prench stallion, her barrel now resting on his saddle, the Medic now cradling him in a comfortable looking position, her chiming voice sounding merry once more.
"Two to three hours if Nova Flicker's current auric field is maintained. As for your other question, both will be a definite yes, they will help in convincing him that he is not in enemy hooves."
>Head lifting to give you a puzzled glance, Frost Egg lifts her right shoulder in a small shrug.
"Every Crystal pony learns to do so when they're a foal though healers such as myself can perform two separate Runes at the same time. While we are not as effective as a unicorn or psion we can multitask much more easily by compartmentalizing our thoughts into multiple directives."
>Forming a series of runes in the air which becomes a thin crystalline sheet, Frost glances up to Nova Flicker treating the third elk, the page floating towards you as she does so.
"Hm.. it might be best if you leave the Clinic until he awakens. I'll send a direct crystal-link communication to you when he does. In the mean time do me a favor: take this to the Pagoda and place it in the center of the translocation matrix. Once that is done, tell the Remnant to send it to the Basin Village, then the Lunar Citadel, care of Citadel Combat Medic Frost Egg. It is vital that they receive this information."

>>207847
"Plus the wave would likely knock it over, or make it unstable."
>"And you're probably not light, Wild."
>After listening to her list the options, I take a moment to think.
"Okay... I would suggest starting with your weapon, then the first option... What's the fifth one? You only listed four to me."
>She better not be hiding anything.

>>203172 →
>Frowning to himself, Bubba was reminded that he needed to learn how to read the other dialects.
>It didn't help him that he only knew how to read a couple languages, only one of which was used here.
>Plus it would help him acquire more information.
"Hm... That might be useful."
>Stepping inside, Bubba took a long look around what could basically be described as a sweatshop back home.
>Of course, here it was a lot more comfortable and not full of chinks.
>And air conditioned.
>Making his way over to the propped up filly, Bubba bit back a smartass statement and instead gave her a polite nod.
"I take it you get to only ask that once in a while?"
>Giving her a soft chuckle, he takes a moment to take in the shop a bit more.
"Well, I'd like to know a bit more about what the Sea Shack offers. This is the first time I've been to Cairn Wharf."
>"Plus its a good idea to figure out prices now, in case I hear something I like."

>>208781
>Cheto nods as Frost tells about Nalinya's 'uniqueness'.
(Hm. That's one minefield I don't want to cross unless necessary. I'd hate to open up old wounds. At least it's confirmed she has a dark past now. I should try to find out what words or actions trigger her bad memories.)
>Another series of nods as she declares the patient's status, a neutral, calculating expression on his face.
"Perfect. This could also be used to appear more friendly to the pony in question. I don't want him getting the wrong idea and seeing any other human as a possible enemy."
>Even more nods followed by a little sparkle of wonder in his eyes as she explains her species' unique ability.
"Truly an amazing skill to have, especially in your line of work."

>After being given this new mission to pass time until the Prench Pegasus wakes up, he takes the levitating page and leaves the robe on the foot of the bed.
"Sure thing. I'll go right away."
(I'll have to ask Nalinya what kind of thing is a transformation matrix though. So Remnant is the messenger and the destinatons are Basin Village and Lunar Citadel, the sender being her. 'Citadel Combat Medic Frost Egg.' Quite a title.)
>With that, Gallo starts to walk out of the Clinic, page in hand and a newfound purpose to the Pagoda, obviously leaving Egg's robe behind.
(No way I'm keeping something that isn't mine and was worn by a female no less. That's a pervy thing to do.)

>>208740
>Delivering the appropriate Rite of Apology, the micro-cogitator begins to recite songs in Holy Binary litanies to appease you for its unintended failures.
>Of which, it assumed, had committed many.

>Breaching the underground lab's entrance and rushing towards the chair's rear, everything did get worse, but not in the way you'd imagined:
>The dull gold unicorn mare Chisan was struggling to hold down was covered by a traditional Witch Hunter's outfit, except fit to the slim equine body.
>Heavily modified with soft plates throughout the layers, the Stormtrooper was having a hard time trying to peel it back, a patchwork of small laser burns across the chest and barrel giving off the sickly sweet scent of burnt flesh.

>Winding the mechadendrite around the Inquisitor's left foreleg and pulling it down with great difficulty, placing your hands on the hands on the struggling mare's broad head and pushing her down reduces much of the nausea, the mare gasping for breath in visible shock-based trauma.
>Whether or not it was physical contact preventing the xenos Inquisitor's powers from exploding, she begins to calm as Chisan splashes a vial of incense-laden, bright red fluid that smelled of blood across the unusual laser and plasma wounds, hurling it off to the side.
>Pushing the Inquisitor down into the chair, the Stormtrooper reaches up and flings his carapace helmet off, exposing messy black hair and dark brown eyes, a stern, ancient Terran-Asiatic face creased from deep scowling, placing his right gloved hand on the Inquisitor's equine cheek.
"Inquisitor Velasi, remain in control of your powers. If you do not accept this command we will knock you unconscious or kill you, do you understand? "
>The nausea quickly dissipates while Chisan receives a feeble nod in return, reaching for one of the hard cases with an accepting sigh.
"Thank you Inquisitor. Enginseer Mallia has arrived, we will do our best to treat your injuries without performing augmentations as per your orders. Remain still-"
>Removing a tiny syringe of atrociously bright, rainbow colored liquid and holding it up, the Stormtrooper moves off to the right side, reaching between the Inquisitorial unicorn's rear legs with a shaking hand.
>Despite the potential for disturbingly lewd acts, the Scion's tone and shakiness indicated he was terrified of losing the.. xenos Inquisitor, you supposed.
"Enginseer, please move to my side and hold the Inquisitor's head while I TRY to give her nanite treatments. She must remain still if we are to save her legs. Failing that we.. must initiate full body sanguination treatment, and she will NOT be pleased with that upon recovering."
[1d6+2 = 7]
<B.Medicae
[1d6+2 = 5]

[1d6+4 = 7]
<Sanctified Alchemical Drugs

>>208741
>Static crackles for a bit in your helmet, a bad approximation of batpony En-Kee language making a questioning tone, all the while those few streaks of damage were beginning to meld over, the vessel's smooth surface becoming shiny and untouched once more.
>Puzzled by the silence, the voice is silent for a few seconds, then begins speaking in sharp, clear, and definitely medieval sounding harpy, albeit entirely electronic.
*"Whomest thou be which myself speaketh upon? Thou art not chiropteran equine nor avianis equine by thee tone. Be thou minotaur, young one? If thine are, dost thou havest thine Rite of Destruction prepared? Should thou, proceed within mineself, little of thy rotation remains before mine cells be recharged unto completion."*
>Close to the ground where the newly rebuilt cradle holds the converted sailing vessel, a batpony sized, rounded hatch opens, the voice continuing with a sharp, undefined noise in the background.
*"Should thou not have thine Rite of Destruction sire, a fleeting wing of comfort mineself mayest provide for thee's graces? Mine flights end not within the Endless Ocean above."*
>Definitely not normal, even by Razorback's rather vague, loose standards.

>>208743
>Barely acknowledge by Naliyna, now hoof deep in a variety of letters that looked more personal than professional, you receive a small hoof lifting in your direction before she groans.
>Must not be her night.

>Peering from the stone below, one of the Vortex Remnant's eyes senses your business intent, delivering you into a faded pink and green tunnel.
>For once you encounter no nausea or disturbing inside-out sensations!
>Set down with the briefest of touches, the large, professional workshops of the city-state.
>Giant two-story slabs of gleaming Empire Crystal making up each workshop, large and small, ringed the 4-way intersection, the sounds of humming, singing, chisels, and what might even be running water emanating from all around.
>Taking a look at your notes, then up at a signpost displaying a large hololith of the sector, after comparing them you head off southwest towards the destination shown, the night life exquisitely minimal.
>Coming across the rather drab, tiny one story building, the bold neon sign over it reading: 'GREATER FROZEN COAST CONSORTIUM - MAIN OFFICE'.
>Stepping in to find perhaps the most utilitarian, spartan office on Tallus you'd seen so far, the front desk was simply a flat slab of Empire crystal supported on two large legs and a large, swiveling crystal chair behind it.
>Besides four falls, ceiling, and floor, there was a short back door off to the left side, though the chair begins rotating around.
>A short, barely mature neon orange Crystal mare comes into view, the mane a pleasing shade of dark purple, eyebrows raising as she gives you a wide, happy smile, waving a foreleg in the air merrily.
"Welcoooome! I'm Three-Point Peach Quartz! How can the Greater Frozen Coast Consortium help you tonight?"
>Well, that was easy.

>>208506
>The fawn image looks surprised at Roust's statement until he figures out exactly what she said.
(That... I'm glad you think so but it doesn't quite apply to my situation. None of the injuries sustained did anything but kind of make up for a series of my fuckups that put us all into that situation.)
>As Roust continued her story time, Kraut's image tilted its head slowly further in confusion at the shitshow, snapping back into place when she mentions Dante's filly wife.
(I, good job? I'm going to give that a good job.)
(Huh, I didn't know that was an option. If it isn't a huge hassle I would very much appreciate that.)
>The fawn image stands back up and stretches its back out.
(I'm sure you want to know exactly what I got up to, so here goes.)
(So mistake number 1, though it isn't really entirely my fault, was not assigning anyone to read a map while I was gunning it to the northeast. We ran into a scar and long story short I went from driving a station wagon to...)
>Kraut then projects an image of Wild as he first saw her.
(Piloting an eldritch mech kind of deal. She goes by Wild and she likes to stick "medical" tentacles up your bootyhole. Anyways that wasted some amount of time.)
(We then continued Northeast until we found a downed construct vessel and a couple big elemental fuckers fighting next to it.)
>The image of Wild then changed between the fire and water elemental beings.
(The next couple mistakes were looking at the fire guy without turning off my IR visor and then attempting to get their attention by shooting between them. Also at this time I piloted Wild further into some heat zones she is not capable of withstanding.)
>The image goes back to the fawn form, standing to tell his story.
(We got close enough to the vessel, which I was certain had Vanil in it from a scan Wild performed, and 3 of us were launched to a hole just big enough for us to fit through. Snake phased himself directly to the pod we were told had "a small pegasus".)
(From there I froze myself solid trying to keep myself cool using my spell slinger and directed Novus to push me towards Snake while Caliya went to the other pods. Had I not tunnel vision-ed like I did I would have followed had Novus push me alongside Caliya so I guess that's another mistake.)
(From there I broke out, realized I fucked up by leaving Caliya, had everyone run to him and the pods after blowing a hole in the wall, and then got shot by Novus out his frustration and realization that I pretty much got everyone killed. After that I went really fast and now I'm here.)
>The fawn image sits back down and looks to the ground.
(So yeah, not quite the same as when I caught you in an explostion radius meant for a hostile target.)

>>208764
>Looking on as Flash disappears inside Pareidolia rolls his head, stretching his neck inside his sealed suit.

"Not yet. I will approach her proposal with trust as it will be needed to fulfill her joint mission. Afterwards it may be considered as or if needed."

>Hearing Krinza pause, he turns back to ask about the Silverine again before abruptly stopping.
>He looks down at the partially slagged box with suspicion as one gloved hand reaches halfway for his P90.

"Happy?"

[Something survived? A core? Happy-]

"Possibly active Construct remnant. Potential core processing device. I'm not sure what its capable of."

>He cautiously grips it with his free glove while speaking to his A.I.

"Analysis? Is there anything being emitted?"

>He continues to stare at the block of metal, his free hand clenching rhythmically in vigilance.

"I also don't know if the Silverine it sprayed on me will react with any remaining Construct tech. Can you remove it from my back and my knife?"

>>208795
>Mallia finds herself breathing a soft sigh of relief when the nausea abates, watching the interaction between the Stormtrooper trying to save the Inquisitorial Unicorn's life and the Inquisitor's response, looking into the unicorn's eyes to keep track of it they are faltering or not.
>Her mind still reeling from the realization that the Inquisitor wasn't even human, while still retaining physical readiness.
>Quickly retreating her mechadendrite with a sharp whirring sound as the Psyker herself calms down a bit more.

(Don't think about it. Don't think about the fact that the Inquisitor is a xeno, IT'SNOTTHETIME...)

>The Enginseer takes a moment to also take off her helmet with due haste, whipping it out of her head and letting her hair practically fling out of her head and down to her shoulders in a glistening, clumpy damp mess, while she briskly sets the helmet on the free area of the table.
>The woman's face looking ghostly pale from her own stress, forehead still damp with sweat and lingering water; her green, big eyes wide as they stared and darted frantically to take in the situation. Her brow likewise frowning in a determined, but considerably more calm scowl.

>She spares a single glance up when she double takes on a carapace helmet that had been flung off, sparing a brief split second to process the Stormtrooper's face, and taking note of his highly stressed speech pattern and hand shakes.

>She tries to relieve SOME of his stress by silently doing exactly as he says without hesitation. Taking a deep breath of her own to steady her tangibly rapid palpitations which were also making her shudder.
>Striding to stand to the stormtrooper's left side, making sure he has enough room to act while she, once again, reaches out to put both of her hands on the Inquisitor's forehead to hold her head back and keep her from staring at what's going on.

>And once again her mechadendrite shifts into motion again, whirring softly as it gently tries to reposition, and snake under the Ordo Chronos Unicorn's forelegs to keep them occupied -- so that they had something to rest, hold, hug, and/or squeeze, and act a belt as Mallia lifted the forelegs gently to rest higher over the unicorn's chest.
>The manipulator claw coiling around with it's upper end, and grasping at the exposed portions of the backrest of the seat and ensured that there was no danger of it falling over backwards and making things worse!

[1d6 = 3]
<B. Assault: Pin
[1d6 = 1]

[1d6+2 = 4]
<Utility Mechadendrite: Hold

>At the same time, she imputs the command to her Auspex to scan the Inquisitorial Unicorn to monitor her lifesigns, as well as give her something to work with in case she needs to try and administer CPR to an equine.
>She also makes sure to try to help the Auspex get through the readings of Throne Energies so that it wont be harmed/hindered in the process; and ensure that she can shut it off INSTANTLY if it gets bad for it, or the treatments.

[1d6+1 = 4]
<E. Tech-Use + Auspex Link
[1d6+1 = 6]

[1d6+1 = 6]

[1d6+2 = 8]
<CQ. Auspex Scan

>Then, finally, as a final layer of defense. She leans up slightly and smiles encouragingly, albeit shakily, for the Inquisitor, looking at them in the eyes with worried ones of her own, so the unicorn ha something to focus on aside from the ceiling.

>She speaks to the Inquisitorial Unicorn, with as soft a tone she can manage amidst quivering little breaths. Meekly hoping that her voice would have a calming effect.
"It's going to be okay, ma'am! Look at me, okay? Hold onto my mechadendrite if you must. Stay with us. Stay focused, please."
>She nodded her head, looking into the Unicorn's eyes, hoping for a positive response. Even annoyance would've been fine, as long as their mind wasn't on the pain or the procedure.

>Of course, having a Psyker focusing directly onto her could also be very much fatal. But she banished that fear, since she wasn't important in this scenario. Doing her best to smile brightly for the Inquisitor.

[1d6 = 3]
<B. Negotiations
[1d6 = 6]

>>207828
>Giving the crystalline mare a sheepish grin, he rubbed the back of his head.
"I may... forget ponies easily. For some reason, I don't know why."
>It'll get him hit one of these days.
"I do not have a Battery of either variety on me, but they don't nee-"
>He nearly smacks himself as he realized she was talking about the batteries that goes into equipment.
"Sorry, when I hear 'battery thing' I think of artefacts."
>He gives her a smile and nods.
"I was hoping you might help me with repairing some armor I had.. acquired recently. Exoskeleton armor, from the Zone."

>>208529
>Adon tracks the rock's trajectory as it flies clean past the construct orb and eventually lands with a hard audible clack.
>He was hoping to hit another rock to create plenty of noise too! Lucky break!
"It's going back the other way. We should get out of here, while it's distracted."
>The WItcher look to Golden Horn for an opinion.
"Can you teleport us far enough away up to where it won't notice us, or better off hoofing it?"
>He realizes the light pun he's just made to a being... with hooves.

>>208529
>>208980

>With the looks he was both getting from rhe unicorn and chitqu he was starting to feel pretty bad about that suggestion.
>It wasn't a terrible plan, surely!
>He quickly tries to whisper in defense in his thickly accented English.
"N-n-no! We would link back up without the construct looking was what I meant! Not getting rid of you!"
>Perhaps it wasn't the best plan in the world.
>But still... Surely they were just overreacting.
>Spruce looks over as Adon tosses his rock... A little impressed at his baseball pitcher style throw that just launched that thing like a rocket off into the distance.
"Damn..."
>He whispers, looking over the rock barely as Adon says its moving away to indeed confirm with his own eyes that it is.
>Spruce looks to Golden expectantly, waiting for his reply before he heads to the next area of cover.

>>208769
(You mean a spell-casting unicorn capable of the following: dropping comets or meteors onto the moving heads of potential enemies, removing the ka of most living beings without causing harm to the ka itself or the body, split-casting multiple banned spells, summoning large numbers of creatures, and also knows how to recreate or destroy most of the banned weaponry across an entire continent is not a hazard? Well.. not like I could expect you to know any of that, most of what I know is banned regardless.)
>Coughing harshly, the unicorn stallion tips his head, represented by your perspective tilting several degrees downwards, checking out the mare's hooves carefully.
(Hrm.. I have accepted the cold and cruel inevitability of my fate, Doctor Novus. Since it cannot be prevented any longer I have little choice but to live out the rest of my abnormally short life in whatever ways or means I see fit. Princess Luna could sentence me to live on the dark side of the Moon until I do eventually die, which would honestly be a great improvement.)
>Lifting his shoulders politely, he looks down at the Germaneighan body once more, then turns towards to the left-rear section, ambling towards the back.
(Of course. Two hours of strict physical exercise each night would reduce the burdens and improve capabilities, but considering how poorly tonight has gone..)
>Meandering through the back set of stasis cells into another line, Hodch peers down quickly, passing the next three, doing a double take at something.
(I may have to ask the Executive Officer if there are any other unicorns of age in storage, it does not seem li- nevermind, let us see this one.)
>Half-trotting inwards to survey a young, wiry mare, her coat a speckled, burnished copper and bronze, the mane a luminous ivory, Hodch stares at it for a few moments in disbelief.
(Unbelievable, nopony has taken this one?)
>Reaching in to touch the horn, he removes his hoof, gazing down at the plaque below with a short nod, the fetlocks long and covered in small red streaks.
(I remember now. This is a feral unicorn from Southern Saxoneigh, which is normally inhabited by flesh-eating pegasi mind you. Approximately eleven years old, no substantial trauma, discovered outside of some city on the north most tip of Germaneigh. It has been here for roughly three-hundred and ten years due to superstition. Should I work my way around the last few and ask the Executive of the other two facilities once that is done?)

>>209042

>The spirit of the doctor snorts.
(You have nothing left to lose Hodch and you apparently know of or work for this... Organization we're both in right now searching for a new body to put me into. I'm confident everything will remain confidential.)
>As they come across another stasis cell and happen upon now what looks like another mare, this one not overweight, the Doctor smiles.
>Not that anyone could see.
>Not that even he could see!
>But he felt that he did?
(Oh, this one looks quite nice. Another Saxon?)
>If Novus could scratch his head and nod approvingly, he would have.
(A unicorn from a region of flesh eating pegasi. Sounds quite fitting for a human, I wouldn't even have to give up meat! Even better is that she's apparently a Saxon... Saxoneighian? Either way, we also had a Saxony back on Earth which given the similarities of our two worlds, this history may sound familiar.)
(Saxony, on Earth, was a large Kingdom of tribes which occupied Northern Germany. They hated everything not Saxon and raided and killed a lot of the French for hundreds of years until a great king, Charlemagne, invaded and basically wiped them all out in the early ages of our history... Also, about 11 hundred to 12 hundred years ago. They also set up early England by colonizing it.)
>He pauses.
(Hodch, what exactly what do you mean by "feral"? Would that effect me in any way at all?)

>>208802
>Clemency was thinking quick when he heard the bat language spoke to him
>Almost made him wish he took the time to learn that
>Instead, he had to sit and think about the harpy's speech quirks
>Lucky it knew Common
>"There it is with the minotaur comparison. Still somewhat apt if they saw us..."
>Putting two and two together, Clem maybe figured that the Rite the pilot is speaking off is the herd of batponies coming over
"This is Clemency. Lunar and Razorback affiliated..."
>He wonders how far that group of bats are
>It also started to make sense about the references they made
>"I believe the rite is approaching soon. For me, I saw a strange vessel and thought to investigate it. Are you a pilot?"
>Clemency feels tension, thinking they may be someone from Tallus being a pilot in his sense of the word
>He already found it hard to believe they had spaceborne craft
"What's your mission?"

>>208803
>"Hey, I'm finally getting used to it!"
>Plopping down into the city, he looks around first seeing as he hasn't been there ever
>The soft bustle of the city feels familiar, even in this very unfamiliar environment of crystals
>He follows his notes and his map to the Consortium
>Inside, he almost called out before being welcomed
>Being welcomed in, he gives a smile to the young crystal pony
"Hello. I'm Zhun of Razorback Fortress and I'm here to make an order. Uhh..."
>He digs again for his notes
"I think we got a contract already with medical and alchemy supplies? We need a full restock."

>>208605
>Astral was sad to see go but Mallia looked busy, so she waved her goodbye.
>'I will see her again.'

>>208683
>As Nova Flicker spoke to her, Astral went cross-eyed with her tongue poking out of her closed mouth.
"Good, she deserves all the snoot boops!"
>The Pred-elk declared, a fact that will become true.

>Then she groaned like a petulant calf yet begrudgingly opened her mouth after sniffing the bottle Nova wanted her to drink. As she drank the contents of the bottle she tried to ignore the taste, it would annoy the Ward if Astral coughed up the medicine back into her face. Done, she smacked her lips.
"Tastes like medicine!"
>She said before staring at Nova, intense curiosity writ on her face. She leaned in closer to the pony as if to inspect something she just noticed, and right as she was snoot to snoot with the healer, Astral did something most heinous.
>She licked Nova's snout with a quick draw tongue flick!
"Thank you Nova, I deeply appreciate it."

>>208678

>Venous nodded in agreement, her features sympathetic.
"So do I Sir Corsen, however we cannot fail this endeavour."

>Through a bubbling sensation that felt like a million beetles were fucking each other inside his skull, the Cultist saw that Tzeentch was flipping him the bird.

>Observing Corsen was done with his outburst the Honour Guard sat back down, returning to stargazing the deep sparkling night sky.
"I suppose it can get quite mundane without the constant ministrations from Lady Duo Whell."

>She tilted her head to the side in thought, agreeing a moment later with snort and scuff of hoof on stone.
"Very true Sir human, sadly however Princess Celestia is busy at this time with the whole Royalty problems and other inconvenient factors. On my word as an Honour Guard I shall ensure you an audience with her Majesty as soon as she is available to do so."

>Hearing Corsens' ideas Venous fully turned away from the night to him, curious and listening. A forelegs' knee rubbing her chin as she began to speculate.
"An appealing strategy, such a callous truth spreading unannounced would force Myndalin to retaliate in favour of protecting his fragile ego. No doubt sending and spreading his force across Canterlot to chase us."
>The orange mare glanced up from her thinking back to Corsen, humming.
"The bounty would seal it. Yet it would attract outside elements, I wanted to keep this situation as an Honour Guard matter, though she is your Mistress and I cannot deny you on how to achieve this.."
>Lips pursed Venous stared back towards Canterlot, watching Herds and couples coming and going oblivious or not concerned with the politics that were currently happening.
"Yes, keep him focused on us and the bigger the commotion that is made the more what little reputation he has will be harmed, reputation is something the Royalty cannot afford to lose these days."

>She stopped pondering, taken aback by Corsens' fatal finality.
"Dying would not be ideal at all Sir human, Myndalin will die sooner or later by your hooves or somepony' else's. As for your hatchet and a means to procure magic? You must follow me once again, we go to Canterlot University."
>Standing up properly, the off duty Honour Guard Medic stretched her legs one at a time before trotting back to Canterlot proper.

Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>208980
>Golden breathed in big breathes in an attempt to calm himself down.
"If it is truly distracted and moving further away from our position I can translocate us higher up the mountain, and as much as I am terrified of that pseudo-Construct I cannot let myself run away now."

>The Unicorn chuckled at Adons' pun, cheering him up some as his horn lit up with gathering magic.
"A good pun, must know a Batpony."

>>209036
>Tiny fluff covered arms crossed, the Chitqu *HUMPH'D*, accepting Spruces' explanation but did not seem to like it though.

>Horn glowing golden with summoned power, the old Unicorn looked to Spruce, a small smile on his lips once again.
"We are heading up the mountain some more, hope that does not bother you."
>Golden sniffed then closed his eyes in concentration. Once again a magical wind blew around the trio, slightly less blustery due to the large boulder they were all taking cover behind.
[1d6+2 = 6]
>M.Teleportation
[1d6+2 = 3]

[1d6+2 = 4]

[1d6+2 = 3]

>And just as before, the two humans felt their world disappearing into a stomach churning dislocation of sense only for solid ground to bring them back from the maelstrom.
>Albeit more woozy than before, and it was not that the ground was more sloped now and covered in loose stones either.
"Oh bugger I knew this would happen...W-where are we?"
>Asked Golden horn shakily, legs wobbling to keep him up.

-1 to movement for 2 turns.

>>208653
"Acknowledged, preparing for deployment sir."
>Grabbing his tool bag, Boris waits for Mercy to extend her right wing, hopping across it and plopping down on the pegasi's saddle.
>Taking a loose strand of mane to hold, Mercy turns around in the back seat to jump out, leaving a small cloud of mist in her wake.

>Peering at the schematic, it was fairly complex to study:
>The entrance would be an above ground foyer, one that looked more like a defensive barrack layout, while the second, an unusual ceremonial chamber shaped somewhat like the Void Remnant's crypt, was little more than four walls with a raised circle in the center.
>The third 'room' was a large, 3-walled stairwell leading down into the crypt itself, a single, wide open room with approximately 40 burial chambers.

>>208697
>Losing the chime and flute, you could hear nothing more from within, the crypt silent, and perhaps welcoming.
>Outside, the fluttering of small wings is accompanied by cautious, tiny meows, several flights of the once thought extinct Moor cats flitting inwards.
>Minuscule claws rapping on armor, a large variety of the bat-winged felines land on Arcane Blades, one to each, likewise facing outwards along with the batponies and few pegasi amongst their number.

>Hopping onto the driver's seat to eye the vague schematic, it was surprisingly non-Equestrian for a burial crypt, the strange, rarely discovered and highly spartan Lunar architecture only found in a small number of regions across the Northern New Everfree.
>Something tugged at your memory about this, but it was a bit too far back to recall at the moment.

>Ahead, Mercy crosses around the road being carefully reconstructed above the ancient one, both wings raising as she stalks towards the entrance, her radio clicking in for Jeff to hear.
*"Layout?"*
[1d6+4 = 8]
<Reveal Unnatural

>>209318
>>208697
>Letting Sunny look over the blueprints as well while they walked toward the crypt, Mercy and Boris can be heard behind dismounting.
>The crypt didn't seem too hard to navigate. Only two above-ground rooms, a staircase, and then the crypt itself.
>But a defense setup for the barracks was interesting. Maybe to keep the Undead in, or keep grave robbers out?
>He thinks over what he knows about batponies and the Lunar Military to better come up with a better idea on why it'd be set up this way.
[1d2 = 1]
<Lore: Batponies, Amateur
[1d2 = 1]
<Lore: Lunar Military, Amateur
[1d6 = 4]
<Intuition

>Mercy had already taken the liberty of breaking off a bit, so he opens his radio up so she can hear him as well.
*"Okay, everyone can hear me? So, first room looks to be a foyer with a barracks in it. After that is going to be a ceremonial chamber with a center-piece which then leads into a staircase going down to the actual crypt. This blueprint says there's forty burial chambers, but your friend did mention this might not be completely accurate. Everyone, make sure to communicate any deviations from these details once we're inside. Mercy, if you sweep the place for any Undead and Spectrals, I can look it over with my Void Sight. Also, I need to give you something before we head inside."*
>Taking a needed breath in, Jeff looks over the approach to the crypt and sweeps the front of it with with said vision while unzipping a small part of the top of his pack with a free hand.
[1d6+4 = 10]
<Void Sight

>>209240
>>209036
>The Construct still visually distracted, Golden Horn gathers his mettle and casts a teleportation spell to move them further away and hopefully up the mountain.
>Still not a fan, but it's better than whatever could've happened with that Construct.
>Popping back into existence he lands on a steep slope with loose rocks, his footing slipping.
>Adon digs his boots onto the loose ground, and tries to regain his balance with his hands before looking around to try and find their placement on the mountain.
"At least we're away from that Construct. How far did you move us up?"
[1d6 = 1]
<B.Perception
[1d6 = 3]

>>208784
>Standing up straight now, the pair of safety tendrils around you letting go, though the first one remains loosely around your waist, and, thankfully, does not seem interested in further violations.
>Tearing the exterior sheet of her slagged Ultra C+++ chest armor off, Wild holds it up for a brief inspection, then begins crumpling it together carefully with her hands.
"Precisely why that specific option was discarded. The only logical choice available to us is to descend below waveform actions."
>On the left screen, the Eldritch Android's lower right leg.. components you guess, were now reading yellow instead of red.
"Three-point five percent mobility restored, I am unable to reinforce motivators at the moment."
>Coming back into view, the various metallic tendrils hover around the right side of the screen, the enormous semi-automagic cannon pistol lifted up as Wild begins scanning it.
"Acknowledged, I will attempt to increase the range and effectiveness of my weapon systems."
>Breaking into a tone that was definitely akin to a filly sticking her hoof into a nettle plant, the cabin's screens flicker with static.
"..I was considering the idea of salvaging all of my external and internal components into a small vehicle for you to escape in, however I do not have the knowledge of how to do so. That would also necessitate returning to salvage what is left of my hulk. In sum: inefficient and highly dangerous."
>Laying out several pieces of mythril, all seven tendrils begin cutting them apart with the small beams of red light, Wild left hand unscrewing the weapon's barrel.
"Scanning for long range waveforms in progress. Weapon upgrade schematic completed. Natilda, please advise my next course of action."
[1d6 = 2]
<Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+4 = 7]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #7

>>208804
>Placing her armored snout on the stasis cell, Roust emits a mildly amused chortle.
('A perfectly executed plan is one made by hand, hoof, horn, and wing in field; all other plans are destroyed the moment enemy contact is met. At least we had fun!' Razorback motto number I do not know. That team should be instantly demoted one level, then promoted two more the following week.)
>Ears tossing from side to side, the Vanguard merely shrugs her shoulders in a small motion.
(He is to be commended for accepting. Earth pony fillies have been known to demarend mareriage at five or six. That one was eight, perhaps nine. Ponies mature more quickly than humans, but I will withhold my judgement for a few centuries.. or perhaps more. And, when I do wake up next I shall try my best to emulate your physicality.)
>Nodding briefly, Roust turns her head sideways, right cheek resting on the stasis oval and the eye half-lidded in a too-tired-to-sleep manner, listening intently.
>Blinking slowly, the Changeling makes an errant nose twitch, her mental tone radiating with warmth and pride.
(Vanguards are expendable. I know my duties well: to keep an enemy or enemies distracted with superior armor and delaying tactics. It is our sworn duty to absorb the worst blows and magic an enemy may offer before the rest of our kin reach optimal range. I willingly accepted the purpose my Queen gave just as I accepted the urge to protect all others before myself.
(Ultimately, you did not jeopardize others for the sake of pride, as I could be, probably rightly, accused of from time to time. Intent matters, Kraut. You followed what you believed was best. You would not be the first to be humbled by an experience that you did not have control over. However..)
>Maretally trailing off, the armor shifts uncomfortably, green eyes squinting in something approximating thought.
(This.. 'Eldritch mech'. I do not understand the second term save that it implies mechanical composition, and the first greatly bothers me. What became of it? No, wait, what about Natilda?)

>>208821
>Shrugging at the denial of orders, the A.I. goes back to collating and sifting through data.
"Understood sir, I will update my suggestions based on.. you know how this goes."

>Lifting a smoky yellow forehoof to peer at, Krinza nods slowly, glancing up to shake his head at you reaching for the weapon.
"No need. I have a great deal of experience with Razorback's sentient or sapient weapons, armor, devices, equipment. I believe that Constructs are capable of forming moods. That was likely a, to paraphrase Spiral, final thought or inclination to death's peace."

>Reading the many spectrums and frequencies it had access to, the Spiral A.I. turns its head to you with a boggled expression.
"Nnnnone at all detected within proximity, sir. I partially concur with the equine's statement, that was either a metaphysical attribution, the soul or some such nonsense, or a preprogrammed response."

"I will try."
>Ambling out of the steam and behind you, the smith makes a curious sound, bright yellow light emitting under head level.
>Tugging sheets off the pack, then your armor, Krinza abruptly neighs in surprise, causing the A.I. to swivel around in confusion.
"How did th- what kind o- Constructs are able to COMPACT silverine by twenty times into molecular foam!? Damn the High Lords, that one should have been captured instead of destroyed! Have you discovered another one like this before?"
(..what? Is this short frumpy looking fat horse that needs a diet and some exercise missing the many parts where it nearly killed you, severely wounded two equines, and probably could have killed half the humans here had it remained grounded? Sir, requesting permission to temporarily suspend my mood and emotional vector programming so I can make sense of this.)

>>208844
>Moving around the old armchair into the Inquisitor's sight, the dull yellow eye focuses into a tiny, pain stricken cylinder on you.
>Placing both hands on the Inquisitorial equine's head, a small charge of static data is recorded from four MIU's and a complex micro-cogitator, all of which were Artificer grade if not better.
>Twisting both forelegs into the mechadendrite, the Inquisitor's expression slackens while you were definitely not thinking about anything other than performing the ordered duties.
>Nonetheless, your micro-cogitator records everything in excruciating detail, including the unicorn's incredibly soft peach scented coat, barely above human strength musculature, and the fine, highly pliable hide underneath.
>No heresy detected here, Enginseer.

>Breaking through the Inquisitor's nearly overpowering Beta-level waveforms, the auspex notes a series of 11 high energy laser burns spread across the chest, barrel, and rear legs, along with a pair of bio-plasma burns wholly unlike the many Tyranid variants in the rear of each hindquarter.
>Identifying the trace energy signatures somewhere between a Hotshot Lasrifle and a low powered Lascannon, the streak of charred tissue below the Inquisitor's left eye was going to heal with significant scarring, though the eye itself would likely be saved.
>Failing to find any knowledge of cardio-pulmonary resuscitation, the auspex shutters into hardened mode to protect itself from the overwhelming Throne-energies.

>The eye facing you snaps shut while the hiss of an auto-injector fires off, Chisan speaking something-
>And is quickly cut off.
>The underground lab distorts, twisting into another reality entirely, that of an Inquisitor's small, private office.
>Covered from wall to wall in weapons, armor, trinkets, ArchaeoTech devices, tokens, trophies, awards, medals, a single tusk of some giant beast, and much more than you could name, both the ceiling and floor were a flat white-gold.
>Sitting behind an unusually plain, light red wood desk, the image of a woman appears, hands steepled together, one knee over the other, wearing traditional Witch Hunter garb without the round cone hat.
>Glancing up to you, the two dull yellow eyes are framed by a comically pale, likely Voidborn Pacifica face, the Inquisitor speaking in a smooth, faux-seductive young tone, which quickly turns down into a smooth, slightly annoyed mood.
"Enginseer. Mallia. Castella. Welcome. Normally my mind is much less organized, but the pain and shock of nearly dying works wonders. I am Velasi Aguinas, Rogue Trader and Ordo Chronos Inquisitor. I am not pleased to make your acquaintance You are in MY mind after all. I will forgive you for the intrusion, but only this once. Please-"
>Nodding slightly, a chair is felt/heard taking shape behind you.
"Sit. Everything we speak here will be utterly confidential, unless my Tempestus Scion needs to know. Just so that you understand, I executed the last six Enginseers, four Tech Priests, and the one Tech Priestess that the Administratum Mechanicus felt would be capable of spying on my duties. Do not think I will hesitate to do the same to you, so, for right now, your first order is this: you are to abandon all AdMech Doctrines of Secrecy when dealing with me, my Tempestus Scion, or those I sanction."
>Tapping her thin fingers together, the woman leans back, allowing a mildly angry, predatory half-smile, half-stare to creep across her lips.
"Once you do that, tell me who you are, Forge-World you came from, what you are good at, what you are bad at, how you feel about the irritable and utterly inconsequential Quest for Knowledge, after which I will then decide what to do with me. And, perhaps, what I will do with you."

>Definitely not the best primary interview on your record..

>>209394
>It was safe to say that Mallia was moderately disoriented. She was not expecting to have her consciousness SHIFTED so suddenly -- having never really experienced such things in her life.
>Thus far she had acquired enough luck to not see ANY psykers outside an Astropath. And then those, only from a fair distance away.

>Her luck, alas, has obviously run out in the most catastrophic way possible. Not only was she affected by a psyker, it was the most powerful one possible and an Inquisitor to boot.

>All of her dread from letting down Chisan was quickly washed away, replaced by a dreading fear for her life as she 'stood' there, in the 'office'; dumbfounded to the point that she was literally just standing there, staring blankly.
>Even her mind was blank, as her she starts to hear her heart beating in her ears. She was also sweating quite generously at this point.

(I-I didn't ask for this. Why is she so rude? Why do Inquisitors want people to die? Why do they want ME to die? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME AGAIN??)

>This was the second time an Inquisitor had given her an interview to see if she was worth executing or not. The first time wasn't fun either.
>She passed it. But said Inquisitor ended up getting her killed within the next day anyways along with her entire squad.

>Without saying anything, moving, or sitting down; her eyes snapping to the seat when the Inquisitor nods to it.
>Her hands nervously pin themselves to her waist, rubbing at her own wrists as she subconsciously straightens her back to enter an at-attention potion for the better portion of a second.
>Before audibly gulping. Taking one quick glance up to the treasure trove of technology all over the 'room'; then down to the Inquisitor again.

>With a slow, ginger step forward, she positions herself infront of the seat. Then she lightly adjusts her robe with her hands, and gracefully, slowly sits down lightly, holding onto the edge of her seat. As if she expected a pressure plate on the seat that would instantly kill her, or worse.

>She then takes a deep, audibly shaky breath and lets out a little whimper after the exhale.

(I'm so dead. And I didn't even get to make any friends. Now all my squad will be forgotten and they'll be dead for nothing. I hate Inquisitors.)

"I uh... "
>She gulps again. Coughing behind her hand, and absolutely, positively not making eye contact, preferring to look at her own, gloved hands.
"I don't... Have a c-choice so, y-yes ma'am..."

(I was worried for her, too. Screw me. I hate me. I'm such a failure. If she doesn't kill me I'll die somewhere else, probably; she doesn't care about my fate...)

>Her jaw clenches and then rolls a little. Darting her eyes over her hands as she squeezed her own hands, desperately bundling up her robes to try and hold onto something, clenching her hands and balling them up.

"M... My family, the Castella family, is... Is mostly a Technologist family. M-..h... We... Specialize in military fortifications, hence the family name. I was raised to be a technologist, too. I have all my family's designs in my possession. Though I was interested in actually working on Machine Spirits, rather than simply researching."

>Her thoughts slowly shift to her mother. She felt a tug in her heart at how strongly she wishes to be with her now; a feeling so strong it rivaled her fear.
>It made her blink a few times, taking in a slow, deep breath as she slowly composed herself.

"I come from Mars. However I served with the Imperial Guard far from there, and I died in 'service' of the Inquisition."

>She paused, looking up to the Inquisitor, fully expecting her to start getting murderous thoughts in the form of a glare.
"I'm good at Construction, Repair, and Deconstructions of materials and machines of any kind. I can soothe just about any machine spirit and establish positive relations with them. I am proficient in maintaining and constructing fortifications, and I ... i like to think I work well with other people. Specifically, guardsmen."
>She found her heart emptying of emotions when she uttered that last part. The sheer amount of grief and fear making her jaded.
>At least, this was making her speak more fluidly. As she slowly accepted her fate, letting go of her own hands and sagging her shoulders.

>Then she paused, and thought over the 'what do you think of the quest for knowledge'.

(Why is it Inconsequential? Why does she have to spit on my beliefs like that?)

"I was... Never really into the whole Knowledge gathering aspect of the Cult Mechanicus. I always wanted to, obviously; but I worked on Machine Spirits and only Machine Spirits, manual work was my focus rather than Research."
"As far as my humble opinion goes, I... Am pretty neutral about it. Not Inconsequential in my pointless opinion. but at the same time I am just an Enginseer, all I care about is the Machine Spirits. I'm willing to research new things and learn to make things better, as long as it doesn't hurt the spirits."

>Talking so much was cathartic for her. Though she stopped abruptly now, not wanting to talk too much and end up with their head exploded because she 'annoyed' the Inquisitor.

(Please don't kill me pleasepleaseplease...)

>She instinctively tries to probe her Auspex for help. She doesn't issue it a command, she just calls for help without imputting an actual command. She just goes:
(Save me from the Inquisitor, please. I beg you holy Machine Spirit, help me; I'm scared.)

>>209121
>Glancing upwards into the neverending shaft above, Hodch snorts in a sardonic tone.
(Then you probably understand what I have already lost, Doctor. All I truly have left are the rapidly declining body and a mind that can barely inspire enough motivation to eat. For right now, I may, or may not, be taking advantage of your situation in order to collect on a verbal favor.)
>Bringing your perspective, and his, back down to eye the mare, the unicorn shakes his head negatively.
(No, Saxoneigh are only. This mare.. may have come from a Black Woods population. It is considered less dangerous than the Old or New Everfree, but substantially more difficult to travel through.)
>Tapping his chin several times in thought, Hodch makes a fond sigh.
(Interesting.. so many similarities. There was a Prench stallion named Char-le-Mane around two thousand years ago, leader of the Northern Cauls whom may have had some lineage from a Saxoneigh offshoot much further back. Amusingly enough, he was viciously detonated under a few meteors that the rank and file Prench military requested the Germaneighan Guilds to summon. Prance and Germaneigh made amends but have been at 'war' over whom makes better food ever since. Quite frankly I enjoyed both and was unable to decide.)
(Feral equines are more impulsive than half-ferals, or modern ponies. They have less self-control and are more likely to act instinctively or on a whim. Not only that, they are decidedly less logical, but more capable of sensing weather, seasons, danger, what is good to eat. More survivor than thriver, really.)

>>209339
>I let out a grimace at the sight of her chest armor, before watching the screens.
>And I stay quiet while she explains what the last option was.
"... It was a good idea you scrapped the option, then. And I wouldn't have chosen it anyway."
>After a moment, I debate on the other options given to me.
"Reinforce the compartment so we can safely go down to two hundred meters."

>>209408
>The Inquisitor raises an eyebrow as you 'sit' down, the sensation of what looked like polished wood and real cotton was so minute as to be ethereal.
"If you think this is rude, Enginseer, you should see what I do to Guardsmen that refuse to punch me when I demand them do it. I do not enjoy killing, nor do I want to execute you unless I have sufficient evidence of treason. And, you are in my mind therefore I am processing your thoughts for the both of us. It is.. difficult. As well, the Doctrine of Secrecy is forbidden from this moment onwards. As you tell me the truth, I shall tell you."
>Steepling her fingers once more, the Trader's head tilts expectantly, taking on a tired expression; strangely, her hair was merely a cloud of dull gold as if from a holovid.
"Enginseer, I can assure your life but I cannot assure that you will be able to make friends. I have no means of contacting the Imperium that I have discovered, and if you truly do hate me then I accept the full force of it. However, you WILL treat my Tempestus Scion, those I sanction, most of the humans, ponies, as well as other species you will encounter on this world with all due respect. You do have a choice. Many in fact, though you will have to make all of them count."
>Leaning back in the not-actually-existing chair, the Inquisitor's expression stops being severe, turning into vague interest while she listens.
>Closing her eyes, Velasi's left hand lifts, many calm Machine Spirits, yours, and presumably hers, quietly singing the Litany of Grace in perfect Binary, giving a small, peaceful smile.
"Your Machine Spirits adore you. Too many that I have been assigned, added to my retinue, or come across do not return their affection in kind. I greatly approve of your bonds. Such a skill is far too valuable and needed right now, so, no, I shall not kill you at all. Instead I commend you and at the same time metaphysically spit upon your previous Inquisitor for being a typical blistering Imperial fool."
>Pointing upwards with one pale finger, the slightly grainy images of many Tau, Eldar, Necron, and other weapons, including a puzzling crossbow, what looked like a Rak'gol radiation pistol, a strange pair of what might be miniature flamers, and dozens of others can be seen behind her, her voice taking on an honest, gentle tone.
"These, Enginseer, are why the Quest for Knowledge is inconsequential. The Cult Mechanicus will not innovate new technologies. It derides innovation almost exclusively as tech-heresy and treason, and it arrogantly believes that the Imperium may only make use of human built technologies. These are what the AdMech wishes it could construct, yet since they are not of human make they are 'heresy', 'unclean', 'foul', 'tainted', 'corrupt', 'weak', 'useless', 'dangerous'. I have used perhaps six thousand xenos weapons without a single iota of taint, corruption, or Abominable Intelligence within them. They are but weapons, what matters most is whom wields them, not what. Humanity is but a tiny speck of our Materium, Enginseer, there are thousands of species that existed long before we did. Those weapons alone are why the Administratum Mechanicus has long become obsolete. If this does not make you cognizant of the colossal stupidity, tremendously fallacies, and the arrogant doctrinal failures that the Cult Mechanicus enforces, then I will withhold all of the Standard Template Constructs I have recovered and built here until you DO recognize them."
>Left index finger pointing at you, the Machine Spirits begin singing a strangely upbeat song, one without words as she smiles, then relents to a grim stare down at the non-existing desk.
"You have many of the skills that are needed here. I approve, however, you will have to work well with my Tempestus Scion, my retinue only consists of him at the moment you see. However, no doubt you have seen some of this prized, proud Fortress. It is a self-contained bastion in which less than one hundred humans and a brilliant if not slightly morbid, buckling mind fought off nearly ten thousand.. and it now lies silent. The weapons, defenses, self-repair capabilities, even the capacity to speak, understand, and learn lie silent. Some of the utility functions are marginally active but I suspect more will fail soon. By the by, it is no Abominable Intelligence, it is a demi-sentient, one that I am beginning to.. dearly miss."
>Turning her eyes up at the flat ceiling, the Ordo Chronos shakes her head briefly, gaze tiredly dropping down to you once more.
"I know how much this is to take in. For me, it is much worse. I have spent eleven years on this world, close to three in realtime, the rest temporally, but know this: here YOU shall be the greatest of cogs, far above and beyond the deluded traditionalist fools of the dying Cult Mechanicus.. or you will do so on your own should I die, which is looking more likely with each passing night. Now, you have three choices:"
"One, join my retinue. You will be treated as invaluable, I will share much of my knowledge, grant you access to the workshop I have somewhat put together, and I will also see about making an agreement with the grandmaster smith here. You will also billet with my Tempestus Scion in the Sea's Bounty ocean stronghold."
"Two, you may join Razorback. They are classical true humans. A bit rough around the edges and not entirely professional though they do tend to succeed far more often than one would expect. You will, however, find their methods, thought patterns, and technology rather odd, but none of it is heretical. In fact, that is your second order: there is no heresy on this world, save for maybe one human that died some time ago."
"Three, you may join the Sea's Bounty. They are an allied clan of pegasi, industrious, loyal, hard working, and a bit lewd, yet quite joyful nonetheless. They have many interesting materials however."

"Whichever you take I shall swear into law but you do not have to choose just yet."

>>209382
>Pareidolia slowly lowers his arm as Krinza elaborates.

"That is... disturbing news if all Constructs are capable of this."

[Strange.]

>He faces his back towards Krinza while drawing out his combat knife and brandishing it to the side.
>Remaining still, he raises his shoulders.

"An unknown combat model I retrieved from the Citadel. I was attempting to study it when what you saw occurred. I have never encountered a model capable of this before. I agree, it is a shame it was destroyed. It had the only active sample of fluid of the ones retrieved."

>He frowns as his A.I.'s displeasure is made apparent.

"You do not need my permission to do that. If your performance and adherence to our mission is compromised by this additional emotion programming, please keep that in mind in your assessments."

[Again with that Class 3's programming. Are there any other operation essential processes it overrode?]

>>208786
>Nodding several times briskly, the Ferron filly, probably related to Twisted Wing due to her coloration, points her right wing in a sweeping motion to indicate the end shop.
"Lots of ponies come back here every night and I spent a lotta time sorting shells so it's kinda hard to remember."
>Beaming another smile, this one was much more sinister.. and then the deluge started.
"Sea's Bounty, which includes me, makes most stuff here but the really ornate things are all done in the beach base. We make all of the following weapons here: hoofboots, hoofblades, hoofclaws, hoofspikes, hooftalons, both types of wingblades, spears, lances, javelins, harpoons, most blades of most kinds, maces, axes, hammers, arrowheads. For armor we can make almost anything that isn't magic, there's even a few mares that can make armor they can bounce on and it won't break! Most the shells and some monster stuff on the walls is used to make some kind of powder thingy, it gets ground down into little bits and then glued together by raisins-"
>Pausing at the thought, hazelnut eyes turn to the side, calling out to one of the mares, whom snickers merrily at the question.
"Um, is that RAISIN glue we use?"
"You silly filly, it's resin! Say it like reh-zin."
"Reh-zin, got it. It's resin.. oh, right, um, it's strong stuff and won't break. There's some big spears on the wall in the back, a lotta ponies have tried to break them but they bend! The big critter plates, care-uh-pehss thingies, shark skin, and stuff like that get made into armor. We have to fit the armor here but it really doesn't take long! Any of the weird floating gem wood we find is used for hoofles, handles, or trinkets"
>Eyes starting to water from the torrent of information, the filly takes a deep inhale, and continues once more.
"The trinkets we make are kinda Druid-y, I think.. it's all stuff you can wear or put in your helmet. We also collect the big amber chunks that drift in, you can find neat treasures in them!"
"Not all the time, we only sell the ones that actually have something inside, rest is used for sealing wood or alchemical resins."
"Right, I forgot about that.. ..oh, am I missing anything?"
>Looking up from shaving down a long, thin spear head, the even darker blue Ferron mare frowns, stretching her forelegs out in thought.
"We can make repairs or improvements to anything that isn't cloth, silk, or outright magical. We sell parts, pieces, plates, hides, skins, all four types of shell mixtures, and the resins we use too. Can't keep track of what's here half the time anyways, what we get in every night we try to use. Good stuff gets sent to the beach base. If you're looking to have something in particular made or done I can tell you where to go and about how long you'll have to wait, otherwise feel free to walk around and inspect everything. Over there is the stuff you might like if you just browse-"
"Aaand since you're from Razorback you get a BIG discount!"
"Hah, I was gonna make her do ten laps if she forgot it. Everything's half off for Razorback, we owe you big for helping us move out of the Old Everfree."
>Pointing down low, the left side of the shop was taken up by a large of trinkets, mostly gems, wood, and the ersatz shell materials.
>Stacked along the wall left of the entrance, however, was a staggering number of rough amber spheres ranging from cantaloupe size to ones that a small earth pony could easily fit inside.

>>208792
"Would be considerably more so if somepony here knew Prench. Maybe one of the Honor Guard but I'm not about to ask them for anything."
>Leaning over the pegasus to listen more closely to his breathing for a few moments, nodding while a brief hum emanates from the Crystal mare, upper and lower eyelids separating while she studies the eye itself.
"More useful than I'd like, to be honest. Imagine being able to 'see' into everypony's body, or understanding the precise impacts of weaponry, hooves, what constitutes each wound.. still, thank you."
>Making no motion to retrieve her robe, while leaving the Clinic you pass the, mostly, conscious elk now giving the carnelian mare a lick, whom barely reacts, only twitching her snout several times.

>West of the Pagoda itself, a small rain cloud maybe 5M off the ground was putting out the smoldering Construct wreck; there was also something walking around inside it, vaguely pony shaped.
>Entering the Pagoda proper, it was empty save for Naliyna, back to sorting through a host of colorful letters, glancing up with a moderately pleased smile.
"Need something else?"

>>209413

>Novus is silent for a moment as he continues to look over the unicorn mare.
>He's silent before giving an approving 'hmm'
(I see. But would I, a modern person, be affected by these baser instincts? My own refined senses wouldn’t simply overtake its own more primitive nature due to her lack of a soul? Or are these things far more primal than I am understanding, literally part of its biology?)
(Either way, I don't really see another option nor do I wish to remain as the ghost haunting this mask for a moment longer so yes, I think this one is good. Put me in her Hodch. And before you ask, yes I am certain. I will deal whatever consequences this may have.)
>He seems certain with his choice, if a bit impatient, but begins to murmur quietly to himself in thought.
>After another few moments, he asks another question.
(I am also curious, would any bits of this mare’s particular personality be left behind? And what should I be expecting in other changes mentally?)
>These questions seem a bit late for being asked after affirming his choice, but it surely wasn't too late to ask as he waited to be brought back to life.
>Again.
>But this time would certainly be a little more interesting than the last.
>No hands, magic, an entirely new race, and different... Equipment.
>This was certainly looking to be an interesting experience.

>>209199
>Something that sounded like a rotating bomb rack clicks in the background several times, a pair of large fans activating as the harpy's electronic voice turns reverential, then highly confused.
*"Thy name.. ye givest final graces to wounded. Thou honored mineself from thine visit, mineself asks a fortune of blessings shall covet thy life. Yet this Razorback, dost thou mean large swine upon which the minotaurs dine?"*
>A single Destroyer dives out of the small hatch, the batpony landing chest first, then jumps up, beginning to walk about in a circle, obviously stretching its legs.
*"Mineself pilots minself, the Guillotine, to battles above within the Endless Oceans. Mineself is-"*
>Giggling briefly, the noise both sharp and aery.
*"A, as the chiropteran equines spaketh, 'Mango Carrier'. Mineself dispatches the Rites of Destruction within the Lonely One's cold shell, hoping they may yet pierce the heart within. Look upon mineself as ye wish granter of mercies, or if thou dost wish, mayhaps touch?"*

>Hooves outside of visual range rapidly clip-clop towards the Arena, the minotaur cow's stomping easily heard over the three squadrons en route.

>>209447
>Cheto jots down the secondary objective presented.
(A pony who knows Prench. I wonder how that sounds.)
>A little shiver crosses his body as she told her power's side effects, covered by a jerky nod.
(A cool power nonetheless. It would be quite useful to know every single body part status.)

>As Nalinya asks him about his needs, a faint voice to ask for a petting session.
(No way José. I am not going to just touch some ponies just because, especially not knowing the consequences. Although Nova was quite soft.)
>He shakes his head, removing the current thoughts from his head.
"Sorry, I was meaning to ask two pertient questions."
>One throat clearing.
"Where is the transformation matrix thing here and do you know any ponies in Razorback that know Prench?"

>>209318
>Extricating herself from the vehicle again, Sunny followed Jeff, memorising the parts of the map she could see before cantering ahead to carry out his order.
>Reaching the entrance in short order, Sunny slowed to a stop.
>Little point hiding here, although... The underdark might show her something else.
>The faded song and welcoming aura raised the hairs along the back of Sunny's neck, she did not trust this at all.
>She turned back to Jeff for a moment.
"I'll stay nearby, whisper if you need me, but not too loudly."
>With that, she let herself sink into the underdark.

[1d6+7 = 13]
< E. Stealth
[1d6+7 = 11]

[1d6+7 = 13]

>She wouldn't step in just yet, however, not before thoroughly examining the entrance for traps or anything else of interest, which she did so. Thoroughly.
>Upwards and downwards.
>Forwards and backwards.
>Looking, listening and smelling.
>Licking too.
>That last one might have been a mistake.

[1d6+3 = 8]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 5]

>>209330
>Keeping herself within earshot of Jeff at all times, Sunny acknowledged his words with a wing wave.
>Hopefully he'd be able to see that.
>She was pretty sure he could see that.
>The mare thought on his words for a moment, dredging up any information she could from her memory.
>She couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity with facilities like this, maybe she'd overheard something from other mercenaries at some point?

[1d2 = 2]
< Lore: Mercenaries, Amateur

>>209240
>>209334

>Spruce looks to the unicorn and raises his eyebrow at a few words there.
"... That's a construct? A psuedo construct? What's a real one look like?"
>The horribly uninformed operator asks, entirely unaware still of how bad these things are.
>As Golden prepares once more for teleportation, Spruce groans preemptively.
>And indeed, after they teleport, he takes a moment to put his hands to his stomach and hold in his breakfast as he takes a look around the steep ground they now found themselves on.
"... Eugh. No more of that, please."

[1d6 = 2]
B. Perception
[1d6 = 1]

>>209203
>Staring down at the desk, both forehooves lift and tap the edge, a large and.. completely unreadable hololith forming on both sides above it as the young mare hums.
"Razorback.. okay, ready!"
>Lifting a hoof and placing it on her panel, Three-Point freezes, her left eye twitching while she stutters, sitting back and staring at you in pure horror.
"Y-you-you-you n-n-need a FULL re-res-restock!? W-wh-what have you all been doing?! Th-that's four hun.. four hundred thousand Bits! Four HUNDRED thousand! An entire year's worth of reagents and ingredients and bottles and sealing caps gone in less than a few months?!"
>Settling into something like shock, thankfully without, hyperventilating, she slumps back into her chair, eyes watering at her view.
"We have maybe.. no we don't, not even a fifth of what Razorback asked for the last time. We supplied everything and a lot of the stuff I'm seeing here only comes in during spring or summer, and the Atriums and Conclaves haven't even made their fall deliveries yet. We ca- I'm sorry but, Razorback purchased almost everything in our depot, we even gave a fifty percent discount because it was so much."
>Well, maybe not so easy after all..

>>209236
>Astral finds scent both strange and sweet, if not a bit tangy, the Ward eyes Mallia's back while she leaves, then places the empty bottle on the small stand.
"It is supposed to be apple flavored, which I suppose you have never had before."
>Head tilting at the look, Nova blinks curiously.
"Ye-"
>Snout twitching several times, five-pointed eyes stare down at the tip, then raise to give Astral a humored shake of her head.
"You are most welcome. While the painkiller takes effect please rest, that will greatly reduce the strain on my auric. The less you move the more effective it will be, and-"
>Glancing around briefly to make sure nopony was looking, Nova leans in to boop her snout on Astral's, turning about and ambling towards the front desk with a rueful smile.

>>209239
>Grimacing at the sight and vowing to find, cook, and feed every beetle he could to a bird later, Corsen glares at the speckled island.
"Failure is a choice, not an option.. and never call me sir again. Please. I lost that right long ago."
(Damn it Tusk, I wish you were here with me.)
>Rolling his gloved palms together, the Deathseeker stops, passing over the second comment quickly, waving a hand at himself up and down.
"I.. meant the one that trained you. Walking war crime, remember? I'd rather not start a third war."
>Leaning down to place his hands on the railing again, he turns his head right to eye 'the spot', then back at the island.
"I have enough experience in political espionage, we.. the team I was in took many jobs: removing planetary governors, assassinating troublesome generals, getting rid of enemy royals, destroying facilities, not to mention the time we slipped rat piss into an outpost's entire water supply! That was probably the best on, except for getting shot. However, outside elements can be prevented by careful wording."
>Turning from the lake, Corsen stretches his arms over his head, hands grasping the back of his neck and following after the Honor Guard, grinning suddenly behind the gas mask.
(No.. Tusk would HATE what I'm about to say-)
"Miss Venous, I have a better idea: I'm the bounty hunter. The client is unknown but has already paid me up front. That wouldn't even be a lie either!"
(They all thought I'd never freeload so easily again, I'm basically paying myself to do this!)

>>209330
>Dimly recalling that most of the burial crypts in the Moors were built long before the Lunar-Solar War, the architecture of this one was smoother and more decorative, probably built shortly after that specific war ended.
>Considering the layout from a tactical standpoint, most Lunars relied on the Moors itself to guard their deceased, at least those that chose to be buried.
>Likewise it was too distant for normal travel, but close enough to keep a potential rotating guard, which made this crypt either exceptionally valuable or mildly dangerous enough to keep a constant guard.
>Drifting your senses outwards into the surrounding swampy forest, the crypt was a definite oddity: filled yet hollow, old enough to be considered a relic of its own time, new enough that it was complete, and somehow wasn't at the same time.

*"I sense little.. pieces of thought, strong but old, fading, perhaps.. great Undead rest here?"*
>Noting the bright, distant seeming white and pink streaks of Mercy crossing in front of the crypt, a small, dull sphere of blueish-white above her saddle, bright blues and purples overlay the entire building, gleaming proudly through the dim.
>Glimpsing batponies surround the crypt formed into many clusters, each carving trace outlines onto black granite, they disappear swiftly and are replaced with a host of merry feeling Lunar robed batponies.
>As one, the host perform smart military about-hooves to face an unaware Mercy, coolly ethereal smiles flit across many the muzzles before dissolving into nothing.

>>209462
>Finding.. nothing changing, save for the strange sensation of Mercy's blind eyes falling on you, the Spirit Walker stops in front of the large double doors, staring up at the designs and pegasi runes carved into each.
[1d6+3 = 7]
<B.Meditation
[1d6+3 = 4]

>Eyeing the ornately puzzling Lunar designs on the door and around it, the distinct lack of potential pressure plates, trip-notes, and visible warding runes left only the minute possibilities of Crystal traps or sorcerous wards.
>Peering at the nonexistent seams between matching stonework, the crypt itself seemed to have been built entirely by material melding, either alchemical, an art now considered lost, or sorcerous.
>Finding the door's center remarkably clean for some reason, upon tasting it.. mango flavor, still fresh.
>Obviously one of the Arcane Blades batponies had the same idea, only earlier.

>Recalling the many Lunar Guard whom frequented that bar, the one that gave a free drink for every five, there were a large number of batpony regulars that never stopped chattering, sometimes in Common.
>Stories, rumors, legends, and myths of the 'many thousands of tiny crypts' scattered throughout the Moors, except the Crags and Marsh River regions, were a favorite topic.
>Some of the more serious batponies went so far as to admit they liked poking around in the unmarked ones them, but only on the top floor for short periods of time due to both the presence of strange Lunar-Solar War experimarents and the rare Undead that was simply too happy, or furious, to remain truly deceased for long.
>The more well known crypts were visited often to honor the memories of those lost, usually keeping an active volunteer contingent of Deep Moors Hunter-Killers, while the crypts of Lunar heroes featured teams of the ultra strict, and most importantly never seen, A.R.C. squadrons.

>Placing her left side and ear against the left door with a brief huff, muttering something about cat hair making her nose itch, Mercy begins pushing on it slowly, the right set of wingblades glowing hotly through the Void.
[1d6+4 = 9]
<B.Perception
[1d6+4 = 10]

>>209414
>Stabilizing the rather crude looking, oversized barrel in her hand, a large red ring appears on the left screen's map, showing an estimated danger zone.
"Sensor interference detected beyond visual range, approximately six minutes and thirty seconds remain until the first wave strike."
>Gazing down at the definitely incomplete creation, the Android makes an electronic noise of disgust.
"Ending multi-task systems now, preparing for reinforcement. I should have more than enough time to complete my weapon before the unknown Construct vessel arrives.. I think."
>Mechanical tendrils lifting the previous ball of her armor into view, each begins slicing small sheets of steel apart, the sounds of something like welding taking place on the cabin's exterior, pausing briefly to turn west.
"Natilda, I am detecting an unusual waveform in the vicinity. Attempting to isolate now-"
[1d6 = 2]
<Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+4 = 8]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #7

>>209430
>Focusing on the blade, Krinza speaks silently for several moments before the silverine sloughs off, the mass below him folding into a sphere.
"I do not know enough of the Rift to confirm or deny the presence of a ka for each one, only what I sensed."
>Bringing the silverine close to his eyes for a thorough examination, then a quick taste, the smith rocks back on his hooves, expressing equal parts confusion and concern.
"But what I can confirm is this: Middle Dynasty era silverine. I have come across two examples before, it has a peculiar taste that is quite different from Late Dynasty samples. I will have to research Spiral's notes to know what the difference between them are."
>Rotating eyes up to you, the chunky unicorn cocks his head in visible annoyance.
"Unfortunately I did not see. Hear, yes. I may be developing a headache from proximity to the radio. More importantly, besides lightning do you know of a method to disable Constructs without complete destruction?"

>The render freezes for several moments, becoming a 2D image and speaking in a purely flat tone.
"All illogical processes, sub-processes, mood and emotional vectors suspended until further notice. Analysis of target Krinza's mood: lack of visible concern for allies does not indicate disregard. Proposed equine cultural evolution models dictate specific roles, duties, functions to be taken by individuals on basis of self-choice. Non-caste division of work force results in efficient distribution and support of broad spectrum tasks."
"Analysis of target Naliyna's capabilities: presumed specialization in close combat focused on anti-armor and offensive disruption. Estimated threat level against unarmored organics: unknown, presumed high. Estimated threat level against armored organics: moderate lethality. Estimated threat level against unarmored non-organics: extreme. Estimated anti-tank capabilities: extreme."
"Do you require further analysis?"

>>209429
>Mallia, while she was, admittedly, absolutely terrified; manages to quietly sit there and stare up towards the Inquisitor to listen intently to every word, respectfully, despite her dislike for Inquisitors up until this point.
>The admittance that her thoughts were no longer private made the Enginseer stiffen, and she could feel her legs quivering in terror.

>At least, until the Inquisitor turned out to not be as cruel as she expected. As a matter of fact, her mind's eye envision the Inquisitor as nothing short of a monster that was an enemy out to kill her, mostly due to what the previous one had done to her -- which she felt to be completely unfair. At first,
>But now, the corners of her lips began to relax slightly, and her glance began to soften when this Velasi Aguinas actually began to look kind of nice, at a very low level. Or, at least, understanding.

>Her eyes then twitched up,, and her brow rose along with her head, as she heard the Litany of Grace being uttered by the Machine Spirit. She loved her machine spirits, but, due to her past failures and her death, she didn't expect the love to be reciprocated, despite having seen otherwise.

>A faint, quivering smile appears on her lips in that moment. Looking down towards her wrist mounted auspex scanner, as she let out a huge, stressed sigh.
>She left a lump in her throat painfully clogging up and causing her breathe a bit more heavily and shakily, as her heart beats made her body shudder, and sweat coldly. Yet, she felt happy, even if for a moment.
>Her hand weakly twitches over the Auspex, and gently strokes her thumb along the edge of the thing, in a loving, affectionate caress.

(Thank you, all of you...)
>Mallia made sure to let all the Machine Spirits know that she loved them with a warm feeling of love towards all of them, even if she felt like she didn't deserve any of them.

>Though before she gets too sappy with all of them, she glances back up swiftly and returns to attentively follow the conversation.
>She did relax a little bit, safer in the knowledge that her Machine Spirits were with her. Sitting on that 'chair' with a bit more weight. Looking over the various weapons that the Inquisitor shows her.
>Her jaw falling slack in awe. The majority of these weapons she had only read about, specifically the Necron weapons. Seeing one in first person gave her a moment of eagerness and a curious wish to grab it and turn it over in her hands; leaning up off the backrest of the seat.
>But she obviously perished that thought, in that moment.

>Her whole life, Mallia had been taught to scorn these technologies, and hate them. Every single person and tutor, except for her Mother, who was actually quite bitter about the specific belief.

("Mallia, dear, listen to me: If the time comes where your life depends on it, or the life of someone else, or your mission; don't hesitate. Pick it up, make sure it isn't tainted, and USE it. You are far too important to let such superstitions stop you.")

>She almost immediately grimaces as she realizes she had disclosed such a secret, albeit unintentionally. She musters up a angry breath, then sighs it out with a depressed, sad air...

>Though to Mallia's credit, she pauses and listens when the Inquisitor explains further about the Quest for Knowledge. An inherent, stubborn part of her brain began to appear, wanting to deny such a thing.
>The Enginseer instantly curbs that part of herself, as her lip twitches and her eyes narrow with interest, crossing her arms across her lap.
>The more she bounced the logic in her head, the more she seemed inclined to simply embrace it; especially now that she wasn't going to be turned into a servitor for having such "heretical" ideals in her head.

>She remained mostly silent. Most of her opinions internalized into her thoughts so as to not interrupt the inquisitor.

>Mallia didn't think it'd be too difficult to work with a Scion. She had worked with one before. She understood what they stood for. So she actually smiled a little to the statement of having to work well with the Tempestus Scion.

>The Inquisitor's threat to withhold the STCs if she didn't understand makes the stubborn part of her scream in her head, as she feels the threat as a personal offense for a little bit; though her expression becomes stiffly and forcefully neutral. Nervously grasping at her wrists and uncomfortably shifting on her seat.

>Once again, she waited until the end of the speech before she 'said' her own piece.
>She glanced down to her auspex, as she considered her options. Silently asking for the opinions of her Machine Spirits combined as she spoke.

"W-well I might be a little bit out of it from fear, stress, having just died 9 minutes ago,brought to a world that is completely unknown to me with humans that are not imperials boasting weapons I've never seen before, having fought a big sphere of unknown technology..."

>She lets her voice drift off as she stops trying to list every single thing. Even if she felt the urge to say 'And then lowkey kidnapped into a mental interview with an Inquisitor of the Ordo Chronos without the bare minimum of consent while trying to help them not die.'
>-- Nevermind she said it mentally, welp.

"Buuuut... as I am sitting here weighting my options for a few more seconds,"
>She leans back, furrowing her brow as she considers Razorback for a moment, and the even more unknown third option,

"I think I feel more comfortable in your retinue, even if you scare me. And I don't know if I trust you with my life,"

(Though I'll admit, just because you "spat" on the previous Inquisitor that I was under, I already like you considerably more than that guy, and you seem to like the Machine Spirits, too.)

"I might have to sleep on it, ma'am. If you don't mind that. I wish to know more about Razorback and this 'Sea's Bounty' clan, though.. The equines seem to be really nice, the first two I've met were really nice to me."

>>209502
>>209462
>After Sunny finishes examining the blueprint, Jeff memorizes the layout and rolls it back up and stores it loosely in a pant pocket.
>As they all approached the door he can't really place the crypt's existence. It was almost out of place, but yet not out of place.
>Mercy comes up over the radio again as his Void Sight kicks on full gear. Swirling bluish purple orbs float around the entrance that manifest into batponies scurrying around its outside. Finishing the crypt's architecture?
>They then transition into robed batponies, a good vibe emanating off them. They all smile before fading away, leaving them and the crypt quiet of any other phenomenon.
>The Nigtblade gives the robed batponies a wave as they disappeared.
>He wonders if they were an intelligent apparition, or something residual constantly playing over and over from the crypt's past.
>Maybe he can use the TacPad to pick up some voices once inside.

>Mercy's the first one to make it to the door, and starts cracking it open with a wing. Her pink blades glow brilliantly, clearly indicating something was going down inside.
>Stopping at the door and putting a hand on it as well to help it open, he uses his other hand to pull out Mercy's ninth blade from his pack. Also glowing hotly and offers it hook end to the snow-white pegasus.
"Definitely due for one of these, giving the circumstance."
>As the door opens, Jeff keeps his Void Sight going and peaks into the foyer as it reveals itself.
"Anyone else been getting a decent vibe from this place? I haven't felt anything malevolent. Let's keep quiet and eye out for anything inside. Mercy, some light won't spook anything inside, right?"
[1d6+4 = 9]
<M.Leadership: Perception
[1d6+4 = 8]

[1d6+4 = 7]

[1d6+4 = 9]

>>209502
>Sunny set herself on the right hoof door, pursing her lips for a moment before offering a silent prayer of apology to whomever it was that rested here before applying her weight to the door.
>She avoided Mercy's gaze as she did, partly to hide the fact she'd licked the same spot one of the Arcane Blade's had licked earlier.
>Mango-y.

>>209563
>Sunny whispered softly following Jeff's question, somewhat strained as she listened again for that music she'd heard earlier.

[1d6+3 = 6]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 8]

>She didn't think there was anything dangerous here. At least nothing currently active, but their intrusion could change that.
"Yes... I heard music earlier, and I keep getting a sense of welcome. It won't stay that way if we anger our hosts in this place."
>Stepping inside with extreme caution and deference, the mare looked around the foyer carefully, eye still out for traps.
>She doubted she would find few, if any at all.
"Crypts like these can be home to certain experiments from the Lunar-Solar war, or those resting who may not appreciate being disturbed or may be a little too eager for visitors. There are those who explore these places, but rarely very deeply or for very long due to the danger and respect for one's ancestors."
>She considers a moment, then turns her head to look at him.
"If by chance we do disturb them, they may recognise your affiliations, sir."
>She sincerely hoped if they did wake any of the resting dead, they wouldn't recognise any of her own affiliations, that could end badly for her.

>>209453
(Yes, it would. Yes, it could. And yes, they are more primal than I understand.)
>Rolling his head around with a morbid noise, the unicorn turns his head towards the 'rear' wall.
(Doctor, I will not take even one trillionth of a risk until I learn EXACTLY why nopony has taken a feral unicorn and what the dangers are. I have summoned the Executive Officer, he will be arriving shortly.. heh, short.)
(None that I have ever known. Each host body must be confirmed to have the ka fully severed, released, or.. missing. The last one I will be asking your aid on if I find anything interesting related to Constructs. Your principle maretality, in this case, would be, at a hard estimate, half overridden by physiological, biological, and genetic instincts. And he will arrive soon, it takes a while for him to get around anywhere.)
>Tilting his head, the stasis cells in view are immediately swapped out, four unicorns now in view including the Germaneighan, Hodch studying the new ones.
>The third unicorn mare was likewise young and visibly half-feral, sharply tinted red and green starburst coat completed by a long, flat tricolor mane of blue, yellow, and pink.
>Reaching in to touch this one's horn, Hodch can be felt smiling before retrieving his hoof.
(Wonder why it took him so long.. in any case, this one is a half-Germaneighan, half-Saltic mare. That is, by the way, analogous to 'Baltic'. She is about ten years old, good physical shape. Plaque states her ka was removed after a confrontation with several escaped creatures from the Vortex. Rather generalized esoteric capabilities from what I can tell. You may deal with a compulsion now and then. Not sure if this one would be my first choice, but fairly solid overall.)
>The fourth was even more unusual: the coat was a streaked pattern of dark reds, browns, and grays leaves while the mane was mostly gray with tiny ripples of dark blue and yellow.
>Bending down to eye the fetlocks, they were long but not shaggy, the hooves a bit larger than the other three, although Hodch chuckles at the larger than normal teats.
(Now this is more what I expected.. true Saltic mare, barely pre-modern, twelve or thirteen at the most. Pre-modern equines are past the feral stage of evilution and unlikely to have negative effects on a transplanted ka. Soul. Whatever. They have a bit more physical capabilities than esoteric, and perhaps slightly more resilient, though I would not expect great deviations in sum.)
(If you would like, I could ask the Executive to bring all unicorns here from the other sites, that is, if there are any more.)

>>209507
>Pareidolia experimentally rotates his arms as the sheet of Silverine coating sloughs off his back.

[Clearly earned his position as Spiral's protegee. But cannot surpass him without more teaching.]

"I was hoping to determine more effective methods from studying it. Even electricity does not fully disable a Construct. It seems to only disrupt their laser and plasma weaponry temporarily and does not cause a full system shutdown. This leads me to believe the properties of their internal fluid do not solely rely on electrical communication."

>He glances to his A.I.'s readout occasionally, already aware of the information being provided.

"No further analysis required."

>Turning around to face Krinza, he pockets the partially melted Construct drive.

"Hopefully that Silverine will be useful to you. I need to check on the status of Spiral's Lab. That model had fired a missile inside it before breaking out."

>>209458
>Overcoming the seductive voice's allure, the scarred fuchsia mare swivels both ears at you expectantly, obviously multi-tasking while she sorts the letters.
>Left forehoof raising with a smile, it points to the large, smooth granite circle in the center of the Pagoda.
"Translocation Matrix? Right there. You can tell it to take you wherever you want to go, or it'll send deliveries.. pretty much anywhere really. Don't worry about it much, the Remnant is weirdly passive but he does everything without explanation."
>Glancing up with a frown, Naliyna turns her head left, then right in thought, finally pursing her lips down at one of the letters.
"There's two or three ponies in the Honor Guard that kind of know Prench, but not a lot.. I think Amerose said something about a translation thingy she found, hold on a second-"
>Finding a clean sheet of paper, Naliyna emits a series of bright, cheerful chiming melodies, a pen off to the side lifting and rapidly writing in large, ornate script across it.
>The pen drops between the stacks, paper folded and streaking towards the translocation matrice behind you.
"Vortex Remnant, send this to Amerose in our Enclave please!"
>Popping a small, dull purple and copper vortex open above the stone, the note disappears inside while the portal, or whatever it was, folds halfway into nothing, pointing her hoof at the circle again.
"That's really all you need to do if you want to send something somewhere."

>>209593

>Novus snorts, annoyed at the denial.
(A fair point doctor, sorry I am a bit impatient to get back to it rather than wasting further time when things could be happening. That's why I accepted the transfer in the first place. Speaking of which, what are you going to do to my old body?)
>The sudden swapping of the cells caused Novus to double take for a moment.
>Oh. Okay.
>These new options showed a bit more promise, though if visually they were a bit... Odd looking compared to your average pony.
>The explanation of their heritage also had him a bit intrigued.
(Saltic? Hrm, I see. Fitting, part of my extended family history comes from that region on Earth. They fled from the Red Army as they neared their home and escaped to the west.)
>He chuckles as he looks over the fourth one.
(No, this one is fine. She will do, if you'll allow me to take her.)
>He immediately responds, again, somewhat impatiently.
>The doctor seems rather... Eager to get into his next body.
(She has quite the... Interesting looking coat. Not that it's bad, I just don't find it quite as visually pleasing to my eyes. Are there spells to change follicle color just out of curiosity?)

>>209549
"I tend to be much more than merely 'nice', Enginseer. I am expected to commit the worst atrocities yet remain perfectly human, and having watched the deaths of quintillions has humbled me. Most Inquisitors are expected to be hardasses. Unless I am forced to reveal vital information I treat others with the dignity of life that they deserve, even if they do not know it. Especially if they do not know it."
>Expressing mild amusement, the Throne-sanctioned Inquisitor places her right hand palm upwards, the chorus of Machine Spirits humming in soothing Binary.
"You have treated them well Enginseer, thus you expect wrongly. An act of loyalty must always be rewarded with equal loyalty, to do otherwise is wrong."
>Head turning towards the rear of the office for a bit, Velasi returns to shake her head somberly.
"Your dam.. rather, your mother was wise. Those are only my mental projections of what I collected, bought, or was given, they are not real. I dearly wish they were but I do not have the time or capability to reconstruct them."
>Arms folding across her slightly larger than yours chest, the Ordo Chronos glances down at her desk once more, mood visibly darkened.
"I have executed several Guard that have arrived on this world whom refused to accept all I have told you. Heresy and treachery are merely inconvenient. What I demand is logic and an open mind. If that means I must do to you what I did to my Scion, that being removing engrams which stifle both such demands I will do so with the full authority of my position."
>Unable to speak directly, your Machine Spirits were rather impressed at the Inquisitor's enjoyment of their presence, and had interfaced with her MIU's which, they carefully stated, she loved dearly with some guilt involved.
>The Rogue Trader flicks her right thumb and index finger, sitting back to gaze upon you with a blatantly faux-seductive smile.
"As I said, far worse for me than for you since I am processing YOUR thoughts as well as mine. Twenty-seven minutes and ten seconds since your 'death'. Should I manage to return to the Imperium I will find your previous Inquisitor to execute him in public."
"As for the Standard Template Constructs in my possession and my warning to keep them should you not understand the highly strange demands I am placing upon you then I must state this: you must earn my trust. The Ordo Chronos does not care for doctrine, dogma, or faith, only results, thus I expect your full logic, reason, empathy, and ability to innovate. I cannot allow you to treat these pre-Age of Strife humans nor the many xenos on this world with contempt, otherwise we will not survive long."
>Head tipping backwards, a polite smile crosses the Inquisitor's lips, her Voidborn Pacifica accent merry, and oddly forgiving.
"You have not been abducted, and you gave me consent. After all, your words were as follows: 'stay with us', then 'stay focused, please'. I chose to do both of those at once rather than pass out from the shock of my injuries."
>Pale red lips quirking, Velasi's head tilts right momentarily.
"Again, no need to choose until you feel comfortable with a decision. You may also change your mind at any time. However, I have no choice but to trust you with MY life, Enginseer. The xenos equine body I was cursed to inhabit is what I have, so I request that you respect it. Of course, you may use my body as you see fit, whether that be carrying equipment, materials, or whatever else you may want. Just because I am an Inquisitor does not mean that I do not know the value of support and hard work."
>Leaning far back in the chair, the Ordo Chronos Inquisitor chews on the inside of her cheeks for a short while, then finally nods, her tone brusquely humorous.
"Chisan stated you accepted my order to deal with Knight Raspberry while nude. For equine mares, which would be 'female' for us, they are considerably more comfortable with human nudity than stallions, or 'males'. I am rather pleased you did so, she will be less likely to drop her contract once the month is over. However, I would like to assign Knight Raindrop to protect both you and Chisan as he has.. difficulties trying to remain neutral around her. As such I am hereby requesting, not ordering, that you treat Knight Raspberry with the same honor you would a Magos. I see great events in her future and I do not want them squandered."
"As for the other one you met I suggest treating her with a great deal of respect, she has earned it. Equines in general are subject to a form of genetically emotional logic; the better you treat them, the better they treat you."
>Placing a hand on her chin for a brief rub, the Trader's head tips downwards.
"Our time is short, Chisan is done treating me and I cannot avoid sleep for long. On Razorback I will state this: trust them like you would trust the average Guardsman, they want to live in order to thrive, BUT, we of the Materium must be carefully in supporting them without endangering their technological innocence. You know the horrors of which I speak. Learn from Razorback but do not share more than you have to. For the Sea's Bounty I have come to enjoy their presence, they are carefree and kind with little equal. For now though I am ordering you to billet with my Tempestus Scion in their stronghold so that you may learn more, but first go and speak with the man named 'Lonestar' or the woman named 'Emerald' in the Command Center. They have much to share."
>The Inquisitor's image briefly turns fuzzy, once more looking exhausted beyond her years.
"I cannot keep this up, but, you have passed nearly all of my tests. By the way do not mind the intrusion, he is on-"

>Rippling back into focus, the equine Inquisitor's was, quietly, snoring on the chair, a white sheaf wrapped around her head.
>The errant sensation of a hand clutching your left breast was matched by Chisan rigidly staring down at the pony, muttering apologetically.
"..Inquisitor's orders."

>>209598
>A nod comes from the average human in front of Nalinya.
"Alright then. Is Amerose coming here or did you send her somewhere else to meet up?"

>After hearing Nalinya's response, he walks up to the transformation matrix thing.
"Uh, hello Mr Remnant. I would like to send this page here, written by... Citadel Combat Medic Frost Egg, to Basin Village and Lunar Citadel, please."
>He extends the page towards the transformation matrix at the center, not really sure what will happen or if he needs to close in the distance.

>Leadership: +2 to all Perception rolls

>>209563
>Briefly spooking Mercy from her task, she stares up at you with a short, abashed expression.
>Facial features softening at the blade, the Spirit Walker carefully accepts it with her teeth, head tucking under her right wing and firmly affixing it.
"Thank you.. Jeff."
>Looking up at you with a happy smile afterwards, she peers upwards to eye the carvings, Boris speaking up afterwards.
"No, it should not. This crypt was.. placed for Lunar vampires. ..I think."
"Do you mean blood-drinking batponies?"
"No, vampire ponies from the Lunar-Solar.. War."
"That is quite odd."

>Inside, the first room was set up more like a combination barracks, foyer, and den:
>Five large, almost human queen sized single military bed frames of a black hardwood were spaced well apart on the west and east walls, complete with an armor stand and large, multilevel chest next to each other.
>In the center was a small, upraised circle with ten large, bright yellow cushions, probably amber, and towards the rear were two more solid black granite doors.

>>209569
>Feeling her eyes coming off you while both doors open, both of them scrape a touch as they swing wide.
>Stepping into the stale, though thankfully not moldy crypt interior, Mercy sneaks leftwards to take a look at the west side's first chest, while the only sounds you could hear at the moment were yourself, the other pegasus, and Jeff.
>..and the Moor cats outside causing havoc with the Tartarus Isle earth ponies trying to finish their work on time, though the batponies were snickering and goading them on.
>The thought occurred that it might be a good idea to close the doors just in case the felines decided to mess with your team.

>Peering about the foyer's interior, the style of bed frames were more Equestrian marecenary than Lunar, while the multi-level storage chests had been definitely Moors built, showing no visible locks.
>Your eye alights on the amber meeting pads, curiously glowing in faint, pulsing patterns, as if waiting for somepony to take a nap on them.

>Tentatively poking at her chosen chest, Mercy taps her wingblades on each drawer while sticking her nose on the lid for a careful sniff.
[1d6+4 = 5]
<B.Perception
[1d6+4 = 7]

>>209611
>Mallia only has the time to realize that The Inquisitor was right on all accords. For a moment, the Enginseer actually feels positively terrible, though at the same time she was doing her best to commit everything to memory.
>Then when the Inquisitor began to look exhausted, she felt the impulse to reach out to support her almost immediately.

>But before she could so much as apologize, she was out of the mindspace. Staring down at the snoring and thankfully alive and treated pony ... Inquisitor...

(... I'm-...)

>BEFORE she can even start to think, she blinked her eyes a few times -- her pupils shrinking back into focus, her chest heaving with a sudden breath; and THAT'S when she feels the pressure.
>On her breast...

>She looked down to the hand groping her breast, then to the offending Tempestus Scion's face.
>Mallia is so nonplussed and stupified that she completely ceases thinking entirely, and simply stands there, staring at him; already blushing and frowning bashfully, not really making any movements; not even leaning back reflexively. Or breathing, for a good two seconds.

"O-okay."
>The Enginseer simply accepts it at this point.
>Though she does sound a LITTLE uncomfortable with this kind of physical contact; having never really experienced it before. Picking up her jaw and slowly closing her mouth, her eyes darting away sheepishly.
>She ends up sort of staring at him, waiting for the moment when he'd let her go. Not exactly sure what to say or do in this situation.

"I... I would've preferred a hug."
>Mallia whispered beneath her breath, her tone taking on a quietly sad note. Likewise not really looking at Chisan, instead staring down at her robes, as her face grows progressively more and more tomato red. Finally resuming to breathe and just gulping audibly with some anxiety.

>>209595
>Freed from the additional weight, Krinza taps the sphere with his horn, phasing elsewhere in a puff of yellow static.
>Rubbing his forehooves on the ground, the smith's face creases heavily.
"Either gravitic communication or something even more esoteric. I have had some time read through perhaps a quarter of Spiral's notes and came across a prototype communications gem, commgem for short, which was given to Vanilla-String Cloud for extended field and long range testing. It utilizes micro-pulsed tight beam gravitonic waves in the terahertz bandwidth, whatever that means, for direct signal transmission and receiving.. whatever that means as well. Spiral never did write down why he thought any of his experiments were good ideas."

>Stepping back into view as a 3D model, the Spiral A.I. glares.. at itself.
"Apologies for the damage I sustained and instabilities sir, the Class 3.. 'tried' to repair my programming from what happened during field testing, and that will NOT happen again. I have completed my overall analysis sir, and there is some rather strange information I have been able to formulate. I will share what I've found when you are in a secure location."

>Shaking off once more, Krinza turns a questioning stare at your helmet's center, horn sparking and preparing a short ranged teleport cloud.
"Silverine was designed for psions to work with, not unicorns, Crystal ponies, gryphons, sorcerers, mystics, or others. And, yes, it would be a good idea to ensure that his lab was not destroyed. There are a number of humans whom have transferred their gaming equipment and ponial devices down there. Do notify me if there is significant damage."
>Popping backwards from reality in a bubble that briefly showed the Workshop, your A.I. facehoofs itself.
"I was not designed to handle information overloads anywhere near this complex, sir, my learning patterns are barely above human."

>>209365
>Kraut's image starts pouting from Roust's clearly made up motto and how she's begging for a boop that he can not give.
(There wasn't much of a plan throughout our mission, and even if you want to call what we did a "plan" it fell apart without enemy intervention. I don't think demotions or promotions would really affect me, and everyone else kind of just followed my lead for most part, well except for Wild but she doesn't count.)
>The image tries to look surprised out of habit, but instead he just looks like he's done with this world's shenanigans.
(I'm not certain I'd commend anyone marrying someone they don't even know, but that' just the weird, alien human talking. I'll also withhold the rest of my judgement until it falls apart.
>Kraut then changes his image back to his normal, unfucked form but without the remains of his gut that refuses to leave.
(I'd rather not have an entirely faithful duplicate if I'm getting a new body. Though now that I think about it, it probably doesn't matter much with the whole shapeshifting thing; does it take any kind of effort to maintain a disguise or is it persistant until dispelled?)
>Thankful for the distractions, Kraut's image smiles warmly at Roust, suppressing a d'aww from a large, armored bruiser of a changeling rubbing up against his field.
(It's kind of hard to see the mare trying to give affection through a stasis field, which is really harshing my brooding vibe mind you, as "expendable" regardless of how accurate it is.)
(I know intent matters at least some, but results are very hard to argue with, otherwise I would be far more angry at Novus for shooting me in the neck in anger. I'm mostly upset at the bad orders I was giving as one of the real old guard here; granted I'm the only human of the original group sent here that didn't have much in the way of prior military experience.)
>Kraut's image claps its hands together in preparation for the shpiel he's about to give about his carbomination.
(So, about Wild and Natilda then. I have absolutely no idea what they're doing now since Wild kind of panicked when she tossed us out. I doubt they'll be slugging it with anything near Wild's size since she only has a station wagon's worth of material and some presumably eldritch biomass making up her body.)
>A chair appears behind the image for him to sit down as his mood once again deflates.
(We can only hope that between the two of them they can get back, well hope or send out someone else with a translocation disc to bring them back if Wild's radio is still functional; she took some severe damage before we were separated.)

>>209621
>>209569
>Jeff nods as Mercy take her pink steel blade and affixes it with the others. That only makes one more left in his possession.
>After opening the double black doors and peering inside, he notices the barracks are split into beds of five on each side of the room with a common space in the middle. Chests and armor racks for each bed. Mercy already heads for one on the left side, testing them, not sure where Boris has went. And Sunny was still behind him, far as he knew.
"A rotating guard of ten. Whatever was or still might be here must've been important. We shouldn't go crazy with searching this place too thoroughly yet. We can take our time after we've cleared at least to the crypt. Should make sure there's nothing waning about that would not like us removing anything."
>And if it turned out there were keepsakes of resting spirits, he wouldn't want them to be disturbed from looting.
>He doesn't feel anything like what he saw outside before. The spirits must be calm in here.
>The second set of double black doors should lead into the ceremonial chamber. Maybe in there?
>Deciding to wait for the others finish meandering until ready to continue on, Jeff quietly steps over to the circle of glowing cushions and sits down on one to face the doors to the ceremonial chamber.
>He looks down at his TacPad and switches it to record audio.
"Can everyone keep silent for a couple minutes? I want to try something."
>Jeff turns up the capture volume on his headset, and speaks to everything and no one in the foyer.
"Is anyone here? Speak."
>He doesn't know if common was spoken back then, and his modern batpony might not be applicable. He uses simple modern batpony words, hopefully they've stood the of time and evolution.
[Batpony]"Speak. I can hear you."[Batpony]
>Muffling over his free ear, and tuning out any ambient noises he's already aware of, he focuses on any noises through the silence that shouldn't be there.
[1d6+6 = 10]
<E.Perception + Lunar Faction Bonus + Leadership
[1d6+6 = 7]

[1d6+6 = 10]

>>209633
>Satisfied that all of the offending material had been removed, Pareidolia sheathes his combat knife firmly.

[Good. No more resistance.]

>His brow furrows with mild concern as he addresses his A.I.

"If it does happen, consider it an operational factor that needs to be accommodated for. It's not something either of us can reliably address. Apologies are superfluous. And noted."

>Looking at Krinza with an impressed expression, he remarks:

"The terahertz bandwith is an extremely high energy range of waves which could be used to encode information and transmit them if the right technology was developed. Our radios use radio waves to take information we send through one radio transmitter into a radio receiver. Incredible if Spiral was able to develop a prototype using gravity waves, but Vanil was not brought back with the rescue team was he?"

>Nodding at Krinza as he departs, he makes his way towards the Library while carefully opening the scorch marked doors and checking the interior for damage.

"Then offload whatever material you currently can't process to cached storage for later assessment. I do not need to you fully understand all aspects of Tallus, only what is current or immediately relevant. If you are unclear, then ask me. Not all information needs to be processed for immediate resolution."

>Noticing blood trails along the spiral staircase leading back down towards the Lab, he deliberately checks the stains as he descends.

"Likely from the Inquisitor. Why was she carried down here instead of to the Clinic?"

>>209606
(Not much of a doctor these days, I gave up on medical and alchemical practices a few years ago. I do not have any ranks or titles these days, too damned tired and frustrated to bother with.)
(Your human body? ..no real idea. Might be best to store it somewhere in the Fortress where it won't be touched. There are several sections I have found which nopony else even knows about, if you would prefer to keep it safe.)
>Reaching out to tap the fourth one's plaque, Hodch leans back on his hooves as it drops to the gray flooring with a loud, ringing thunk.
(Your choice Doctor Novus, not mine. And yes, there are quite a few, but this one.. I suspect this body may have a slightly high natural stealth capacity, quite unusual for a unicorn.)
>Your perspective turns left along with Hodch's, spying a large, overly rounded and dull green basilisk waddling on six short legs towards both of you, a large, squat top hat on the head.
(Excuse me for a few minutes I need to confirm my suspicions.)
>Turning to face the rotund basilisk, the unicorn dips his head while it speaks in a firm, happy tone that sounded faintly Caribbean.
"Mister Hodch, it has been nearly fifty years since you last visited! What brings you here besides research on feral unicorns and acquisition? And, may I ask what the Changeling skull plate is for?"
>Stopping for polite snout-to-snout boop, the basilisk lifts an eight-clawed reptile hand for Hodch to shake, which he does while chuckling tiredly.
"Indeed, I have been busy with several new species on Tallus, not ones that 'we' can store here. Mostly I want to know why nopony has taken the old feral here. Besides that, how have you been?"
>Large jaws spreading to reveal rounded teeth, the basilisk's head tilts back and forth, top hat remaining where it was while the brown reptilian eyes squint acknowledgingly.
"That is such a shame, I have missed our conversations but I do understand! Your work has been invaluable for the Lunars and I would not once consider taking up your time! As for the feral unicorns in deep storage, this one not included of course, many are concerned over the impulsive physical restrictions inherent in their lineages. Sadly I am able to confirm that an inhabiting ka would be subject to perhaps half of the impulses that plague feral ponies. I do not blame them for not wanting such an inferior vessel, you ponies must retain the right to think in perfect clarity without interference!"
"Good thing I chose the other one, but please do not hesitate to call upon me, I am.. well, the you-know-what is advancing quicker than ever. Your company has always been the best, and thank you for the information."
>Expressing a warm smile, the basilisk's great, round tail swings side to side proudly.
"Not at all, never hesitate to call upon ME! I owe you many favors for introducing me to so many wonderful books. Should you require anything more then please summon me at once! But I truly must get back to organizing, there is so much more to read that I may spend the next thousand years trying to understand this Lunar-Solar War to completion!"
"I sincerely thank you and I will remember the offer. Take care, please."
"I shall, but you first!"
>Lifting a hoof as the basilisk swivels around, meandering back towards it came from, Hodch releases a painful half-laugh, half-snort.
(What I would not give to be in his place for a few hundred years..)
>Turning back to survey the full Saltic host body for a moment, he looks down to his left forehoof, tipping it over to reveal another translocation stone, this one a dark red.
(One moment-)
>Reaching out and thumping his hoof on the stasis cell, the facility blinks from your perspective, replaced by a small, dull white room with zero furniture inside.
>Lit solely by blood red moonlight streaming in from overhead, Hodch sits down to cough hard, a small splatter of red and black splattering on the cloud material, glancing up to eye the mare once more.
(..well, I suppose it is time to get you acquainted with your 'new' body, Doctor. Any requests first?)

>>209615
>Returning to her work, if it could even be called work, the fuchsia Crystal mare's ears twitch side to side.
"Nope, she'll get my letter if she's in the Enclave. Could take a while for her to find it again, there's about fifty thousand tons of crap in there that I don't know anything about."

>Stopping in front of the inset granite disc, a basketball sized white eye lifts up from the center on a short, mostly invisible stalk.
>Gray eyelids blink as the thing studies you momentarily, forming a tiny pseudo-pod from the enter and reaching out to take the note.
>The eye opens wide to swallow the page, then lowers down to blend into the stone itself.

"Ehhh, he usually says something first. Just ignore that, he doesn't know you yet. Stays kinda shy until you get to know him, really. Need anything else?"

>>209669
>Cheto's eyes stay fixed on the technological marvel's actions, seeing how it takes the page like a curious animal nibbles on a human's food.
(Amazing stuff. I cannot believe this kind of thing exists.)
>Not knowing what to do, he simply pats the matrix with the most confused expression known to man.
"Thank you uh, Renmant."
(Should I be doing this? I feel like I'm violating some rule here.)
"Well, that was cool nonetheless. If you get a response from Amerose that she'll come, please guide her to the clinic. That's where she's needed. Thank you for your help and assistance."
>He smiles warmly at Nalinya
"Have a good rest of your day."
>With that simple farewell, he walks off the Pagoda towards the clinic again, having fulfilled Frost's mission.
(Will that Prench Pony be awake by the time I go back? I find it somewhat unlikely.)

>>209621
>Moving right, Sunny inspected the first chest, but not touching or opening it, snooping without permission was not okay.
>There were no locks, but Sunny got the sense that this was a test of trust for any who might enter, one that the Arcane Blades outside had seemingly passed already.
>Moving slowly down the right hoof side of the room, the mare curiously inspected each chest, bed and armor stand.
>She'd get to the cushion collection last, though she smiled in amusement at the thought that those who made their home here might wake up, only to move to the cushions to sleep again.
>Bat ponies.

>>209647
>Thinking on the door, She had a passing thought that they should close it. If not for keeping the moor cats out, then for propriety.
>Of course, if they left and accidentally left any moor cats locked in, she'd feel mighty guilty about that. Especially after mistreating Nibbles as she had.
>It could be closed when they were ready to move on to the next room.
>She stood still for a moment as Jeff attempted to communicate with anypony who might be around and watching, her eyes on the door leading deeper, but her ears swivelling around the room.

[1d6+5 = 11]
< B. Perception
[1d6+5 = 8]

>>209668

(Sorry Hodch, force of habit referring to my medical professionals as Doctors, even if they are not and are just technicians or paramedics. Not so much a title.)
>The spectral agent pauses a moment to think that one over.
(Well... I mean, I really don't care that much. All my items on myself would be presumably salvageable aside the fifteen or so nerve gas grenades I had on me and even then those are likely burned onto my body or as covered in all sorts of delightful fluids.)
(So... I truly do not care. Throw it in a ditch or something, bury it in a garden, or store it for future generations? I don't care. I certainly won't be going back while my physical body is in such poor shape.)
>As Hodch looks over at the basilisk, Doctor Novus is a bit surprised, and then confused.
>Why was it wearing a hat...?
(Is that the... Facility director?)
>Novus asks tentatively, but opts to remain silent for the conversation between the two.
>He simply listens, offering no unnecessary comments.
>As it departs, Novus is just left somewhat confused by the whole exchange, but he doesn't say anything still.
>And then, once more in a flash, they are now somewhere else... This time in the clouds?
>Whatever, it matters not.
>Novus looks over the mare once more in their cell, wondering to himself how weird this would be to now see this mare's face in the mirror every morning...
>It would certainly take some getting used to.
(... Well Hodch, I am honestly not sure where to begin. I've never done anything quite like this before, but... Wouldn't I have to be inside my new body to get... Used to all this? Like re-learning how to walk again and the like?)

>>209622
>Tearing his hand out of your robe, Chisan scowls down at the Rogue Trader, naked left hand balling into a tight fist as he hisses murderously.
"This is the last time I will allow y-"
>Cutting himself off and freezing, the Scion's eyes unfocus and head hangs in visible mental contact.
>Suddenly standing upright, the Stormtrooper turns left in your direction, taking a long step forwards and throwing black carapace arms around you in a tight, welcoming hug.
>Maintaining his hold, the scion releases an aggravated sigh, afterwards muttering under his blueberry scented breath.
"A test of loyalty, you have passed it-"
>Letting go after half minute or so, Chisan turns to retrieve his helmet, placing it on the chair's right table, his own face highly reddened.
>Kneeling down to place his left hand gently on Velasi's throat, Chisan speaks with a flat, albeit mildly annoyed tone.
"Enginseer, I apologize for threatening you earlier and for my actions but the Inquisitor gave specific instructions: had you struck myself or her you would be ordered to don lewd clothing when dealing with equines as your punishment. The Inquisitor's methods are difficult to understand but I will follow them regardless of objections."
>Head turning to stare at you with a firmly apologetic expression, the Scion's jaw clenches twice, then returns to place his ungloved hand on the Inquisitor's dull gold belly.
"Nanites are working, she will heal without further sanguination."
>Standing up, the Stormtrooper grabs his low quality helmet, placing it on with both hands and moving it about to reach a perfect fit.
"Unless circumstances change I am your executive commander. However, the Inquisitor's orders dictate I must defer to your expertise when it comes to technology, fortifications, Machine Spirits, and unknown xenos. I do not enjoy the strange role I have been promoted to but I will execute the Inquisitor's orders without hesitation, and should you demand anything that is not heretical I will do all within my capabilities to acquire such for you. If you have questions, ask them before I move her."

>>209636
>Armored face hardening in a brief flicker of anger, the Changeling's eyes narrow briefly.
(Kraut, you state such as if you knew the future. How could you have? You did not rely upon arrogance so if you are, or were, guilty of anything at all, it was wanting the best possible outcome. Do not blame yourself for what could not be controlled regardless of the costs, I will not allow you to think such negative thoughts for they are wrong.)
>Nodding in a small motion, Roust tips her head up for a moment, then down onto the stasis oval, sighing in her metallic tone.
(Arranged mareriages are common in some regions of Equestria, Saddle Arabia, and other places. I understand the concept, but not the reason. We can only pray that Pella does not lose her mind over Dante's choice, but if necessary I shall do all I can to ensure both of them accept this fate with kindness.)
(Such a copy must be as close as possible to your pre-destroyed body, otherwise you will suffer from disjointment. That is, you would not integrate well and suffer mental decline. They are quite efficient when it comes to food, you would only have to eat once, perhaps twice a day.)
>Forcing her face mask to smile tiredly, the Vanguard's ears twitch amusedly.
(If Hollow was not succumbing to multiple consecutive hallucinogens at the moment, I suspect he would be angry at seeing you in such a state, then demand you be given a perfect body so that he could hug you. Then again it may be for the best, I do not understand this 'cloning' process he has described before.)
(Kraut, you are allowed to feel that way, but are you truly correct? You have admitted that you are neither marecenary nor military. It is beyond cruel to expect nothing but success from one that cannot possibly know what they 'should' do. Nopony is perfect, not even my Queen, and she has admitted that many times.)
>Lifting an eyebrow curiously, the Changeling huffs, the sound more self-aggravated than anything else.
(Beyond strange, but.. perhaps relatively normal for Razorback. I have little experience with Eldritch beings save for knowing that they do not think, act, or plan in manners that anypony, or anyone, can understand. Perhaps I will.. odd, there are other Changelings here. I will request a Flanker to search for Natilda and this 'Wild', it would not do to have a human go missing at this time.)
>Sitting upright slowly, Roust makes a wide yawn, lifting a massive hoof to rub her armored snout.
(I must sleep, performing two large scale missions saddle-to-saddle has expended nearly all of my energies. I am sorry Kraut but do not fret, when I wake I will do my best to ensure that you are at the very least capable of being yourself once more, even if it is only temporary.)

>>209696
>The enginseer simply stands there and watches with a concerned look on her face as Chisan goes through stages of anger and annoyance.
>But then the stormtrooper suddenly stands upright and turns to her. His sudden approach makes her flinch fearfully from him for a split-second, before she stiffens like a statue as his arms wrap around her, and he actually hugs her.

>For the first few seconds she sort of stays very still; and Chisan could hear that her heartbeat was practically audible merely by being in proximity, the enginseer quivering in his embrace as her eyes stared past his shoulder.
>It was a very light quivering that the stormtrooper could only really feel when touching her, but it was there.
>Slack jawed, with a soft gasp emanating from her as she slowly processes the physical affection she was being forcefully given.

>Another second passes; and Mallia, slowly, starts to lean their face against the stormtrooper's shoulder. Gently wrapping an arm around his chest as well, to return the affection wholeheartedly. Even if she didn't know him that well, yet.
>Then, at the ten second mark, she let's herself relax in his grasp. Sagging her shoulders and shuddering as she starts to get misty eyed. Staring into his carapace armor and accidentally allowing the waterworks to open up.
>He might not be able to tell she was weeping, since she was doing it silently; biting her lips and pursing her lip to keep herself from sobbing and whimpering.

>She wouldn't have lasted long, but then Chisan leaned away from her; leaving Mallia to sway back to a straighter position, staring straight down towards the floor in pure shame as her hand retracts to her cheeks and eyes to take a moment to wipe away her tears, and take a deep, shaking breath to compose herself.
>Mallia lifting her glance maybe once, for a second, to catch his apologetic glance and simply smile to signal that he was forgiven, before looking down to the sleeping inquisitor pony.

"... You're the first person to apologize for threatening me with execution..."
>The Enginseer said, with a honest, little tiny voice; chuckling mirthlessly to his apology.
"I forgive you. I know you have to follow orders. I am used to it."
>Her hand slowly drops from her face after she was done drying up her sadness. She looked up to him again, this time maintaining the contact, though her eyes remained somewhat glistening wet as she listened and nodded along to his words.

"I understand. My only question is for when you'll be free again; Inquisitor Velasi has ordered me to join you in your stronghold to talk, later. I also have to move to the command center to meet a certain mister "Longstar" and miss "Emerald"."

>She then sighed softly one more time; her face deflating somewhat. Returning her hands to a resting position infront of her waist, one hand lightly prodding her combi-tool at her belt.

"... I wonder when I'll get to go to bed and have time to actually think..."

>She lingered there for a while longer, staring off into the distance that was the floor beneath her boots and robes. Slinking slowly into her own thoughts, as she blinked away the moisture from her eyes, slowly but surely.
>The Enginseer pauses all movement for a while, letting her micro-cogitator compile all the new information and properly memorize it, while she rests her eyes and takes deep breaths to compose herself.

>>207828
>Raidor stares at the crystal pony for a brief moment as she talks while tilting his head, this being Naliyna Remostrine. How did he not notice it was her earlier? He bows his head slightly.
"I apologize for staring. I did not realize who you were for a moment, Miss Remostrine. Allow me to fully introduce myself. I am Captain Raidor, of the Manehattan Guard. I was originally here to gather some willing humans for a tour of the city, but I got caught up with a quick courier job for Shanis. And yes, borderline illegal alchemy stuff is more like it. Were I within jurisdiction I would have confiscated half of it, but it's ultimately not my place to here."
>He nods as she explains the seal disappearances, and shrugs to himself for not knowing.
"I see. I'm not from Manehattan originally, so the seal disappearance is a bit before my time as well."
>Naliyna flashes the notice-of-sale to him, clearly from Dragon Fang. But the name catches him off guard, not knowing it.
"Free Trader's Guild. First time I'm hearing of them, as well. Huh, a mountain seal? I did not know you can have a seal without a large body of water nearby."

>>208933
>>As Ivan talks to Naliyna, he gets the hint he may be on his own for a while until he can find some humans to bring back with him to Manehattan.
"Do not worry about me, Ivan. I think I will walk the grounds for a bit. Maybe take a nap, before I have to return."

>Leadership: +2 to all Perception rolls

>>209647
>Stepping back from the chest she'd decided to investigate, Mercy's relieved yet hesitant voice drifts to you.
"No traps or protections that I can detect, this is.. strange. Why has this crypt has not been used since it.. was built?"
>Silently ambling around to the dresser, she glances back to eye Boris on her saddle, whom was merely examining everything in great detail.
"I have neither seen nor heard any such warnings Commander."

>>209685
>Positively identifying the mixed construction methods, the lack of any wear or damage on everything stated that this crypt was built and, for whatever reason, either unused or left abandoned.
>For the moment, none of the Moor cats outside had decided to come in and were meowly being fulfilled by annoying such rarely seen earth ponies.

>Coming to a silent halt behind Jeff, Mercy's ears perk up while her wings lift, each pinksteel blade remaining in a ready state for expulsion.
>From underneath the foyer, a somber, small kanpri chime was heard, then a hollow bamboo wood flute.
>Reversing the pattern after precisely one second, the chime turns hollow while the flute becomes somber, repeating a further seven more times to mark a total of nine alternating chords, then falling silent.

>Glancing from glowing wingblades to glowing wingblades quickly, Mercy whispers aloud curiously.
"Somepony must be making this music. I do not sense... hostility, the stone is too thick to feel through. Boris.. and I will investigate, back me up."
>Creeping towards the central room's double doors, the Spirit Walker begins pushing on the left one with her left shoulder, ears swiveling forwards while her wings tilt downwards at the floor.
[1d6+4 = 7]
<Reveal Unnatural

>>209819
>>209685
>Jeff furrows his brow at Mercy's questioning, looking her and Boris's way for a moment in thought.
"This place is quite well out of the way. Maybe it fell into obscurity. The Tartarus crew had to raise it out of the water, so it's clearly not been taken care of in that sense. Eh I'd rather play it safe for now, Boris. If this place really has nothing tied to it, then we can clean it out."

>After tuning his audio, he begins to pick up something through the ambient whispers.
>It wasn't what we was expected to hear, and looks down almost through the foyer's floor.
>Chime, then flute. They change a bit and repeat until they fade out.
>Sounded a little gloomy.
"Chimes... and a flute? I was hoping for some ghost voices, but yeah they seem to be originating from the crypt underneath us. Maybe it's some Undead vampires playing music down there."
>Mercy and Boris make their way over to the door leading into the ceremonial chamber, and Jeff gets up from the amber cushion to follow her.
"Right behind you. Sunny, you going to cover our rear?"
>He keeps back a bit as she begins nudging the door open, and he can't help himself from flicking his mounted helmet light on to shine it through the creaking door.
[1d6+2 = 8]
<Helmet Light
[1d6+6 = 7]
<E.Perception + Lunar Faction Bonus + Leadership
[1d6+6 = 10]

[1d6+6 = 9]

>>208933
>Lips quirking downwards while her eyes roll up at the Pagoda's rafters, Naliyna's head shakes side to side in disbelief.
"You better start remembering otherwise I'm gonna send you to the Mess Hall's nightly classes with Denra, Hodch, Tipper, and all the other unicorns here. They will make you smarter, mostly without your consent."
>Forelegs folding across her barrel, the scarred Crystal mare's eyebrows furrow together in thought as she listens.
"Shouldn't really be too hard, Ivan. The 'Battery' thing you have and Empire power crystals are basically the same. Put this armor of yours in the Workshop with a note listing any details about it you can think of, how it should work, what it needs to do, and the like. I'll try to get Krinza and maybe Hodch or Denra to help me restore it. Once we get it to work, or if we need more information I'll come find you."

>>209810
>Eyebrows raising in puzzlement, the scarred mare lifts her forelegs in a confused shrug.
"Sorry Captain, got no idea what you're talking about, I've been with Razorback for the past couple years.. or more. My short term memory is horrible, can't even remember what I ate at dusk or who I was mad at earlier. I'm still gonna send Shanis a message, she knows better than to let all those mares on the Isle do what they want. Still not sure what her alchemy stuff is for but thanks for not doing anything with it all, she's trying hard to keep the Juggernaut mentally stable. The less weird stuff she does, the better it is for us."
>Glancing towards the north, then back to Raidor, Naliyna manages a small, friendly smile.
"All I remember is a bunch of seals lived in Manehattan for a long time and then they disappeared. Still Peak might have a big volcanic pond filled with fish.. or the Dragons might be ordering their underlings to bring them fresh food. The pony that got hired didn't know all that much so it's really hard to say anything more."

>Reaching under the table, Naliyna pulls a large, folded map, sending it to Raidor with a cheerful hum.
"Feel free to poke around all you like, there's a lot of ponies and some sapient Predatory Elk here, they're pretty cute. Just avoid the pair of pegasi.. 'servants' and the big ring covered earth mare, otherwise you're probably gonna get-"
>Making the common pony signal for 'raped', the trader offers an apologetic smile.
"If you wanna sleep somewhere just go into any of the barrack dens, they're nice and comfortable. Nopony will bother you there."

>>209819
>Same tones. Continuing on a repeating loop. Possible tonal containment?
>Sunny looked back at the entrance again, attempting to determine if the doors could be opened from within once closed.
>She didn't trust the music, traps never made themselves outwardly hostile, it would defeat the point.
>Odd that she was able to hear it from outside through all the intervening layers of stone.

>>209854
>Acknowledging Jeff's order with a wing wave and a soft nicker, Sunny took a position in the center of the room, closer to the doors, but somewhat behind the others, sweeping the entire chamber again.
>Might as well begin readying herself if they were heading deeper. This crypt was allowed to sink for a reason.

[1d6+4 = 5]
< E. Ambush
[1d6+4 = 6]

[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+5 = 8]
< B. Perception
[1d6+5 = 10]

>>209810
>Right
>Ivan had someone with him
>Though to be fair he assumed that Raidor was going to wander off on his own
>>209867
"That sounds... strangely painful."
>He didn't like the sound of that.
"Of course, I'll get right onto that. Thanks, Naliyna."
>He turns to leave, before looking at Raidor.
"Good luck on your search, Raidor. And I do want to take a visit to Manehattan, so let me know when you want to bring the others."

>>209697
>Kraut's image leans back a little and raises his hands as if threatened.
(Hey now, I'm just looking at the results, and they aren't exactly pretty. I'll go ahead and tone down the mental flagellation though, it's already getting kinda old.)
>It's Kraut's turn to at least project a shrugging image.
(I don't think I can really call that marriage 'arranged.' Yeah, I'd agree on Pella needing to stay calm, we're already likely to have one upset mare from her coltfriend getting into some questionable situations.)
(I don't know if I entirely buy that, but you're the expert on using different bodies so sure. I will miss the regular meals though.)
>The image almost gets its arms all the way crossed but the idea of cloning is too interesting to return to pouting.
>He strokes his beard at the thought of it.
(I don't know about the world he came from, but where I'm from cloning had been performed, but the cloned body didn't last near as long as the original. It could work if my original body was kept in stasis, assuming that it worked entirely by reproducing what the body 'should' be rather than its exact state. I never researched too deep into it though and I sure as hell couldn't pull it off here.)
>Kraut's image quickly points a finger at Roust.
(Hey! No huffing out of you, that's my role for now. As for sending a flanker, please do; I very much would not like 2 more deaths added to this operation.)
>The image waves its guest of before disappearing once again.
(Then go sleep, I'll be fine for just one night. To be honest a new body doesn't really even break my top three things to fret about, those being Natilda and Wild, the states of everyone else who came back with me, and Allys' potential reaction to single motherhood.)

>>209455
>"Haven't heard a noise like that in a long time..."
>Hearing the harpy's reverence toward's his title of Executioner, Clem is relieved with the easier time he's getting now
"No. Razorback Company. Loose organization of humans and ponies?"
>Seeing the lone batpony walk out and walk around, he further figures out the rite and the role this ship is in
"The Guillotine..."
>Clemency offers his own reverence, especially to a spaceborne craft
"The Lonely One? The mothership above?"
>Clemency makes his way down to the arena floor
"What would piercing the heart do?"
>Reaching the floor, he looks up again at the silver craft, still amazed
"I would like to board the craft, see the inside of it. And meet the brave pilot."

>>209477
>Zhun quietly waits for the transaction to finish when he sees the shock in the young mare's face
>Hearing her stammer about the monumental costs of the shipment even surprised Zhun
"The base is really busy. Experimentations, medical work..."
>Slightly disappointed and more worried about the other option, Zhun continues listening
"Hmmm....can we do a smaller order or would it buy everything you have?"
>Zhun tries to boggle his mind on the other location
>"Snootadishu...Zebrica. Where again?"

>>209666
>The Marquis A.I. renders itself as smoking a cigar, reading a book labeled 'I'M STUPID', and saluting all at the same time.
"Understood sir."

>Holding the teleport gateway open and looking quite apprehensive at stepping in, Krinza's eyes turn up and left in recall.
"I am proficient in mechanical and engineering principles, these.. electronics are quite annoying. And, no, Vanil was not. A different pegasus stallion, minotaur, a 'modified batpony' mare, and some form of reptile were recovered. Excuse me, I have something rather idiotic to take care of first."

>Both the A.I.'s forehooves point forwards in the display, showing a storage capacity which currently read 48.3 out of a maximum 50 terabytes.
"THIS is what I need to show you sir, I'm nearly out of storage space and I can't cache anymore. Managed to capture the Construct's data streams during activation and subsequent combat.. this code is both biological and coded in a ridiculously rotating trinary sequence. First one is composed of plus zero, minus zero, and zero. Second is plus one, minus one, and one. Third is minus zero, zero, and plus one. There's two others that I lack the knowledge to understand. Short explanation: this Construct's transmissions are based on whatever form of genetic coding it is that the rest probably use, sir. Also, it is alive, and by that I am directly stating the CODE itself is alive."

>The front doors were relatively scorched, showing some minor damage though nothing had penetrated.
>Stepping inside, the helmet's filters aren't able to completely negate the sickly sweet stench of burnt pony flesh, 'Spiral' evaluating the blood stain patterns with a morbid whistle.
"Severe injuries to the equine 'Inquisitor' sir, there are several peculiarities, building profile now-"
>Further analyzing the spatters and trails, the A.I. makes a small 3D reconstruction from the Library's entrance down to the lab.
"Confirmed sir, the trail is distinctly human-like. Notice the double and triple hoof scrabbling marks in nearly the same positions? Only humans do that when succumbing to shock. She struggled greatly to move this far. Your records and notes don't indicate much but she was physically durable to withstand multiple injuries and desperate enough to seek immediate medical attention. Possible subversion context: doesn't trust equines, would rather take aid from humans.. well, one specific human at least."

>>209766
>Reaching the bottom level, you catch the end of the black armored Stormtrooper hugging the rust red robed, multiple weapon carrying human female with the single, unusual tendril implanted into her spine from earlier.
>The Stormtrooper's helmet visibly turns in your direction while the A.I. immediately creates a chair to sit in, swiveling around in it and pointing at both of them in sequence, then the unconscious Flash in visible worry.
"I've tentatively identified the unknown transmissions from all three of them as post-Nanite Age, probably twenty centuries past it even. Uh.. sir, this 'Inquisitor' has multiple implants that are trying to hack into me, I can resist them for about ten minutes but they're.. they're alive sir, what the buck is this?"

>>209766
>Carapace helmet turning to eye someone arriving at the lab's entrance, Chisan's head twitches towards the Rogue Trader.
"The threat was necessary to acquire your immediate assistance. I would not have fulfilled it unless you attempted to harm the Inquisitor."
>Nodding slightly, the Scion kneels down once more, carefully lifting Velasi's head to inspect the large white bandage covering the left side of her face.
"The Inquisitor believes she will not need any further aid. After I have placed her in the tech-forge room to recover, I have been ordered to accompany you to the Command Center. I must also contact Knight Raindrop en route, she must be reassigned to both of us. The Inquisitor has.. fully and indefinitely sanctioned her as an ally."
>He did not sound happy about that part.
>Lifting the Inquisitorial equine up by the rear and neck, Chisan grunts at her weight while muttering in disbelief.
"What has she been EATING?"

>>209666
>Offering a short, formal nod to you, the Stormtrooper turns directly towards the trove's hidden entrance, carrying Velasi towards it rather slowly.
>Registering a short data stream that the A.I. was unable to decode, the door opens to admit him.
>Placing the Inquisitor inside, Chisan returns after a quarter minute, the door closing with another burst of data while he takes hold of the peculiar rifle's strap, marching out the Lab's door while making the battle-lingo signal for 'follow' to Mallia.