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Razorback Company.png
#OiE: The Cult of the Dark Horse 2
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.207806
>If you would like to join, make a sensible loadout here at:
innawoods.net
>And if you want to bring in something special or anything not on the list, ask to shop it in.

>When you're done, read over the Operator's Handbook:
http://pastebin.com/B4PD8nAi

>Or the Hoofbook if you wanna be a pony:
https://pastebin.com/SjEWsDfC

>Then drop a post here.

>Overall Pastebin:
http://pastebin.com/u/PonyStrangler

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

>Bulletin Board:
https://pastebin.com/LnwZ7sdq

>Previous Thread:
https://mlpol.net/mlpol/archive/res/93187.html

Welcome back, pony cowboys...
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.207812
208060
>>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."
Basin Arena: Scouting
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.207823
208014
>>206793 →
>Besides the Arena's grand size, three flights of stairs, pun intended, were cut into the north face close to the center, and there were numerous small balconies studding the exterior roughly halfway up.

>Emitting a whine similar to those of rarely seen Intruders and the like, the vessel sinks straight down until only the bow can be seen above the Arena, a large thump and scraping of silverine on stone heard.
>Going silent suddenly, after a few moments a spray of black fluid ejects from the bow into the air, accompanied by several loud, almost electronic clicks, hearing nothing more afterwards.
Razorback Pagoda: Home of Luxury & Laziness
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.207828
208933 209810
>>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?"
Astral Poinsettia
The L.O.N.T
86/zS
?
No.207829
207930 208182
>>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?"
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
EHswj
?
No.207843
207844 208185
>>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.]
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
EHswj
?
No.207844
208185
>>207843
>Additionally, he asks:

*"Requesting confirmation of missile detonation site and status of assets outside the Clinic."*
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.207847
208784
>>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
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.207854
208525
>>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."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
JHkjQ
?
No.207856
208357
>>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
Something Bad -A Small Nuisance
The L.O.N.T
86/zS
?
No.207903
207904 207953 208007
>>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
The GM L.O.N.T
86/zS
?
No.207904
>>207903
Ignore these rolls, as they were 8 and 5 in last thread
Mallia Castella
GTXZ8
?
No.207930
208182 208253
>>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...)


Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
/cRiW
?
No.207953
208529
>>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]

Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.208007
208529
>>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]

Razorback Clinic: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208010
208012
>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.)
Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
/cRiW
?
No.208012
208396
>>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.)
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.208014
208473
>>207823
>Clem continues forward and climbs the three flight of stairs, hoping to get a height advantage on the vessel
>He looks behind himself to see the approaching herd of bats, seeing if they're changing posture
>As he reaches the summit, he looks out over the arena and the length of the vessel
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.208016
208479
>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
Corsen
!!NqBxIZTw8.
YumWJ
?
No.208055
208532
>>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?"
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.208060
208068 208486
>>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?"
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.208068
208486 208653
1288367.jpeg
>>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.
The Clinic: Doctor Carlos, Receiving
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208094
208462
>>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]

Jamal Ratchet
!PsOrb9esFQ
H8C8w
?
No.208120
208490
>>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.

Razorback Clinic: Nova Flicker
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208182
208253 208260
>>207930
>Failing to recognize the confusing order, the M36's Machine Spirit recites the Litany of Triumph to you.
>It was still recovering from the strange transition to this world.

>Turning its attentions back onto the unknown biomechanical xenos, the auspex performs a deep, rapid scan, returning a series of bitter datums:
>The hull, weaponry, fluid, and components inside had been completely destroyed by a plasma-fusion core reaction, or something similar, the Machine Spirit calculating a greater than 99% chance the intended effect was specifically to prevent studying any technologies it used.
>Analyzing the residual energy signatures, the auspex confirms the previous assumption of a perpetual energy generation system, similar to the system used in the Ironstrider Ballistarius, though it had no reference points to identify the mechanism itself or the reactions involved.
>Performing a final check, the substance comprising the hull and internals was still unintelligible, bearing no similarities to any known metals or alloys in use by the AdMech, Inquisition, Orks, Chaos, T'au, Eldar, or any other species known to the Imperium.

>Eyeing the molten wreckage, the Preysense visor's Machine Spirit finally snaps, shutting down from the exhaustive service it performed this night, leaving the flare lens intact.
>From what you could tell, there wouldn't be much of anything to recover.

>Studying the unknown human, his armor was an obvious offshoot of ancient STC's, the bubble helmet and complex external designs matching nuclear-biological-chemical containment suits, though greatly improved in comparison to standard hazard suits.
>The curious ranged weapon bore similarities to a number of small caliber rifles preferred by Rogue Traders as they didn't require Machine Spirits, while the heavy curved blade was definitely local made, comprised of an unknown, reflective blue-purple metal.

>>207829
>Aided by Mallia's curious help, Astral is half-carried, half-dragged to the Clinic.
>Opening the curiously heavy bunker door, an irritated, bright red coated and steel maned pegasus mare glares outwards, dull yellow eyes flicking up and down at the two.
>Nostril flaring in anger, the pegasus leaps out the door with a snort, half-trotting southwards while muttering in an aery, sinister tone, the language indecipherable to both Mallia and Astral.

>Pulling the Pred-Elk into the Clinic proper, it was about what Mallia expected: front desk, swiveling chair, large white sofa behind the first two, rows upon rows of wall and floor cabinets.
>Ten big, soft, fluffy medical beds that wouldn't have been out of place in a Governor's private treatment room lined the east and west sides; two large, solid white doors on the north end read: 'SURGICAL SUITE', one marked west, one marked east.
>On the west side beds, three rippling stasis fields contained the bodies of humans, one in a scorched thin forest camo, the second a lightning pattern similar to Tallarn, and the third in bulky white armor.
>On the northeast side beds lie two sleeping Pred-Elk, one wrapped in bandages, the other missing a copper horn, a large white bandage with the center a bright red covering the stump.

>Stepping out from behind the desk, an oddly thin, 4' tall mare, a bright sparkling carnelian in color with a spiraling horn, squints soft, five-pointed star eyes at the pair.
>Lifting the right foreleg and pointing directly towards the closest east side bed, the mare sits down heavily, knocking over several white plastic hardcases and perusing through them.
Kraut Spacewizard
!w6m/AkYQPo
H8C8w
?
No.208183
208506
>>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."
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208185
208471
>>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."*
Astral Poinsettia
The GM L.O.N.T
lNi6s
?
No.208253
208260 208585
nal at stall.png
>>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
Mallia Castella
9g1Ir
?
No.208260
208585 208595 208612
>>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...


Razorback Fortress: The Fountain
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208357
208394
>>207856
>Safety on, the northern courtyard began to come to... something approximating a life.
>Doors to the barracks opened and slammed shut, squads of humans, too far away to make out just yet, cautiously advancing south, numerous rifles and a probable missile launcher aimed upwards.

>Unable to sight the suicide pony, Naliyna was rounding into the pagoda on the north side, humming in a much too serene manner for the prior situation, four darkly tinted ponyshoes floating above her head.
>Magic, it seemed, was everywhere here.

>Reaching the fountain, you find the three human sized and two pony sleeping bags empty, one of the larger ones containing a peculiar number of brightly colored scarves inside.
>Filling the water can, a single squad of humans passes by, the bizarre mixture of uniforms and weapons from several previous eras clashed against the definitely local-made armor.
>This place was pretty weird.
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
JHkjQ
?
No.208394
208590
>>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.
Somewhere Not Here: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208396
208455
>>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.)
Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
BOm9z
?
No.208455
208599
>>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?)
GM_Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.208462
277302
>>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
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
EHswj
?
No.208471
208608
>>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."
Basin Arena: Scouting
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208473
208741
>>208014
>Unable to see the Destroyer wings or Lunar-robed cow leading them through the fog, the Arena was silent enough that you may have felt their hoofstomps.
>May.

>Power jogging to and up the first set of tall stairs, it surprisingly went around the dome towards the east, and since you didn't have claustrophobia or feared of the dark, the black granite faintly guided your substandard nocturnal senses.
>The pathway around the dome terminates at an intersection on the east side, one stairwell leading down, one leading into the dome itself, another to a small balcony covered in new cushions, and the last leading around the dome.
>Finding that you couldn't see the vessel from here yet, cross into the adjacent tunnel and jogging through it, you wind up on the south side's balcony, empty.

>Standing at the abysmally short railing, not even feeling the barest strain of a workout, the vessel was exactly like the cloaked one in the Enclave: an ancient sailing vessel roughly 80M from bow to stern, covered in a thick, seamless layer of silverine.
>Resting in an oval shaped cradle set down into the curious triangular stonework below, the four energy-emitting square pads were hidden underneath.
>While you couldn't see any visible hatches or ports, your radio begins picking up phrases from the angry, mostly electronic language of a female harpy, similar to Oranti but older sounding, as if nearly feral.
>Listening to the strangely sharp sounds, it was in close proximity, and could only be coming from within the silverine vessel.
Razorback Fortress: Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208479
208743
>>208016
>Unable to see the Clinic from where you were south of the Pagoda, upon walking through the Neighsian structure you're given a wave from Naliyna, whom was, for the first time, happily doing paperwork.. which might not have been actual paperwork.
>Exiting the north side, the Clinic was still intact, though an odd, rust red armored human, fairly short so probably a female, with a long utility tentacle sticking out of her back was half-dragging, half-carrying one of the Pred-Elk to the only entrance.
>Upon opening the door, a furious, bright red coated and steel maned pegasus mare bursts outwards, stalking directly towards you.
>Passing by at an uncomfortably short distance, the pre-middle aged mare simply turns one dull yellow eye upwards for a second, flicking down and storming into the Pagoda itself.
>Razorback certainly did attract weirdos.

>Checking the PKM's box, you had only used a fraction of the total belt, which could be topped off at pretty much any time.
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Efficient Roadwork!
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208486
208653 208697
>>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.
Razorback Fortress: The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208490
208505
>>208120
>Boosting through the doors and inside, the Mess Hall was now completely empty, aside from the few passed out humans and ponies you'd seen earlier.
>Slipping the bill in, a curious cardboard 8-pack of 16 ounce bottles is deposited after a few seconds, the labels for each scribbled on as if a foal had been given a marker after each was freshly made and simply made swirly mango designs.

>Looking at the cotton bag itself, it was only labeled with what you'd seen before.
>Considering how Tallus trade worked, it was most likely that each of the rings was worth 20 Bits each.
>In other words: you now had large amounts of semi-precious stone bling.
Jamal Ratchet
!PsOrb9esFQ
H8C8w
?
No.208505
208624
>>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.
The Clinic: Roust
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208506
208804
>>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.)
The L.O.N.T
lNi6s
?
No.208525
208526 208658
>>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.


The L.O.N.T
lNi6s
?
No.208526
208658
>>208525
[1d6+2 = 3]
>M.Ear Scratching
[1d6+2 = 4]

[1d6+2 = 7]

[1d6+2 = 8]

Something Bad -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
lNi6s
?
No.208529
208980 209036
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
Canterlot, City Edge
The GM L.O.N.T
VXqsM
?
No.208532
208678
>>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.'

Razorback Clinic: Nova Flicker
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208585
208595 208605
>>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-"*
Razorback Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208590
208612
>>208394
>Receiving short nods and hand waves from the curious selection of humans, mostly midrange marksmen with a couple of dedicated snipers, the squad moves towards the Pagoda, a slightly less than 5' tall pony, hornless and wingless, covered in heavy black armor clanks by you as well, visibly struggling to keep up.
>While the cold was starting to become noticeable, the late fall night time atmosphere lightens a bit as the overhead bank of clouds moves on, comfortable bright red light streaming down.

>Reaching the Clinic and pulling the bunker door open, a decent amount had changed inside:
>The closest bed on the east side was now filled by yet another of the copper-horned elk, a curiously rust red armored human shorter than you in front of the cervine.
>Armed with a strange, futuristic looking weapon, a likewise rust red combat shield slung over the back, and an odd poleaxe with several mechanical attachments that wouldn't look out of place in a welding shop, the most baffling part was the 2M long, steel colored metallic tentacle attached to the center of the human's spine, four small claws on the end.
>On the opposite side, Nova Flicker was carefully giving the elk a dose of bright green liquid, fully focused on her new patient.

>In the center on the east side, the Prench pegasus was being tended to by Frost Egg, the mare difficult to see under the red lighting.
Astral Poinsettia
The GM L.O.N.T
VXqsM
?
No.208595
208605 208680
>>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.
Unknown Blacksite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208599
208616
>>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.)
Mallia Castella
2BD7v
?
No.208605
208612 208687 209236
>>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]


Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208608
208712
>>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."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
JHkjQ
?
No.208612
208690
>>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.)
Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
BOm9z
?
No.208616
208695
>>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.)
Zebraica: Potswana
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208624
212385
>>208505
>Taking a sip, it was exactly what you wanted despite the crude label of 'MANGO FANTA'.
>It was even freshly made if not perfectly cold.

>Encountering neither pony nor human until exiting reaching the fountain, multiple squads of marksmen and a few ponies were spreading out across the courtyard on high alert.
>Dropping into the Pagoda, it was clear enough, besides Naliyna sorting through letters.
>Briskly stirred awake, one of the Vortex Remnant's eyes open, yawning into a large green and desert tan vortex.

>Set down in a relatively warm, humid flatland, it was broad daylight for once.
>And, as to be expected, as far as you could see were tall, wide bushes of many green, red, purple, pink, orange, yellow, and blue mareijuana plants in well spaced rows on mixed sand and soil.
>In the distance throughout the fields were several large domed hut, 4' or so Zebras scattered through the fields, their mohawks and silver or gold neck bands quite visible at a distance.
>Most importantly, you could smell ripe ganja smoke, though it wasn't near enough to locate.
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.208653
208697 209318
>>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.
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208658
208683
>>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!"
Corsen
!!NqBxIZTw8.
YumWJ
?
No.208678
209239
>>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?"
Razorback Clinic: Nova Flicker
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208680
>>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."
The L.O.N.T
VXqsM
?
No.208683
209236 210307
>>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."
Razorback Fortress: Spiral's Lab
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208687
208740
>>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.
Razorback Clinic: Frost Egg
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208690
208714
>>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."
Unknown Blacksite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208695
208707
>>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.)
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.208697
209318 209330
1261366.jpeg
>>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.
Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
lqZoM
?
No.208707
208762
>>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.)
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
EHswj
?
No.208712
208764
>>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.
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.208714
208781
>>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.)
Mallia Castella
wK6j4
?
No.208740
208795
>>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
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.208741
208802
>>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?"
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.208743
208803
>>208479
>Zhun waves and smiles back at Naliyna, seeing her happy
>"Scary, but at least she's fine now. I guess all that was blowing off steam."
>Seeing the Clinic fine, he cheers for himself quickly before anyone sees him
>"I actually did shoot that thing out of the air! My instructor be proud..."
>He does spot a weird figure; a woman in red robes and a weird metal tentacle coming from her dragging a deer?
>When seeing the pegasus coming for him, he looks around behind him as if someone is standing there
>With no one, he stands still and looks over to the mare
>About to speak, he just sees the mare walk on by reeaallly close then behind him
>He doesn't know if he should feel relieved or scared
>He turns around to see if that storm was erupting in the pagoda before
>Well, back to the original plan; getting medical supplies
>And with the Clinic now bustling and the alchemy lab used, we'll need it
>He heads over to the pagoda and prepares his journey for the Crystal Empire
>He does pulls out his notes from before the fight
>"Greater Frozen Coast Consortium, Industrial Sector 4 South. Ok."
>He punches in the sequence for the Crystal Empire and waits
Unknown Blacksite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208762
208769
>>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?)
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208764
208821
>>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."
Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
BOm9z
?
No.208769
209042
>>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.)
Razorback Clinic: Frost Egg
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208781
208792
>>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."
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
fKkpW
?
No.208784
209339
>>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.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.208786
209441
>>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."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.208792
209447
>>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.)
Razorback Fortress: Spiral's Lab
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208795
208844
>>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
Basin Arena: Scouting
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208802
209199
>>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.
The Crystal City-State: Industrial Sector
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.208803
209203
>>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.
Kraut Spacewizard
!w6m/AkYQPo
H8C8w
?
No.208804
209365
>>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.)

Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
EHswj
?
No.208821
209382
>>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?"
Mallia Castella
H/DaS
?
No.208844
209394
>>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]


Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.208933
209810 209867
>>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."
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.208980
209036 209240
>>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.
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
lqZoM
?
No.209036
209240 209334
>>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.
Unknown Blacksite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209042
209121
>>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?)
Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
BOm9z
?
No.209121
209413
>>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?)
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.209199
209455
>>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?"
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.209203
209477
>>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."
Astral Poinsettia
The GM L.O.N.T
MLfVK
?
No.209236
209486
>>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."

Canterlot, City Edge
The GM L.O.N.T
MLfVK
?
No.209239
209488
>>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.
Something Bad -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
MLfVK
?
No.209240
209334 209473
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.
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Mentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209318
209330 209462
>>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
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.209330
209462 209502
>>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
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.209334
209473 210502
>>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]

Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209339
209414
>>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
The Clinic: Roust
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209365
209636
>>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?)
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209382
209430
>>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.)
Razorback Fortress: A Psyker's Mind
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209394
209408
>>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..
Mallia Castella
3UpqP
?
No.209408
209429
>>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.)


Unknown Blacksite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209413
209453
>>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.)
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
fKkpW
?
No.209414
209504
>>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."
Razorback Fortress: A Psyker's Mind
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209429
209549
>>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."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
EHswj
?
No.209430
209507
>>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?]


Cairn Wharf: The Sea Shack
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209441
210390
>>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.
The Pagoda: Home of Luxury & Laziness
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209447
209458
>>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?"
Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
fVWJm
?
No.209453
209593
>>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.

Basin Arena: The Guillotine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209455
209993
>>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.
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
wqAuv
?
No.209458
209598
>>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?"
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.209462
209502 209563
1468984045374.gif
>>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
Carl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
xzL7H
?
No.209473
210502 210625
Spruce.jpg
>>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]

The Crystal City-State: Industrial Sector
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209477
210003
>>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..
The Clinic: Nova Flicker Receiving
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209486
210497
>>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.
Corsen
!!NqBxIZTw8.
YumWJ
?
No.209488
210504
>>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!)
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209502
209563 209569
>>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]

Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209504
210413
>>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
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209507
209595
>>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?"
Mallia Castella
EbtY3
?
No.209549
209611
Pure love.gif
>>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."


Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.209563
209569 209621
thinking.jpg
>>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]

Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.209569
209621 209647
1463888846705.jpg
>>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.
Unknown Blacksite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209593
209606
>>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.)
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.209595
209633
>>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."
The Pagoda: Naliyna
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209598
209615
>>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."
Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
xzL7H
?
No.209606
209668
>>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?)
Razorback Fortress: A Psyker's Mind
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209611
209622
>>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."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
wqAuv
?
No.209615
209669
>>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.
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209621
209647 209685
>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]

Mallia Castella
EbtY3
?
No.209622
209696
>>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.


Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209633
209666
>>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."
Kraut Spacewizard
!w6m/AkYQPo
H8C8w
?
No.209636
209697
>>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.)
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.209647
209685 209819
>>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]

Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.209666
210070 210093 210108
>>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?"

Unknown Blacksite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209668
209692
>>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?)
The Pagoda: Naliyna
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209669
209675
>>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?"
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.209675
210136
>>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.)
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.209685
209819 209854
1462322950312.png
>>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]

Doctor Novus
!qwbGbtL0Ok
xzL7H
?
No.209692
210141
>>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?)
Razorback Fortress: Spiral's Lab
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209696
209766
>>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."
The Clinic: Roust
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209697
209898
>>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.)
Mallia Castella
zsapo
?
No.209766
210070 210093
>>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.
Captain Raidor
GM_Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.209810
209867 209879
>>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."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209819
209854 209872
>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
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.209854
209872 210159
>>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]

The Pagoda: Luxury & Laziness Abound
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.209867
209879 212276
>>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."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
Op5/j
?
No.209872
210159 210170
>>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]

Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.209879
212276 212526
>>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."
Kraut Spacewizard
!w6m/AkYQPo
H8C8w
?
No.209898
210189
>>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.)
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.209993
210202
>>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."
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.210003
210316
>>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?"
Razorback Fortress: Spiral's Lab
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210070
210252
>>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?"
Razorback Fortress: Spiral's Lab
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210093
210108 210252
>>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.
Mallia Castella
wA7Zz
?
No.210108
210231 210252
>>210093
>Mallia may not be hawk-eyed but she still notes his overt glance towards the lab's entrance. This tips her off to someone actually being there, standing there. Though she was still unsure who at first, and this made her eyes widen in alarm. The Enginseer's posture stiffens again slightly, and her jaw visibly tightens, brow furrowing in silent worry.
>The robed Enginseer doesn't make immediate moves to her weapons though, opting to keep her weapons on sleep-mode as she was commanded previously.
>She turned around, stepping back to the table where her helmet had been laid. Taking a moment to bundle her wet hair with her hands, and then pick up her helmet and slipping it on, flicking it about gently until it became snug around her head, hiding her pale skinned and damp face.

>And as she was taught by experience and habit, she quickly and politely commanded her Auspex to perform a lifesign, Material, and Radio Wave scan to identify the yet person and check his equipment, regardless of if they were about to meet it personally.
>A threat assessment is always useful!

[1d6+2 = 5]
<CQ. Auspex Scan

"Stormtrooper, forgive me, but the fact that you thought that I wouldn't have helped you without a threat of death kinda wounds me a little bit. I am sorry if I gave off a disloyal impression by being eccentric..."
>The Enginseer gives off a mirthless chuckle after her statement, and a more genuine chuckle when he lowkey calls the Inquisitor fat; covering her lips/rebreather at that.

>Then she turned back around, to face him fully, breathing a slow, but heavy sigh through her nose; still blinking rapidly behind her visor, which she also opts to not turn on, seeing as it was very tired after the fight. She just wishes it goodnight and gives it a virtual kiss, instead.
>Or, at least, she gives it a ping to tell it to also enter sleep-mode, laced with a feeling of love that allowed her to breathe out more easily, within a split-second.

(I'd give you an actual goodnight kiss but I can't right now...)

>Mallia briefly lingered in place as she watches his battle-lingo gesture to follow, rolling her neck and shoulders to relieve some tension...
>She simply silently obeys his battle-lingo command without another remark, and strides up to stand behind, and beside him -- to his left. Gazing forwards without making further remarks, craning her head slightly as she peered around to see who is around the corner while sticking close to the Stormtrooper; glancing to his weapon once to send it a query and ask if it, too, was on safety like her weapons at this time; as they exited the lab.

>>209666
>As she approaches within indoor speaking range of Pareidolia, the female enginseer's mechanical limb lightly whirs on her back as it raises slightly, as if 'nervously' re-adjusting over the backpack she carried,as well as the overly large poleaxe; with a blade in the maybe-strange shape of a cog, and the back of the cog itself covered in tools. It went a little bit over her head in lenght, and the pole reached down past her hip somewhat. And the big, rust red shield she was also wearing on her back, alongside her lasrifle.

>Her back was pretty full of things. Though she didn't look terribly encumbered, mostly walking steadily and with a reasonably straight back. At her hips was a belt, with a large pouch, a sort of odd looking red casing shaped tool. Tool because it boasted a prybar, a nice scraper, and a variety of tools, screwdrivers, wrenches, hex keys... Compacted and folded into the little thing like one big swiss army knife. And, of course, she had a slim, rough looking pistol at the right hip.

>She didn't say anything to him, at first. Visibly turning their helmeted head towards the stormtrooper and seeing if they say anything before she does. Holding her own hands infront of the red robes at her waist. Her glance darting and tilting over his armor, curiously exploring it's composition and wargear as soon as it became more visible; this time from up-close.
>Though she does bow her head a little as a way to silently and respectfully greet them.


The Clinic: Citadel Combat Medic Frost Egg
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210136
210146
>>209675
>Bending down to touch the stone circle, it felt oddly warm, and possibly even a bit cheerful.
"He'll warm up eventually."
>Setting a stack of letters off to either side, Naliyna peers up momentarily, then back down with a snicker.
"She'll send somepony that isn't busy, or maybe one of the Lorekeepers will know Prench.. and I already am, even found a couple ponies I might hire!"
>Receiving a hoof wave as you leave the Pagoda, the Clinic door opens before you reaching it, Nova Flicker takes a single step outside..
>And falls flat on her face, snoring loudly before rolling onto her side, Frost Egg peeking out the door, her eyes rolling.
>Humming a flatly annoyed note, the carnelian unicorn is picked up and placed in a sitting position snout first on the exterior steel wall.
>Beckoning you inside with a hoof, the Combat Medic spins about, sliding towards the rear while calling over her shoulder.
"Come, I have something to show you, and Nova will be fine, she's used to that sort of thing."
Starborn Cloud Suite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210141
210206
>>209692
(I would rather stick with my Moors given name, thank you. It tends to cause far fewer questions than necessary and keeps my associates a bit safer. You understand.)
>Hodch releases a half-yawn, half-sigh, your perspective tilting several degrees as the ten strange items fall into a circle around the mare in stasis.
(I do not recall seeing those on your body, they were likely removed by the Existential Human Gestalt.. that is, the one with the question mark covered mask and green skin. However, to ensure that nopony, no one, and nothing decides to experiment I will place your body in one of the hidden caches.)
>Right forehoof placed down a small, curiously twisted series of non-Euclidean hexagonal triangles fashioned into a snake, Hodch snorts in tired amusement.
(No, that was the Executive Officer, one of my best friends, if not the best. You might have noticed his rather odd physical appearance compared to native basilisks, he is one of a limited number from the Elemental Plane of Earth to move onto Tallus. He keeps tabs on storage and retrieval, otherwise spends his time reading history. Twisted Wing's appetite for alcoholism and causing trouble are nothing compared to his desire for knowledge.)
>Unrolling the snake with a nudge from his hoof, the unicorn chuckles briefly as the other nine items fold outwards, each sprouting a single thinly stemmed, inverted flower, oriented directly at your view which immediately sets off several thousand warnings in your thought processes.
(In the spirit of Razorback, which I have taken a moderate liking to, your on-the-job-training starts now.)
>Each of the inverse flowers stretch forwards, carefully removing the Changeling skull plate from Hodch's face, turning it around to view the paling unicorn.
(But for the sake of safety I will state this much: do not, I repeat, do not even think of using your horn until you mastered the various abilities to move. No incantations, catnips, spells, no words of any kind that could be identified as esoteric in nature. And you mig- oh, nevermind. Hrm, now as the Prench state, bon voya-)
>Cut off by time, or maybe your perception, slowing to a half, Hodch's image stutters backwards into a cavern of white and black backgrounds.
>Sinking downwards, backwards, inside out, then finally upwards, your consciousness spreads apart inside a new, but most importantly whole and alive body.
[1d6 = 5]
<??? 1
[1d6 = 4]
<??? 2
[1d6 = 1]
<??? 3
[1d6 = 4]
<??? 4
[1d6 = 2]
<??? 5
[1d6 = 3]
<??? 6
[1d6 = 6]
<??? 7
[1d6 = 2]
<??? 8
[1d6 = 1]
<??? 9
[1d6 = 1]
<??? 10
[1d20 = 17]
<Conscious Severity


>Despite the strange transfer, everything felt normal, save for lying chest down on four rather weakened legs, a dire itch in the middle of your spine waking up, and all four hooves ached.
>There was even a strange, natural urge for two or more vegetarian burritos to quell some long forgotten hunger, your entire coat felt raw, and a revolting scent of crystallized blood was drifting into your twitching nostrils.
>Close by a door shuts, Hodch's voice filtering through it distance.
"I recommend trying to roll over. After that, stretch. I will see if somepony left some food here-"
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.210146
210322
>>210136
>As Cheto walks out of the pagoda, he questions himself for a bit.
(Hm. I expected the warmth since it's a machine but it seems that matrix thing is sapient from the possibility of different responses to different people. None of them didn't complain when pet.)
>He rubs his chin with his hand as his legs carry him back to the clinic.
(Now who can I test my hypothesis that petting is okay...)

>Suffice to say, Gallo is quite stunned at seeing Nova fall over out of nowhere.
(Again? I was not expecting her to go down more than maybe once or twice a week.)
>When the crystal unicorn is properly placed on the wall, he extends one arm gently to pet the sleeping pony's head for a little bit, kneeling down to increase petting efficiency and not strain his back too much.
(Alright, that should test my logical connections on how severe is abrupt contact with ponies. If she smacks me, I shouldn't do it again when she sees me and try another set of ponies.)
>With that little stunt over, he finally steps inside the bunker-like structure, following Frost along.
(I wonder what she wants to show me.)
>A slight feeling of dread passes through.
(Did I stain her robe with something nasty? Did I burn it accidentally with Kitang's hot armor plates when I drenched her in water?)
>Just to make sure, he asks about the thing that she wants to present to him in a neutral, cautious voice.
"Miss Frost, what is it that you wanted to show me?"
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210159
210170 210219
>>209854
>Shrugging mostly to herself, Mercy rotates her wings around in various positions while searching for.. presumably something interesting.
"Did not hear anything in the chest.. may never have been used. ..many preservation enchantmarents in use, I.. do not feel anything else strange."
>Taking stock of the foyer one last time, Boris taps his tool bag in an awkward motion.
"I have identified no signs of recent habitation commander. The furniture is untouched. I did not hear chimes nor a flute."
"It is.. hard even for me to hear. And no, the.. Lunar vampires were alive, not Undead."

>Switching on the light, the door ceases creaking and swings open silently, the Spirit Walker tipping her snout up for a curious sniff, then sneaks in towards the dais.
"You intend to taste the rather large chamber pedestal before Miss Feathers can, correct?"
"....yes."
[1d6+4 = 7]
<B.Perception
[1d6+4 = 5]

>Nearly the same as the common layout you'd been given, the central chamber was slightly smaller than the foyer, and contained nothing more than an upraised black marble circle precisely two hooves tall.
>Noting light reflecting off the well polished ceremonial surface onto the last set of doors, nor could you spot even a single dust mote.
>Catching two hollow, round indents next to the doors themselves, they were cut in the same manner that large glowstones would have been glued into place, yet quite empty.

>>209872
>Both the crypt's entrance doors had several sets of large hoofles and handles close to the meeting faces, and a giant steel knocking ring in the center.
>Gazing about the odd mixture of foyer, barracks, and sitting area while ignoring the perpetual Moors fog starting to roll inside, it was depressingly empty save for the amber pads.
>There were no scents other than the team, several strange items in the small bag Boris was carrying, nor could you hear the chime or flute again.
>In fact, the barrack-foyer almost felt lonely.
>Almost.
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.210170
210219 210370
>>210159
>>209872
>Preservative enchantments on the chests? What an odd thing to do. Why bother keeping this place splotless, if it's just going to sit here and rot?
"They've been empty the whole time? How strange... Yeah, Boris. Almost seems like no pony's ever bunked here, period."

>As the door opens, he sweeps the room with his helmet light.
>Luckily the layout looked similar to the blueprint, so the square room with center pedestal was an expected sight. Black marble in the middle, doors leading to the stairwell on the opposite end, and no light.
>Also no sign of age or wearing.
"This room too, it's spotless. More preservation enchants?"
>Jeff waits for Mercy's lead before fully entering into the chamber so he can get a good sweep of the room.
"It's almost like this whole crypt is waiting to be inhabited."
>He audibly inhales sharply, as a wild thought crosses his mind.
"Any chance the vampires could still be alive down there, in some sort of stasis, waiting to be woken up? They'd be coming back to quite the clean crypt."
>The thought was unnerving, exhilarating, and a little half-baked. But possible.
>Once having enough leg-room, Jeff flanks the room to the right and toward the next set of doors.
The Clinic: Roust
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210189
>>209898
(Please do so Kraut, you have not been the failure that you treat yourself as.)
>Giving a simple 'meh', the Changeling's nose armor scrunches for her.
(I will ensure that Allys does not find out, but you will be fine.. I think, and I am not about to try doing the crazy 'genetic maneipulation' things that happened on Hollow's world.)
>Roust taps her snout on the stasis oval, pushing herself up while forming a green hand and pointing the index finger down at you humorously.
(I shall.. but I should acquire a gas mask first, it may prove useful should she, or he, need it.)
>Standing up while rolling her eyes, the Vanguard impresses her own mood of 'I am long past being worried' acceptance on the area, turning to thump towards the Clinic's entrance.
(Do not worry, I shall take care of Allys or at least keep her occupied until something can be done with Caliya. Just.. try to remain positive please.)
Basin Arena: The Guillotine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210202
210795
>>209993
>Receiving the same 'click' noise several times in a row, the harpy's voice returns with an apologetic tint.
*"Mineself hast not heard of this Company, slept on the Moon ever long mineself hast, listening only for thee Lonely One's return."*
*"Aye to both thee questions, grace. Mineself aided Rites of Destruction hundredfolds to thee Lonely One's mate long afore now. Brought her they did upon Tallus heaving, bucking, ablaze they did! ..but mineself no longer knowest time, grace, for it matters little such a trivial cost be paid."*
*"To slice the Rift's claws off, thy grace. If twain be sent once more, thee Guillotine respondeth, ready ever for Destruction."*
>Walking down into the Arena itself, then out the south exit onto newly placed stone, the converted silverine vessel emits a sharp whirring noise.
>A second, larger hatch next to the first opening, three Destroyers sliding down to land in a confusing pile of wings, hooves, and angry keekee's, the voice returns with a proud, hearty tinge.
*"Ye havest seen thou pilot, grace! Mineself the Guillotine, the Guillotine minself, within, without! Built by mine ka was, but enter within mine halls. Seek, explore, touch, inspect all ye wish thy grace."*
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
xzL7H
?
No.210206
210430
>>210141

>Novus watches curiously as Hodch brings forth his strange looking banned items.
>Curious fetishes and charms this pony seems to be in possession of.
>Truly curious, this Hodch.
(Anon... A strange man that one. I think my organization may know of his existence if they know of him, but I am not certain on that one. There are many things I do not have the need to know for, and anon may not even have ever come to my world.)
>He laughs once more.
(Truly an interesting world we are in. I can respect a thirst for knowledge, it's what got me to where I am, especially a love of history.)
>As the items begin to unfold and seem to point directly at him, Novus indeed begins to feel... Uncomfortable at their nature.
>Indeed, moreso as he's taken from Hodch by the things.
(I see, this looks a bi-)
>He's cut off and everything goes dark

>The doctor groans as, now she, opens her eyes up groggily and painfully.
>The smell of... Whatever it was that Hodch kept coughing up hit her nose and she gagged a little at the smell.
"... God DAMN Hodch couldn't you at least clean that up? That smells worse than my aunts cooking!"
>She sticks out a tongue in disgust and looks up towards the sky a bit pained.
"Alright... Lets.. Try this shall we? Baby horses learn to walk in a mere hour dont they?"
>And indeed, Nova attempted now to try and roll over, finding it very awkward and unusual to do with her now four legs.
>This difference in equipment was rather...
>Or rather, was going to be, difficult to overcome. But adapt he shall.
>SHE shall.
>This was going to be weird.
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.210219
210370 210624
1223792.png
>>210159
>>210170
>Moving to the entrance, Sunny closed one of the doors and left the other slightly ajar, just enough for a moor cat to enter, or leave.
>She couldn't see any, but that didn't mean they weren't there.
>Perhaps the foyer would feel less lonely with some of the felines wandering about.
>Satisfied with the state of the front doors, she crept back towards the others, closing the inner doors as well, whispering to Jeff, Mercy and Boris.
"So the moor cats don't wind up following us in deeper, I'd hate for any of them to get trapped down here."
>Turning to examine this new room, Sunny moved left, catching up to and mirroring Jeff's movements to the end of the room, muttering to herself that they were moving too fast.
>Though that was probably paranoia setting in, she didn't like that this Crypt was perfectly preserved on purpose, but left vacant, or that there didn't seem to be any evidence of traps that they could see.
>Leaving the dais for Mercy and Boris to inspect, Sunny only gave it a cursory glance as she passed, focusing more on the walls and the rest of the room.
>She snickered softly at Mercy's confirmation of her intent to lick it before she did, but otherwise made no comment on it.
>Winding up before the next set of doors more or less after Jeff, Sunny looked up and examined them for traps and perhaps try to glean meaning from any carvings that seemed to be present throughout the rest of the crypt so far.
>As always, she kept an ear out for that music, and her body combat ready.
>Potentially living vampires with millennia of experience? She didn't like their chances if they turned out to be awake and hostile.
>At least she'd be able to test the efficacy of her flask. Morbid as that eagerness was.

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

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

[1d6+4 = 8]
< E. Ambush
[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+4 = 5]

Razorback Fortress: The Command Center
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210231
210274
>>210108
>Previously unable to ID or even confirm the Rogue Trader's implants due to such high level Inquisition codes that they were making the auspex's Machine Spirit confused, it switches to the new task with great joy.
>Identified as a purely biological, high genetic purity human, the male bore a pronounced, recent fracture of the upper left femur, though was otherwise in excellent condition.
>Failing to identify the unknown STC bubble helmet, it was composed of an alchemically strengthened black sapphire and, curiously, refined silver, featuring an unusually high level of electronic including a large scale storage device and some form of Machine Spirit that was not wanting to chat.
>Scanning the human's armor plating beneath the common material layers, the auspex struggles to determine composition, and fails quickly, listing it as a defensively potent xenos carapace.
>Picking up only low frequency bandwidths, the auspex sets up a brief codice of the never before scanned and utterly virgin STC's.

>Helmet tipping in a questioning manner, Chisan brushes his naked left hand off on the doorway leading upwards, likely afraid to keep the Inquisitor's scent on him.
"It is our sacred duty to give ourselves in service to superiors regardless of their form Enginseer. Hesitation is the difference between the blessings of success or the potential treachery of failing one's betters. Eccentricity matters not if you obey all orders the nanocycle they are issued."
>Beeping a short line from the Litany of Grace, the Preysense visor enters sleep-mode while the Tempestus Scion clambers up the spiraling stairwell, ignoring the trails of Throne-touched blood.
>Reading back both the Lasrifle and Laspistol, both of them were still eager on overcharge mode, expressing their desire for further purging to take place.

>Stepping out of the tiny entryway, Chisan maintains course towards the Library's front doors, then out, treading north with a short, Inquisition approved commcode pinging to you.
*"This is my personal code frequency, it should not be detectable by the.. semi-native humans here. To keep this short Enginseer: the Inquisitor sanctioned you into her service, eccentricities and all. If she had detected the slightest disloyalty or treachery you not have been allowed until undergoing the Trials of Repentance. One minute while I inform the Knight of our changed orders."*

>Dropping the link and tapping into one that you weren't able to pick up, the Scion pays less than zero attention to the squads of mixed humans, most of them bearing ranged ballistic ArchaeoTech weaponry, and native ponies all thoroughly searching the courtyard in grid formation.
>Coming into view of the non-standard Command Center once more, Chisan comes to a halt in front of a large, locally built infoboard.
*"Knight Raspberry will be en route in two minutes, arrival in three to five. I will prefer that you retain her services at all times unless directly specified by the Inquisitor."*
>Quickly perusing the east side's posted notices, the Stormtrooper about faces after a minute towards the Center, walking around the north side to a heavily armored, standard swinging door.
>Stepping inside, he bypasses a large war table covered in maps, heading to the back room and standing in the doorway, leaning in to speak quietly.
>The local cyberspace was calmingly filled with electronic noise and mass amounts of Binary datastreams, though there was an unorthodox, partially sentient thoughtform at work here.
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.210252
210274 210379
d73p2j6-87503169-ec47-4b48-85a5-3402f215d568.png
>>210070
>Pareidolia sighs, watching as Krinza steps through the portal.

[Need to estimate remaining time frame to locate Spiral before A.I.'s instability warrants a system wipe... ]

>He stops on his path to the Library, his expression growing increasingly alarmed as the A.I. explains the lack of storage space.
>Preemptively reaching a glove to the back of his helmet, he states:

"Delete it immediately. Whatever it transmitted is not worth the loss of your unit. Malicious code with the potential to infect cannot be stored."

[Encoded information as transmission waves that function as a living organism? Construct lifeforms quickly rising beyond classification.]

>Keeping that hand behind his head over the unit's housing compartment panel, he continues into the Library.

[Unanticipated Construct threat may result in catastrophic asset losses. Unacceptable.]

>He grimly looks over the stains as he passes by them.

"Likely given her designating them as 'Xenos'. That Stormtrooper is most likely from the same universe as hers."

>>210093
>>210108

>Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, he pauses noting the black, plate-like armored soldier embracing a clearly augmented human wearing unusual robes.
>He returns the greeting with a curt nod of his own and then looks past them, checking the Lab for expected damage from the missile that had been fired when he left.
>His brow furrows as his A.I. delivers its report.

[Post-Nanite Age? Twenty centuries of progress leading to this? Technology the Committee was capable of within my lifetime? A different universe, but a Nanite Age has to leave more than this.]

>Mild concern creases his face as he considers the implications.
>He steps inside while addressing his A.I. as the other soldier carries the Inquisitor away, demonstrating the same ability to open the Trove.

"... Continue resisting; they should abate soon. Presumably they have created some form of living A.I. as the Committee did. Inform me of any other attempted intrusions and assessments."

>Checking over the augmented, robed woman as he moves further into the Lab, he eyes the additional mechanical tendril warily while speaking to his A.I.

"Unusual equipment, almost stereotypical mechanical engineering iconography. Strange choice of augmentation. General levels far below Committee projections for any post-Nanite society."

>As he passes Chisan he states:

"When the Inquisitor wakes, tell her to have her implants cease trying to hack my equipment. They're active despite her current condition."

>He then adjusts his tac-vest while directly looking at the robed woman's furtive glances.
>To his A.I. he mentions:

"Probable interest in our technology. Possibility they both have implants of some form is high knowing their Age status. Standard Committee protection protocols apply even if we are cooperating with Flash."

>She would see an entirely black, fibrous weave material flexibly form fitted with additional plating seemingly embedded within the mesh. A black vest with various pouches half of which were empty, containing metal magazines similar in size to a Las-rifle pack fit over the top of this armored suit.
>Small green orbs akin to smaller, ribbed Krak grenades and longer white canisters could be seen hanging from his vest and belt.
>Unusual firearms that seemed lightweight and compact could be seen stuck to his back, apparently adhered through some gravity defying force while a slightly curved blade with an oddly wide cross guard hung sheathed diagonally from his shoulders

>Noticing them begin to depart, he turns away and heads towards where his microscope and Construct hulls hopefully were while removing the partially melted Construct drive from his tactical vest and placing it on the counter.

Mallia Castella
i9+3B
?
No.210274
210424
>>210252
>The woman's visible don't leave Pareidolia even as she moved past him, even turning her head slightly to glance over his weapons as they seemingly remained magnetically attached to his back.

(Such quality craftsmanship... High genetic purity...)
(High genetic purity? Some sort of clone? Or perhaps just genetically enhanced. Or both. Interestiiiinngggg...)

>Her curiosity was rising to extremely prying levels. She wanted to know more SOOOO badly.
>Her brows were rising behind her otherwise black visor. Luckly her face wasn't visible, because she is very overtly pursing her lip and squinting as she could not contain her curiosity, at this point...

>But, out of fear of triggering a sort of counter-measure that might hurt her scanner or future relations, she decides to simply send a harmless, Standard Greeting ping with her MIU towards the unknown machine spirit, leaving a short, binary message within a second, and say:

(Hello, unknown machine!)
(i just wanted to say that your housing looks majestic and you are very interesting; but I wont pry if you don't want me to.)
(Fare-thee-well, great machine!)

>She makes sure to not call it a Machine Spirit; since she was pretty sure this one was not yet sanctioned. Though she does take note of whether or not it even accepts her greeting & farewell.

>Though she does double take on what he said about the Inquisitor's implants attempting to hack his equipment, which made her half-open her lips to say something from behind the rust red helmet. But she ends up skittishly closing her lips and turning her head back forward.

>The Machine Spirits were smart, they were likely doing it for a reason. She wont interfere with that.

>>210231
>As both Mallia and the stormtrooper made their way up, she finally breathes in a deep, inward sigh of relief and stress all at once. Sideglancing the Stormtrooper as she walked alongside him now.
>She only really replies to his previous statement with a quiet, guilty sounding:

"Neither failure nor hesitation shall be tolerated..."

>At that point, Mallia simply relegated herself to silently following Chisan outside at a striding pace, matching his. Glancing towards the various 'troops', and eyeing their archeotech weaponry -- constantly trying to reach out to them to see if they had any machine spirits that would interact with her, if only to simply query simple things such as 'where are you from?' and 'how are you?'
>She didn't want to trigger any self-defense mechanisms so she didn't go any further than that.

>Though she wasn't expecting a response from any of them. She remembered the time she had encountered gas powered rifles with no machine spirits in the Hive city she had later died in: Not everything had a machine spirit.
>Which made her somewhat uncomfortable. But also interested.

>As Chisan stops infront of the info board, Mallia also turns her glance towards it, craning her head to glance around the Stormtrooper from her 5'3" of height, and try to read what he was reading, just out of curiosity.

"*Understood.*"
>She'd softly acknowledge his statement. Following him closely as he seems to walk from the Info board and into the command center...

>She wanted to ask the stormtrooper a question at this point, but as she walked past that large war table, she was immediately busy looking over everything; leaning over to give the maps a cursory glance, trying to datavault absolutely EVERYTHING she can reach within the span of two seconds. Especially geographical and topographical data.

>Then she looked forward again. Her shoulders visibly relaxing when her ears are graced with the sound of binary, which instantly reminded her of home. Her arms relaxing and her head tilting upward.

"*Is this the Demi-Sentient's influence I am hearing? I can sense something at least partially sentient here...*"
>She tentatively began to reach out with her MIU, trying to listen in to the streams of binary, to study it's purpose even before receiving an answer. Standing right behind the Stormtrooper by now as she whispered into his own personal frequency to talk to him specifically.

Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210307
213712 214871
>>208683
>Head turning about while cracking a sarcastic grin, the Shell's ears flick side to side merrily.
"Cady might get jealous of that, then I'll have to put a couple hooves in her mouth to keep her from complaining later!"
>Turning a bit more serious, Glacier seats herself behind the Champion and staring at the his flora with interest.
"Not to be sweaty after the past half night of combat? Maybe suffer from fewer tendencies to go berserk and make ME feel self-conscious about my own combat skills? Not be such a big damned stallion unintentionally wooing me by smashing six of those nasty things into tiny pieces in half an hour hour? I expect a lot of stuff and in most cases I'm usually right, but I would have much preferred somepony with elemental weapons and decent armor. Besides, Melodine is a big mare with many years of experience, she'll win eventually."

>Stroking Void Crasher's intriguingly smooth, warm hide several times gently, the colt's legs twitch once more, mouth opening to emit a soft, fully relaxed snore.
"Aaaand he's done, probably not going to wake up until somewhere around tonight. Good thing I don't even need to sleep anymore."
>Pushing herself around using her forelegs to face you, the Shell leans backwards while putting on a, probably, normal smile.
"Sir Lont, I only kiss on the first date if I like the stallion or mare I'm with. Second date? Well, you have to earn it to learn what I'll do then."
>Pushing herself up to stand, Glacier turns her attention to the closest cooks and stove, slowly sliding towards it while calling over her shoulder.
"Northern Tundra Conclaves have some real delicacies make the Hegemony pretty jealous, closer you get to the eastern coast where the Northern Moors and tundra meet the easier they are to get. Lot of minotaurs, gryphons, harpies, supposedly a few seals now too, and some of the more experimaretal batponies come around to dine on spiced snow spider legs which I've been told are like sweet giant saltwater crab, ice drake heart, liver, brain or their soft steaks, glazed burrower slices, frostwolf stew, and a bunch of other stuff I've only heard about but never seen. I'll see what they've got and make a trade-"
>Only looking up when the Shell reaches them and leans in to whisper, the trio of Conclavists eye you briefly in vague, clinical interest.
>One of the mares clears off the heatstone stove, taking several pots, pans, and what looked like a steam cooking pan towards the next stove, the other two turning about and opening up the crate behind them.
>Pointing a hoof at the closest quartet of Empire tents north of the chefs, Shattered Glacier ambles towards it, poking her head in, retracting after a few moments and afterwards making several Crystal pony body language motions for you to place the colt inside.
The Crystal City-State: Industrial Sector
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210316
210794
>>210003
>Turning a 'that is simply impossible' stare onto you for a few moments, Three-Point lifts both forehooves to rub the sides of her head, speaking slowly to relieve the shock she was obviously feeling.
"Mister.. whatever your name is, that was enough supplies to make two thousand high grade elixirs, or anywhere from five to ten thousand basic single use powders, potions, or mixes. Unless you all were treating everypony and every human you have six to ten times a night, there is no way you could have used everything."
>Pausing for a moment, she blinks upward at the hololith, frowning.
"Maybe if a human or pony of Razorback made a permanent multi-elixir alchemical item that could do it, but that's still a lot of stuff used in just.. what, four months? Five? Give me a bit to check some stuff out."
>Sitting back in the chair, one forehoof on her chin, the other crossing her barrel, Peach Quartz's eyes squint, dancing across the hololith for a bit, performing intermittent hums of varying tones.
>Recalling that Snootadishu was indeed the other location DJ Lonestar had mentioned, you couldn't recall anyone, or anypony, having any trade agreements there.
>At least, not for 50% off.

"There might be a few things I could get for the same price, but-"
>Sitting up straight, the mare frowns, her right forehoof points at the hololith, flicking left, right, up, down, retracting, and poking forwards in quick motions, as if she were using a smart phone.
"Two big problems that I'm having a hard time getting through."
"First, the Frozen Coast Consortium, that's us, only sells to marecenaries. We get stuff in really cheap and in huge amounts so we can make yearly deliveries at one Bit over cost per item. That way marecenary groups don't have to deal with contract fees or have to deal with a bunch of agreements."
"The second is about half what was requested on the last order is rare. It's stuff that's only harvested in a few places during certain times across the Empire, Zebraica, Equestria, Dragonspines, Germaneigh, Prance, the Minotaur Hegemony, Japoneighsia, Saddle Arabia.. basically everywhere. The almost extinct or really hard to get stuff comes from Canterlot Underground, Old and New Everfree Druids, Ferron clans."
>Turning the chair a bit to face you, Three-Point offers a small, sad smile, forelegs lifting apologetically.
"I can get you an eighth of the yearly order at the same fifty-percent discount but it won't be easy. The Empire doesn't deal with marecenaries enough since most of them are too away, and we can't just ask for more special flora to be grown. If you'd like I can get you a few names and places where you might be able to get the same prices, but you'll have to do the negotiations on your own."
The Clinic: Citadel Combat Medic Frost Egg
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210322
210365
>>210146
>Rubbing the passed out mare's head, and her ears, experimentally for a bit, Nova's coat softness was close to a house cat's, though considerably warmer.
>Unable to wake the pony from her continued, calm near-REM snoring, there was a faint, pleasing scent of mixed fruit shampoo.
>All in all, easily desirable for more attention later.

>Closing the Clinic door behind you, and sensing that you were probably being watched with great amusement from elsewhere, Frost Egg was once more sitting on the central east side bed over the Prench stallion's head.
>Lifting a hoof and motioning in a distinctly human-like manner for you to move behind her, the Combat Medic uses the tip of her right hoof to flatten the pegasi's ear onto his cheek.
>Coming up to stand behind the Crystal pony, her hoof motions at an unusually large, freshly needle mark, the coat and hide around it swelled upwards slightly.
"I've seen many injection sites similar to this before on several non-modified recovery victims up until now, just not one where the site itself 'acts' infected. To be clear: I have confirmed no presence of bacterial, viral, fungal, amoeba, or parasitic activity, but there are incredibly tiny traces of Construct bio-metals here."
>Head twisting up and left, Frost's eyes narrow suspiciously.
"Which is also something I've never found before and it isn't in our records. Do you have any idea what this could mean?"
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.210365
210481
>>210322
>Cheto nods to himself, feeling quite relaxed after petting Nova.
(That sure is one soft pony.)

>He looks at the big swelled area, a bit worried.
(This pony has gone through a lot more than I could ever imagine, if all his wounds are any indication.)
>He turns to Frost Egg, a bit confused at her current actions and question. His lips extend to the sides slightly and his eyelids narrow in thought.
>After a moment, he puts out his hypothesis.
"It could be a sort of spy, but I don't know how Construct strategy works. Maybe they planted something in his brain which transmits what he senses and thinks back to them somehow."
>His left finger pokes his chin.
"That may be contradicted by the missile that was shot at this location, though. If this were the case, they wouldn't have shot at it, or maybe the 'kill the modified batpony' directive was more important then to let a single spy live. Maybe he could go berserk like that severly modified batpony but taking longer to reach that effect since there is less Construct material. I have no clue."
>Another little pause.
"Lastly, it could simply be showing that Construct materials and ponies don't mix well, although the batpony's assumed outcome implies that they can merge the two, albeit with severe consequences to the patient's mind."
>After spouting words without really knowing what's going on, he decides to look even closer at the swelled flesh to see if anything even more out of the ordinary can be seen.

>After having his own peek, he turns to Frost. His face expressing worry at the possibilities.
"I would think we should release it in case this is hurting the patient, although I am not entirely sure it's safe or if something will come out to attack us from inside. All of this world is too new for me to be sure or connect many dots."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210370
210624 210633
>Leadership: +2 to all Perception rolls

>>210170
>Forced to turn his head around nearly 160 degrees towards you, the Belligerent nods firmly.
"Much of the information I learned before or after the Lunar-Solar War was focused on civil matters. Many villages, towns, small cities, and trading posts were abandoned. Most have not been reclaimed as far as Denra's knowledge extends. A crypt this far from the Basin Village would not have been considered important enough to merit preservation."
>Without any fear whatsoever, the blind pegasus walks around the dais, tasting it in several locations.
>Head tilting one side, then the other, Mercy twitches her wings outwards to peer at, each blade still glowing brightly.
"A tiny chance.. perhaps."

>>210219
>Sunny Feathers: 3 Ambush tokens.
>Shutting the ceremonial room doors, several plaintively droll meows are heard from the foyer.
>Of course, Moor cats would have skittered in while the team wasn't looking to hide in the best ambush locations.

>Studying the ornate stone carvings, batpony runes, and Lunar meanings, the basic context you could make out was primarily an extremely happy 'have a great sleep', or perhaps 'nap' knowing batponies.
The second, less clear, was a rather comical 'everypony will come visit often', along with an expectedly high number of carvings revolving around fruit.
>Besides the pair of unfilled glowstone cradles next to the stairwell doors, all of the possible locations for traps had so far turned up nothing, lacking both visual seams or audible cues.
>In fact, many traps would have been triggered long before now due to Mercy's careless exploration methods.
>Then again, she probably didn't explore much given her known history.

>Mercy taking the left door again, Jeff the right, the first carefully pushes her side open much more cautiously this time, a short creak of stone-on-stone before silence.
>Gazing into the gloomy, rounded stairwell, oddly with railings, leading down to the underground chamber, the other white pegasi's right wing extends, carefully twitching each blade in sequence.
[1d6+4 = 7]
<Reveal Unnatural
Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210379
210491
>>210252
"Acknowledge sir, wiping and formatting modules now."
>Shoulders lifting briefly, your A.I. begins the task of purging excessive amounts of semi-organic data while analyzing.. something, it's tone baffled.
[1d6+1 = 2]
<B.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+1 = 7]

"This is less than two minutes worth of transmission time from one unit, sir. In comparison it would take me approximately one thousand hours of full spectrum data recording on all channels, devices, all sixty-thousand threads of analysis vectors, and all other background functions all running during the same timeframe to reach a single terabye.. sir, I haven't come across any indications of directly malicious viral or trojan like code. It's one giant process, not program, trying to retransmit the total sum of data I captured in a single chunk on a.. what is this, one nanocycle? I don't think the quantum state drives during my late prototype testing were capable of this!"
>Turning from the formatting to examine everything in your visual range, 'Spiral' immediately takes note of your micro-expressions, lifting a hoof in a conciliatory manner.
"Allow me to clarify in a bit sir."
>Eyeing over the Lab to find neither a discolored impact radius nor damage in view, the A.I. continues its formulations.
"Still detecting all the unsecured and secured electronic devices that were down here before, sir. If that was a 'micro-neutron missile' it should have destroyed all of them. Either it was destroyed or it.. could be on a timer to go off at some later date? Then again I'm not detecting any Construct-like signals here. Hm, the 'enemy' A.I.'s have ceased but they wanted to know something, it's in a weird form of Binary, processing now."
>Finished purging Construct data, the Marquis swivels about on the rendered chair once more, hooves tapping together.
"And complete. Clarifications on my previous statement sir: your records indicate only a basic level of common technology is allowed for each human during 'arrival' to this world. You've also come across a number of humans that have had their physical, mental, psychological, and even 'spiritual' abilities greatly degraded to the average level of a ten year old. This was either to prevent technological and cultural contamination or a directly intended control mechanism much like the Guidance Protocol requir-"
>Pausing at the Stormtrooper passing by, he gives a firm, hard nod of acknowledgement, the A.I. frowning momentarily before it continues.
"I think that might be the point, sir.. those two aren't in your records so they're obviously quite recent. The, er, living A.I.'s that those two have are rather basic, so neither of them would have acquired or achieved full access to their omniverse's technological base so soon. On the other hoof, this Inquisitor Velasi's implants and her A.I.'s in use are approximately eighteen percent as efficient as the Construct's capabilities, they're able to parse data faster and at such a huge volume that it's as if each one was a ten-core quantum state processor. If I had a sensor plexus, cluster, maybe even a basic scanning unit to read from, I could probably tell you much more sir. ..I hate to say this but if those are what the better technological implants are like, she could cause an immense amount of technological contamination, and probably at a worse rate than the Constructs themselves."

>So far as you could tell, everything remained precisely where it was, save for pieces of Empire crystal and a dented, shiny orange marble on the floor below the chosen table.
>Scanning the damaged piece once more, the A.I. shakes its head.
"Still no Construct transmissions detected sir, I think you, er, 'killed' the tiny one, but I'm worried about the missile that was launched in here."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.210390
210632
>>209441
>Raisin glue
>Bubba wouldn't even be surprised if that was actually something used in some obscure grape farm somewhere
>Upon hearing about the 'big spears', Bubba glances towards the back to see if he could spot them.
"What's that about trinkets?"
>He'd have to see how much the amber chunks were, as well.
>Along with getting his overcoat reinforced with carapace or something.
>He gives the mare a nod at the reminder of what they've done.
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
fKkpW
?
No.210413
210636
>>209504
>I stare at the map for a moment, grimacing.
>This will not end well for anything on the coast.
>The sounds of welding do calm me a little bit, though, which was nice. It reminded me of home in a sense.
"Or whatever the hell you just noticed."
>Frowning, I glance at the cameras in an attempt to notice anything.
[1d6+1 = 3]
<E. Perception
[1d6+1 = 2]

[1d6+1 = 3]

Razorback Fortress: The Command Center
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210424
210515
>>210274
>Receiving nothing back from the unknown signature, a short data stream from your micro-cogitator returns a large number of pre-Horus Heresy electronics that utilized neither Machine Spirits nor A.I.

>Likewise receiving no responses from the bewildering number of electronic devices, most prevalent were smaller, more hardened NightVis and Preysense optics, of which at least a quarter of the humans were used them as scopes.
>Identifying short ranged Binary and hexadecimal streams, a great deal of it turned out to be musical forms that you hadn't heard before, nor could you find comparisons to.
>There was, however, one probable Artificial Intellect which ceased transmitting as you came into range of a large, bulky forest camouflage armored human slinging a barely man-portable, single tube launcher over his shoulder.
>The segmented, heavily modified tech-knight's helmet turns in your direction before passing by.

>Chisan's carapace helmet twitches in your direction, letting go of the Lasrifle as he speaks in a flat tone.
*"Had you not arrived quickly the Inquisitor may have activated a self-destruct mechanism or allowed her psyker powers to detonate. That could have resulted in a Warp rift or potentially worse. Likewise we know nothing of this world nor the effects of unknown, errant energies on ourselves. Pay heed: this world holds dangers that I have barely seen the surface of. I will not tolerate failure nor hesitation on the Inquisitor's account, Enginseer. Without her Inquisitor we would have no choice except to give ourselves the Rite of Condemnation and destroy all of our wargear. Do you understand our situation?"*

>The infoboard was rather curious: covered in numerous postings for jobs to be completed, requests to fulfill, and even several activities that might be a touch heretical, if not dangerous.
>Or exciting.
>Both at the same time were rather common.
>It was blatantly clear that the humans here were operating as mercenaries, the native word spelled as 'marecenaries'.
>Numerous individual and faction employers across this world were in high demand of Razorback, though there was a large number of older ones that were unfulfilled or simply had a large 'DO NOT ATTEMPT' scrawled across it in red ink.
>Most humans, of course, were not willing to take potentially lethal risks on unknown circumstances, here was apparently no exception.
>Reaching out to take one, Chisan folds it into his armor before leaving into the Command Center.

>Recording portions of multiple rather basic continent maps, another layout of Razorback Fortress in much greater detail, and numerous smaller, native made ones with region names that sounded both like Death World and Paradise World locations, it was clear that this world was quite large.
>Leaning back from the doorway, the Stormtrooper simply nods, returning to his conversation, which was purposefully kept low enough for you not to hear.

>Identifying numerous transient streams of outflow and inflow data from an obscenely large power source directly inside the smaller room the Scion was visibly preventing you access to, it was a form of all-in-one command, control, processing, data warfare, and intelligence unit.
>Though it bore organic learning keys and was highly active, the sheer amount of data being impossible to keep up with, the intelligent control system made no attempt to interact with you.

>Door opening from behind, heavy clicks on stone gave way to Raindrop Raspberry sighing, then stopping midway, uttering an annoyed sentence under her breath.
Starborn Cloud Suite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210430
210437
>>210206
>Finding that the ability to talk as a pony wasn't much different from human, what WAS concerning were the strange, hard to ignore forced pronunciations of certain letters.
>It seemed like the host body you'd chosen was not used to Common.
>Half-laughing somewhere outside the door, metal clicks on a plate before Hodch's tone returns in amusement.
"Go fuck yourself Doctor, I am not touching that shit ever again, nor should any unicorn ever do so. It reacts explosively."

>Stretching out never before felt AND known head, neck, and spine muscles, the mere effort to pull your head upwards is rewarded with a staring match at yet more white cloud stuff.
>At least it looked nice.
"Five minutes at most for wild horses and feral ponies, double that for half-ferals, thirty minutes is average for modern ponies. I might as well give you an hour, there is not much here. ..unless you want a daisy, clover, and tulip sandwich on millet cakes. Hrm, it has been a while since I visited the Garden Bake Cafe."

>Swinging your head and upper body one way ends with barely rocking to that side, your new legs not cooperating.
>In the strange, yet rather comfortable position, both the individual weight and thickness of each leg was preventing you from movement without pulling one side upwards.
>Not only that, the differential between the shoulder, barrel, chest, and hind leg muscle masses were confusing.
>That, however, was not the worst part: your mind was.
>More specifically.. it now realized that your body was that of a pony, a hungry one.
>An incredible hunger for delicious VEGETARIAN food, a sweet pasty, and at least two different drinks food was the first true problem.
>Second was you.
>More specifically: you, a mare.
>Not to mention one with that certain set of inbuilt equipment which was, at the moment, annoyed for a reason you did not know.
>Still worse, your new body had sensitive teats which were currently rubbing on an incredibly soft, smooth, yet lightly firm surface.
>The body might have been yours, of course, but that didn't prevent it from from telling you every. single. possible. ache.
>Which, your straining psyche tried to count, was at least ten but less than one hundred.
>Including one that started everywhere in your new, pulsing hooves, and ended nowhere.
>Little more could be stated about the lustful desire for salt and wine in equal measure other than it was more of a need, and less of a concern.
>Last in sequence was the true realization that you were, yes, still in a mare's body.
>And that meant only one thing:
>PAIN.

"Still alive or do I need to rescue you from an impulsive decision? Hm? ...aha! Cranberry and oat muffins, now these bring back nice memories."
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
EMMlB
?
No.210437
210637
>>210430

>Pain.
>Oh God, Gods, Goddesses, spirits, whoever could fucking hear.
>THE PAIN!
>Moving was pain.
>Not moving was pain.
>Everything was pain.
>Even the pain was pained!
>And she couldn't move!
>And she was being bothered by all these new urges and things!
>Especially the new hunger for vegetables!
>So Nova did the only, reasonable, and logically sound thing that she could in this state at this very moment.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"
>She screams out at the top of her lungs in exasperation for a moment into the soft fluffy clouds.
>Taking a moment to catch her breath for a moment as she pants heavily into the clouds.
>The mare cleared her throat and slowly, attempted to sit up.
>Baby steps after all.
"... Hodch. I want something. Something salty. Something sweet. And something I don't even know what at the moment. But I'm feeling... Wine. Or painkillers. Something to make this stop hurting."
>She says, now in a somewhat accented voice.
>Now onto the... Other problem which he hadn't considered.
>These damn teats! He should have known if he had bothered to check!
>Nova attempts to reach down, slowly, to relieve her nips from the soft, rubbing hell they were experiencing.
The Clinic: Citadel Combat Medic Frost Egg
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210481
210562
>>210365
>Bending down to peer at the site, Frost's snout wiggles in deep thought.
"Hm.. for a bit of background, stealth equipped Constructs have been reported though quite sparingly during each millennium. The oldest known models were incredibly single purpose: melee combat, defending others, short, medium, long, extreme range, and so on. Wasn't until somewhere around the late Endless March of Stone conflict that they began experimareting with other variations due to the Rift itself actually being invaded. Perhaps that was what caused their design improvements.. well, a thought for later. It was and still is presumed that their technological capabilities are unable to overtly and directly counter Crystal Runes, spell-craft, psions, or other esoteric methods. If this was a form of spycraft, why would a single Prench pegasus from a little over a thousand years ago be the only possible candidate? Again, I've never read or heard of anything like this. Nearly all the recovered bodies are thoroughly analyzed."
>Nodding down at the swelling, the Crystal mare releases the stallion's ear, sitting back and turning a deep frown to you.
"Possible. None of the Tallus militaries have ever recorded a DIRECT incident between modified sapients and Constructs themselves. You saw him being awakened. The most pressing concern were severe injuries.. wait, did you say 'missile'? If I remember my history right there were a number of Harpies from Otherworlds and Planes that a large amount of technologies less effective than the Constructs themselves but they could be produced in massive quantities. A few Harpy exceprts from those records state something like: 'missiles deployed in the millions caused little effect'. Not an exact translation though so don't quote me on it."
>Staring up at the Clinic's ceiling for a bit, the Combat Medic exhales heavily, lifting a foreleg in a half-shrug.
"While that does seem the most likely there are still too many questions I've no answers to. Hopefully one of our Lorekeepers survived the invasion and is in decent enough shape to come here, I need to ensure they hear of all this."

>Eyes widening and sitting up straight, Frost tips her head left, working her cheek for a moment before sticking out her tongue, three hoof-long pieces of bright, glowing purple crystal across it.
>Forehooves lifting, the mare's face darkens in a grim smile while she presents an unusual tanto styled scalpel, humming in a flat tone while it raises into the air.
"Then I've no choice, immediate exploratory surgery is warranted. And, please don't ask."
>Reaching up into her hood, she removes a tiny vial of something that looked like hot liquid lava, capped with a minuscule white stopper.
>Removing the stopper, the vial floats up and is upended onto the scalpel, releasing a single drop which quickly coats the entire surface, turning into baking red-white color.
>Leaning forwards while the scalpel colls off quickly, the Prench stallion's ear is pushed forwards, Frost's eyes narrow while beginning a short primary incision.
"Get Nova Flicker immediately, carry her in here if you have to. If she isn't awake yet then bite one of her ears hard enough to puncture through!"
[1d6+3 = 7]
<Adept Biologist
[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+4 = 8]
<E.Surgeon
[1d6+4 = 9]

[1d6+4 = 9]

[1d6+6 = 9]
<M.Crystal Runes: Resonate
[1d6+6 = 11]

[1d6+6 = 7]

[1d6+6 = 12]

Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.210491
210644
>>210379
>Pareidolia remains resolute as his A.I. corroborates his original line of reasoning.

"A data medium for an organism beyond our ability to contain or assess. It is 'alive' and is Construct technology we lack sufficient information, equipment, and facilities for. For now, living Constructs we cannot control are too great a risk."

>He nods grimly while he descends the staircase.

"Far more advanced than anything we have encountered. Their reasons for coming to Tallus are all the more grave with this knowledge."

[Unclear if even Spiral would be equipped to understand this...]

>Having a chance to survey the Lab properly, he spares a confused glance towards the Trove.

"If the Inquisitor was involved, then they must have intervened to prevent that missile from damaging the Lab with their time manipulation somehow. It would explain her condition and how she somehow entered the Lab before me."

>He arches an eyebrow while pulling the remaining Construct hulls closer to where the microscope table was.

"Binary?"

>Reaching under the table to pick up the small orange marble, he holds it up in an attempt to look at any discerning features it may have.

"Fair point. Then the Inquisitor's abilities are closer to Committee projected expectations. Technological contamination is not caused by the presence of more advanced technology. Both Flash and the Constructs are a non-concern in regards to preventing corruption of native species. Constructs are viewed as a threat. Flash would be unwilling to interact with most ponies at large and has a clear agenda to avoid contact when possible."

>After securing the marble in a zipper pouch if it was truly inactive, he checks to make sure the fluid filled cavity of the remaining hull was in fact inert even going so far as to press his glove against the liquid.
>He then looks up as the A.I. remarks about the missile and moves to check the NW corner.

"Moving to confirm the presence of the missile. The Library shook when we reached the surface. I assumed the missile must have detonated then."
Astral Poinsettia
The GM L.O.N.T
pRVxI
?
No.210497
>>209486

>Astral ultimately found the taste of apple appealing; sweet and sour, something she did not get from the cooked meats in the Mess Hall.
>'Must eat MOAR apples!'
"For you Nova, I shall behave."

>Said the Pred-elk, beaming at the colourful Unicorn when she booped her back.
>Now gone from her side, Astral laid back into her beds' comfy pillows, almost immediately falling asleep due to how nice they were.

>She snored pretty loud though...

Something Bad -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
pRVxI
?
No.210502
210625 210656
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>Senses slowly coming back to him, Golden tentatively stepped around to gauge the ground he was on. Happy he was not going to slip and fall, he called out to both humans and tiny furball.
"I do believe we are now at a higher altitude than before, which, with the sudden change in atmosphere has made us woozy. That or translocating again so soon from before."
>He explained, kicking a loose rock, trying to watch it through his blurry vision as it skidded down the mountains' side.

>>209334
>Under Adons' feet chips of stone and tufts of snow were dislodged from him moving, the ground appearing quite delicate.

>From what he could see through the blur, Golden was correct. They were higher up the mountain, the air quickly changing to be thinner and colder made his lungs and face burn.

>Off in the distance at the same height they were at on the slope, the Witcher saw a light. It was bright, but did not appear to be orange like that of the sentry Orb down below.
"Indeed, the farther the better. And closer to Excelleon no doubt my good fellow."

>>209473
>His stomach grumbled for a moment before relenting, Spruces' breakfast staying put for now.

>On his shoulder, the Chitqu rolled back and forth mewling as it clutched his fluffy stomach, its stomach suffering harder than Spruces. Least it did not throw up.
>Yet.

>Underneath the layer of snow and gravel sat hard earth, made from solidified mud and trapped rocks. This gave the Operator stability and purpose as he corrected himself from not tumbling down the 70 degree angle of the mountains' side.
"I wholeheartedly agree Spruce, let us hope we do not require more teleporting."
>Agreed Golden Horn, head now lifted high to breath in the frigid fresh air to clear his stuffy mind.
"Thankfully no, that was not a true Construct. Excelleon was Tartarus-bent on defeating the Constructs, fair means or foul. Seeing that Pseudo-Construct means he has been able to adapt their technology to such a degree he can create his weapons...No doubt from biological matter native to Tallus, if the notes about him are to be believed."

>Head sufficiently cleared of the ill effects of teleportation, Goldens' horn lit up again.
"It is apparent he has achieved his deranged delusions of making his own Constructs, we can only hope he has not made too many.."
[1d6+2 = 6]
>B.Arcane Awareness
[1d6+2 = 7]

Canterlot, Back To School
The GM L.O.N.T
pRVxI
?
No.210504
246356
>>209488

>Slowing down from a focused canter to a reserved trot, Venous craned her neck to fully look back at Corsen.
"Ah, my mistake and apologies. I shall arrange for that as soon as I am able."
>'Why them of all ponies?'

>Venous slowed her trot even more until she was walking right next to the Cultist again, though with a humans' arms length distance between her and him.
"It appears you are perfect for the job by your...colourful retelling. I am a mere Medic, it is not my forte to go about being stealthy and sneaky like the Lunar."

>At his clarification on him being the Bounty hunter, she hummed, bright blue tail flicking in interest.
"Hmm, an interesting take."
>'Does he wish monetary gain from this endeavour also?'

>As the duo walked through the night life of Canterlot again, though this time in a different direction. This way the buildings became more sparse, the extra space taken up by elaborate gardens that encircled extremely lavish mansions that were similar to that of Lady Duo Whells' along with other more humble governmental buildings. The further Venous led Corsen the more wide open Canterlot got.
>Packed and stacked ornament covered buildings with tight winding paved roads that made up the majority of inner city architecture was replaced with massive plazas that were separated by crystal clear water canals and eating gardens, all enlightened by fantastically wrought metal lamp posts that shun soft light. It did not sting the eyes, hide the brilliant starry night sky and collectively made the whole district comfortably warm.

>Every few hundred yards there were fountains that had satellite pagodas which served food and offered relaxation, the ground underneath them solid gold bricks that denoted the space they claimed. The rest of the district was a rainbow assortment of polished marble when viewed from above by those flying saw whole dioramas of art, many depicting the Busts of Nobles, Princes and Princesses and other notables that are in favour with Canterlot.

>The University appeared to be in the centre of this large expanse, tall iron bar fence with well groomed shrubbery protecting it from the rest of the open world plaza. Though Corsen knew it had other defences, ones unseen and unused.

"Here we are."
>Venous said as she led the Cultist right up to the gates of the University, which were guarded by a dozen Nightguard. Interestingly, they all had a seal of the University stamped into their armour right under the Lunar emblem on their chest armour.
>They were formed in an arrow formation, each staring off in a different angle. There were no doubt others somewhere too, most likely guarding other entrances.

[Canterlotian] "Halt, he goes there and state your purpose."
>Asked the lead Nightguard, a large male batpony with deviously jagged hoofblades.
>At this, Venous stepped forward in a parade stomp.
"I am Venous of the Honour Guard, Medic. I am here on a mission. Let us gain entrance."
>Pursing his lips, the Bat Stallion gave Corsen and Venous a once over. Eventually he snorted and indicated with his head at Corsen.
"And the human, what say him?"
Mallia Castella
YOf0f
?
No.210515
210649
>>210424
>Indeed, Mallia expected no response from any of the interesting archaeotech she was looking at.
>Though this doesn't stop her from feeling sad, inadequate, and lonely. Of course she had her own machine spirits to talk to; but her heart felt heavy still, since while her machine spirits were lots of company, her discomfort from not knowing was growing greater by the second; paired with the stress of earlier events, her death (and thus, failure to protect her spirits), the loss of her comrades, the encounter with the Inquisitor, and the Stormtrooper flat and unfeeling tone making her feel worse and worse.

>The only thing that somewhat cheered her up was the sight of the strange Tech-Knight, which made her visibly perk up and crane her head.
>As they passed eachother, The Enginseer becomes excessively excited and softly gasps at the sight, even so much as turning lightly to keep looking at him/it/her to keep looking at them even after passing by,

"Awhhh!..."
>She nearly squeaked like a child; though she was ultimately forced to keep walking, and thus turn around, before she could investigate further.

>However her curiosity had, by now, reached critical mass; she almost IMMEDIATELY politely asks her Auspex to scan the Tech-Knight and relay EVERYTHING to her, while at the same time reinforcing the Protection Engrams of her Auspex, in case this ends up being a bad idea.
>She even glances over all the jobs on the info board, and makes a mental note to return here if she has nothing to do.

[1d6+1 = 6]
<Tech-Use + Auspex Link: Protect
[1d6+1 = 5]

[1d6+1 = 2]

[1d6+2 = 5]
<CQ. Auspex Scan

>Almost as soon as her cheer came, however, it left her. She turned back to the Stormtrooper to give him another glance, her posture going from almost skipping with excitement, to a resigned striding gait in under a second; sagging her shoulders as she, once again, guiltily replies to Chisan.

*"I understand... I-I am not questioning you, Stormtrooper. Please forgive me. I'm just having trouble maintaining my composure."*
>Her voice softly faded, trailing off into a whisper; followed by a quiet, troubled sigh through her respirator. All of what Chisan had said was making her wry her lip and cross her arms across her chestplate out of sheer discomfort.

>She took a very small relief out of trying to peer over the Stormtrooper from her fairly diminutive height, and explore the sights of the machines ahead of her.
>By now, being ignored by the Archaeotech was making her uncomfortable enough that she began to try to talk with her Auspex through her MIU. She badly wanted-- no, needed someone to talk to.

(Hey, Cutie; Is it wrong to feel so ... Uncomfortable with everything? I'm so sad. I feel lonely. I'm tired, but also curious. I feel like such a failure. There is a greater than 80% chance that I am not even going to sleep tonight. I wish I could stop being so weak.)

>She quite instantly starts to feel bad for burdening her most precious machine spirit with her, to quote, "stupid, crybaby, weakling feelings". And quietly sends it an apologetic ping, before focusing back on the real world; blinking back to attention to the metallic clicking sound coming from behind her.
>Mallia quickly turned her head to glance back towards the door opening behind them. Her mechadendrite slightly relaxing it's coil around the backpack, as her shoulders sag with some visible relief.
>Behind her helmet, she even smiled a little bit as she turned around to hold up her hand -- and offer a friendly wave to the pegasus.

"H-Hello, Raindrop!"
>She stuttered once as she works up the tone stop sounding so deflated and, instead try to sound more cheery; though her voice retains a distinct, stressed volume to it nonetheless.
"Welcome back. How are you?"
>Her hand slowly lowered to settle on her hip, wrying her lip as her helmeted head tilted slightly, another slow sigh escapes her. Mallia's feet shuffling together beneath the robes to straighten her posture to 'perk up' in a way, after the 'how are you'. Not exactly expecting the mare to say 'good, you?'.
>Though the question was genuine, in spite of it all.
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.210562
210740
>>210481
>Cheto nods at the order.
"I'll do that right away, Miss Frost."
>He starts moving back to the entrance he came from, thinking about all this.
(So their use of stealth technology is only through some sci-fi stuff that literally makes them invisible and were great melee attackers. It seems they don't deal in spies and, from what Frost is saying, their magic stuff can always detect them.)
>As the average man steps outside and searched at the last known location of the sleeping pony, he thinks of the other possibilities.
(So it seems these Harpy folk were attacked with missiles too that didn't do much. She assumes it's due to mass produce them, but if you can construct those spheres willy nilly, either the number of missiles fired per day is way too high or they have some secret component to it. I hope those Lorekeepers she mentioned can help, although I might have to ask later when the idea of the Prench Pony being in or is a danger is gone.)
>He nods to himself.
(This place sure is busy.)
>Now completely focused after mulling over what Frost said, he looks around outside the Clinic for Nova Flicker.
(I wonder what she didn't want me to ask...)
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.210624
210633 210770 211064
>>210370
>>210219
>An interesting thought from Boris. Sounds like if it wasn't military-related, it wasn't worth upkeeping.
"So for something this far out, what would you say would be considered worth preserving? Whatever's here, it important enough."
>Jeff smirks as Mercy's reply, if only for the small chance of something unexplainable happening was enough of a rush for him.
>Much like around a month ago when-

>His mind-wandering is halted as he crosses over to the doors, Mercy on the left and him on the right.
>They push the black marble open almost in unison to reveal a railed stairwell going down.
"Ooooo. Railings and everything."
>Peeking his head over the side to peer to the bottom before making his way to the beginning of the flight, Jeff draws his Spellslinger and sets it to Void element and waves Mercy and Boris to go first.
"Mares and Undead experts first."
>He also has plenty of area to keep an eye over the pegasus as they descend.
>Naturally he keeps his elemental firearms at a chill low-ready, scanning stairs far ahead of them.
[1d6+2 = 5]
<Helmet Light
[1d6+6 = 8]
<E.Perception + Lunar Faction Bonus + Leadership
[1d6+6 = 7]

[1d6+6 = 9]

Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.210625
210656 213476
>>210502
>>209473
>The harsh wind and thin air, solidified Golden Horn's suggestion. Other than the apparent increase in hight from where they were from before.
"Yeah, it's a little harder to breath. We're definitely higher up."
>Aside from the apparent elevation change Adon catches sight of something on the other side of the slope.
"There's a light over there. Doesn't look like another Pseudo-Construct glow, at least. So he actually did do it. He made his own."
>He tries not to think what 'organic matter' could have been and instead keeps his eyes on the light as they begin to continue on.
[1d6 = 5]
<B.Perception
[1d6 = 3]

Cairn Wharf: The Sea Shack
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210632
210692
>>210390
>Across the north wall above human height, you spy many more weapons than just spears:
>It was more a collection of every polearm or polehoof style in existence, ranging from copies of the pegasi favored twin-beam lances to standard variants, harpoons, glaives, poleaxes, halberds, and a single functional war scythe.
>Most were pony sized while a few were visibly built for young minotaurs, save for two ridiculously long pikes.
>Underneath each one was a white wood plate covered in marks, probably for how many attempts had been made to break them.

>The filly points her right forehoof and wing at the short, long table to your left covered in stuff.
"All those things! The older Sea's Bounty make th-"
"DID YOU CALL ME OLD?!"
"NO NO NO I ONLY SAID OLDER!"
"Hah, got you!"
"You.. you! YOU! WHY?!"
"Because I'm older than you and seeing you flustered makes me happy?"
>Leaving the now incredibly flustered filly to grumble, the previously busy Ferron gets up, half-trotting away from her work to hop over the short table.
>Giving you a short, formal bow, both wings half-spreading and one foreleg tucked under her barrel, the midnight blue mare stands upright to smiles at you, visibly craning her neck to do so.
"I was part of the mixed Ferron bunch Razorback met on the railroad going to Old Canterlot. Real glad we aren't starving anymore or with those Lishanki bitchmares. Come along, I'll show you everything."
>Spinning about to extend her right wing towards the table, more like a really short counter, she points out each item one by one slowly.
"Small brown coconut shell on the silk necklace is an Island's Grace, they sometimes float in from the dangerous archipelagoes offshore. It's supposedly from another realm but nopony really knows if that's true. If somepony's hurt, crack it open with a pinch on the three 'eyes' and drink the juice, it'll heal them real quick to a certain point. From what I've heard the effect lasts until you're wounded again. Half off, so five hundred Bits."
"The tiny shield of crab parts crunched together with sweet edible resin is a shell charm, basically like an armor charm except you have to eat it. Lasts forever and tastes pretty good too! Thousand Bits."
"Red dinner plate sized piece, looks like a tinted glass sheet, comes from an ancient amber chunk. Probably went through an undersea magic volcano. ..took nearly a month for us to cut that slice out. Eat it and you'll be pretty resistant to fire. Hm, also, I've HEARD but can't confirm it makes those old spark lamps and any glowstones you carry a lot brighter. Three thousand Bits."
"Pair of faded brown and orange claws covered in spikes there came off a Beton Raker, nasty little Otherworld crab. And yeah, it was named for the pony that took the bet to go after it, then lost quickly and painfully. Enchant or infuse it to a piercing weapon, or claws if you have them, for some extra armor puncturing. Three-thousand five hundred Bits."
"See the multicolored cubes covering that tiny stick? That's crystallized volcanic and magical kanpri-salts. Eat them all and.. look, I know how weird this sounds but it'll let you take a really nasty hit without a scratch once a night. I've no idea if it's safe for a young human to eat that much, but if they take their time it ought to be fine. Four thousand Bits."
"The dull round blue lens about twice the size of my hoof there is a Dorval Fethwhale's eye plate. Lets you see more clearly and, supposedly, can focus on distant targets better.. it's funny because they're a nearsighted species. Probably have to get it enchanted to you elsewhere since there aren't many unicorns in the Cairn. Five thousand Bits."
"Clear little marble there is the core of a Palediver, one of MANY Elemental Plane of Water prey species that escaped into Tallus. Only one in ten thousand or so generates a core. Lets you hop into the Overdark more easily and empowers plasma elementals, but most ponies.. really hate that spectrum, there's far worse creatures there than in the Void. Also five thousand Bits."
"Thing that looks like a clump of black kelp in the middle.. actually is! Some call it Breeze Kelp, floats over the ocean's surface around wrecks while the roots grow down into water. Eat it and you'll react faster, move quicker, but one Cult mare said it also empowers air elementals. Quite rare too, first one I've ever seen. Six thousand Bits."
"Eight hoof long stick of white bamboo there must've drifted around the ocean for a couple thousand years. It's absorbed so much salt, magic, and probably magical salt, that somepony got it bent into a circle. Didn't even strain and damned sure wasn't breaking. You could get it infused to armor, shield, or a weapon for a finishing touch. I'm not EXACTLY sure it'll do but I can bet it'll be nearly indestructible. Probably better used on hammers, staves, hoofboots, gloves, things like that though. Fifteen thousand Bits."
"Square chunk of red folded silk looking stuff on the side, that's the edible skin from a Dellop. It's a little jellyfish about my sister's size, can only be found way offshore around the volcanic rings. If you eat it, it'll let you absorb elementals and empower them. You could probably stand in a fire or in the Empire Tundra and not feel it. Twenty thousand Bits."
"Big hard gourd covered in rows of spines is a wild ocean plant, probably keeps it from being eaten by everything there. Grows on sunken trees up by the Northern Crag Archipelago offshore. Cut the spines off, crack it open, preferably with a hammer, eat the seeds. Your skin can turn pretty hard for a bit but you'll also feel heavier while it lasts; I don't think that actually DOES anything to you though. Supposedly real tasty, probably explains why the Malurians don't trade them. Mom found that one on the beach north of here quite a ways last night. Twenty-five thousand Bits."
"Oh yeah, the amber is a hundred Bits for the small ones, two hundred for medium, thee for large, and five for huge."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.210633
210770 211064
1222286.png
>>210370
>>210624

>Sunny whispered as she moved closer to the others, examining the door as they opened it.
"If there is anypony here, they were expecting frequent visits that never came, and if there's one thing common to all ponies, it's that we don't cope well with solitude, even in death."

>Having finished her inspection of most of the room, she sidled up next to Jeff at the mouth of the descent.
"Sir, if there were ever any traps here, I've been unable to find them. We've likely set many off already if there are, and I'm inclined to think they're alarms for the chambers below, if so."
>She kept an eye out for traps just the same, however. A moment of laxity could spell ruin for them all.

>It occurred to her that she hadn't heard the music in some time. Odd.
>Perhaps it just hadn't repeated yet? Or whoever was responsible for the somber tones was no longer making them.
>It was possible that she just couldn't hear it, but that wasn't likely, she was able to hear the music from well outside the crypt through several layers of stone, it should be clearer now this far in if it were an automated process.
>Focusing her hearing, she listened for even the slightest hint of a whisper of the song, while counting the time between the first time she'd heard it outside the crypt, to the second time she'd heard it in the foyer.
>If it were repeating at intervals, she could reasonably expect when to hear it again.
>If she didn't, she'd know for certain that somepony was down there making it, and that they'd stopped, possibly in response to their intrusion.

[1d6+5 = 6]
< B. Perception
[1d6+5 = 11]

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

>Acknowledging Jeff's order with a just barely audible 'Sir', Sunny set off down the staircase at a steady, if cautious pace. Ears forward and wings held loose.
>At least the railings were designed for pony use, it was comforting to know they weren't dealing with something of a larger stature.
>Though smaller stature didn't mean less of a threat.
>If there was a threat.
>It was increasingly looking like there wasn't.
>...
>...There's that laxity again...
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210636
210685
>>210413
>Hearing one of the tendrils slip up something, a cloud of greasy sparks drifts in front of the right screen.. then a second does the same.
>And a third.
>Finally: the fourth, which left a chunk of half-molten steel dripping down over the lens.
>The seven tendrils twist around each other for more stability, shearing off more pieces of steel to weld over the erratic plating as Wild makes a despairing noise.
"Why has every single repair I've performed gone wrong?!"
[1d6+4 = 5]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #7

>Picking out a tiny blotch in the distance on the right screen, it was most likely on the ash-covered beach, moving in a direction that you couldn't quite tell.
>Several lines of Common Equestrian text flow across the screen's sides denoting that they couldn't focus due to damage.
>Either the external video feed was poorer than before due to environmaretal conditions, the effects of dehydration from being stuck inside the Android's roasting chest cabin were getting to you, or both.

"Waveform partially isolated: various low scale Anima energies indicating moderate likelihood of sapience, performing in depth scans now. Possibility one: potential local resident, may have survived the forest fire. Possibility two: local scavenger. Possibility three: local predator. Your orders, mom?"
[1d6 = 3]
<Arcanum Sensors Array
Starborn Cloud Suite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210637
210646
>>210437
>Going virtually unnoticed the cloud door is disintegrated in a puff of white threads, that is until staring snout-to-snout with Hodch, both ears pinned back and wide eyed in visible terror.
>Barely able to lift your head, he starts raising a hoof, mouth opening to say something, then closes it.
>Head cocking to one side in deep concern, the unicorn nods quickly, turning about and darting into the adjoining room, his teacher's tone dropping in favor of moderate to severe worry.
"I don't know about the sweet part but I'll grab everything from the chests and sofas-"

>Working past what felt like being forced to run for six hours without stopping, pulling one foreleg down and under ends with the hoof resting at a not terrible angle, lifting enough of the new, rather warm belly to bring your teats off the cloudstuff.
>Which, as the fuzz in your mind wasn't clearing, only helped a bit.

>A plethora of items slams to a halt in front of your snout, the first six being various bottles of chilled wines, one empty bottle, two Dampeners, one only half full, and a small cloudy white vial that looked like salt water.
>Two freshly made cranberry and oat muffins, a flower sandwich half-stuffed into a puffy millet cake, a half-eaten paper bag of still warm hay fries, one full bar of maremilk chocolate, three small bars of pressed cooked rice, and an entire apple sliced, cored, and in quarters made up the rest.

>Uncorking both of the Dampeners and dumping the streams of fluid into the empty bottle, Hodch glances between the wines, settling his gaze on a bright red variety.
>Horn sparking, that one's cork is torn free with visible effort, dumping half of the bottle into the Dampener mixture, holding it out in a firm cloud of deep purple for you to drink.
"First this, then food, got it? Don't worry, you shouldn't get sick from this much.. I hope-"
Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210644
210658
>>210491
"If at all possible sir, I'd like to learn from both Hodch, what a weird name that is, and this Naliyna Remostrine. The first shared a great deal of open knowledge on Constructs. Perhaps with a little encouragement he might be inclined to share most if not all. The second, according to her statemarent, has had direct conflicts with at least one in the past. What I wouldn't give for a research equipped body.."

>Pulling an encrypted file from archive to review, the A.I. raises an eyebrow speculatively.
"Neutron weapons were designed to eliminate all organic life within a specific blast radius.. sir, that was likely what immobilized her rear legs. Two problems found: one, where did the detonation occur and what was her position; two, if she was in the blast radius yet none of the electronics in here were effected, what happened?"
"Yes sir, binary, as in zeroes and ones. Her A.I.'s are operating on semi-organic logic with some purely machine state programming. Small amounts of hexadecimal too though nothing significant. They were attempting to access roughly.. six hundred thousand archive codes and names that.. I don't even have? What in the buck is this 'Crios Section Retrieval Project'? 'Sub-Iota Concealed Particulate Weapons'? 'Entropic Waveform Shielding'? I'm starting to get the sense that this Inquisitor is a medieval torturer and more of a hyper-technological madmare.. at this point I can't even guess."

>Retrieving the ultra mini-Construct, where you'd struck it was dented inwards, the opposite side mostly flattened.
>Noting no movement, 'Spiral' spends a few moments scanning for signals.
"Nothing, not even a trace datastream or uplink, sir. Do we call them dead or destroyed in this state?"
>Swiveling the chair around to run a number of simulations, the unicorn rendering's forelegs spread apart in a morbid half-shrug.
"Those were the only three names I could crack sir, the rest had to be wiped. Some sort of near-organic trojan virus was infecting them. Given the ostentatiously named 'Projects' those A.I.'s were asking information from, it's safe to state that she might have been working on countermeasures that would put my generation's capabilities to shame. Then again, what we've seen so far from just one Construct is a major probability of high dimension luminary technologies in use."

>Reaching inside the hull you'd drained in the Citadel, the 'fluid' remains unmoving, sticking to the glove's surface before most of it slides off in small clumps.
>Spotting a large professional grade wireless modem and accompanying server rack atop a large bookcase in the northwest corner, the A.I. frowns, pinging the other electronics in the lab.
"All fully operational sir, no service interruptions according to the server's logs.. wait, this is a Faraday Cage, right? There's a number of uplinks transmitting from a 'Master Radio' system down to here, then from the modem back to it. How is that system being bypassed and why? Testing the security protocols, hang on-"
[1d6+1 = 6]
<B.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+1 = 7]

>Searching from the dual couches to the central bookshelves on the west wall, then to the bookcase with the modem and server rack, you could find nothing out of place.
>Searching each shelf, the chests, stands, and various items covering them, then to what looking like a bedroom door, there was no debris, scorch marks, nor anything that seemed out of place.
>Looking up briefly to review the last several minutes of footage, the A.I. stares on, puzzled.
"Okaayyy... sir, permission for a full recording sweep of this lab, starting from here to the blood trails? I have an illogical human-matrix suspicion node that needs some severe confirmation before I can reconstruct what happened."
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
EMMlB
?
No.210646
210774
>>210637

>Nova fights past the ridiculous amount of pain as she puts her muzzle to the Dampener and begins to drink.
>And drink.
>Within mere moments, the mare chugs the entire, half a bottle of wine and then collapses back down onto the clouds with a pained panting.
>But she wasnt done there.
>Using her free hoof, she pulls forward the slices of apple across the cloud floor and begins to chow down.
>The apples disappear in another few moments of pained eating.
"... Good Gods Hodch, in my entire life, have I never felt such pure AGONY as this moment right now. I either am not welcome here or your stasis pods are fucking hell on the body."
>Slowly, she reaches forward again with her hoof, this time to the sandwich of bread and flowers.
>She slowly, hoofs it to her muzzle, possibly with help, and devours that in mere moments as well.
"I... Ahem, I am curious Hodch... Is uh, being in this body for an extremely long time going to change my soul? I mean... I know that... In spectral form I look... Human, but will that change?"
>He sounds a bit worried, and curious, but then weakly points a hoof in the direction of the bottle.
"More wine please..."
Razorback Fortress: The Command Center
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210649
210691
>>210515
>Inside the communications bunker, the auspex performs a short sweep, then returns a short, mournful negative answer: the walls were a series of layered, refined metals and materials with high degrees of reflectivity.
>Aside from the data network in the smaller room, external scanning was impossible here.

>Pausing briefly, the Scion's tone becomes neutral, if not with a slight edge of understanding.
*"No forgiveness needed Enginseer. You did not question me nor did you disobey an order. I am less willing than you to suffer the Rite of Condemnation for one reason: though much here is ArchaeoTech that does not mean it is more useful than our current wargear. The Inquisitor expects an.. unspoken and uncertain amount of tactical flexibility from us to complete her goals. Should carrying out her orders require incentives to perform they will be taken."*
>Returning to his probably quite interesting and secret conversation, what little you could make out was a giant, wall-to-wall radio system.
>On the left side were two incredibly sharp, clear data screens 0.5 meters wide and 0.4M tall that would make most Tech-Magos drop everything to study, with panels of unknown electronics on either side.
>Underneath was a single rather ancient looking keypad that you immediately recognized as a known STC design with slight modifications.
>A highly more comfortable, swiveling chair with thick padding on the back comes into view:
>A short, young Terran-Asiatic female in an upper class civil styled coat and bright green eyes frowns, motioning towards her left, voice low and drained.
"-ot going to do anything tonight at all, period, everything's cancelled until we find both missing teams or our Scout who is missing with vital information. If you want t-"
>The human moves out of view as Chisan waves something, further blocking the doorway.

>Spooling for a bit in program-logic thought, the auspex reads off your mood, emotional states, physical bio-chemical levels, then considers your request.
>Answering partially via datastream from the Litanies of Loyal Machines playing in soothing Binary tones, it returned multiple notations of your current performance conduct on this world as between above average and excellent.
>Spooling back the last datum, it was corrected due to preventing the life of a Throne-sanctioned, Ordo Chronos Inquisitor's life being saved, which the Machine Spirit couldn't even FIND such a performance level rating for.
>Listing only one potential failure thus far, that being unable to prevent the Tempestus Scion's overt and direct hostilities towards the Inquisitor's sanctioned xenos ally, the Machine Spirit merely listed that as a high priority task to correct.
>Spooling back once again, the auspex's conclusion was both comical and serious at the same time: 'forceful correction may be necessary should Tempestus Scion initiate hostilities against sanctioned xenos allies'.
>Returning the ping, a background stream from the Litany of Machine Forgiveness plays.

"Hello again Miss Castella, I-"
>Lifting her right foreleg halfway, the Knight's helmet tips sideways, emitting a long, rattling yawn through her facemask before shaking her head.
"Ugh, little tired, my ears are ringing, and my nose is sore. Managed to get every noncombatant inside buildings before much could happen.. then every combatant stepped out and the little explosions started. Starting to think I'm getting a headache, but a stiff drink should kill that off. Enough about me though, how'd you all do against that thing? I heard the order to hoof down and that it was destroyed. Or dead, whichever matters most."
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
lqZoM
?
No.210656
213476
>>210625
>>210502

>Spruce,tubs his eyes a few times, looking around with blurry vision and slightly annoyed.
"I think the sudden pressure change hit us. Less air. Harder to immidately process."
>He grumbles and stands,up straight and ignores his complaining stomach.
>The Chitqu on his shoulder seemed to be suffering more though, so that was... Something?
>At least he didn't puke all over him.
>Yet.
"... So that was... A not real construct? A fake sort of uh... Immitation made by Excelleon?"
>His grasp of English at the moment seemed to be suffering as much as he did.
>But he rubs his eyes and tries again to look about his surroundings.

[1d6 = 5]
B. Perception
[1d6 = 1]

Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.210658
210798
>>210644
"Noted. Your request will be delayed for now. Short term priority is determining Spiral's location while I ensure the Lab is secure and retrieve equipment acquisitions from the Enclave."

>Pareidolia shrugs as he walks, a confused expression forming on his face as his A.I. decodes the binary message.

"As stated, she is capable of time manipulation. Whatever paradoxical actions she takes, their result would be similarly perplexing. I had little direct work with SERN, and won't be able to understand it... six hundred thousand? Project codenames? Just what does it think would disable the Inquisitor-are these Construct weapons?"

>Frowning as he sets the Construct marble dent side down on the table next to the microscope, he moves on.
>As the A.I. reports a potential security bypass, his head jerks up towards the mounted modem in the corner before continuing his inspection.

"Granted. Afterwards continue where you left off with analyzing information relevant to Spiral's location and save it for background processing while I retrieve my equipment."
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
fKkpW
?
No.210685
210800
>>210636
"Relax, Wild. Panicking will not help us at the moment."
>"She's probably unlucky."
>I decide not to tell her that.
"How large is it, Wild?"
>I highly doubt its a local resident.
"And be cautious about it, but do not attack on sight unless its obviously a hostile."
>...
"Obviously a hostile as in, a predator, not some pony with a spear. Such as a shark or squid or something."
Mallia Castella
OJ1y9
?
No.210691
210822
>>210649
>Mallia's smile was not visible behind her helmet, but nonetheless she felt a much needed wave of genuine happyness when the pegasus replied as she did.
>The reply from her Auspex and the Litanies of Loyal Machines, too, made her instant of self-deprecation abate into a more warm, fuzzy feeling of mild satisfaction.

>The Enginseer breathes in a deep, inward sigh after Raindrop's reply; briefly glancing back towards the command center to take note of the unknown, well-clothed human's conversation for a moment, before breathing her stress out, hissing it through her respirator as she turned back to the pegasus knight. Her hands idly resting akimbo.

"Things actually went as well as they could've gone, honestly. We didn't take a single casualty."
>Mallia's tone rises in pitch, almost sounding excited as she begins to roll her eyes skyward as she recalled the fresh memory, visibly straightening her back and nodding to herself,
"At first there was this Neutron missile heading for the clinic, which would've killed a lot of people; but some hero shot it down with a ballistic weapon, so we took no damage. After that Astral Poinsettia kinda... eh... Fainted, in the middle of the battle."
>She raised her hand to pinch at her helmet's underside, tilting her head, in mild thought.
"Her lightning ... Stuff, seemed to really mess her up. So I had to sit next to her. 50 meters from the big death sphere of doom. Optimal range, really."

>The Enginseer giggled to herself and turned their glance to the Stormtrooper, looking at what he was doing for a brief spell, before starting to cheerfully stride next to Raindrop and stand alongside as she speaks!

"--So what we did was I scanned it, looked at it with my preysense visor while protecting Astral, called out it's weak points to everyone, and as everyone threw explosives towards the weak point right beneath it, I and my trusty lasrifle shot at it's Capacitors, which were SUPER hot, until it exploded into a big ball of plasma, and it ... It actually died!"
>The Enginseer's hands shot out as she goes 'boosh', emulating an explosion with her hands, lightly wiggling up and down in excitement and standing on her tippy toes to increase her height by maybe one inch; making all her gear rattle, especially her shield and Axe.
>Looking up into the command centre and looking over the screens with some interest, squinting at them, before calming down, and leaning back towards Raindrop,

"Oh and there was this weird, crystal-like equine who was going up against it in melee, and actually winning... She, it, or he, was shooting spikes from out of their mouth... It was odd. You equines are scary."
>She nodded her head to herself, returning her hands akimbo, and looking down at the Knight,

"I want to see how you fight one day! --Oh wait,"
>The Enginseer smirked cheekily from behind her helmet, her upper half-leaning down slightly as she adds a cheeky remark,
"I already did, I totally beated you; if it weren't for the elk biting my butt you'd be totally defeated and embraced into submission."
>She nodded to herself again, absolutely confident of what she was saying.

>Mallia secretly bleps her tongue out from between her lips. It's too bad Raindrop can't see it.
>Then as Raindrop may or may not try to make a retort, she turned her glance back towards the Stormtrooper, making sure to follow him if he starts moving again... While at the same time internally pondering how best to approach Chisan's dislike for Raindrop.

(Maybe if I just told him the Inquisitor wanted us to have good relations with Raindrop, he might be more considerate. Or, at least, more neutral. It'd be best if I made him apologize somehow...)

(... Though this is something to speak over in private. Maybe once I am in his 'Stronghold'.)

>Her glance then slowly gravitates towards the Stormtrooper's wrist.
>She still needed to find a way to fix his Auspex... Seeing it like that made her grit her teeth and crinkle her nose, displeased in a way only an Enginseer can be.

(Hhh... That poor thing...)


Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.210692
210831
>>210632
>Watching the short exchange, Bubba couldn't help but be reminded of the women back home.
>To him, it seemed that friendly ribbing was universally similar, no matter where he was.
>Shaking his head, he regained focus as the bants winded down.
>Giving the mare a quick look, he nodded as his eyes looked over everything she described.
>"All of these are potentially useful... Some more than others."
>He gave the Palediver core a look.
>"But some I will refuse to even consider."
>After mentally going over the money he had on him, Bubba took out his coin pouch.
"I'll take the Island's Grace, and one of each of the ambers for now. Should be sixteen hundred for all that, right?"
>After a moment, he added.
"I'll have to come back, but the crab claws and eye plate interest me as well."
The Clinic: Frost Egg & Nova Flicker
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210740
210778
>>210562
>Opening the Clinic door and stepping out, on your left Nova Flicker had slid into a lying down position.
>Nose still on the painted steel exterior, the Crystal-unicorn hybrid's legs were curled upwards in a remarkably comfortable sleeping pose.

>Unexpectedly, Frost's voice resonates from the clinic's external walls, half-excited, the other half a mixture of concern, fear, and several hints of angry.
"WAKE nova's NARCOLEPTIC ASS UP AND GET HER IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
[1d6+3 = 7]
<Adept Biologist
[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+6 = 12]
<M.Crystal Runes: Resonate
[1d6+6 = 11]

[1d6+6 = 9]

[1d6+6 = 8]

>vs:
[1d6 = 6]
<?????

[1d6 = 2]
<?????

[1d6 = 5]
<?????

A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210770
211080
>>210624
"I would suspect only the structure itself as we have seen no signs of habitation nor usage thus far commander."
>Folding both wings onto her sides, Mercy's nose wiggles in positive agreement.
"Feels abandoned like Skykeep was. All I have.. sensed so far are preservation enchantmarents."
>The Spirit Walker pushes herself forwards with a wide grin, hurrying down the stairwell before Sunny could, head turned left and tongue out so she could quickly lick each of the railings, Boris shaking his domed head remorsefully.
"Obviously the best choice, sir-"
[1d6 = 2]
<Boris: Perception
[1d6 = 3]

[1d6+4 = 10]
<Reveal Unnatural
[1d6+3 = 6]
<E.Sprint
[1d6+3 = 9]

[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+4 = 7]
<B.Perception
[1d6+4 = 7]

>Unlike the upper floor, the railings, stairs, ceiling, and walls were entirely blank, finding no carvings nor even cut-ins for glowstones.
>Quickly tapping the flashlight as it stutters, sweeping the illuminating beam once more reveals exactly zero dust motes or airborne debris.
>It seemed like this room hadn't been finished by the time it was abandoned, though the hollow chime and somber wind flute begin again at their regularly spaced intervals.

>>210633
>Unlike the entrance or ceremonial chamber door, this pair were devoid of much save for a few barely started, illegible carvings.
>Following after the Spirit Walker, the chime and wind flute set began again while she hurries down, Boris eyeing everything on the way.
>Ending at the same set of nine repetitions, your examination of the entire stairwell, with the aid of Jeff's moderate strength flashlight, was devoid of carvings and even glowstone holders.
>Not only that, the air gave off a cold yet stale scent, one that indicated this particular room had been perfectly sealed and hadn't been opened in centuries.
Starborn Cloud Suite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210774
210785
>>210646
>Aided by Hodch keeping the bottle still, the incredibly sweet flavors of red grapes and green apples go down more smoothly than expected.
>Setting the empty wine bottle aside and delivering the apple quarters close enough for you to bite onto, the reservist merely scowls.
"Those've been around long before me, and stasis cells, not pods like the Constructs use, don't cause issues unless in storage for over at thousand years. Whatever happened to your host body occurred before it was found and brought to that facility-"
>Presenting the unusually tasty sandwich for you to bite into, Hodch shakes his head in the negative during the second chomp.
"Once once so far as I've seen, but that was an instantaneous battlefield transfer without any of the aids I brought with me. Transferences cause the hosted ka to retain itself without changes. There is a chance that you may slowly change of your own volition, though that's on the individual, not the body itself."
>Lifting the half-full bottle of sweet red grape wine close enough for you to drink from, the pair of muffins, hay fries, rice, and chocolate bar are presented alongside it, Hodch's mood quite dark at the moment.
"We can deal with you getting smashed later, right now it is VERY important that you take care of your immediate needs but after this bottle, give me every bit of knowledge on each sensation or feeling you've had. That might give me some clues as to what this host body experienced before it was placed in stasis."
>Feeling some of the pain relenting, it was replacing by your body's desperate urge for much more to drink, an irresistible urge for salt, and a likewise terrible craving for sugar sweets and pastries.
"Couldn't find any other Dampeners here, all of the Starborn suites are intended to be small and private residences to take a lunch or dinner without interference. If you're still in pain after this I'll take you to.. hrm, best place I can think of would be Surefall, Druids can make just about everything and their prices are basically free."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.210778
210845
>>210740
>Hearing Nova's intimidating voice from inside the clinic, he knew that he had to act quickly.
(A la mierda, she can be really scary when she wants to.)
>He jogs up to her and rocks her body with his hands, clasping her head and croup to do so.
"Miss Nova, would you please wake up?! A pony is in need of assistance!"
>After doing that, he wastes no time in changing action, hands going under her barrel to pick up the sleeping horse.
"We need you, Miss Nova! Please, wake up!"
>After picking her up, he travels back inside towards Frost, Nova either still sleeping or just woken up from his efforts from the shaking and shouting.
(The jerking motion as well as the shouting should do the trick. I hope I'm being fast enough for Frost right now.)
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
EMMlB
?
No.210785
210854
>>210774

>Nova clears her throat after that, sighing as she shudders a little bit.
>The thought of a slow transition to another form of his own volition? Unlikely, surely.
>But the possibility didn't really worry him all that much. What happens happens.
>And it would certainly be interesting what happens.
"Right... I feel like... Pain. Like it's dull, throbbing, and as of right now, everywhere and it isn't getting any better."
>She pauses on better, blinking a few times.
>It felt like it was starting to wear off a little as she ate.
>Could this possibly be the key...?
"Might just be the booze and the painkillers, but I'm feeling... Uh..."
>She more or less instinctively points to the chocolate bar now, and somewhat broadly waves at the food.
"... I need sweets! Salt! And I don't know why but I just... Need them, right now!"
>With some of the pain subsiding she reaches once more for the food on the ground and pulls over the cranberry and oat muffins and begins to eat.
>Within another few more moments she downs the muffins.
>Then, she points with a hoof to the salt water.
"... Salt, please. I don't trust my hoofs at the moment."
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.210794
210881
>>210316
"Zhun."
>The alchemy and the magical medical reagents are still outside of Zhun's scope of knowledge
>He simply listens on to the shocked mare
"Sounds good. Oh the rare stuff. That's...something."
>He listens on to the mare's suggestion
>1/8 of the items may be too low
>Plus, may come late if the supply line runs dry of the mercs helping the consortium
"You can go ahead and send me the suggestions. I'd appreciate the help."
>Zhun gives the mare his own slight smile
>Maybe one of the places is Snootadishu
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.210795
210897
>>210202
>"Been a while since Razorback got mistaken...especially with how our involvement has been."
>This thing has some history
>Wait...returned?
"The Lonely One arrived multiple times?"
>Seeing the tumble of batponies, Clem figures this was an entrance way
>...odd answer about the pilot
>Unless...
"Guillotine within, without. You are the Guillotine itself?"
>He walks up the ramp, and inspects his first airborne vessel on Tallus
Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210798
210817
>>210658
"Er, I should've specified that wasn't an immediate request, sorry sir."
>Blanking out at the barely known Committee team's mention, 'Spiral' holds up a hoof with a small, humiliated smile, turning into a hard expression.
"Er, sorry again sir, I meant that the Inquisitor was trying to access those project names FROM me. The Construct data was wiped and those storage nodes formatted when you reentered the lab. At a guess that might have been the Inquisitor's A.I.'s performing a series of failsafe measures in the event of catastrophic trauma, searching for and then dumping their collected information to those specific archives. ..I'm not programmed to understand temporal manipulation sir; in fact, I'm not sure I can even reconstruct a paradoxical event or situation."

>Once more performing a grid search, from the eastern sitting couch to the east bookshelves was likewise clear.
>Back to the couch, and searching under it, then along the eastern wall, none of the books, items, or trinkets stacked on the shelves were disturbed from what you knew.
>Visibly expressing major disbelief, the A.I. focuses on the recordings so far as you cross into the center of the lab.
>Still finding nothing amiss upon close inspection of the east and west bookcases, stands, and chests, the Marquis rendering lifts its shoulders, running a series of tiny simulations in the background.
"Okay, facts: no missile, no debris, no blood spatters, splatters, trails, or stains except in front of southeast electronics and experimaretal tables. Likewise, none of the electronics in THIS lab were damaged, interrupted, or destroyed, which I can confirm through the server, laptop, and personal computer logs. Problem: where DID the bucking missile reach if it detonated inside here? This leaves only one possible solution: it didn't detonate inside the lab."
"Sir, this is the paradox that my illogic emotion nodes were suspicious of: we both saw the Construct launch the same form of missile inside this lab, but, the detonation that you felt and the one I was able to analyze outside the Library was anywhere from ten to thirty times more so than the missile detonation between the Pagoda and Clinic. This is what I was able to reconstruct, after that I'll start analyzing the other messages-"

>Taking up most of the internal display, a rendering of the southern lab begin with the exact time stamp corroborating you running into and up the stairwell.
>Placing the unknown Construct model where it was immediately after you escaped, an image of Flash appears in front of the electronics tables ten seconds later, the wireframe head turned left before running towards the exit, right before the first blood trail began.
>The Construct render fires each of its' laser weapons into the Inquisitor's chest and barrel, and as Flash turns to reach the door, both plasma cannons fire, striking into the center of her upper hindquarters.
>At the same moment, the Construct disappears at the exact time stamp you spotted it outside.
>The rendering continues with Flash's hind legs immobilized and falling forwards, then furiously struggling to climb up the stairs, performing the same double or triple shock-motions that the A.I. mentioned a bit earlier up the stairwell.
>Fast forwarding the simulation nearly two minutes until Flash exited the library doors, the A.I. halts the rendering, staring in morbid displeasure down at its own tiny screen.
"The Inquisitor was able to paradox both the missile AND the Construct outside the Library after sustaining a minimum of neutron exposure and damage to herself. That still doesn't account for the over one-hundred fifty millimeter artillery shell detonation you felt and I recorded. ..unless that IS the paradox, sir. Warping the Construct from an internal location, down here, to an external location in front of the Clinic, about one-hundred fifty meters, while at the same time able to transmit an otherwise lethal neutron radiation burst elsewhere... the implications are staggering. Is the Inquisitor what humans can become beyond the Nanite Age, or some sort of hyper-trained mutation to deal with temporal problems?"
"Uh, sorry for taking up so much of your time sir! My programming can barely hoofle this simulation, but I'll file the information away for later use."

>Collating the data, the A.I. emits a short burst of data to play the seventh message.
>This time it was Mercy and Denra, the first audibly drunk and slurred while the second was quite incensed.
"Spiiiirallll.. we need your hoofs up heeeere-"
"Can you no- please don't lean on m-"
"Nooo! He's gotta hoof up an' stop bein' sho lashy-"
"Just ten seconds Mercy! Give me that much time or I'm going to send you back to Tipper!"
"...fiiiiiiiiiine."
"Good, excellent, and don't throw up on me. Now, Spiral.. if you're STILL DOWN THERE AND NOT BUSY then we need your ass to get the buck up immediately! There's a huge problem that just dropped onto our collective teats and testicles, Linara showed up in Las Pegasus with at least an entire bat-"
"Teeen seeeecon-"
"MERCY I SWEAR TO GREAT EPONA I'M GOING TO BURY BOTH MY HOOVES IN YOUR ASS SIDEWAYS IF YOU DON'T STOP! Linara had anywhere from two to five thousand earth ponies with her, most of them were killed but she escaped, again. Worst part is her forces dropped almost every one of the Rogue's Circle districts. Now I don't care that they're dead, good riddance, but we need to know what dimension, spectrum, or plane she's been escaping to every time she shows up. I want her taken alive, not dead like that dumb filly General does! Get off your ass Spiral, I need you out here right bloody now!"

>Staring at the screen with bated breath, the A.I. exhales it, lifting his forelegs in a truly confused shrug.
"That definitely doesn't help.."
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210800
210803
>>210685
>Ripping the crumpled ball of steel armoring apart with her armored hands, Wild begins feeding it to her tendrils, her panic now double as sparks truly begin to fly from the view outside your cabin.
"It's too late NOT to panic right now mom! Less than five minutes remain until large scale waveforms hit, I'm less than forty percent complete, and every error is costing seconds that you do not have!"
>In a sense, she was right, but it also proved that Wild Ride didn't inherit your patience or sense of calm.
[1d6+4 = 6]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #7

>The Eldritch Android's tendrils continue their frantic reinforcement measures while the right screen picks up the tiny, still moving blotch.
"Size: medium equine. Potential sapience: one hundred percent. Potential species: pegasus. Likelihood of previous notation: one hundred percent. My external feeds are severely damaged and I don't have the materials to repair them.. ..what is glass made of exactly?"
[1d6 = 5]
<Arcanum Sensors Array
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
fKkpW
?
No.210803
210928
>>210800
>Patience is a virtue, Wild.
>Even if it doesn't seem like it is at the moment.
"Seconds that -we- do not have, Wild."
>I feel the need to reiterate that we were both going to get out of here.
>Besides, from what I do know, trying to swim from 100 meters down without anything to hold air in, would kill me.
"Glass is, to put it bluntly, melted sand."
>"A pegasus, this far down? Unless it's a seapony..."
shoo be doo
"If its a pony do not engage, I may be able to talk with them. Razorback's probably known out here."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.210817
210955
>>210798
>Pareidolia seats himself on Spiral's worn sitting chair by the doorway, resting his elbows on his knees as his A.I. deliberates.
>He watches the simulated reconstruction with mild interest though ultimately says little on it save:

"She had ranted on about the insular nature of her order and believed they were misguided in some way, but it is likely her abilities stem from it."

>He remains silent as the message plays out.

[Events pertaining to the attack on Las Pegasus? Before that Class 2 re-designated Class 3 'Empress Silver' started modifying humans.... ]

"It does not. Cycle through the next message."
Razorback Fortress: The Command Center
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210822
211150
>>210691
>Head bending forwards, Raindrop's bladed wings push the helmet off, shaking her damp mane to the left with a relieved sigh.
>Ears perking up and swiveling to you, the Knight's eyes squint briefly before setting the helmet on the map table.
"That's.. a first. No idea what this 'new-tron' thing is, but I've seen the sapient Pred-Elk here a few times. Just like their feral relatives, Pred-Elk can store lightning in their bodies and they can use their horns to expulse it, usually by charging. Takes a toll on them physically."

>Still preoccupied with the discussion, Chisan's helmet was now tipped back, removing something from his armor and showing it off.

>Sitting down while most of her platemail jingles, Raindrop's eyebrows raise, whistling in an impressed fashion.
"Every Construct I've read combat reports on or heard from the survivors has killed two ponies, minotaurs, Gryphons, and whatever else minimum. I don't mean marecenaries, I mean Honor Guard, Tower Guard, Rogue Elites, High Germaneighan Guildmares, even the Assassin's Circle; the real best of the best take severe losses and Razorback manages not to lose anypony? That really is a first Miss Castella."
>Lifting a heavy looking forehoof and poking at her nose thoughtfully, her head tilts with a small snort.
"That was a Crystal pony for sure, I've had my share of run-ins with a few. Physically they're weaker than earth ponies and nowhere near a minotaur's strength, but I kind of doubt any one of them could match a Construct. What you saw weren't spikes, those are a near-magical thing called Crystal Runes, somewhat similar to the psionic abilities that some earth ponies are born with, though much more precise. Crystal ponies are some of the best crafters and engravers on Tallus, they even have a form of crystalline technology that only they can use. Well, next to Gryphons, harpies, and Kra`ken that is. As for scary there's much worse than one angry Crystal pony in my professional opinion, even been assigned to keep you and him from meeting several of them here in Razorback."

>Unable to sight the communications unit now, one of Raindrop's eyebrows raise, the other lowering in challenge.
"Is that so?"
>Puffing her cheeks out and squeezing her lips together in a small fishface for several moments, the right foreleg lifts to point up at your chest.
"Challenge accepted, Miss Castella! The next time we do it for real. Conditions: if I win, I get an hour of your time, that is whenever I'm off duty, so I can take you to the biggest spa the Empire has. But if you win, you get an hour of my time, also whenever I'm off duty, and I'll go and do anything you want, wherever you want. Just not to the Moors, my armor is really bad in hot places."

>Still in a ruined state the auspex was rather sad looking, especially given the fact that Scions relied on their own individually issued ones greatly.
>Turning her gaze to the Scion as well, the Knight's expression deadens, ears swiveling and flattening to either side.
"That thing he's wearing, right? The bunch of minibears we came across were.. bad. One of the Arcane Blades spotted them lurking around the Fortress perimeter, he decided to out there and scare them off. I went with because.. well, you know, contract stuff. I didn't expect them to charge after that red lightning of his killed one. Used all four of my manabombs, Chisan threw a few of his, they kept on charging until maybe half of them were left. His armor was okay but that thing was torn into pretty badly. Never heard of Moors minibear swarms that big, frenzied, or this far north. Something's changed in the New Everfree but I don't know what."
Cairn Wharf: The Sea Shack
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210831
211100
>>210692
>Deftly leaning over with the first primary feather on her left wing and flicking the amusingly small coconut to balance on her outstretched right, then presenting it to you, the midnight blue mare smiles merrily.
"Yep! If you wanna crack them open here put them on the counter. Want to borrow a hammer? There's a few in the back that we haven't sold yet."
>Eyes turning to the table once more, her lips purse, giving a short nod.
"Don't worry about paying right now, we're never in a rush. Besides, Sea's Bounty know Naliyna enough that she'll send the rest whenever she gets time, so I'll put those two on the reserved table in a bit. Besides that most of the crowds have been through here tonight and I haven't seen the humans not from Razorback in a while, pretty sure nothing will be bought until dawn."
>Getting over her huffing fit, the filly's wings flap quickly in an attention getting motion.
"You haven't even told him about all the other stuff on the tables, the armor things, or all the weapons!"
"You kinda did that for me sweetie, and does it look like he wants me to talk his ears off?"
"Weeelllll... no."
>Eyes rolling upwards while she shakes her head, the Ferron smiles knowingly.
"Just in case, IF you want to know about any of the weapons, armors, or armor modifications we can do, my sister can give you the short list. I mostly make pegasi or unicorn duelist weapons, she's the one that figures out how to piece every little piece together for maximum protection."
The Clinic: Frost Egg & Nova Flicker
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210845
210878
>>210778
>Struggling to lift the fairly heavy, dead asleep unicorn up results in a series of strains in both arms and legs.
>Definitely not as strong as you were previously.
>Neither eyes nor ears twitched while you slow walked back into the Clinic, Nova's blissful snoring attracting an immediately dangerous sense of ire.
>Glancing upwards, the Combat Medic's eyes flicker cold blue under the hood while the empty apple shape bottle hurtles towards you at somewhere between fastball pitch and 'this WILL end in death' speeds.
>Thumping into Nova's side, the glass shatters startling her awake with a loud neigh of fright, though luckily not in your ear.
>Nova's legs flail around for several moments before retracting, both of her lightly glowing pupils narrow into scared, tiny stars at you, which is interrupted by Frost snarling aloud.
"Mister Gallo, get Nova here right now! I need her damned analysis expertise right this bloody second, there's a silver metal kind of.. tiny snake thing moving under the Prenchie's hide! It's draining this acid smelling green shit and making my nose bleed!"
[1d6+3 = 9]
<Adept Biologist
[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+6 = 9]
<M.Crystal Runes: Resonate
[1d6+6 = 10]

[1d6+6 = 8]

[1d6+6 = 7]

>Half-horrified and half-furious in a trite, humiliated expression, Nova wiggles both ears and one forehoof at Frost's direction.
"Please take me to her before I pass out again-"
Starborn Cloud Suite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210854
210865
>>210785
>Roughly half of the miserable pain having bled away now, Hodch's eyes roll upwards, ears flat on his skull in serious thought.
"That doesn't tell me enough, there's no physical wounds or injuries that I could see. I had the strangest feeling-"
>Instantly lifting the chocolate bar closer for you to devour, he turns an exasperated sigh to the side, glancing out into the other room.
"The host could've been caught out in combat for an hour or two, was running for a long period of time, ambushed and fought off her attackers.. too many possibilities."
>Nudging the muffins close enough to inhale, the deep purple stallion looks back at you, his face creased in broad spectrum concern.
"Cravings? That.. does narrow down what likely happened a bit. Either long term combat scenario or hours of running. Saltics are physically in better shape than most Equestrian unicorns."
>Nodding quickly, the cap is taken off and lifted to your lips, the overbearing urge for salt somehow much worse now.
>Hodch glances at the hay fries, which and rice bars, morbidly quirking the corners of his lips.
"There's nothing else in the suite, we normally don't leave anything here. If you feel up to being carried I can take you either to Six Candles, fairly large eatery in one of the southern Starborn Villages, or the Three Corners bar in the Empire. Those are the only places I can think of right now where questions aren't going to be asked."
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
lmsey
?
No.210865
211400
>>210854

>After devouring thr chocolate bar, she quickly turns to the salt water.
>The mare pressed her lips to the salt water, and almost unbelivinly, she began to chug the salinated drink.
>She slows down a little, but is clearly, for some reason, desperate to down as much as possible.
>And in a few moments, the vessel is emptied.
>Nova now takes a moment to pant softly, lifting her head up now as the pain begins to subside.
"... No... Idea. But I... Think its working? I don't feel as much pain. Like I said, might just be the painkiller but..."
>She sighs, putting a hoof clumsily to her head to rub it softly.
"I just feel... Pain, literally everywhere, no exhaustion I dont know why just these insane cravings and feeding them seems to be... Helping? Perhaps the manner of her ka's severing caused this much pain? I don't really know Hodch."
>She looks up, now to the fries curiously.
"... The fries too please. Are those rice cakes salted?"
>The mare pauses another moment, frowning.
"... God I am going to be so dehydrated after this but I literally don't care. All I can think of and feel right now are these insane cravings and this pain."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.210878
211432
>>210845
>Cheto huffs a little bit, frustrated by his decision.
(Carrying her was a bad idea. Well, I should try my best to hurry along with a heavy pony on my arms.)
>Knowing what's at stake, what with the snake thing Frost mentioned just now, he picks up the pace even further.
(How much do I need to do to wake up a pony? Do I really need to go to Frost's length just to wake her up? Narcolespy is a strong thing it seems.)
[1d6 = 4]

[1d6 = 4]
<Basic Sprint

>His face express extreme worry as he approaches Frost and the patient.
"We're here!"
>He turns to Nova.
"Do your thing, Miss Flicker. You can do it!"
The Crystal City-State: Industrial Sector
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210881
211358
>>210794
>Tipping her head in a small nod, Three-Point reaches up and begins tapping on the barely material hololith screen.
"The shipmarent should be ready in about ten minutes, if that. I'll send Miss Remostrine the bill, or you can take it with if you'd like."
>Sitting back into the chair and poking her forehooves together, the young mare's eyes close, lips pursing in thought.
"You know anything about Canterlot Underground? If not it's mostly unicorns that left the College so they could study pretty much everything that isn't banned under Canterlot. They manage four big atrium and one called the Atrium, it's bigger than most of the old Starborn Enclaves were. Crystal mare named Astra Galus is the main biologist there, trades stuff through us from time to time. She should have some stuff in stock there."
"Second one is Neightime Flats in Snootadishu. It's a really cute name, too! She trades us a lot of stuff from around Zebraica, mostly exotic reagents, special flowers that don't grow anywhere else, and the safer Otherworld and Eldritch flora, that sort of thing. Not sure what her prices are since we trade them stuff from the Empire workshops. She's a Zebra, if that makes any difference."
"Third one.. ehhh, you could try Blackberry Cloud Cupcake in Gozka. She's a pegasus, so, kinda airheaded, but she's the only one that trades anything from the Minotaur Hegemony in large amounts. Lot of really ancient plants there, most of it used for defensive or offensive potions and elixirs. Runs a huge alchemy workshop and eatery in the market square. You'll find it real easy, just follow all the flower scents... or look for the great big cupcake sign on top."
"Last one is really weird though, she's only started trading with us in the past couple weeks. Earth mare named Ash Kicker, wears this absolutely ANCIENT looking Solar armor that nopony in the Empire's ever seen before. Well, so far as I know. She works out of the Old Canterlot Waypoint 1 station in the Old Everfree with some other ponies that might be former Day Guard, or.. something. It's a really scary place though, I wouldn't recommarend going alone unless you have to."
Basin Arena: The Guillotine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210897
211363
>>210795
>Emitting a brief, slow electronic sigh, the harpy's tone becomes a mix of mournful wistfulness, with a somber touch of grief.
*"Aye, and his mate. Many Harpies, Kra`ken, Basilisks, equines, minotaurs, Eyes, many others assailed the Dreaded Pair.. many times all rendered unto passing beyond fate. Mineself was but one of many undying vessels, prayed in desperation mineself did more times than stars in Endless Ocean, hoping 'gainst hope to end thee nightmarish Constructed Twos. Naught but Rites of Destruction hurled upon Constructed Twos turned thy tides of Tallus 'gainst foresworn fates. Mineself.. wisheth not to recall such terrors yet called unto service once more mineself was."*
>Hearing a sharp, bitter inhale, the trio of Destroyers finally untangle themselves, staring at you from within their angular helmets; probably never seen a human before.
*"Aye, grace. Mineself hath been renamed by victory 'gainst Lonely One's mate by thee Moonlit-Star, Thy Majesty of Night Incarnate. Mineself severed uncounted talons of Constructed Twos until mineself lain to rest thereupon thy Moon. Now.. now mineself a lonely one too, grace. There be not more wakened, slumber eternal mine kin now do. Mineself beareth no ill for kin, thy grace, whereupon they gaveth divine service 'gainst Constructed Twos, they receiveth divine service for thee sacrifices made."*

>Approaching the converted vessel, it was precisely the same as the light Lunar cruiser in the Enclave, save for the additional thick bulk of solid silverine armoring.
>Noting a few remaining patches of laser, plasma, and possibly missile damage, the material was slowly bubbling over each in a remarkable self-repairing manner.
>The process ends quickly, leaving flat, once more shiny surfaces.
>Hunching forwards to walk up the ramp, the vast space inside was not at all what you could've expected:
>Little more than four-pronged rotating bomb racks, whitesteel it looked like, were clustered together in rows, small walkways leading across to what looked like another exit ramp on the opposite side.
>The vast majority of racks were empty, though a few held batpony Destroyers around their barrel armor, several angular helmets tilting around to eye you.
>The set of rotating racks across from you bore a small bay hatch, which was presumably how the lone Destroyer stretching around outside was launched from.
>Most of the interior was whitesteel, though there were numerous silverine bulkheads and reinforcing beams criss-crossed throughout the vessel.
>In the center of the walkway was a small shaft, flickers of blue static streaming upwards, then downwards.

>Giggling once more, the female harpy's tone becomes considerably more joyful.
*"Step thou upon mineself's cradle, travel thee to bow or stern as thou wilt, grace! Mine stern holdeth thy Greatest Rites of Destruction: Klaves of Minotaur Hegemony! Mine bow holdeth wondrous tech-arcane weaponry whomst Tallus kine aided mine kin to devise!"*
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210928
211108
>>210803
>Making a rather close approximation to a grunt, Wild flips her right thumb directly at the video feed.
"YOU, mom, NOT me! I should be able to survive most anything so long as my biocore and head unit can be salvaged, but you're not even a tenth as resilient as I am even with all of my damage."
>Your cabin rocks side to side as the Eldritch Android bends over several degrees, then straightens up.
"Necessary information acquired. I may be able to repair or restore some of my external feeds.. mom, what other basic materials can be refined and turned into more useful ones?"
>The right screen is taken up by a model of a pegasus mare, approximately 3'9" tall.
"Unknown target identified. Species: pegasus. Era classification: unknown. Sex: mare. Age: ..fifteen to thirty? High degree of air elemental Anima detected. I'm unable to confirm whether she has noticed me. Should I attempt contact?"
>Retaining her still frantic pace, one of the less rusty armor slats is brought out for the tendrils to dissect, the pieces swiftly removed from sight while the welding starts again.
"Chest cabin reinforcement status: sixty-four percent complete. Secondary oxygen tank status: thirty percent complete. Environmental connections to chest cabin: completed. Initiating long ranged scans and waveform analysis now-"
[1d6 = 5]
<Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+4 = 8]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #7
Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.210955
211394
>>210817
>Finding the human styled chair rather comfortable, your A.I. brings up the unicorn model of Flash to study, tapping his chin in slow thought.
"Interesting.. the scale of an organization required to create, modify in, or expand and bring out such a human capacity would consist of perhaps fifteen million throughout twenty thousand years dedicated to that sole purpose. Funding, resources, marepower, technology, and prior knowledge would have to be nearly limitless. Or at the very least on an essential black budget. Theory: the most direct aspects causing her combativeness and isolation are likely due to stagnation, or organizational traditions, that are no longer innovative nor inventive enough to keep up with the stresses of what she was expected to perform. ..maybe all she needs is psychological therapy?"

>Shoulders lifting, 'Spiral' sends a short burst of data outwards while you catch a faint whiff of some fruit scented alcohol.
"Playing message eight."
>Once more the Library was active in the background, this time it was Broken Hoof speaking in her clipped, tense Stalliongrad accent.
"Spiral, found your information. In exchange need your expertise. Middle Dynasty outpost ruins not what you want. Repeat: not outposts. Outposts may have weapons, armor, materials to be salvaged. Three temples on map not it, no elemaretal experiments conducted there. Overherd knows. Largest or smallest ruin best chances. Both had testing labs, experimaretal rooms underground. Your end of deal: find everything on Bane enchantmarents. Specifically: if possible to dispel 'permarenent' effects. Can't remove armor Spiral, would die outside it. ..help me damn you, I need this rotten thing off for just once in my life before I die!"

>Making a stern expression as the recording ends, the A.I. swivels around in the rendered chair to face the door, pointing at the mailbox embedded in the wall left of the door.
"That narrows down our search parameters significantly sir. Previous messages indicated a set of notes and maps, they should both be in there if nopony, or no human, has taken them."
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.211064
211080 211433
>>210624
>>210633
>The moment he gives Mercy the go to first, the normally-reserved pegasus bolts down the stairs with Boris.
>Sunny, taking his courtesy, follows right after yet more cautiously.
>Leaving him at the top.
"Okay okay, let me catch up."
[1d6+3 = 7]
<E.Sprint
[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+3 = 8]

>Jeff begins making his way down behind Sunny, sweeping the stair in detail with his light.
"This is also very clean, as well. Too clean. There's no carvings that match the foyer and chamber. Maybe whoever was working on this, never finished it."
>As he continues descending, he picks up the faint tune of chimes and flute.
>Same tone and pattern as before.
"Hey, you three, I'm hearing that music again."
>Despite the music, he catches up to keep his light pointing past Mercy and lighting their path forward.
[1d6+2 = 8]
<Helmet Light
[1d6+6 = 7]
<E.Perception + Lunar Faction Bonus + Leadership
[1d6+6 = 10]

[1d6+6 = 9]

Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.211080
211433 211619
1467153222272.jpg
>>210770
>>211064
>Sunny rolled her eyes, half in amusement at Mercy's foalish excitement at racing down the stairs and half in frustration that more care wasn't being taken, stepping up her own pace in turn.
>Though she remained more or less behind Mercy, if the mare was going to rush headlong into potential danger without a care, she might as well learn something from the experience.
>If she were the type to learn from the consequences of rushing headlong danger that is.
>Maybe Mercy was just confident that there wasn't anything in this crypt that could prove a challenge or even wanted to.
>And maybe overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer.

>Sunny refrained from licking the opposite railing, she didn't see a need to taste literally every object, surface and curio in the crypt.
>Not now that Mercy was doing it anyway.
>The mare turned her thoughts towards the conundrum that was the incomplete nature of this portion of the crypt. It had not been entered since construction, had not been finished like the earlier portions and there didn't seem to be any overt traps to deter anypony from exploring too greedily and too deep.
>Why?
>She was less certain than she had been earlier.
>Answers lay below, as did the unknown.
>Sunny hated surprises, she much preferred to do the surprising.
"This environment has been hermetically sealed for a long time by the scent, sir. It's strange that the builders would go to such lengths to cast preservative enchantments, yet not finish construction. Further, there's no telling whether construction was abandoned due to external events or something that occurred within the crypt itself. There's evidence to support both theories, but nothing concrete for either. We're still blind."

>Ears perked just a little straighter at the sound of the music, Sunny finished counting, stating quietly and matter of factly to Jeff.
"Repetition every twenty seconds. Either automated, or made by a pony with an excellent sense of time. No discernible differences between the sounding of each set."
>That in itself wasn't anything unusual.
>Assuming it wasn't automated, whoever was making it could just be extremely well practiced at reproducing each sound as precisely as the next.
"Possibly bat pony due to En-Kee's need for clear, precise repetition of audio cues to denote meaning. Not surprising given the location. Origin still unclear at this stage."

>An irate tail flick.
>The probability of them being taken unprepared and by surprise was increasing drastically with the continued lack of concrete information. At best they had schematics that may not even be accurate for the deeper chambers and precedence for lunar-solar war experiments and potentially hostile undead and/or spectral entities.
>The lack of consistency where she would expect it and the high consistency where she would not set Sunny's brow in a furrow. This crypt was bent on remaining inscrutable to her senses and deductive reasoning, it didn't help her patience that observable details were becoming even more scarce the deeper they got.
>Failure. Frustrating.

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

[1d6+3 = 5]
< B. Traps
[1d6+3 = 4]

Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.211100
211437
>>210831
"Sure, I don't have one with me."
>"I highly doubt the hangguards to my hook swords are durable enough to crack amber open without being damaged."
>While Bubba prefers to pay a total upfront, he did realize that carrying a load of money around always asks for trouble.
"I can drop down nine eighty in that case, if you want."
>He figured it wouldn't hurt to suggest as such.
>He cracks a bit of a smirk at the exchange.
"I'm in no rush, I can have one ear talked off."
>He takes a moment to stow the coconut away inside a jacket pocket.
"Sure, it'd be good to know about the other things you all sell."
>"And what modifications they can do to my stuff. Like with that bamboo."
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
P1FBT
?
No.211108
211649
>>210928
"Yeah yeah, the point still stands."
"While my knowledge on the subject is kind of limited... I'd guess that most things aside from wood, aside from turning that into basic fuel."
>I spend a moment on staring at the screen.
"Once she's closer to us, yes."
>"Hopefully this does not immediately bite us in the ass."
Mallia Castella
mQ3FH
?
No.211150
211734
>>210822
>As the pegasus knight removed her helmet, Mallia raised their hands to the sides of hers to do the same. Though she keeps it by her side, instead of putting it on the table.
>She payed rapt-attention to Raindrop as she explained away; though Mallia's head tilts at the mention of any titles and rune magic, staring at the knight inquisitively, as her brow rises slowly across her forehead.
>Though she did playfully, but cheekily smirk towards the knight still, after her 'challenge'; giving her a good-natured pout to imitate hers, before her eyes dart away again, towards the stormtrooper.

>Her lips slowly curled into a sad, mournful frown as, she kept staring towards the Stormtrooper's auspex, her left eye barely-visibly twitching as Raindrop explains how it had happened. Prompting a slow, understanding, but troubled nod.
>Chest heaving as a slow, sighing breathe is taken in, and out. Drumming her fingers along the edge of her own helmet, as she goes silent. Darting her eyes.

"I... Have many questions."
>She turned her head back to Raindrop Raspberry with a small, apologetic smile.
"I don't know what any of those titles mean. I know nothing of crystal runes. Or even what an Arcane Blade is; or what minibears are..."
>She paused at that, reaching up with one hand to nervously rub at a spot along the side of her neck as she chuckled mirthlessly,
"Heheh-- Eh, I don't even know what a 'Spa' is, heh!..."

>The Enginseer took a moment to glance at the Pegasus' eyes, as if exploring them for a brief second. Before chuckling to herself again, giving off a tiny squee beneath her breath as her voice accidentally rises in pitch, having to cover her lips to hide her overtly wide smile.

(Why. Is. this. equine. so. cute looking.)

"Y'know -- with what you said you were gonna do with my time, I almost kind of WANT to loose, just so I can spend time with you doing something I've never done before."
>She snorts through her nose and pushes out her lips into a big ol' good-natured pout,
"'s not fair... You can't just make defeat sound so enticing."
>Her pout quickly evaporates, replaced with a genuinely warm smile. Reaching out with a hand to give Raindrop a single ruffle of her mane, then sticking out her tongue at her.

>Though she pauses there to let the mare make her response, Mallia's glance keeps drifting off. Brow furrowing slightly with concern, cheek being swallow in and nibble onto, eyes shifting and gazing into the maps beside them. Her hand returning limply at her side, drawing their hand across the strap holding her lasgun to her shoulder.

(I wonder if we just got lucky. We managed to kill that thing with no casualties; maybe... Maybe SOMETHING went right. Something happened. Because... Because if they are really that strong, as I saw then how is it we killed it so easily?)

(Maybe it just wanted to die. That could be it. Or maybe the Inquisitor did something. Or perhaps it was just that Crystal Pony's intervention... Or the explosives. Or the las...)

>A slow, irritated sigh slowly drags itself out of her nose, followed by a soft, little growl as she tried to make logic out of a few things...

"... Why was it even here in the first place?..."
>She frowned worriedly, as she whispered that question beneath her breath. Mostly to herself.
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.211358
211738
>>210881
>Zhun thought about it for a second before accepting the bill himself
"I think I'll deliver it to her. Also, can you show how much that we ordered? Need to see how big that order was."
>That first one is a big if
>Especially if that visitor from before decides to see me
>Actually might die of fright this time
"Funny, I was looking into Snootadishu as well. The base doesn't know much about the place though. I guess no one decided to pay the place a visit."
>Gozka? The minotaur land.
>She could be a lead
>Although, Zhun wonders if he is allowed to get more than what is asked
>Might break the bank, even if it is a fuckton of bits
"That last one is interesting. About the old pony and old pony armor. What does she deal in?"


Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.211363
211983
>>210897
>Regular incursions
>But another one?
"So you are tasked with the Lonely One. There's another mothership?"
>Inspecting the inside, the interior is huge
>The bomb racks inside were interesting
>Clem however can't imagine this thing dropping the ponies onto the ship
>The apparent ramming he observed seemed more feasible
>How strong is this thing anyway and how did other ships like it get killed?
>He gives a glance over to the few Destroyers around
>Hearing the considerably more happy harpy, he looks to both the aft and stern
>And that blue static
>Thinking it might be power transference or the data of the harpy itself, he dismisses it and heads for the aft
"Tech-arcane weaponry? Do the Rites use these on there incursions to the mothership?"
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.211394
212048
>>210955
>Pareidolia clasps his gloved hands together, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Possible. Whatever her organization's protocols were, she clearly disregarded them and considered them inferior considering her ranting. I doubt she would be trusting enough to accept therapy from anyone here."

>He looks up as Broken Hoof mentions outposts and ruins, exhaling through his helmet filters.

[Elemental experiments? Was he looking to undo what happened to him? And yet another pony under dire circumstances relying on Spiral to save them... ]

>Standing up, he moves to check the embedded mailbox with an equally stern expression.

"Number of ponies relying on Spiral for serious assistance is concerning. I don't understand why he would leave without taking them."
Starborn Cloud Suite: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.211400
211428
>>210865
"But, you're experiencing the same cravings that most ponies, especially mares, suffer from after severe trauma or extended combat situation, that much I can tell-"
>Relief floods your mind and body at the wondrously saline-laden water, Hodch's face crumpled in a confounded mix of concern, understanding... and deep seated fear.
"Which tells me more than I'd ever want to know. I've had more than my fair share of narrow escapes, captures, and being tortured for information. You want to know what I think right now? I DON'T want to think right, especially since you are inhabiting the body of a young breeding age mare and I am completely disturbed by it this so thank you for horrifying me beyond every possible future I could've seen!"
>Sighing disgustedly, the half-full bag of hay fries are lifted right in front of your snout, as are the pressed rice cake bars.
>Both of which cause your impetuously demanding, mostly unfilled, and unfulfilled, stomach to grumble angrily.
"..no, most ponies like them plain. Look, I can solve the dehydration and any other pain you feel, but only after you've eaten. Right now you need to tell me every single damned thing you even remotely want and I'll get it for you. So, again, Lunar eatery or Empire bar? None of the ponies in either one are going to ask questions and I can easily trade for whatever you require."
>At this, the many, MANY irritable new bits of your anatomy relax for a moment.. before twisting angrily in both pain and excitement at the motion of 'anything'.
>This, of course, wasn't what you wanted, but it was what you were dealing with at the moment.
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
lmsey
?
No.211428
212121
>>211400

>She sighed and threw up a hoof into the air in an exaggerated shrug.
"I don't know Hodch. I have told you what I am craving at the moment and that all I feel is pain, everywhere! My entire body! Nothing paticularly hurts more than any other part of my body at the moment other than the black hole that is my stomach. I am so fucking hungry right now I could eat a horse!"
>The mare looks at the rice cakes, her hunger for other things somehow preventing her from immidiately eating the fries and rice cakes.
>She pushes them away for the moment.
>There needed to be more room for what she actually needed.
>A hard choice but a bunch of starch and carbs would not do for her at the moment.
"Okay Hodch... I want... Chocolate coverered apples, salted caramel candy, cucumbers, carrots, wine, chocolate covered pretzels, cinnamon rolls, wine, grapes, mango, pineapple, and god damn if I could eat meat again candied bacon! I would love some of that right now if I were still human!"
>Nova grunts, annoyed at herself and this new body.
>She puts her two hooves on the ground in front of her and slowly lays down.
"Just... Let's go. Feeding the beast seems to be working."
The Clinic: Frost Egg & Nova Flicker
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.211432
211516
>>210878
>Trudging from the Clinic's only entrance/exit towards the central medical bed on the right side, Nova Flicker stares up at you with a dazzling expression of self-hatred.
>Either that, or acknowledging her incompetence from whatever narcolepsy truly is.
>Reaching the eastern central bed at a pace that was somewhere between needing a few days in a gym to recover and full force cardio workout, the carnelian Crystal-unicorn wiggles herself out of your grasp sideways, whimpering under her breath as she does so.
"Please do not tell me what I can do without knowing what I am supposed to be doing!"
>Falling down to land on a puffy white cloud, Nova Flicker rolls over across it to stand above the Prench stallion, a dense cluster of lights shining in the same color as her coat.
"What do you need me to do?"
>The scalpel is tossing into the center of the Clinic while Frost Egg's entire face twists in pain, bright rainbow hued blood trickling from her nostrils while pointing at the back of the pegasi's head.
"Tell me what this acid is why it feels like my skull is splitting and HOW TO MAKE IT STOP-"
>Throwing a forehoof out and lodging it in the Combat Medic's mouth, the Crystal-unicorn hybrid bends down, sniffing carefully, likewise staring at the unseen motions for a few moments.
>Removing the hoof, Nova places it down while her jaw clenches several times in a row.
>Head turning around to face your direction, trickles of blood beginning streaming from her nostrils as well, leaning back as far as she could and speaking in a pained tone.
"That is the raw venom from a Saddle Arabian species of serpent known as the Ark Viper. Detox and superior broad spectrum antidotes are capable of reducing the effects but they cannot fully negate them. ..I am starting to feel ill. Leave the aerosol radius immediately-"
>Standing up, Frost Egg steps backwards to the edge of the medical bed while Nova Flicker keeps her neck and head turned in your direct, eyes shut tightly.

>Barely within sight, a small, metallic silver balloon directly behind the stallion's ear is seen inflating, making an incredibly strange sound akin to metal being torn under high temperature.
>The silver globe pulses in a rhythmic manner, slowly reaching the size of a grapefruit while Frost places her left forehoof in the middle of her snout, visibly trying to halt the bleeding, and failing to do so.
>Glancing upwards to meet your eyes for a moment, the purple robed mare turns her stare onto the cantaloupe sized silver sphere connected to a roughly pencil-thin, flexible stalk.
"..Mister Gallo, what is the largest or most potent incendiary weapon that you currently have in your possession?"
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.211433
211619 211726
>>211064
>A merry, ragged snicker is what you receive from Mercy, reaching the lower floor nearly five seconds before you do.
>Shining the flashlight's nearly apologetic high beam down through the stairwell, it was able to illuminate the Void-enshrouded pegasi's cheerful half-skipping down the stairs.
>Catching up to her at the lower doors in the middle, Mercy had stopped to stare at each one, her wingblades now doing more than glowing: they were on fire.
>That is, covered in oddly soothing bright pink flames dancing across each blade from the outermost primary to the innermost secondary.
>The closer you came to the black granite double doors the colder the air temperature was.

>Quite nonplussed with the Spirit Walker's antics, the Belligerent had taken hold of her mane with both hands, crushing the mechanic's tool bag under an arm and turning his head in your direction.
"I am able to hear the music spoken of commander. Miss Mercy is capable of relaying what she experiences to other sapients in direct contact but this tune does not seem to be a warning, it is both too calm and metered in cadence."
"It is fine Boris, there is.. nothing down here save for an empty.. crypt."

>>211080
>Trailing down the stairwell after the human and other pegasus, after analyzing all possible locations for traps, wards, or sorcerous marks that, this entire section was even more blank than the ceremonial chamber.
>Reaching the underground floor without a hint of pressure plates or trip mechanisms on the stairs, the air was rapidly approaching chilly temperatures.

>Seemingly unaffected by the cold, Mercy leans up against the right door this time leading into the underground chamber, pushing with all of her body weight, and barely moving it.
"This one is.. so heavy, why?"
Cairn Wharf: The Sea Shack
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.211437
211484
>>211100
"Hay, get one of the hammers out here please!"
>Waving a wing upwards at one of the other Sea's Bounty ponies, the midnight blue mare turns her eyes back to you with an uncaring shrug.
"Nah, none of us really care much so don't worry about paymarent. Far as we're concerned we owe Razorback more than fifty foals, and Naliyna's always been good on her word from what I know."
>Giving you a mildly sincere 'I told you so' smile, the Ferron turns about to whistle at her younger sister.
"You heard the Razorback. Go ahead and let him have the whole armor assortment we have on hoof."
>Sitting up as her eyes widen and taking the biggest inhale possible, the filly's chest twitches, then chokes, devolving into a coughing fit.
>Lips quirking, the mare shakes her head as she begins poking one of each rough, hard amber round towards the empty end of the counter.
"Got her a bit too excited, give her a minute or else she'll pass out."

>Placing each of the amber chunks down, a rather serious looking dark green mare passes by, dropping an impressively modest looking blacksmith's hammer next to the pile.
>Lifting the handle up for you to take, the midnight mare's eyebrows raise at her sister calming from the fit, then gestures towards the rounds.
"Eh.. maybe another minute. Or five, hard to tell with her some nights. In the meanwhile, have a crack at 'em."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
Oxl2a
?
No.211484
212252
>>211437
>Bubba was pretty sure she inhaled a bug.
>Or had a stroke.
>One or the other.
>"Most of their stuff likely won't fit me, but I doubt that'll be an issue."
>Taking the hammer from her, Bubba took a moment to get a feel for its weight, before starting on the chunks of amber, beginning at the smallest and working his way up the line.
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.211516
212258
>>211432
>Cheto nods as he kneels down to search for his gas mask.
"Is there any way to transport this pony out of the clinic? We may compromise the whole building if that bubble of venom explodes."
>He fishes out his gas mask and puts it on with its respective air filter already attached.
>After this, he quickly pulls out a molotov from his bandoleer and a lighter from his pockets.
>He lights the rag on the molotov with the lighter and presents the flaming bottle to Frost, extending his molotov arm towards her slightly while putting back the lighter in his pockets after extinguishing its flame.
"I have two more of these if you need more fire."
>He takes this time to check on the ticking pony time bomb's current wellbeing. See if anything other than the big grapefruit lump is currently wrong with the patient. He also observes the two medics as well to see if anything else has occurend.
(So far I've seen it make nosebleeds but I must be sure that the skin or hide is intact. I'd like not to get my skin burnt off. Maybe see if any other parts of the body are bleeding from the venom like the eyes, ears or any other holes.)
[1d6 = 6]

[1d6 = 6]
<Basic Perception
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.211619
211726 212331
>>211433
>>211080
>Catching up to his other squadmates, Jeff notices Mercy's pink glades literally dancing with intense flames.
>And as they neared another set of black granite doors, presumably going into the actual crypt, it started to get cold. Really cold.
>Like he can see his breath cold.
>It didn't really bother him, as the heatstone embedded in his armor kicked on a bit, but it was a telltale sign of something... ghostly was going on.
"Maybe it's a lullaby to keep the vampires asleep, Boris. Heh."
>Jeff visually scoff at Mercy's nonchalant reply, certain signs to him not agreeing with it.
"That's not what your wing blades are saying. They're lit of up like a bonfire, and this temperature drop almost feel unnatural. Don't spectrals and ghosts usually make those?"
>As the Spirit Walker tries to open the doors, they didn't seem to budge.
>He puts away his revolver and squares himself up with the left door.
"Nothing a little heav-ho'ing won't fix. Let me give it a go."
[1d6+4 = 8]
<M.Leadership: Assault
[1d6+4 = 9]

[1d6+4 = 6]

[1d6+4 = 8]

>Jeff activates his sticky enchantment to dig his feet into the floor and hands onto the black marble and gives the door a hearty shove.
[1d6+8 = 9]
<Perfect Grip
[1d6+8 = 11]
<Close Quarters
[1d6+7 = 8]
<E.Assault: Pushing Force
[1d6+7 = 9]

[1d6+7 = 11]

[1d6+7 = 9]
<M.Adrenaline Rush
[1d6+7 = 13]

[1d6+7 = 9]

Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.211649
213681
>>211108
>Pulling one of the large steel harpoons into view on the right screen, the Eldritch abomination's speakers relay an exasperated noise.
"Mom, I'm not even a thousandth as important as you, so either don't argue with me or start agreeing, there are no other choices."
>Breaching something outside the chest cabin, the brief scent of heated metal becomes apparent as Wild shifts from leg to leg.
"Understood. Once the waveforms have completed I will begin experimenting with material refinements, need something better than steel to reinforce myself with. Chest cabin reinforcement: seventy-three percent complete. Secondary oxygen tank status: fifty-eight percent complete."
>Sheaving the weapon's shaft apart into small half-cylinders, each of the tendrils begin welding them around the cabin, Wild's left screen flickers to show a worryingly large red circle expanding from the estimated offshore impact zone.
[1d6+4 = 9]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 6]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #7

"Long range scans concluded. Update: approximately four-point-five minutes remain before wave impacts occur. Orders updated: prevention of unnecessary deaths now Primary Priority Two. Initiating contact now-"
>Cutting off her internal communications, Wild's external speakers begin to broadcast her voice, though it was barely heard inside the cabin due to the additional reinforcements.
"ATTENTION UNKNOWN PEGASUS: IN FOUR AND A HALF MINUTES NUMEROUS OCEANIC WAVES WILL STRIKE THIS SHORE. ESTIMATED WAVE HEIGHT: THIRTY METERS. ESTIMATED NUMBER OF WAVES: THIRTY TO FORTY. EVACUATE TO THE SAFEST POSSIBLE LOCATION IMMEDIATELY."
>The splotch of movement ceases, lifting off the shore, presumably in flight, before rapidly disappearing towards the west.
>Left hand raising out of sight, the sound of Wild rubbing her armored head creaks outside.
"Close enough to hear at least. I hope that will be enough to save them. Initiating long range scans centered on the unknown Construct vessel now-"
[1d6 = 6]
<Arcanum Sensors Array
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.211726
212331 212622
1466220527390.png
>>211433
>>211619
>Taking note of Mercy's blades and the rapidly lowering ambient temperature, Sunny whispers as she takes positions behind the other two, eye on the door.
"I'll believe that when we've cleared the crypt and found nothing."
>If they couldn't open the door, she might have to slip through it using what the Ceranul taught her.
>It'd take a lot out of her and she'd have to do it twice, once to get in and another to get out, but she should be able to withstand that level of physiological strain.
>She'd only be able to take one of them with her at most, as well.

"Sir, if it proves necessary, I can bypass this door if you're unable to open it."
>There could only be a few reasons it was so heavy. Worst case scenario it was intended to keep whatever was within sealed inside.
>And by no means did she believe anything on the other side was intended to get out.
>That or it may be barricaded from the other side.
>She could still do nothing but speculate wildly and it irritated her.
>Sunny felt a little guilty that Jeff and Mercy had been doing all the door opening up to now.
>Her attention on the parts of the door she could see around the others, she observed it for the same incompleteness this portion of the crypt had also displayed.
>Ears continued to twitch towards the door, attempting to pick up even the most minute of sounds beyond the repeating music.

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

[1d6+3 = 7]
< B Traps
[1d6+3 = 7]

Razorback Fortress: The Command Center
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.211734
211892
>>211150
>Head tilting, Raindrop's lips make a comical S-shape while her ears flop to either side.
"Minibears are tiny ursines, about-"
>Lifting one front hoof a foot or so off the stone.
"This tall. They're usually fairly scared of anything bigger than them. The Arcane Blades are a marecenary pegasi squadron that protect others from esoteric and nonphysical threats, you'll see them quite a bit here. As for Crystal Runes and psionics, they're like most forms of magic except they happen instantly or at the speed of their thoughts. You'd have to watch them being used for a while, or ask Naliyna, she'll show you what she's able to do."
>Taking note of your confusion, the Knight's eyebrows furrow together as her face crinkles in a deceptively pleased manner.
"You don't know what a spa is? It's basically a swimming pool except for being filled with hot water. They're made to relax and unwind in, relieve stress, have fun, make new friends, that sort."
>Cracking a deep smile at the ruffling, Raindrop's mane was, as expected, still wet and quite luxurious to the touch.
>Wriggling her neck under your hand, the neon raspberry mare looks up at you with an expressive, possibly even pleased smile.
"If you wanna do that again, go ahead. It's like your hands were designed for that sort of contact.. were you professionally trained?"
>Calmly blinking at the study, her snout wiggles several times in curious reciprocation, her eyebrows raising with a peculiar air of sureness.
"Then I'm gonna make sure I win. Even if I don't win, which I'm sure will happen, I'll show you the best places around Tallus."

>Bladed wings lifting in a disarming, or in this case dishoofing shrug, the Knight rocks backwards, left ear twitching upwards while the right swivels around in a small circle.
"Somepony or a human that didn't know much about them must've scavenged one that wasn't completely destroyed and brought it here. Probably spent a few hours repairing itself before activating. Biggest problem with Constructs is they work in pairs; if one is destroyed the survivor goes berserk, becoming faster, stronger, more accurate, recover quicker, use new tactics. I don't know much about them except to leave the area at maximum speed or outnumber them ten to one using teamwork to keep them from causing more damage. There's not a single marecenary that accepts contracts to deal with Constructs, not even minotaurs or Gryphons.. which should tell you how damned nasty they are to deal with."

>Ears perking up at Chisan stepping out from the doorway and walking to the opposite side of the map table, the Scion's helmet shakes negatively.
"Operational staff are too sleep deprived and busy to answer necessary questions. There is a small problem that must be taken care of first. The sanctioned Knight-"
>Gesturing towards the neon red mare currently admiring you with an odd look, then quickly looking away with a partially abashed expression.
"And I must search for a missing rookie team. Four hours ago they were dispatched without equine support to recover what they could from a city abandoned three to four years prior to now. It was heavily scouted approximately one week prior to now and there were no indications of enemy presences. Communications ceased three hours ago according to the command staff here. No replies have been sent since."
>Clicking into the private voxlink, the Stormtrooper mutters quietly into his bead.
*"The Inquisitor has ordered me to undertake all rescue operations if humans have disappeared or do not return in time. Should you choose to accompany us I am hereby requesting your full assistance."
The Crystal City-State: Industrial Sector
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.211738
212367
>>211358
"One hoof of seconds please!"
>Poking something on the hololith screen, a large, paper-sized sheet of flexible crystal is printed, or something like that, out from your side of the desk to take.
>..which was covered in Crystal pony runes.
>That you could not read.
>Giving another apologetic smile, Three-Point lifts both hooves in your direction.
"There you go! I'm really sorry I can't sell you more, we haven't delivered the orders for Tartarus Isle, Cloud Company, Earthforged Companions, Central Equestrian Gold Host, or even Terra Company, the little tiny group of human marecenaries."
>Tipping her snout upwards for a polite smile, the young mare taps her forehooves together happily.
"Zebras are friendly for the most part, they love having company from Equestria. That and they have huge beaches that only a few ponies visit! But, um, I'd suggest going to all of them until we can fulfill next year's shipmarent."
>Turning her chair towards the hololith, she pokes up at the screen for a few moments, making several low, amusing kissing sounds with her lips in thought.
"Humm.. ground Haze Fern, raw Seqoyya sprigs, Draft Root juice, Snap-Berry powder, young powdered Sawgrass, just to name a few. Mostly raw elemental attribute alchemy stuff and really good binding agents. She also salvages a few things from the ruins around Old Canterlot but won't sell or trade them."
>Blinking slowly, Peach Quartz turns her chair in your direction, putting on a somewhat sultry, tender expression.
"Buuut.. since there's basically nothing to do right now and I'm super bored, I'll make you a deal. Do a TINY little favor for me I'll let you take something to give to Astra Gallus that she's been wanting for a few years. I'm not supposed to 'trade' it to her without an up front contract, but if you do she'll give you the Crystal Empire discount for sure."

>In the words of your spiritual liege: 'oh HELL yeah!'
Mallia Castella
CyIdh
?
No.211892
212360
>>211734
>Mallia, for the most part, looked to Raindrop and listened in rapt-attention as she gives her brief, but important details; soaking the information like a sponge thanks to her micro-cogitator, which she tells to briskly create more folders to store and organize the information in their own categories, in order.
>She also takes note of the fact that Raindrop likes being pat, and keeps that information as well.

>Slowly nodding her head in quiet understanding, she goes on to widen her smile into an amused grin as the knight lowkey asks her for more pats.
>Even asking if she's 'professionally trained in petting'

"Heheh! N-no, not really. They don't teach me to pet things where I'm from."
>She giggled heartily to her own words. Eagerly, but gently leaning her hand up against Raindrop's furred neck to gently pet along her fur idly
"That does sound fun though..."
>Her grin turns back into an eager smile after the explanation about the Spa, giving a little wiggle up and down again which is even followed by her mechadendrite, which makes her backpack noisily rattle about against her Axe and shield.

>The petting doesn't stop even after Raindrop replies to the question she had asked mostly to herself, though in a surprisingly exhaustive manner... Though it does slow down as she starts to glance off, frowning with some concern specifically at the bits about the constructs.

(That seems like an oddly sentient and ... Emotional behavior for a machine like that. Perhaps even illogical. Why don't they do that before their comrade is taken out? Infact, why don't they do it all the time if they are capable of it? Why do they...)

>Her mind's eye defocuses as she likewise hears the Stormtrooper stepping back to them. The short woman that was Mallia looked back and slightly up towards Chisan, regarding him with a firmly neutral, pensive glance.
>The news that her questions would remain unanswered did not phase her too much.
>It was then that the petting of Raindrop pauses though; now merely affectionately resting her hand on their back idly, as she regarded the Stormtrooper intently.

>After the vox communication however, she retracts her hand and briskly slips her helmet back on, taking a moment to adjust it with a few practiced movements, before answering the voxlink.
>She doesn't quite catch the stare from the mare below in that moment; focused entirely on Chisan.

"*Understood. I will assist you however I am able with my still limited assets.*"

>She gives him a quick, but firm nod of her helmeted head; before sighing audibly through her respirator, putting her hand on her lasrifle's strap, shifting her weight more to her left leg, rolling her shoulders.
>The Enginseer starts to slowly step around the map table, looking down at the maps, then up to the Stormtrooper in anticipation of him pointing out where they'd be going.

"Must we depart immediately? You still need your Auspex restored. Ontop of that I still need to inspect your equipment, and I must also take care of my helmet and laspistol at the very least..."

>Then, as her voice trails off, she glanced back down to the pegasus knight and gazes down at them for a good second.
"... And what is the problem with the sanctioned knight, exactly?"
>She returned her eyes to Chisan, her voice taking on a slightly confused tone.
"She's our 'equine support', isn't she?"
Basin Arena: The Guillotine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.211983
212369
>>211363
>A sharp, annoyed inhale and rather angry tone becomes your answer.
*"Dost thou not recall mineself's words moments past? Mineself spaketh this prior: thee Lonely One be thee mate of motherly Constructed Two vessel above within thee Endless Ocean. Mineself, hosts of kin, an'hosts of Tallus kine aided bringing down Lonely One's mate upon Tallus ages past. Only thee Lonely One remaineth, grace; trifle not upon mine knowings."*
>That definitely didn't go as planned.

>Most of the remaining Destroyers tap the arms holding them, and, of course, fall down onto the lower racks where they begin hopping down each level towards your direction.
>The ramp opposite you lowers, less than fifty batponies streaming around you and the opposite side while receiving passing glances from their angled diamond helmets.

>Unable to find a ladder going up or down, and sensing the risk of jumping down to the lower racks was too much, the pulsing beam of white-blue static appeared to be the only choice for moving around.
>Finding no other option, stepping into the cylinder of light it appeared to register your thought of 'aft', floating you down slowly towards the converted vessel's lower section.
*"Nay, grace; mine carried chiropteran equines comply by thee Rites of Destruction: destroy thee Constructed Twos by they hoof, claw, an' manabomb. Minotaur Klavists destroy by axe, hammer, mace, polearm, an' fist. Mine tech-arcane weaponry be for mineself tae use upon Constructed Twos, severing thy's hull in twain, whereupon mineself delivers Rites of Destruction within."

>Slowly being lowered into the vessel's aft, hundreds of rotating Destroyer racks pass by, each aligned in position on rotating rings, probably to deliver as many happy suicide batponies as possible, you're stopped upon reaching the lowest level.
>Finding another catwalk, this one with rails, the empty racks above held nothing.
>Upon looking downwards, the sight below was startling:
>Perhaps sixty minotaurs were arrayed in rows of ten, six levels deep, visibly locked in silent stasis cells.
>Each looked as if there were merely halted in the middle of battle frenzy, eyes wild, bloodshot, and wide open in fury.
>you quickly noted the sacrificial minotaurs all bore thickly segmented, layered and hardened steel armor bearing the grim earthy and dull red Hegemony colors.
>Likewise, all clasped one, or a pair of, cruelly armor-piercing weapons, everything from pickaxes, spiked maces, all steel clubs with quartets of four spikes on either direction, short warpikes, and even a massive, 9' tall halberd in one case.

>The harpy's voice returns again, this time incredibly proud.
*"Thy see mine Klavist Rites of Destruction, grace? Bear them minself havest to thee Lonely One many times. Naught but one havest been destroyed."*
Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212048
212244
>>211394
>Swinging around in the rendered model chair, the A.I. tosses a hoof upwards in approval with a wide smile.
"That, sir, is one of many reasons I was created! Most humans will inevitably suffer irrecoverable losses and deal with the resulting trauma in their own typically self-destructive manners and ways. I was trained to recognize, understand, soothe, deal with, treat, and aid in recovering from operator trauma, just like I brought you back from the potential effects of short term insanity against the Construct! In addition, I am also outside the circle of human suffering therefore I'm perfectly neutral in the matter. In short, sir: I'm asking your permission to attempt my many psychological recovery-state protocols with 'Flash' when she recovers. Of course, I'll also try to acquire relevant technological information and usable knowledge from her."
"Hrm.. but, the possibility of one large scale engagement against Constructs is becoming more likely which would cause suffering on a mass scale, something I wouldn't be able to deal with. Is there a cybernetics section available on this base, sir?"
>Briefly remembering one of the more technologically advanced Operators in Razorback, an unusually stern, grim tech-knight of some sort, named Kunid Erakoi.
>He spent most of his time performing electronic work to his ever finicky powered exoarmor, though helped other humans out from time to time.

>Pulling open the mailbox's cover, a plethora of items inside were neatly stacked next to each other:
>The first was a half-folded, hard board backed map showing the location of a small Middle Dynasty outpost roughly 19 miles northeast of the Fortress, along with six vellum paper notes covered in both Spiral's and Mist Dancer's impeccable writing styles.
>Second was a much smaller map of the Skybrook region including the area where Skykeep had drifted to and eventually settled above.
>The third was a set of official Day Guard records accompanied by a hard backed, twice-folded crystal map of the New Everfree showing 6 early Dynasty, 11 Middle Dynasty, and 1 Late Dynasty buildings, all of which were within 500 miles of Razorback Fortress.
-Off to the side and alone was a peculiar map of somewhere in southeast Caneighdia showing the precise location of an Early Dynasty ruin, one that made Razorback Fortress look tiny in comparison.
>Unlike the others, four volumes of varied sizes and eras, each bearing Canterlot Underground's insignia, were placed atop a quite large work tablet sized, though 2" thick, crystalline device.
>Which, strangely, looked more like a ground-penetrating radar screen.

"As I stated before sir, I'm ninety-eight point seven percent confident that Marquis du Spiral was more than capable of exploring.. whatever he wanted, really. The indications we've seen and heard so far mostly prove that he left with the expectation of a quick search and return, but was unable to. I've no knowledge of why exactly since I have little knowledge of this world's general dangers, sir."
>Taking an image of each, the A.I. blips out for a moment, then returns to stare awkwardly at the last item.
"These match what were described from the.. messages? Is.. is that a micro-laptop? I thought this form of technology didn't exist here?"
The Crystal City-State: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212121
212334
>>211428
>Hodch facehoofs with a plaintive, half-amused, half-despairing snort.
"You are a mare now, so, go ahead and eat yourself but I don't want to watch. Then again I'll probably regret having to teach you the gateway spells. Still, the more specific information I know the fewer problems I'll have treating you."
>Lifting the excellent smelling hay fries up to noisily bite into a few, the Starborn reservist shrugs after swallowing.
"That horn on your head means more than the ability to work with, shape, draw out, drain, or expulse Anima. It's a term used by some of the Extra-Planar Harpies. In short it means 'all living energies'. You'll learn more on that later, but the downside is this: consuming any amount of flesh will do worse than kill you, if not much worse, so you'd better accept being a strict vegetarian as quickly as possible. Eggs don't count and I'm not sure why.. also, a tiny amount of seafood once per month is relatively safe so long as you take the necessary precautions."
>Losing roughly 75% of the formerly crippling pain in favor of merely being exhausted, a bit warm from the bottle of wine, and physically sore in ways that your psyche STILL couldn't comprehend, there was still a great deal of hunger.
>Upon lying down a pair of sharp, unwelcome pleasures between your rear legs flare up once more.
>Having teats was definitely going to be a nuisance.
"Let me clean up a bit while I think about someplace that might work better.. maybe the Five Star in Prance would be better?"
>Lofted into an ethereal cloud the same color as Hodch's coat before worse could happen, the sensation was akin to zero gravity, and most importantly caused zero pressure.
>While you weren't able to see out of it clearly the cloud functioned more like an isolated dimension micro-dimension.
"Better enjoy that while it lasts. I mostly use that space for storing food."
>Audibly tidying the tiny room while you hear what might have been a short 'and bodies' under his breath, Hodch munches on the rice cakes.
>Empty bottles and debris are removed, except for the slowly crystallizing, now scentless blood, the still full bottles floated into the other room.
"And now-"
>Turning around, Hodch makes a brief series of motions with a forehoof, dull colors streaming off his horn while bizarre coronas of visible, barely pulsing energies roll outwards.
>Several sets of dull purple reins form around his neck, chest, and barrel, connected by two leads under the cloud.
>Taking an short step forwards, the cloud, and you, glide forwards smoothly.
"Hm.. getting rusty, but this should do."
>Float-dragged into the middle of a relatively comfortable sitting room lacking decorations, the world twitches slightly as Hodch taps what sounded like a translocation matrice made of hard cloud.

>Instead of vertigo or nausea, the unexpected trip through the Vortex Remnant was rather calming, filled with fascinating sensations that felt like living concepts flowing through endless numbers of lazy rivers.
>Reality returns in the form of the Crystal Empire's abnormally dense lighting, although considerably dulled at the moment.
"Three Corners should have most of what you want except for the grapes and salted caramel, those are usually gone long before midnight."
>The pocket cloud glides forwards once more, Hodch calling over his shoulder in stifled mirth.
"So, from one professional to another: any useful 'new discoveries' you'd like to share that won't make me regret this little excursion? Other than taking you to the best spa here and having getting you acquainted with the troubles of mane and tail styling, or taking care of your hooves, it might be a better idea to hoof you over to one of my more.. classy associates."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.212244
212894
>>212048
>Pareidolia blinks twice in rapid succession considering the ramifications as he reaches the mailbox in the stairwell.

"That was one of your tertiary purposes, but your request will be belayed until I have more information on Flash's personal history and personality. Her volatility presents a major risk to interacting with her. And no, this base functions at an estimated 15% of what the Committee's surface assets provided without comparable cybernetics infrastructure. I would need to consult individual operators with cybernetics expertise."

>Staring at the bewildering array of parchments, notes, maps, and a single crystal tablet of some kind, he carefully removes all of them and takes them into the lab.
>Unfurling them all and arraying them in a line across the table, he scans over them.

[Only Spiral would be able to see the connections in a series of maps this large... ]

"Then confirmation of his status is imperative. It would take a great deal to bring down someone of his caliber."

>He nods as the A.I. remarks.

"The Crystal Empire has independently developed hololiths and processing devices based on their ability to manipulate crystal runes and resonance. They are typically only accessible to crystal ponies or magic users unless modifications are made."
Cairn Wharf: The Sea Shack
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212252
212253 213143
>>211484
>Hefting the three pound hammer up, it was one of many common blacksmithing variants that you'd seen Spiral, Krinza, and Aiutante using.
>Cracking open the cantaloupe sized chunk first, it falls apart quite easily.
[1d100 = 27]
<Ancient Treasure: Small
>The second took a bit more force, the exterior fracturing through like cracking an egg shell.
[1d100 = 51]
<Ancient Treasure: Medium
>Gripping the hammer in both hands for the large one, it takes a trio of hits to crack the hard layered shell, then another one to smash open the internal layer.
[1d500 = 177]
<Ancient Treasure: Large
>Moderately concerned over the giant, rough amber round, the first blow takes a chunk off, sending it flying into the shack's rear, none of the Ferron mares caring much as if this was a rather common event.
>Beating on it a few more times finally exposes a series of much harder, yet thinner and more fragile inner shells that fracture inwards quite easily.
>Breaking through the last one, the midnight blue mare pulls each one towards her for a close inspection of the contents.
"Nice job there Razorback. Gimme a bit to figure these out."
[1d6+3 = 8]
<E.Appraisal
[1d6+3 = 8]

[1d6+3 = 4]

>The filly recovers from her fit, turning a briefly angry stare at her sister.
>Making a series of motions with her wings and left forehoof that you didn't understand, she takes a slow, cautious inhale before speaking up.
"Let me just figure out what we have first."
>Glancing behind her, lips purse several times while she studies the materials.
>Turning back to you, the filly sits back in her chair, front hooves clopping together briskly.
"Okay! We have all of the following:"
"There's a few rolls of red Epkrii Spinetail shark hide! It's pretty light and tough, and it stretches a lot. Kinda resists fire, ice, and water but stays warm. If it freezes it won't fall apart, just put a heatstone on it for a while. Takes about five years to cure right. Umm... I guess about two thousand Bits a roll?"
"There's some Green Dorval plates in the back. It's a big mean armored fishcat thingy that someponies hate because they eat all the little squid. They're toxic, so, really bad for eating, but the plates can absorb poison, acid, and water element stuffs. It takes a while for them to dry but they don't smell bad at all! Maybe three thousand Bits?"
"I know mom moved a roll of Temphil spike-tail hide around here.. ..somewhere. It's a thick blue and dull black streaked hide that looks like it's always under water. Good against plasma, fire, shadow, void and elements. Also smells like hot salt! Three thousand Bits for that one too."
"There's a lot of Hourglass Abalone shells in the back that I've been working on smoothing out. It's pretty shiny stuff, looks like a dark rainbow if you keep it polished! Mom said it's really hard to puncture and absorbs hard blows better than most things. Um, four thousand Bits for a suit of armor from it, I think? But it'll take me a night or so to fit all the pieces together."
"Somepony put a bunch of Island Drake hides in the back and I haven't made anything out of them in a while. It looks like hide covered in little gray and blue scales, but it's pretty to look at! One of mom's older sisters says it's good for sneaking around 'cause it doesn't make much noise. She also said it resists heat and plasma. Dad said I can make a big armor out of it for five thousand Bits."
"Mom got done curing a buncha big Deeprock Ocean Crab claws on the roof a while back. They've got funny bumps all over them but it's hard stuff. Weird bunch of dull red, black, and blue stripes on them. They bend a lot more than most crab shells and it's really hard to puncture. Might be a little bulky but they're kinda quiet so long as you keep a bit of water on the joins. Probably eight thousand bits for that one."
"And last but not least! I've been saving lots of Deepwater Steelback Clam shells off the Empire's coastline, takes a whole night just to flatten one out. They're kinda heavy but mom says they're not actually steel, just any kinda hard metal they eat waaaay up by where the tundra rivers go into ocean. My biggest sister says Crystal ponies and unicorns use them for target practice, so they're probably really good for resisting.. just about anything. It'll take most of us half a night to make a big armor that'd fit you, sooo.. ten thousand Bits sound okay?"
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212253
>>212252
[1d1000 = 58]
<Ancient Treasure: Giant
The Clinic: Frost Egg & Nova Flicker
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212258
212322
>>211516
>Standing up with the hoof still covering her snout, Frost takes two steps backwards to the bed's edge, her tone flatly negative.
"Not as he is now. This.. THING is draining Ark Viper venom from him. None of us caught that so for right now it's doing what we can't."
>Turning an eye up as Nova likewise scoots back, the Combat Medic's eyes narrow briefly, nodding at the inflating silver bulb.
"Ready the other two. Nova, can you teleport something this small?"
"Yes, so long as I do not.. pass out again."
>Surveying the young stallion's few visible wounds and finding neither visible degeneration nor decay, it was quite apparent that the venom had been introduced to him internally, likely from the fractured off red blade that was removed earlier.
>The unusual silver balloon continued to fill at a much slower pace now, gently pulsing in tune with the pegasi's heartbeat you figure.
>Both of the mares were, at the moment, greatly concerned and worried over his situation, having little care for their own well being asides from shielding their bleeding snouts.
>The metallic suction device remains steady for another minute while the pair remain where they were, that is until a nauseating chime occurs, the sphere making a clicking sound and falling onto the bed.
"Nova, send that thing east of the Clinic; Mister Gallo, run outside, find it, and burn the damned thing into a crater!"
>Inhaling sharply, the carnelian hybrid's horn is covered in a dazzling array of colored specks, the sphere blinking from reality.
[1d6+6 = 11]
<M.Teleport
[1d6+6 = 8]

[1d6+6 = 9]

[1d6+6 = 12]

>Turning and leaping to the Clinic wall, Frost's left forehoof smacks against it, her voice resonating outside loudly.
"ATTENTION: EVACUATE THE AREA EAST OF THIS CLINIC! THERE IS A DANGEROUS AEROSOL COMPOUND CONTAINED INSIDE AN A SILVER SPHERE, REMAIN AT LEAST TEN METERS AWAY FROM IT AT ALL TIMES!"
>Removing her hoof quickly, the Combat Medic nods in your direction, then covers her snout once more.
"Go burn it, but stay out of the fumes!"
Captain Raidor
GM_Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.212276
212526
>>209867
>>209879
>>The crystal mare's short-term memory is mentally waved off, considering what he's heard she's been through.
"I understand Shanis's discretion. Whatever they are for, I hope they help her out."

>She seems to have no problem with him touring the grounds, and Raidor gives her a nod of thanks.
"I will definitely walk the Fortress, for the time being. Do take care Ivan. I will come and find you, when I am finished."
>He looks over at the crystal mare and gives her a grateful bow.
"Thank you Naliyna. I will take my tour now. I will return later to take some with me to Manehattan."
>Raidor leaves Ivan and the others at the Pagoda, as he casually trots out of the building.
>He looks around out into the human encampment. The sights, the sounds. The smells.
[1d6+5 = 10]
<E.Perception
[1d6+5 = 10]

[1d6+5 = 9]

Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
wqAuv
?
No.212322
213081
>>212258
>Cheto nods at Frost.
"Right away. Be sure to keep an eye out and prepare for any other venom balls that may come out of the Prench Pony's body. I fear that that won't be the last."
>With his free hand, he goes for a quick, gentle stroke on Nova's head to calm his nerves a bit.
"Be safe and prepared, you two."
>He places his molotov arm closer to his chest and moves the lit molotov into the crook of the arm, followed by removing the two other molotovs in his bandoleer and placing them next to the lit molotov, rags facing upwards.
(No time to waste! I have to drown that venom ball in fire!)
>Standing up with all the molotovs in his possession in between his forearm and chest, he starts to rush outside the clinic outside towards the fountain, as he remembered from the map it was given that it was east of the clinic.
[1d6 = 2]

[1d6 = 6]
<Basic Sprint

>His mind is currently processing the sudden disappearance of the ball as he goes along.
(What was that? Some kind of magical spell or something? How would they know where it would go? Did Nova do it? Her horn did that sparkle thing like Apricot today, so that may be true. If it were not for the current danger this stupid mean venom ball presents, I would have asked about it.)
>His free hand goes for the lit molotov, igniting the other two with the rag's flame as he moves.
>His eyes scan the area for the seemingly teleported thing around the area it was meant to go.
[1d6 = 2]

[1d6 = 2]
<Basic Perception
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212331
212622 212654
>Leadership: +2 to all Assault & Perception rolls

>>211619
>Giving you the questioning side-eye as Mercy flexes all of her available muscles, Boris lifts his stony shoulders on her saddle.
"A difference of twenty seconds between specifically metered repetitions from certain sounds would be more of a 'wake-up' call such as the Disc Jockey provides at dusk. Were this a lullaby for vampire ponies I would expect the snoring of ponies or waterfalls, commander."
>Gritting her teeth and shoving into the door with all possible force, Mercy's left wing flicks out to deliver a light smack on your right leg's armor.
"Meh.. strong preservation enchantmarents here.. sometimes, but I sense neither at the momarent-"
>Shoving into the door with a modicum of force, combined with Mercy's strength it begins to creak inwards, reacting as if it were on a heavily weighted cable system.

>>211726
>Fully examining both of the underground chamber's doors, there were no indications of traps, wards, or bound spells that would cause injury.
>Watching Mercy and Jeff force the door open, a rather merry jingle of chimes draws your attention.
>As both the Spirit Walker and Ranger shove the door open halfway, the first is stunned by a silk pillow to her face.
>Then another, a third, and a fourth.
>That is, until a hard, regal Stalliongrad pegasi accent shrieks in cold anger.
"ENOUGH! ALL YE HAD BEST CALM THYSELVES! DID THEE NOT HEAR OUR CALLING!? WE HAVE GUESTS! GUESTS DAMN thee! ACT YOUR RELATIVE AGES OR I WILL SWAT EACH OF YOUR FLANKS!"

>The right door swings back on its own, a rather calm piano melody playing from inside, the left door likewise pulling open as the mare's voice calls out in a merriness.
"Do come in please, good ponies! I apologize for my neophytes, they were not adequately prepared for awakening!"
>Now opened fully, the underground chamber was nothing like what the team expected:
>Designed more like a ballroom in combination with a royal barracks, upon gazing into the room Mercy is the first to stiffen as soothing shades of blue, red, purple, and green light drift outwards, accompanied by a quaint, archaic melody of resonating bronze chimes.
>Immediately within sight were a line of sixteen deeply, formally bowing equines; nine earth ponies, eight of which were fillies with one mare, two pegasi fillies and two mares, two unicorn mares, and a lone Crystal pony filly.
>Each was covered by veritably archaic, dark purple dresses, most of which were three-tier ruffled with shallow hoods, though the elder earth mare and Crystal pony filly bore smooth, one-piece garmarents of finely dyed silk.
>Beyond them, a series of giant amber beds faintly glowing in the comfortable lighting, also covered in silk pillows, were highly visible.
>Standing up first, a quartet of long, sharp canines flash under the earth mare's hood in a profoundly merry smile, the rest of her face hidden while she quickly kicks a pillow under her to the left side, the middle-aged mare's tone carrying a smoky, seductive quality.
"Greetings to thee, kin! Give thy orders how we must serve you this wondrous night! Be it with our bodies, our minds, or our knowledge? Choose one, or all, for your choices shall be richly rewarded!"

>Failing to hyperventilate in time to save herself, Mercy collapses forwards onto her knees, blind white eyes widening in shock as her jaw drops.
"Lunar vampires.. real.. but they were just stories? Mom said they were only.. stories.. but they are real? Why are they.. real now?"
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
EMMlB
?
No.212334
213084
>>212121

>Doctor Nova merely shakes his head at him with a small chuckle.
"Like I said several times now. Everywhere. Just this dull, crippling pain all over my body... God damn was it painful, and now, it seems to be finally going away as I... Fulfill my cravings. Meat will be missed dearly... Vegetables are just not the same as some marinated venison jerky, but I do enjoy being alive..."
>She grumbles, annoyed at her now strictly vegan lifestyle.
>Truly, a fate almost worse than death.
>Again.
>She shifted her weight off of her hindquarters now once more as her... Assets once more reminded her of their annoying existence.
>No wonder horses spent all day standing...
>She attempted, to stand, slowly, as Hodch lofted her into the ethereal cloud.
>Feeling disabled, she slumps over in her cloud with a grumble.
"I'm in your snack cupboard? What, what a privilege I have."
>She comments sarcastically as Hodch prepares their transport.
"... By the way, now I'm just feeling... Exhausted mostly, now that most of that pain has passed. Damn this mare must have been put through hell before she was... Severed from her body."
>It still disturbed him to think of that.

>After their transport which was, surprisingly, pleasant ride through the vortex, they pop out in unfamiliar yet recognizable territory.
>The crystal empire!
"... New discoveries Hodch? Well... Today I learned what it was like to have these annoying teats. Can I just say that your ancestors were really stupid when they pissed off whatever cursed your races with being overwhelmingly female? Right now I can safely say that I dearly miss Mr Johnson and the juice crew, and that being a mare is just all sorts of annoying!"
>And once more, she slumps over in the 0 g cloud, quite obviously annoyed at this whole... Adventure at the moment.
Razorback Fortress: The Command Center
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212360
212545
>>211892
>Head tossing in your direction, the Knight's face creases into a cheerful smile at the stroking across her unarmored neck.
"It's not hard Miss Castella. We simply like being touched, it's both relaxing and calming for us. If you want I'll show you the safest places to rub or touch most ponies, there's a number that're kinda erogenous and a hooffull that you're only supposed to do for 'fun' times in private."

>Tipping her head backwards, the mare's ears flop to either side with a relaxed sigh while the Stormtrooper's helmet nods.
"There are some locally made supplies available if you require them. Speed is of the essence this time, it would be best if you store any equipment that would weigh you down. There are wargear lockers available for us in the Armory a short distance from here."
>Tapping the empty grenade pockets across his vest, Chisan reaches around to his battlepack with a short, negative sounding grunt.
"My auspex is beyond repair and time is of the essence Enginseer. The Inquisitor's orders stand: not a single human can be allowed to suffer injury under our watch. You may borrow my laspistol if need be."
>Turning his visor towards Knight Raspberry not so slyly peers up at your chest, the Tempestus Scion's helmet tilts curiously.
>Cracking a grin, she lifts her bladed wings in an embarrassed motion while Chisan removes his Lasrifle's powerpack, then slams it back into the socket with a careless shrug.
"She is and there are no 'problems' save my own Enginseer. I would prefer working with-"
>Making a short aquila with his right hand, then pointing to you and himself quickly with it, the common battle-lingo sign for 'Imperials'.
"As it stands you are unable to keep up with me on foot therefore you require transport. Knight Raindrop, are you able and willing to carry the Enginseer in a combat situation?"
>Heaving herself upwards to stand, the raspberry red mare gives a calculating smile, blades extending to snag her relic helmet and jamming it onto her head, speaking muffledly behind the facemask.
"Damned right I'm able and willing! Hop on my saddle Miss Castella, the most comfortable position Stalliongrad's finest armor has to offer is yours!"
>Shaking her archaic armor into place, the armor's unusual saddle was not uncomfortable looking, covered in thick layers of some heavy, nearly metallic looking padding.

>Making the first positive sound of acknowledgement so far, the Scion unslings his lasrifle and strides towards the door.
"Armory is a short walk northeast from here, need to restock grenades."
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.212367
213259
>>211738
>When Zhun gets the piece of crystal?, he gets that "Oh yeah" blank look on his face
>"Didn't think about that one."
>He also didn't know there was other companies of humans
>Old one before Razorback?
>Looking back at the runed page, he stores it on his person
>"At least Nal can get that done."
"It's fine. Gotta keep promises and orders."
>Oh!
>At least it should be fine in Zebraica
>"Ze...bra...i..ca. Man that's hard to say."
"Sounds nice over there."
>...
>A...favor?
"Well, I can make a little detour over to her. What's the favor?"

Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.212369
213261
>>211983
>"Hmmm, went somewhat far there. Ok."
>Going down the ramp and reaching the light, he does ponder it before stepping into the light
>He gets that "drop" feeling as he wasn't expecting the light shaft to be a magic elevator
>"This is some sci-fi shit. Actually, I don't know what shit there is anymore on this place."
>Ok, so the bats are just bombs
>The minotaurs are the foot soldiers that beat shit
>Wonder if they can speak about the interior of the mothership
>As he descends, he is amazed at the large amount of racks there are for the batponies
>Even more amazing is the frozen minotaurs below
>Like they stopped in time in those pods
>"Ok, maybe talking is out of the question for these guys."
"Veterans of the fight I see. And they look like they haven't left the fight either."
>Clem walks around the area, inspecting the minotaurs but the pods are also of interest
>"It's like some cryogenics but...not. Is this really time stopping?"
Jamal Ratchet
!PsOrb9esFQ
H8C8w
?
No.212385
213265
>>208624
>Jamal looks about in bewilderment at the whole-ass rainbow of kush surrounding him.
>He liked to think he knew the good shit from normal shit, but this was a whole other game.
>A deep drag is taken on his cigarillo before Jamal meanders over to the nearest zebra for directions.
"Ay what up. Who I gotta talk to to get in on summa dat loud?"
>As much as he probably could just follow the his nose, Jamal figured he ought to be polite and shit and ask.
>Not so polite as to avoid drinking his fresh Mango Fanta™ while talking to a stranger though, which he does without thought.

The Pagoda: Luxury & Laziness Abound
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212526
214615 222637
>>209879
"Trust me, it is. You don't wanna deal with all of them in the same room. My head still hurts from the last 'lessons' they gave."
>Shifting her eyes towards the north with a disturbed shudder, Naliyna returns to her sorting.
"Just put it wherever there's room, I'll try and see if my daughters are around too, Quell knows way more about armor than I do."

>>212276
>Looking up from an obvious filly's letter, Naliyna lifts one shoulder with a morbid frown.
"That's most of why I didn't want to get involved: I think Shanis is helping too much. The last time Sweet came through here she was crying, didn't say anything and went off somewhere. I think the 'Juggernaut' was only a maretality she was trained to have. You probably know more about the stuff she's done, so what's Sweet going to do or act like when she remembers stuff that she really shouldn't? There's helping, then there's obsessively revealing more than any fifty minds can hoofle. I know what that's like ponifally, and it's never good."
>Making a partial bow to Raidor in return, the trader goes back to, slowly, sorting through applications.
"Might wanna try after dusk Captain, most everypony and human here's probably burned out by now. Been really busy tonight."

>Perusing the map briefly, the Captain's course was, of course, the water fountain north where a trio of humans and two mares were tucked into Empire sleeping bags.
>The most curious sight was the large, Lunar designed Arena east, empty at the momarent as the doors were closed.
>As for scents, a profound host of vegetables, roots, berries, fruits, and nuts drifting from the north, definitely a Mess Hall.
>Taking note of the obvious Clinic west, it featured distinct Honor Guard construction styles, though was much more heavily armored than most designs.
>North between four well spaced barracks, squads of humans and mixed ponies had set up heatstone piles, their conversations inaudible at the current distance.
>More curious was the partially below ground steel building northeast covered in a number of odd metallic projections, including several giant shields on top.
Mallia Castella
RCZV/
?
No.212545
213295
>>212360
>Raindrop's words resonate within Mallia, sparking a distinct interest when she tells the Enginseer that she can show her the 'safest places to rub and touch' most ponies.

(Oh! I could make a pony petting guide with this information; this is good! Yes! This is totally why I am interested!)
(Yes!)

>It was lucky (or unlucky) that she had her helmet on, because she was wholly incapable of restraining her smile into growing into an overeager grin. Though the light, interested hum that comes through the respirator is quite audible...
>Though she doesn't let herself dwell too much on that (yet), as she quickly shifted her jaw to kill her smile and listened to the Stormtrooper with rapt attention.
>As a polar opposition to her mood, Chisan telling her there'd be no time for extended maintenance irks her in a way only an Enginseer could be irked; visibly lifting and sagging her shoulders and slapping her arms akimbo, then blowing out a quiet huff of disappointment.

>Regardless, she acknowledges his words with a quiet:
"I understand."
>Then she finds her glance once again turning towards Raindrop; double taking on both Chisan and the pegasus as the notion of riding a pony is presented to her.

(O-oh.)
(Oh by the Omnissiah.)
(I get to ride an equine.)
(Am I dreaming? There's no way this is happening.)

"I-"
>Her voice comes and goes, abruptly cutting out -- especially when Raindrop eagerly offers the ride to her, as well.
>There's a second of actual silence from Mallia, before, like a child, she wiggles to and fro, lightly claps her hands, and let's out this tiny, high pitched squee of pure delight.

"Yiss!~"

>Then, without hesitation or further pause, she steps up beside the pegasus knight and carefully startws to figure out the best angle to arch her leg and get on the saddle. A process that takes a few seconds as she glances down, minding the wings, before fully sitting onto the mare's back.
>She wiggles about on the saddle; getting comfortable. Carefully lifting her legs up off the ground and resting her hands infront of herself, on the mare's neck; Studying the best way to hold herself as she goes.
>Meanwhile her mechadendrite shuffles further beneath the backpack to keep the weight balanced as she straightened her back.

"Being 5 foot and 3 inches of height is optimal indeed!"
>Mallia would declare out loud once she's settled in.
>Almost immediately she tentatively spares a hand to point towards the exit, in that general direction. Assuming her best 'Commissariat Approved' posture; nose high, finger pointed at the horizon, and strong, confidently eager tone.

"Onwards, mighty equine knight! The armory beckons! Glory, honour, and soldiers in distress await; let us conquer the night and take the day by storm as if it was our last!"

>She even makes her mechadendrite coil around the other side of her back so she can point the manipulator claw in that direction, too, and give a little eager whirring sound.

>Now if only she had a nice sword...
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.212622
212654 213312
1476582734857.jpg
>>212331
>>211726
>As he and Mercy begin making headway on both doors, they both stop as the mare is softly assaulted by a barrage of pillows.
>A accented mare bellows out fromt he other side of the door, which both open up from the inside to reveal-
"Uhhhh..."
>The dumbfounded expression is not lost on his face, as he looks over the grand greeting; as they were apparently now guests to a party full of Lunar vampires.
>He feels like he's seen a movie with a plot like this.
>The decor, the garments, the old music. The teeth!
>Jeff flashes his own toothy smile, in greeting back, but it pales in comparison. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to muster up any of that light bat power he's had.
>And they wanted to serve them?
>If it weren't for the fact nothing she said really nerved him, he would have been freaking out. Luckily he somehow accepted the situation for what it was: unexpected.
>While Mercy was in a state of stuttering shock, Jeff politely removes his helmet to give their greeter a short bow in return. He feels wildly improperly dressed to crash a party full of vampires.
>He gives her a reassuring pat on the head while attempting to break the ice.
"Greetings to you all! You'll have to excuse our confusion faces. We didn't... expect anypony to be down here."
>The human, now feeling very out of place, clears his throat to properly address their Earth-vampire host.
"I think a little sharing of knowledge is in order, before anything else. My name is Jeff and this is Mercy, Boris, and Sunny."
>Visually addressing each of his teammates accordingly, making sure to keep their affiliation and purpose there ambiguous for the moment.
"And who might you all be, dare I ask? And what's the occasion for this soiree?"
>Jeff raises a gauntlet to his chin and raises a brow with intrigue.
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.212654
213312 213463
1241194.png
>>212331
>>212622
"Nothing down here, she says, nothing but an empty crypt, she says."
>Sunny quietly snickered at Mercy's bombardment and reaction before refolding her wings and relaxing.
>A little.
>The mare waved a wing in greeting, realising she was still within the underdark, she carefully and reluctantly extricated herself from the spectrum and re-entered realspace, repeating the wave.
>Though they could probably see her anyway, they saw Mercy.
>She found the bowing strange, perhaps they were expecting someone specific after all this time, or maybe they recognised Jeff's affiliation with the lunars like she thought they would.

>A little, but not entirely surprised that Lunar Vampires were real after all, as all stories were based upon some grain of truth, Sunny examined the room from where she stood in the doorway. It was of archaic quality, well kept, well lived in it seemed.
>Either the preservation enchantments present were particularly robust here or these ponies hadn't slept completely through the slow march of centuries and had maintained the space themselves. Probably both.
>They might have been forever buried in this place if it hadn't been raised from the earthy clutches of the moors by the engineers outside.
>She remembered Mercy's words outside the crypt. Great undead, but fading. These ponies did not seem like they were fading in any sense of the word.
>The crypt was in use, and this portion of it was clearly complete, so why were other parts of the construction abandoned? Something was wrong here, Sunny could feel it.
>She hung back to let Jeff do the talking, while she simply observed.

[1d6+5 = 11]
< B. Perception
[1d6+5 = 10]

Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.212894
213139
>>212244
"One of many thousands of purposes sir, long term planning is, or was, one of my better functions. I may have a few dishoofing tactics to use on her should you want to take advantage of them. ..well, buck. In the likely inevitable event of suffering traumatic skeletal injuries and, or, the loss of a limb, the most I can do for you would be to relay request for recovery."

>Finding the only space large enough to place everything out on being the table flanked by couches in the rear, you're easily able to carry everything to it in one trip.
"Agreed sir, the lack of guidance mentioned in your logs is concerning on many levels. If local scouting teams cannot be trusted to remain quiet, the equine marecenary.. group I suppose, should be capable of undertaking a quiet search without raising suspicion."
>Taking a seat on the west couch as it looked more comfortable and spreading the various items out, the A.I. starts numerous multi-level assessment protocols on the maps, turning an interested expression to you briefly.
"Right, the alternative esoteric crystalline technologies partially described in your logs. Rather curious from my perspective but since you can't use them and it's likely I won't be able to either then I suggest purchasing one of these Crystal ponies for lifetime service. That shouldn't be too difficult, nor would acquiring the funds."

>Recalling the previously information acquired, the outpost north of the Fortress was immediately discarded as a search location.
>Checking through the ten pages of notes on the Caneighdian ruin, the Canterlot College of Magic had slated it for 'eventual exploration' approximately 280 years ago, which finally occurred 27 years ago.
>The last four pages went into great detail:
>An unnamed, 15 year old unicorn researcher listed as having a deep purple coat from an unstated Starborn Village and a 31 year old unicorn researcher listed as Marquis du Spiral Disclosure.
>Along with 29 other unicorns, 17 pegasi, and 11 earth ponies, all from the Canterlot College, the team made a partial excavation of the ruin, lasting four days before a minor earthquake struck and they were forced to evacuate.
>Among the treasures recovered were six imperfect elemental core replicas, large numbers of books, several tomes, and numerous examples of decayed Early Dynasty armor and weapons.
>Examining the large Honor Guard map, the A.I. brings up a transcript of the eighth message stating to ignore the outposts fro each era, though it tags them for later armamarent and material retrieval efforts.
>Denoting the three marked temples as non-essential, a pair of small ruins and trio of larger ones are identified, all of which had been quickly scouted, then disregarded as most wanted nothing to do with the Dynasty.
>Cracking into and reading the Honor Guard reports for additional information, the six known outposts on it were suitably ignored, the A.I. recording everything and vaulting it for later perusal.
>Coming across notations on the New Everfree ruins which matched the locations on the map, the outposts had been left alone by both the Solar and Lunar factions, but were given tertiary priority for later examinations, none of which had taken place.
>Reading through, the remaining reports stated that three small and two large ruins hadn't been surveyed due to numerous exploration constraints.
>The A.I. overlays its regional map with the locations of each ruin, pointing out the two lesser ones, the first roughly 170 miles west north-west, the second 80 miles east south-east, both in the outer edges of the highly dense Southern New Everfree Forest.
>Extrapolating the closest large ruin, it was nearly 85 miles northwest, the second 395 miles north-northwest, the third nearly 460 miles northeast.

>Sitting back and tapping hooves together, 'Spiral' frowns in concern.
"Smaller ones are likely much more dangerous sir, they're on the edges of new growth regions which are typically volatile habitats due to ever changing fauna populations. Larger ones are in old growth forests; more wide open but higher chances of larger fauna and flora inhabiting them. Also-"
>Pointing a hoof down at the crystal pad, the A.I. brings up a sequence of easily understood runes from the Kingdom Crystal Pony language.
>The first line stated the name 'Crystal Empire Exploration Consortium', the second a short paragraph stating interaction was required to perform ground resonance procedures, and last was a sentence that you couldn't understand due to your limited knowledge of the Kingdom dialect.
"This device was activated when you touched it, didn't do anything other than transmit these. Nothing but subroutines far as I can tell, no active code, no sentience or sapience. I've been able to convert an approximation of them to their basic programming language while you've been reading though I don't understand a single one of them. Seems like a fully esoteric language in both form and function. Do you recognize it?"
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213081
213134
>>212322
>Reaching down to place her left forehoof next to the silver device behind the Prench stallion's skull, Frost's eyes swivel in your direction briefly, her tone cryptic, yet wrathful.
"Question long in the shadows what the light fears to answer-"
>Once more feeling the Crystal-unicorn hybrid's soft and luxurious coat, Nova Flicker merely responds with a curiously apathetic blink.
"We are."

>Racing out the Clinic's southern door and turning left, passing the Pagoda you sight numerous mixed human and pony squads further east backstepping away from an obvious something.
>The majority of humans further away, dropping to a knee and bringing their weapons up while you spot what was most likely the same silver sphere ahead.
>Emitting a loud popping sound, a hazy, thick plume of green slowly begins to spread around the orb, one of the nearby humans shouting in a harsh yet understandable Russian accent.
"Unknown contact! Fucking New Guys and Rookies back off to hundred meters, gas masks on and overwatch for the rest of you! Space out and maintain distance at fifty meters!"
The Crystal City-State: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213084
213094
>>212334
"Get hungry enough and you'll start browsing the nearest lawn, I guarantee it. I've done that a few dozen times, usually been thanked for it. Then again wild dandelions are getting harder to find and I've heard someponies are starting to grow them outside of a few cities. About time too, was starting to miss dandelion tea."
>Snorting in brief amusement, the reservist turns his head back with a faux-insulted expression.
"Better than the Void micro-dimension I normally store prisoners in or the one leading to a chamber in the Elemaretal Plane of Nature. Besides, the one you're inhabiting is self-cleaning, food lasts twenty times longer, and there's no strange odors like my actual cupboards which I haven't used in about five years what with being constantly on the run and all."
>Feeling more like being carried rather than pulled through the Empire's streets, Hodch's visible form makes a mid-step nod.
"That's my conclusion as well, Doctor. I've never ponifally experienced being chased down to exhaustion or needed to spend more than five minutes running, though I do know enough battle lines worth of pegasi and earth ponies that have been. Even most city unicorns know enough spells to at least keep themselves from being injured, or escape. Then again I don't have much knowledge about the Saltic regions so it's quite likely that she couldn't undertake any action other than run."
>Passing numerous streaks of lights in the shape of ponies, the unicorn stallion chuckles politely.
"Most mares find their teats to be a constant source of joy, then again you were human so it's not unreasonable to see them as a hindrance. Either take up alchemy or learn to enjoy them, preferably the second. Besides, I can easily convince one of the Lunar mares at Razorback to take care of any 'new' needs of yours that occur. Or, if you're willing to risk a trip into Stalliongrad again buy a few for that purpose. I'll even supply the funds just so I don't have to undergo the incredibly uncomfortable task of teaching you the, let's just say, uncomfortable and excruciating details. But, if you happen to be regretting your impulsive decision for that specific host body and not waiting to see what all the possible choices are, then allow me to point out that the selection is paremarenent. It's highly unlikely that you will be able to adapt to a third physical body, so my suggestion is this: treat it far better than your last one."
"Besides, the law of natural selection, dear Doctor, is quite useful: the more progeny the greater chances are of positive evilutions occurring. Not only that, there's many benefits to harems that monogamous species are entirely bereft of. For one, emotional support is considerably easier. Two, strength and safety increase twofold for each herd member. Three, company is always great and it's nearly impossible to feel alone when in a herd. Four is.. ..well, I happen to enjoy all the attentions I receive."

>Discovering no unwelcome pressures in the cloud, merely a peculiar drifting sensation, the sight of a dull, muted building filters in through the outside layering.
Also, I'd like to point out that nopony save another unicorn should be able to see you, so there's not much to worry about."
>Pausing in front of what were likely doors, Hodch sniffs several times loudly, audibly puzzled.
"..I swear there's.. a sharp taste of something burning? No, more like acid or Shadow effects? Or is that an Ethereal mark? ...fantastic, now I'm beginning to lose what was left of my mind-"
>Head shaking quickly, the sound of a facehoof occurs as he mutters, then stops, a door opening while you're float-dragged inside.
>Unable to see much more than a number of multicolored pony shapes, Hodch stops partway in the building.
"Good evening. I'd like to place an order of the following: two chocolate-covered apples, five cucumbers, ten carrots, six bottles of different Empire wines, one grape bunch, ten chocolate covered pretzels, three cinnamon rolls, two honey mangoes, one red mango, one yellow mango, one orange mango, two cut and sliced pineapples, and a full brick of salted caramel if there's any left. None in stock? No, no, I understand. No bag needed, I'll transport them myself, and thank you."
>Hearing a faded, hollow sounding mare's voice respond, the clink of coins on a polished counter occurs before turning in another direction.
>Sitting down after a few seconds with a tired huff, Hodch can be seen rubbing his snout carefully and speaking in a low tone.
"Pink grapes, huh? Haven't seen them since I was a little colt."
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
lqZoM
?
No.213094
213317
>>213084

>Despite what Hodch says, the former human remains unconvinced.
"Well, if these things weren't so big then maybe I would have a different perspective but at the moment, each time I lie down all I can feel is the dirt annoyingly rubbing against these udders because her teats are quite sensitive. It's no wonder you ponies spend all day standing up."
>The doctor seemed to be still quite annoyed with these new paticularities of being a mare and all.
>Though transitioning bodies was never going to be the smoothest process anyways, the four legs and new sensitive regions made her current state annoying.
>Not being able to walk at all yet nor wanting to move with the acute soreness all over her body.
"... Just... One of the Lunar mares will do, thank you. I do not wish to go back to stalliongrad unless it's to build more bombs to blow up more of that city. As much as some servants would be convinent I'm not sure Razorback would like if I did that one. Most modern humans consider owning other humans or ponies to be a crime for some reason. But other than that... I don't plan on having any foals in my new form at the moment, thank you. I know I'll be unable to escape your species and their seasonal urges but I don't have time to have kids yet nor do I want my spawn running about right now or anytime soon."
>She sits back, observing as Hidch walks in and makes his little comment.
>Nova's more paranoid inclinations kick in immidiately as she begins to gaze about a bit suspiciously.
>Though at the lack of anything that he-
>She.
>At the lack of anything that SHE is able to make out she calms down a little bit but keeos a careful eye out yet.
"...After we get our food can we return to training as soon as possible? I hate not being able to stand on my own."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
zS8n9
?
No.213134
213658
>>213081
>Cheto is a bit worried at how Nova reacted to the petting. His face clearly shows it as he goes out although the gas mask he has put on blocks anyone's view to his expression.
(Did I go too far into the petting? I sure hope I didn't offend her for my impulsive decision. I remember seeing her down when she was woken up and when I cheered her on blindly. I should try to give her some comfort her later. Somehow.)
>Frost's line is simply considered.
(I suppose she's just trying to sound confident and unfazed by the venom she has inhaled in order to reassure me. Something about seeking some sort of knowledge that many don't want to find out. Strange way to communicate it, though. I suppose she's into literature?)

>Running over towards the ball of venom with his gas mask on, Gallo stops at the 25m mark from the silver sphere, uses his free hand to pick one of the lit molotovs in his posession and throws it at the sphere ball.
"Molotov coming through!"
[1d6 = 4]

[1d6 = 3]
<Basic Assault: Molotov Throwing

>He turns his head to the side to inform anyone nearby, using the loudest voice he can.
"Highly volatile venomous compound! If your nose bleeds, you're being affected by the venom! Retreat to the clinic if that's the case!"
(Maybe my actions will encourage others to throw their incendiaries. If anyone has any.)
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.213139
213662
>>212894
>Pareidolia gives nothing more than a slight nod, poring over the maps and notes in the hopes of something being illuminated.

[There must be something here. Something Spiral already knew without ever needing to consult these maps. If Kraut wasn't incapacitated... ]

>He looks towards the hololith as it displays various runes.

"Crystal Pony runes with two dialects being displayed: Kingdom and Imperial. I have a basic fluency in both. The first two lines state the Crystal Empire Exploration Consortium required interaction to perform ground resonance procedures. The last line is in Kingdom and is not something I recognize."

>He spreads his gloved palms on the edge of the map.

"I can find someone to read it, but what of Spiral's possible locations? This narrows it down to 5 potential sites?"
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.213143
213666
>>212252
>Once Bubba finishes breaking apart the amber, he places the hammer down on the table and takes a moment to look over what he paid for.
>Though the filly recovering takes his attention before he can look too closely.
>He's also pretty sure she gave the mare what was the batpony equivalent of the middle finger.
>He just listens as he internally questions some of the names of these things.
>He does quirk an eyebrow as she describes what the Island Drake hides could make.
>"That'll be useful."
>Clams.
>A suit of armor made out of clams.
>Bubba knew that would be the subject of many nights of jokes back home.
"Hmm.. I think I'll go for the Drake hide armor, I could use something to help me not be noticed on stealth missions."
The Crystal City-State: Industrial Sector
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213259
213731
>>212367
>Eyebrows raising at the blank look, Three-Point taps a hoof on her hololith screen, a small crystal sheet dispensing from another unnoticed slot in your direction.
"Terra Company's about.. says six humans and three ponies here. They live somewhere between Germaneigh and the Saltics in the Snootersteine Mountains. They've stated it's fine if Razorback contacts them."
>Sticking her tongue out briefly, she shakes her head in rather serious disgust.
"Blegh, too much sun. Some Crystal ponies get pretty bad burns real easily. I like the Moors and Saddle Arabia at night, nice and warm without the sun trying to turn me into a baked pumpkin."
>Squinting her eyes, Peach Quartz lifts her right forehoof, wiggling in your direction mischievously.
"Find me one human that likes to give hoof massages and.. special services too. Doesn't have to be now, I just wanna know what it feels like."
Basin Arena: The Guillotine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213261
213461
>>212369
>Investigating the rows of Hegemony minotaurs, most had suffered harm from the unique Construct plasma burns, enough to be lethal for a human though their thicker armor was definitely more protective than Razorback standards.
>Less conspicuously there were only a handful of laser burns that you could find, and zero particle whip wounds.
>Unable to drop down another level, there were two large exit ramps on either side of the catwalk, which begged the question of there being zero-gravity onboard the vessel.

*"Aye grace, mine Klavists seek Rites of Honor 'gainst Constructed Twos, or 'til they succumbeth tae fury an' fall unto slumber. Hear ye, think, know they do now, yet mayest not act. Pride an' service be they call now 'til Hegemon's next Rites cometh."*
>The harpy emits an honored sounding noise while several ramps towards the vessel's midsection open above you, loud cackling ringing inside.
*"Rites of Destruction board swiftly now grace, they must for thee Lonely One slumbers not. Mayest leaveth at thine beckoning.. lest ye desireth inspection upon mineself's weaponry?"*
Zebraica: Potswana
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213265
213999
>>212385
>Treading across the sunbaked soil, you come across a single unadorned Zebra in the middle of instructing a worryingly large group of foals on the fine art of leaf removal.
>Pausing, the mare's head turns to you after a moment, her half-mohawk rather comically flopping to one side, pale black eyes closing and opening slowly in cursory inspection.
>Standing up straight, left foreleg curling across her chest, inclining her head in a short, formal bow, then speaks in a merry, suitably comfortable tone..
>Which wasn't Common Equestrian.
>Eyes rolling as the pack of fillies giggle before dashing off into the mareijuana field, saddlebaskets clanking loudly on their sides, the mare's head shakes briefly, trying again.
"Blessings to you under warm sun. Chief Heart-in-Rains there and done-"
>Head twisting around and nodding towards farthest lone hut in a direction that you guessed was south, then gestures with her right hoof to the field.
"If medicine you seek or be what you desire, take freely and fill your lungs with soothing fire. Fill one basket to ease your pains, but give thanks to sun, soil, and rains."
Razorback Fortress: The Armory
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213295
213374
>>212545
>Raindrop's helmet turns between you and Chisan as he leaves, giving off the impression that she was fairly confused.
>Shrugging to herself, the Knight mare turns to present her side, both wings spreading forwards to allow you on.
>Seating yourself on the mostly comfortable saddle, and a bit confused why it was designed with one long ago at a time that humans didn't exist on this world, you were relatively balanced without aid.
>In front of the saddle however, the lowest pair of overlapping neck plates had a curious handhold, though was probably meant to hang the entire suit on a rack for maintenance.
>Bladed wings fold under your legs onto her sides, the sound of two locks snapping into place as she rocks from side to side.
"Least your boots won't snag on much but the robe probably will."
>Raindrop ambles forwards at a sedate pace, obviously testing your weight, then passes out the open door, stopping to kick it closed with a rear hoof.
>Helmet shaking with a wryly amused snort, the Knight breaks into a slow, steady trot directly towards a large building with what looked like a small Arvus hangar on the top.
"Now who's the silly one? Besides storms aren't my favorite weather, I'd rather not get my armor flooded ever again, takes hours to dry out."

>Spotting a sign that stated 'GARAGE & WORKSHOP', Raindrop turns right just as you note a series of large swinging barn doors on the west side, following the workshop the opposite way.
>Slowing down into the comfortable amble and rounding the corner left into a large door, the sight before you was truly awesome:
>Covering the walls end to end were at least a hundred wide steel lockers, nearly Astartes-capsule sized, each bearing a name plate; some were colored in obvious faction motifs while others featured insignias.
>Four rows of short tables were placed end to end, massively overburdened with packs, boxes, satchels, crates, and racks of various ballistic ammunition, the sheer number of calibers available mind boggling.
>At the last set of tables, Chisan was stuffing visibly ancient, likely STC pattern grenades into his vest pockets one by one.
>Without looking up the Stormtrooper points towards a much large locker emblazoned with a blue aquila, which Raindrop strides towards, humming quietly under her helmet.
>On the far wall was another sign simply reading 'WORKSHOP', though you pick up a curious, short ranged beacon as Raindrop halts next to the Imperial squad locker, Chisan finishing his selection while holding up a curious, red banded cylinder grenade.
"That is ours to share, Enginseer, the Inquisitor has her own cache. Take only what you absolutely require, Raindrop cannot be encumbered by toolkits if we encounter dangers. Raindrop, will you require your alchemy.. ..saddlepack?"
"Probably should snag it, yes. It's in Naliyna's tent, won't take more than ten seconds to buckle it on me."
"Acceptable time frame. Enginseer, if you require grenades then the Pre-Age of Strife variants here are nearly identical to ours. They are safe to handle but we do not, repeat, do not have the Inquisitor's clearance for chemical weaponry."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: A Lunar Collective
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213312
213463 213502
>Leadership: +2 to all Assault & Perception rolls

>>212622
>Taking note of the mare's Stalliongrad accent, slightly blockier figure, and the distinct noble or royal dress, it was fairly obvious she was a former resident of that city from quite a long time ago.
>The mare taps a rear hoof, the melody of chimes replaced by the sound of a small, gentle waterfall.

>Struggling to stand, Mercy blinks at the pat, emitting a strangled noise afterwards and laying down heavily.
>Clacking off to stand next to her, the Belligerent sets about stroking Mercy's neck silently.
[1d6 = 1]
<U.Calm

>Hood tipping back several inches, the Stalliongradian's head tilts, her lips making a confused, wavy S-shape.
"I.. likewise do not understand? This is where we are to be, 'less orders of the Moon dictate otherwise."
>Each of the sixteen remain motionless for a split-second, the lead mare's hood then shaking side to side briefly, Sunny noting a thick, bright blue silk scarf wrapped around her head, mostly covering the eyes.
"Do thee not know the Collective's laws given by the Night Generals? Names are forbidden, speak them no further."
>Rocking back on her rear legs, the earth mare frowns deeply, a touch of anger creeping into her voice.
"What soiree? This be our resting grounds, here but a few of the Lunarite Collective sleep safe til bidden to serve of ourselves, or once more unto service for the Moon.. which I presumed we were awakened by flute and chime to gift one."
>Head turning towards the other adult mares, the Stalliongradian sighs, lifting a hoof and gently pressing it to her snout.
"One, the Night's Eyes above be asleep, or two, thou four be lost, for all under the Moon know the laws upon us."

>>212654
>Ear twitching under the robe, the Stalliongradian mare dips her head slightly in your direction, either blind or simply wanting to save her sight.
>Head tilting towards Mercy and Boris, the mare's lips turn downwards as she sighs tiredly, then makes a slight, muted hoof tap.
"Be as it may, we are no strangers. I welcome thee travelers to speak, gift, and trade til dawn. You may sleep with us here until dusk if you so wish, but I ask ye depart when possible. Our waking comes at price of great fatigue.. which not even the sacred Ambrosia cureth with ease."
>Turning to face different directions, the adult vampires silently tread inwards towards unmistakably large, faintly glowing amber beds, though they looked a bit like giant Neighsian sitting cushions.
>Four of the pegasi fillies silently creep out to collect the pillows in front of Mercy, gently biting a corner and dragging them inwards.

>The inside was unmistakably a modified Lunar barracks: each of the beds were covered in the same pillows that Mercy had taken to her snout, ones which were jealously guarded by former Lunar Guard due to their lasting make and excellent comfort.
>Behind the amber beds were drop-armor stands featuring archaic sets of Lunar Fang, Claw, Hoof, and Mage armors, fully complete and sized for each of their owners, particularly the fillies.
>The stands were flanked by large weapon racks, some of the spaces empty though your coat prickled upon noting a wild assortmarent of ancient standard weapons, common for the Lunar-Solar War era though very likely sentient.
>Or sapient.
>A trio of pegasi beloved twin-beamed lances, one pulsing emerald, one clear-cloudy jade, and the last a sparkling topaz were in view along with multiple spears of various styles, mostly leaf blades, two kanpri pikes, and a lone, highly out of place halberd.
>Several quartets of standard hoofclaws, hoofblades, duelist and assassin biteblade styles, numerous full sets of visibly pulsing semi-clear kanpri wingblades, and horn rings in a large number of materials were hung across each rack's sides.
>Looking more and more like a custom barrack layout, there were forty amber beds opposite each other, but from what you could see only sixteen of them were occupied.
>Strangely, the rest were empty, giving the room an abnormally somber feeling.

>Beckoning you and Jeff inwards with a simple head motion, the Stalliongradian mare ambles towards the closest bed on the left side, speaking merrily once more.
"Do come in and be seated. We've little to drink 'less one of thee desires the third-sweetest, fourth-richest, and sixth-heartiest blood to be found upon Tallus?"
The Crystal City-State: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213317
213468
>>213094
>Speaking quietly under his breath outside, Hodch's voice transmits into the storage cloud at below normal volume.
>At least, it sounded normal to your new ears.
"Only cows have udders Doctor. If a 'real' mare heard you say that, well, you'd probably get a hoof in the face. Curious though, that much sensitivity typically occurs from one or two of six different possibilities. Large amounts of adrenaline combined with continued casting will do that, which fits with what we know. Milkmare elixir is definitely out, so is the false estrus potion. Your body isn't in estrus either otherwise you'd barely be able to talk. ..well, if the mare was experiencing 'fun times' before her ka was removed, that would explain it as well."
>Snorting quietly to himself so as not to attract attention, the stallion's voice becomes a tad bit icy.
"I'd have to kill you, or at the very least restrain for a while in a very.. exposed position, if you get my meaning, should you try to do that. Stalliongrad is off limits from now on, for many reasons that you'll find out soon, and when the General returns I'll make sure she enforces that. Besides-"
>Hearing a glass clink down nearby, Hodch murmurs a short thanks, then releases the first truly angered noise you've heard from him.
"If they don't 'like the idea' of owning a slave then piss on 'em. Ponies have been selling themselves through contracts for thousands of years. It's part of our damned laws; you buy one, you treat them well wherever you go or else you'd best accept having your neck snapped. Princess Sunflanks tried to ban slaves about eighty years ago and look what happened: forty large and I don't know how many small orphanages all over Equestria. Most of them are well funded, run by great ponies, the ponies in each are treated exceptionally well, and they're also draining Canterlot's coffers at a ridiculous, always increasing rate. I don't approve of how SOME contracts in Stalliongrad are hoofled but you don't see many ponies there starving, cold, and alone."
>Silent for a few moments, Hodch sighs, stress audibly bleeding from his tone.
"Sorry for ranting. I simply hate when 'good intentions' cause ten times the problems well meaning idiots want to solve without first understanding the issue. I'll ask around the Lunar Guard, see which of them is the most interested though you're going to need a cover name. Beyond that I know a few ponies that might be able to quietly acquire a certain elixir to keep the seasonal urges mostly controlled. It's gotten much more expensive and difficult to make since the Underground was quite pissed off when Celestia blew up most of Canterlot Palace."
>Tapping a glass outside the cloud, Hodch's horn alights, a peculiar sensation of deep illness drifting off him.
"You're in a new body with different rules that generally take six to ten years to learn. Doctor, at best it's going to take you the rest of tonight simply to learn how to walk unaided. Cantering, trotting, galloping, etcetera, are going to be a cruel, long nightmare to learn, and you won't have the luxury of performarence enhancing alchemicals to help out. Not only that there's the matter of security: nopony and no one can learn who you are yet. I can promise you nightly access to a physical rehabilitation specialist but I'm paying for it out of my own saddlepack. Just be glad you didn't take a pegasus."

>Overhearing a young Crystal mare speaking aloud, Hodch calls back in a friendly tone, then much lower as he stands with a grunt.
"Thank you again! Here's what you wanted Doctor, just don't eat too much."
>Appearing in front of your snout is a pile of the many delightful smelling foods ordered a bit ago, the sparkling bottles uncorked and stable within easy reach.
>Changing direction, the cloud is float-dragged in the opposite direction, door opening, then closing as Hodch continues onwards.
"Will be heading to that certain close friend's place, see if she's there first. I suggest saving what you can. Unicorns don't recover in the same manners that other equines do and you'll be fairly limited on the alchemicals I can acquire right now."
Mallia Castella
yTq98
?
No.213374
213409
>>213295
>Mallia quietly returned her hand onto the conveniently placed handhold on the lower neck plates.
>She felt the questions surfacing in her mind as she fully took in the oddly convenient (for a human) design of the armor that allowed for someone such as her to ride in relative comfort.
>The light clicks made her head tilt down to see what had clicked, curiously concerned by the still unknown, but seemingly feudal armor.
>Her brow rises and her eyes fix on the neckplates of the pegasus' armor, she was so quick to dart between thoughts that she ends up lowering the priority of the particular line of questioning for later almost immediately.

"Ehh, I'll just clean the robe-- AND ALSO--"
>She hastily said in dismissal. She doesn't even pause as she goes on to PATPAT the mare's helmet as she speaks with a purely confident, and perhaps childish voice,

"Our storm isn't WET, our storm is EXPLOSIVE, ANGRY, RIGHTEOUS, and RUTHLESS! The enemies tremble in fear when our storm commences!"
>The Enginseer made sure to heartily pat Raindrop's helmet between each adjective, just to underline it. Perfectly cheerful, as she rides the pegasus Knight to the armory.
"I am not silly, at all. I cannot be silly; it's improbable."
>She nodded to herself, all confident-like; before her glance shoots upward as she finally notices that they were approaching a large building.

>As her eyes read the sign, she goes deatly silent. Behind her helmet, her eyes go wide, as she feels the urge to explore the 'workshop' -- gaze lowering towards the barn doors, as she peers at them with squinted, focused eyes.
>However, Mallia's gaze is forcefully torn away from the barn doors as they round the corner. She doesn't have time to be miffed, as what she sees beyond the large door makes her eyes widen again.

>This Enginseer had seen many-a manofactorum, and seen, at least, her regiment's ship's armory. Seeing something like this again, but filled with so many lost or unknown designs, here; filled her heart with hope and an eagerness to live long enough to see every single one of them.

>Even the grenades Chisan was currently handling made her overtly crane her head.
>It's not like she hadn't acknowledged the other operator's gearset. She just had yet to fully process and grasp that information.

"Wow..."

>Mallia takes a moment to plant one of her feet down and slowly but surely dismount from Raindrop. Holding her hands up at waist level, rubbing nervously at her wrists as she, still dancing her eyes over everything, overly slowly approached the Locker with the blue Aquila.
>Though stops half-way there as she detects that short ranged beacon.

>She tilted her head seemingly at nothing; standing there, as her glance finally focuses on the red-banded grenade Chisan was holding, whilst she gently ordered her Auspex to home in on the source of the short-ranged beacon and analyze it for her.

[1d6+2 = 3]
<CQ. Auspex Scan

>She doesn't reply immediately to the statement regarding not using chemical weapons. Her posture remains fairly rigidly as it is; with her mechadendrite perhaps whirring once as the tightening of her shoulders elicits the reflexive response of lifting up the lower joint slightly.

(So... We have to hold back. Right. We're the only Imperials here. it makes sense. It'd be quite the argument.)
(Even if chemical weapons do make things a lot easier... Maybe just strong sedatives?)
(How many rules are there that I still don't know of? This is overwhelming.)

"I understand..."
>The thoughts in Mallia's head remain in her head, and her voice becomes awfully neutral all of a sudden. Her hand visibly grasping at the other's wrist.
>But before long, she moves the topic onward.

"... Stormtrooper Chisan, do you have any information on this lost patrol, and-or the terrain? Did they have a vehicle? What kind of armament did they carry? How many are there?"

"Will I be expected to perform particularly complicated field repairs?"

"What will we do in case of an attack?"

>After the shotgun questioning of fairly standard questions that even the Imperial Infantrman's primer asks to do, Mallia's hands relax, turning her glance towards the locker as she goes on to opening it to explore the contents.
>Depending on the answers she might deposit something, though she did want to look for any grenades which were either Krac, or a variety of high explosive/anti-tank.

"A-also um..."
>She slowly turned her head back; both to listen to Chisan, and to address Raindrop with another question,
"If I DO give you my tools instead of storing them away, miss Raindrop, will you be careful with them? They are very precious to me."

(... I can't really fathom entrusting my holy instruments to any guardsman short of an Operator who requires them. Even less, a melee combatant. What if they get damaged? It's possible. Which is bad. Possible is bad.)
Razorback Fortress: The Armory
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213409
213439
>>213374
"You're starting to sound like one of those Dark Horse Cultists in the Moors, all charging out to defeat their foes with the greatest possible surety. You might even be able to make friends with them Miss Castella.. if you can stand all their puns."
>Snickering behind the facemask, Raindrop makes a brief wiggle of her locked-in wings, two large black buckles on either side likely having made the noise.
"Oh it's very possible, you're definitely silly like a filly."

>Picking up the driftcode, it was a low powered Inquisitorial cache beacon.. which the auspex was unable to decipher.
>Either it was a cache for all Imperials, or the Rogue Trader's, though the second was extremely unlikely.

>Picking up a large, empty ammunition tin, the Stormtrooper examines it for several moments, then places it down, one finger idly tapping it.
"The patrol was sent to scout, survey, mark construct materials for future salvage, and recover critical resources from a small abandoned city between two hills above numerous small lakes far south of Canterlot, the capital city of Equestria. No motor vehicles; three recently constructed travel carts were issued. Loadouts were three Pre-Age of Strife marksman type ballistic rifles, two submachine guns, what we call short autostubbers. All carried close ranged semi-automatic ballistic pistols or revolvers. One to two standard frag grenades, one smoke grenade, four to eight chemlights carried by each. Necessary survival and expedition gear was included; large tent, pickaxe, shovel, climbing rope, small stove, fuel bricks, food, water. According to the Comm-Liuetenant the patrol is five rookies, less trained than ourselves with roughly equivalent wargear. The task is to rescue the scouting team, not to perform infield repairs unless absolutely vital. In the event of hostiles a fighting retreat is preferable."

>Opening the locker, it was relatively empty, though large enough to store an entire squad's wargear.
>On a lower shelf were two definite STC pattern frag grenades, a pair of canister grenades with green bands, both labeled 'HIGH EXPLOSIVE' in bright red, a set of thin armor plates that looked like high quality flak, and two powerpacks: one rifle, one pistol.

>Looking up at you, Raindrop's eyes could be seen behind a pair of clear, wide lenses, the shoulder plates lifting slowly.
"Sorry Miss Castella, bit too much weight you're carrying. I won't be able to three-point gallop which is much slower than I'd prefer if the objective is search and rescue. My saddlepack is about ten pounds alone, so at best you'll have to lose around thirty, otherwise I won't be able to run for longer than a minute."

>Strolling towards you with a pair of empty locking tins, definitely of STC make, Chisan steps inside the locker to set them down, then unslings his pack to remove several items.
"Tools are unlikely to be of use Enginseer. Speed is our only priority."
>Walking out and heaving the now much lighter shellpack on, the scion removes his Hellpistol for a brief inspection.
"Your doubts are genuine Enginseer but speed is our only priority. Our wargear will be safe and protected here."
Mallia Castella
yTq98
?
No.213439
213457
MONTAGE TIME.gif
>>213409
>>213409
>Mallia took the time to very attentively listen to the answer from Chisan, nodding along with a distinct focus on his words.
>Then, when he'd finish speaking, the Enginseer slowly lowered their head and glance towards Raindrop, listening to her answer, as well.
>…
>She also acknowledges her Auspex's report, and orders it to scan the Cache beacon to determine if it was coming from INSIDE the locker or not.

>Finally, a slow, barely restrained sigh comes out of the Enginseer, returning her glance to Chisan as he further emphasizes 'speed'.

"Understood."
>She nodded once to Chisan in firm acknowledgement. An undertone of worry barely concealed beneath her voice.

>With that, she turned her glance back to the contents of the locker. Spying a few items of interest; namely the flak vest which seemed to fit her needs, and the two high explosive canister grenades.
>She unslings her lasrifle, Axe, and shield, to gently lean them vertically against the body of the locker, allowing herself to draw back her mechadendrite as she starts to take off her own backpack, lay it on the ground and open it to start drawing things out.

>Free of having to hold up the backpack for Mallia, the mechadendrite idly looms almost over her shoulder like the big, metallic tentacle that it was; shifting the manipulator claw where her eyes go.

>With a quiet, venerating care she gently brings out the large, armaplas hardcase containing the Tools & Fabrication kit, first. Ensuring that it is currently operating in sleep-mode to save power, before she sets it into a space within the locker whilst barely making a sound.
>She even gives the hardcase a little pat.
>The same thing she does with the Mechanicus Maintenance kit, moving the somewhat smaller, plastic hardcase to rest beside the Fabrication kit, also putting it in sleep mode.

"… Rest well, dearest machine spirits…"
>She whispered beneath her breath.

>That, on it's own, was 15 kilograms of equipment less to carry.

>She didn't stop there though. Her mechadendrite whirring softly from it's joints as it bends smoothly, moving around her to aid her in undoing the Carapace armor along with her hands, taking off every modular piece aside from the wrist piece housing the auspex, which she obviously keeps, and more hurriedly puts it all into the locker in a perhaps unnecessarily orderly bundle.
>Except for her helmet, which she keeps unless the Flak armor has a helmet as well. She instead just leaves it on the ground.

>Then picks up what LOOKS to be high quality flak armor, and dons it instead along with either a matching helmet, or the flimsy carapace helmet.
>Feeling somewhat at home with the lightness of Flak armor, compared to the awkward and poor quality carapace she was wearing previously!

>And also replaces 2 of her 6 fragmentation grenades with 2 High Explosive grenades instead.

>When everything is done, she stands back up and takes a moment to roll her shoulders and back; sighing with relief to the brief lack of burden…
>Before, with a wary smile and a slow blink -- lingering there for but a second, she stands back up and brings up the considerably lighter backpack onto her back once more, followed by her Omnissian Axe, her combat shield, and finally her lasrifle.

>The latter of which she takes a moment to take off the power pack, pointing it towards the ground as she mentally recites the Litany of Unloading to her lasgun and pulls the trigger to ensure the weapon is safe.

(Machine Spirit, forgive my actions, soon you shall be whole again.)

>She then follows it up with the Litany of Reloading, as she brings out the powerpack from one of her pouch and firmly applies it, making sure that the Lasgun does not have any problems.
>Mallia had yet to really inspect her weapon, so she merely hoped it was in satisfactory condition until the next time she could do proper maintenance.

(Machine Spirit, accept my gift. Swallow the light, and spit out death.)

>With that all done, she looked down to the new flak armor. Patting it here and there to make sure it was properly worn over her robes, before finally shouldering the lasrifle and finally looking to the Stormtrooper, an eager pep in her voice.
"I think I am light enough!"
>She said, as she straightens her back much more quickly and proudly than when she was carrying all of her heavy tools.

>Though even then, she pauses and glances back into the locker with a deeply pursed lip,
"Could go with a bayonette, though… The Omnissian axe is my only melee weapon."
Razorback Fortress: The Armory
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213457
213563
>>213439
>Much more slowly examining the beacon, the auspex's Machine Spirit picks up an outlandishly complex Ordo Xenos code hosted by a marvelously sacred beta-encryption run in Xenarch Binary.
>Fortunately deciphering them in time before the beacon locks, a short stream of code is given before declaring you are given access.

>Removing your originally issued, and terribly cheap carapace armor, both Chisan and Raspberry Raindrop's cautious examinations are felt on your back, the first approving of your choice while the Knight's was unquestionably curious, and a bit lewd, minded.
>Fitting the Best Quality Flak on yourself inside the locker, the B.Q. helmet was multitudes more comfortable than your first issue wargear.
>Strapping the belt around your waist, it was precisely a half size smaller, requiring a slight compression of your chest and hips to fit properly.
>The internal viewscreen screen lights up with a host of Inquisitorial codes that read off as being accepted, then stating Inquisitor Velasi was the former wearer, reading out a substantial amount of data from the the quartet of Machine Spirits quite disgruntled at their change of service.
>Nonetheless accepting you as their bearer, all four recognize you while the auramite-reinforced helmet registers Preysense, NightVis, and an unknown STC version of long-distance pict-recording enhancements, also including improved vox functions.
>Working the armor around until it felt comfortable, save for being a fraction tighter than you'd find comfortable, the Lasrifle's Machine Spirit accepts the Litany with due grace, finding no functional problems with its operation.

>Chisan's helmet turns down to Raindrop, both staring at each other in short, awkward silence.
>One hand lifting to palm his visor, and one hoof raising to hoof her facemask, both manage to groan at nearly the same time.
"If that becomes required then we would be well and truly in the feral squig pens, Enginseer-"
"The second we come across an enemy pony I'm gonna start shouting sexy threats which they'd probably submit to-"
>Recovering from their oddly twinned problems, the Tempestus Scion motions towards the Knight, replacing his Hellpistol in its holster before treading towards the east door.
"Mount Raindrop immediately, we must leave now. I do not like the idea of a rescue mission in general."
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
G2DxV
?
No.213461
213860
>>213261

>"Did she say that these taurs still see and hear me?"
>Still trying to get used to the medieval speak, Clem tentatively eyes the minotaurs before moving on
>"Oh, the new batponies have come. Wonder if the minotaur leading them has some business with these ones."
"I would like to see the sort of weaponry that a ship like this would have."
>Clem gets some nostalgia from his tour of this vessel
>It's like trying to loadout for a sortie
>He starts to make his way for the bow this time, looking up when he reaches the end of the walkway
>Seeing the ramps above open, he waits but prepares for that lift see he doesn't feel the 'drop'
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.213463
213502 214167
maxresdefault3.jpg
>>213312
>>212654
>Welp, it seems like he's learned some thing about these vampires.
>They're loyal to Luna, no names, it's not a party.
>And he has no idea what these vampires are about.
>So know it's time for damage control.
>Jeff puts his hands up a little in defense.
"My apologies. No names, then. I was just complimenting your resting grounds, is all. Looks very comfortable here. If I didn't just wake up from a nap, I'd take another."
>The mare turns to mutter to the others, but he gets the message.
>Hmm...
>He could ask Luna about how to proceed, but she might be handling the Citadel still.
>Couldn't hurt, at least.
>As the Stalliongrad mare leads he and Sunny in, Jeff reaches into a pouch and holds his Moon Orb in his hand, making a mental call to Luna.
(Luna, it's Jeff. I need some knowledge and advice on vampires. I'm exploring a crypt in the Moors and there's like forty of them, half are awake. I don't think they're aware what time it is.)
>They're ushered to sit, and he does just that on a free spot and graciously declines the offering of blood.
>Apparently, he doesn't seem to have the stomach for it anymore.
"Oddly enough, I just so happened to have lost my taste for blood recently. Thank you, though."
>He taps his knees rapidly, trying to think of something witty to come up with and fails.
"So. What is it that you have to offer to trade? We didn't exactly bring much in terms of gifts with us."
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
EMMlB
?
No.213468
214424
>>213317

>Nova floated in the void, rolling around in it lazily and testing her legs to get a feel of them in the weightless environment.
>At least, learning to move and kick them was a step to learning how to walk again.
>The mare had the muscle mass to lift herself and had clearly been capable of doing so.
>But now 'Nova' would have to learn how to adjust to this once again.
"I know Hodch... If I were in this... Breeding season would I be too busy fighting my urges to oogle your genitalia and try and resist throwing myself at you to ride you raw until dawn?"
>The sarcasm could practically be heard dripping from her.
>The sudden, rather surprising shift in tone makes her raise an eyebrow.
>She didn't say a word as Hodch ranted to her in his rather annoyed tone.
>Well, that struck a nerve.
"... Apologies, I have no idea what you're talking about with Stalliongrad at the moment. But... Yeah. That would be nice. I would appreciate having a tutor helping me get used to this whole pony thing and teaching me how to do as you all do rather than just... Horsing around."
>She snickered at her awful pun.
"... Why would I need a cover name though? Is my existence at the moment highly illegal through the process you just undertook to get me a new body?"
>She asks, then the food appears before her.
>Oh... Yes. This was going to be good.
"Thank you Hodch."
>She says, properly, before clumsily reaching forth towards the food.
>Barely hearing Hodch's advice to save some food, she wastes no time and lays waste to the delicious, sweet and salty pretzels.
>And then a cinnamon roll, and a chocolate covered apple.
>Was she even tasting the food anymore...?
>She couldn't tell, but it was all good!
Something Bad -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
RD9V6
?
No.213476
214433 214607
rthrwffdsasdv.png
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>Aura vanishing from his horn Golden let out a sigh of relief.
"No Constructs close by, real or fake. BUT-"
>He stomped his hoof.
"-We should move, who knows what will come upon us if we chatter here any longer."

>>210625
"Huh?"
>Confused, the old Unicorn looked around until he too saw what the Witcher was talking about.
"Oh, that is something."

>With the after affects of the translocation gone from his system Adon recognised right away what was the source of the light.
>It was a tunnel, or rather an entrance to one. A pale ray of light illuminating the rocky ground before it, showing there were tracks winding down towards the surrounding forest. From where he stood Adon had a perfect side view of the tunnel, it appearing as a box sticking of the out mountain slope; how far it went inside the landmass was impossible to say.
"Definitely does not have the glow of Constructs."
>Golden Horn confirmed, his voice wavering between confidence and uncertainty.

>The Wolf Medallion vibrated lightly, a reaction from being teleported.
>Hopefully.

>>210656
>As he stood there being annoyed, Spruces' eyes recovered and he could see again properly.
"No doubt about that Spruce, thankfully we acclimatized quickly. Perhaps due to us not being too high up."
>Agreed Golden Horn, not taking his eyes off the entrance Adon spotted, his legs wobbling slightly.

>The Chitqu had also gotten better, no longer squeaking up a storm it was now slowly crawling between Spruces' shoulders, its small black bead of a nose twitching as it sniffed the thinner air.

>As he stepped forward towards the tunnel entrance one of Goldens' ears flicked backwards, his head following suit to look back at the Operator.
"I am afraid so, terribly so. The Universities' fears have come to pass. The situation has escalated and am quite scared now, but we cannot just run away now can we?"

>Spruce saw where the pony was going and too came to the conclusion it was a tunnel at first glance, it had a modern standard to it as well. No blemishes or cracks, the dark red surface utterly smooth and its square dimensions were sharp to a point.

>When he looked away from tunnel and observed his new surroundings the Norwegian Fallskjermjegers' experience kicked in.
>From where he stood the peak of the mountain was half a kilometre away, yet despite the distance he could see how precarious the snow had piled up as thick layers up there. The entire surface of the slopes surface was covered in loose rocks, and from what he saw they became smaller the higher the altitude. Even the wind, previously noted being thin, was not as cold as it should be.
>All the right conditions for an avalanche.

>Still walking, albeit at a slower pace due to wobble leg, Golden called back to the two humans as his horn went alight.
"Let us go, might as well bite the crossbow bolt while we're here."
[1d6+2 = 3]
>B.Arcane Awareness
[1d6+2 = 8]

[1d6 = 6]
>Perception

[1d10 = 8]
>Programming

Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.213502
214167
1269953.png
>>213312

>Sunny wryly watched Mercy all but fall down in shock, and Boris' clumsy attempt to calm her before turning her attention back to the room and its residents.
>Taking note that the crypt was at less than half capacity, the mare wondered why.
>Another mystery.
>Counting the exact number of weapon and armor sets, Sunny wondered if only sixteen had ever been interred here.

[1d6+5 = 9]
< B. Perception
[1d6+5 = 10]

>The only thing that was clear to her was that this crypt had been half built, used at half capacity, left unguarded but preserved then all but forgotten and left to sink into the earth.
>How many other crypts like this were scattered about the moors forgotten? Their occupants left to sleep forever?
>How could they have been just left like this?
>They didn't even seem to know how much time had passed, or that they were very close to being buried forever.
>Something had called them awake, but by no means did she think it was deliberate.
>The lunars would have left them here forever, and that made her somewhat angry, though she hid it well.

>>213463

>Lifting a foreleg, her wings and bowing her head a little in the manner of a pegasi curtsy, Sunny declined.
"My apologies, but the moors are not safe and the engineers above will not remain in the area for long. Someone must keep watch."
>Nodding towards Jeff, Sunny added.
"I'll maintain vigil in the foyer, sir."
>Finishing the curtsy, Sunny took a step back, turned, and made her way back up the stairs towards the foyer.
>Perhaps she'd let the moor cats in to cause some chaos and lessen the somber feeling of a half empty chamber.
>Huh, with the arrival of the four of them, there were exactly twenty beings within the crypt, not including the cats.
>She hoped.
Mallia Castella
6nSdQ
?
No.213563
214176
>>213457
>Upon becoming aware of the Xenarch binary and the beta-encryption key, Mallia's glance squints and then widens from behind her new, black flak helmet's viewscreen; giving off a surprised and somewhat concerned air for a while.
>Reflexively, she recites a prayer to the Omnissiah and to the Machine Spirits to honor this degree of encryption as it grants her access.

>As she queries her auspex as to what exactly she was given access to, a few realizations come through her mind once she takes note of the Inquisitorial codes on her viewscreen.

>That cache beacon may have been coming from the armor itself.
>And seeing the Machine Spirit seemingly, albeit begrudgingly, accepting her as the current operator without instantly rejecting her, that seemed to have been the case.
>She also internally hadn't fully realized this was the Inquisitor's own armor, up until the moment that she was having to draw in half a breath just so she could get the belt around herself; and the fact that her cleavage was SUFFICIENTLY compressed by the armor.

(Oops... This is the rudest thing I've done in a long time, had I been in 'my' world I'd probably be dead by now, I think.)

>She was entirely mortified; enough that her previously proud, straight-backed stance sort of slouches slightly as embarrassment colored her cheeks with a hint of red, over the practically void-born paleness of her face.
>Almost entirely ignoring the fact that the others were staring at her like they were, or the purpose of their groaning, as she takes a moment to utter a prayer of forgiveness to Velasi's machine spirits, making the promise that she will act as per their own specifications and will uphold all Rites of Maintenance religiously, or she isn't enginseer Mallia Castella!

>... She then lowkey queried the Machine Spirits of the armor, asking just how long they had been on stand-by within the locker, seeing the Inquisitor's new form...

>Then suddenly her eyes snapped between her two companions as they made their remarks, after she'd mentioned the bayonet.
>Their reactions make one brow lower and the other rise in pure confusion, unsure of why they'd deny the usefulness of a bayonet.

(What the heck are they talking about? I cannot compute.)

>Reflexively she coughs out a surprised chuckle,
"Heh!-- W-what's wrong with a bayonet? What did they mean by this?"
>Mallia would mutter beneath her breath, both confused and abashed.

>She quickly closed the locker and ensured it was locker, then complied with the Stormtrooper's instructions and much more speedily strides up to Raindrop's side. She gives the mare a signalling little pat on the back, before repeating the motions to mount the mare and get onto the saddle, holding herself firmly onto the handhold, and tucking her legs in.

>Almost as soon as she was onto Raindrop she resumes grumbling quietly,
"Shouting sexy threats isn't really Standard Operating Procedures though, kinda feels ..."
(Heretical?)
"Iunno..."

>She pouts, before focusing entirely on maintaining her balance onto the equine she was riding and going back to listening to the machine spirits' replies. Glancing down towards her rope, and trying to tug it in so that it wouldn't drag along the floor as they moved.
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213658
213673
>>213134
>Recalling the Crystal-unicorn's apathetic expression, it was more likely she had far more pressing issues on her mind like Frost Egg's unanticipated patient rather than simple affectionate contact.

>Coming to a halt around 25M away, feeling the impacts of many other human focusing on you is drowned out by the molotov being hurled towards the offending plume of vapors.
>Landing the bottle less than a foot away, upon hearing your words the courtyard fairly lights up the night, a variety of human molotovs, firebombs, small fuel canisters, and even several white phosphorous grenades are hurled towards the slowly melting sphere.. with varying degrees of success.
>Forced to shield your eyes by one hand from the sudden bloom of fire in all manners, the same Russian from before shouts muffledly in your direction.
"What compound is this and where did it come from?!"

"Ark Viper venom-"
>Comes a new voice, that of a much older and faintly snooty, though fatigued tone.
>Coming to a stop on your right, the aged, faded pink unicorn you'd seen sleeping earlier lifts her right foreleg to shield her eyes.
"Preferred venom of choice for some Saddle Arabian assassins. Roughly ten to thirty minutes to act within the bloodstream, Aerosolizes in three to five minutes upon exposure to oxygen. Easily destroyed if removed before intravenous circulation occurs; after that, mediocre chance of survival."
>Head tilting right, the elderly mare's left eye, a molten and swirling mass of gleaming silver, glances up at you momentarily before lifting the same forehoof in the new inferno's direction with a blithe smile.
"I'm Doctor Tipper by the way. I usually oversee Razorback's health needs whenever not sauced or baked into oblivion.. and that should be more than enough for complete destruction. Heat feels nice in my old age."
Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213662
213739
>>213139
>Leaning forwards on the rendered chair, the A.I. once more cross-references its information to Spiral's habits with an irate expression.
"I'm missing something stupidly obvious and I know it. Illogic nodes activated and searching, sir."
>Taking a look at the crystalline device, the same sequence of Crystal Kingdom runes appears on the face in light blue glows.
>Peering at the third line you recognized a pair of words, the first being 'search', the second a portmareteu of something like 'depth' or perhaps 'height'.
"Ah.. ah. Wait, sir, that might be a handheld ground penetrating radar.. device of some sort, or something like the ionic metal detectors in use several years before trials of my generation debuted. Uh, usually meant for detecting silver, gold, platinum, or other rare metals.. ..resonance is an interesting term. Do items containing these 'element' esoteric functions resonate?"
>Lifting one forehoof to rub its nose, your A.I. glances between the marked ruins in obvious irritation.
"I could learn it if given enough time and instruction.. yes sir, but depending on what 'small' and 'large' constitute here these could involve weeks of searching. I'm not an expert when it comes to exploring abandoned ruins sir, most of OUR world only had a few historic ones that were preserved for the sake of keeping in the good grace's of locals. Most I could do is advise of possible traps, failsafes, and alternate accesses."

>Examining the New Everfree map once more, the spread out distances between each compared to the Fortress' location were not conducive to reconnaissance, or speed.
>Coming up with a blank on the circumstances behind why the Marquis would select them for exploration, the A.I. quietly clears its electronic throat.
"Sir.. I MAY have the alternate answer you're looking for."
>Placing one hoof on the right screen, the A.I. turns its swivel chair in your direction, a marginally dismal expression on its face.
"Your logs indicate that this Spiral performed some form of ritual involving six elemaretal cores recovered from an Early Dynasty ruin, correct?"
>Pointing to the Honor Guard records, then at the Caneighdian ruin map, 'Spiral leans back with forelegs folded.
"One, Marquis du Spiral Disclosure.. what a bucking odd name, went with a Canterlot College of Magic team on an expedition to a rather large Early Dynasty ruin in Caneighdia where six 'flawed' elemearetal cores were recovered. Two, an earthquake forced them to leave. Three, many years later he underwent a process in which he split into six equine variations. Four, about eight months ago he sent out a marecenary team which recovered yet another elemaretal core. Sir, it stands to reason that unless he's found somewhere else to explore, which is still likely, I think he may be trapped in this Caneighdian ruin. My illogic nodes didn't pick this up, reexamining your logs did."
Cairn Wharf: The Sea Shack
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213666
213682
>>213143
>Examining the smallest amber hollow, within the hollow was a fractured chunk of dull blue-white crystal, the Ferron mare glancing up with a nearly jealous smile.
"Seen this before a couple times, usually much bigger. Ever seen or heard of bluesteel? If not it's a cold and ice absorbing metal, grows from an Otherworldly mushroom, can only find it in the Empire or Northern Gryphon Kingdoms if you know where to look. This is similar to that; ponies call it frostame. Crystal ponies used to make coldstones out of it but much too rare, they turned most of it into weapons and armor. Probably worth a thousand Bits as is, double that if you polish it some, but if you know a Crystal pony that can make a coldstone out of it, double even that."
>Tapping her first primary feather over the medium sized amber chunk, a thin sheet of rough gray granite covered in harsh, jagged runic language was embedded in the center, her lips turning into a pensive frown.
"Looks like earth pony but isn't.. this is Covil script, I think. Was a continent inhabited by earth ponies. Somehow got 'lost' a few thousand years ago though nopony knows how, when, or why exactly it happened, or what caused it. Can't give you a price since only a few even know how to read it. Might wanna take it to a Lorekeeper, some of them know how to translate a few words. Then again I have heard a couple rumors about some truly weird ponies that DO know the language. Sorry I can't tell you more."
>Merely brushing off a scattering of amber shards from the large one, the center was a hard, clear orange-yellow orb containing a fairly large, dangerous looking bright yellow ant, complete with a vicious stinger and serrated jaws that were probably capable of snapping off one's pinky.
"I think mom talked about something like this one, probably from Covil as well given how aggressive and.. painful it looks. Definitely a form of warrior ant but not a species from Equestria, way too big and that stinger isn't normal. I'd say the Canterlot College would pay around two thousand Bits for one like this for their collection, but I bet the Underground might pay better. Might be able to get a bit more if you can find somepony that collects stuff like this."
>Pausing over the giant chunk of amber, the midnight blue mare bites her lower lip as you survey a weird piece of twisted, bright orange driftwood.
>Reaching out to poke it once with her hoof, the wood causes a hard, almost ringing sound, retracting her foreleg with a sharp inhale and flattening her ears while hissing.
"FFFFF- that hurts! That actually HURTS!"
>Shaking the hoof out, then glaring from it to the piece, the mare's eyes snap up to you with an irritated, albeit impressed look.
"Not a clue on this one. Never seen this before or felt like my hoof was being torn into, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's Planar. Better find somepony that knows materials way more than I do and isn't an idiot."

>The filly clops her front hooves together while her eyes light up, a big smile spreading across her face.
"REALLY!? Yesss! Okay, go in there and take off all your clothes-"
>Turning on the cushion and pointing towards a small back room on the rear left side of the shack.
"I'll go find my measuring strings, then I can start putting it together the second I know what size you are!"
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
zS8n9
?
No.213673
214420
>>213658
>The new connection that has been made in his mind made quite a lot of sense.
(Still, I should try to cheer her up. She was rather down after being woken up. She probably felt useless and sad and I hate sadness.)

>Cheto's eyes widen at the left eye's silver liquid.
(Woah, that is quite the characteristic.)
>A shake of his head follows, trying to divert his staring.
(It's impolite to stare at body oddities.)
>Cheto nods at her introduction
"My name is José Gallo. I am simply a rookie whose main power is to have a silver tongue. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Tipper."
>Seeing her lack of bodily greetings, he simply stands side to side with her as they both feel the heat of the flames from all the of fire thrown at the ball of venom.
>His head turns to Tipper, removing his gas mask and putting it back into the pouch where it belongs.
>He has a relieved smile, thinking the worst has passed.
"Even when young, heat is always nice."
>Expecting to be asked for a briefing for the highest-ranking medical member, he starts explaining the situation with a neutral expression and voice.
"The ball of venom came from one of the patients recently taken out of a Construct pod. I have little to no clue as to how he's doing. The medics back at the clinic suffered nosebleeds from the venom and I'm unsure if they'll be okay. They both were conscious before I left to dispose of the venom ball."
(Hopefully the Russian fellow that asked the question can hear this.)
>Exhaling after his rather frantic sprint, he nods.
"I'll be back at the clinic to see how the medics are doing. I hope they're well. Not to mention the patient whose body expelled that ball of venom."
>Out of the blue, the sexy faint voice from before acts up again.
>It's telling him to poke the pony right on the nose.
(Hm. I suppose I should take it to the next level in order to see how far I can pe- I mean explore the pony, and there is many witnesses to confirm if it's in bad form to do so. Although it is quite an odd request, it should prove to be a big boost in my exploration of the equine culture. If a boop is accepted, then normal pets will, too.)
>He nods to confirm his action, validating for the first time the sexy voice that recently settled itself in his head.
>His knees bend slightly so that his hand is about the same altitude to her snout while his arm loosens up.
>A second of contemplation passes while staring at the fire when unexpectedly, the hand form into a point and gently propels itself towards Doctor Tipper’s nose, poking it right in between the nostrils.
>His eyes contemplates her reaction, searching for any sort of signs of either positive or negative feedback to his action.
[1d6 = 4]

[1d6 = 5]
<Basic Perception
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
AdzLX
?
No.213681
215679
>>211649
"Don't want to hear it, we're both making it back."
>If she wants to sass me I'll make sure I annoy her like this.
>I grimace as she yells into the water
>While I'm no water scientist I think sound travels further in it
>Which means if it was loud enough that pegasus was deaf.
"That's... one way to make contact, I guess."
>Watches the map for a moment.
"Hopefully."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
AdzLX
?
No.213682
215682
>>213666
>Bubba nods, picking the crystal up to look at it closer for a moment, before putting it away into a pocket.
>He stares at the sheet and frowns a little, but lifts it up as well.
>He knew for a fact he couldn't decipher it so he didn't try, but he did look it over carefully.
"I'll see who I can find about this one, then."
>Away into the jacket it goes as he looks at the angry looking ant.
>At the mention of Canterlot, Bubba suppresses a grimace.
>He quickly decides to look for some pony in the Underground, or at least someone willing to be a middleman. Or middlemare.
>He let's out the grimace at the ringing noise, though, as he leans back from the driftwood.
"I have no idea what it is either, and it certainly doesn't look natural. I'll grab this and the ant on my way out.
>"And carefully, I don't want to know if that hunk of wood is capable of anything if dropped."

>"Not happening."
>Bubba made his way back there while taking his jacket off, looking around as he started removing most of his clothes.
The GM L.O.N.T
pM9oV
?
No.213712
>>210307

>Placing the colt down into the tent, Lont nodded to himself as he looked down at the sleeping colt.
>'Good, good.'

>Leaving the tent he looked down at Glacier flicking a finger towards one of the many places serving food.
"So where shall we eat, seeing how you are taking me out to dinner."
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.213731
215771
>>213259
>Small company
>Still sounds like an offshoot of Razorback
>Zhun chuckles at the apparent disgust for the Sun
>Wouldn't the way Crystal ponies look just reflect the rays anyway?
"I'm used to the heat. Thanks past life. And I haven't seen much beaches around so that's something."
>Zhun then eyes the pony and her hoof
>"Oh no, did I rope myself in?"
>He then hums in though, trying to remember any humans back at base
>He glances at his hands, thinking about it for a second until he looks to the pony
"Oh, ok. I was worried I would have to make do. I only did the massage thing a couple times..."
>"What was it with their hooves and massages? Are they...sensitive? Did that book mention something?"
"I'll find someone. If not, then you know me then."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.213739
215776
>>213662
>Pareidolia nods as he continues to stare at the maps.

"Presumably they resonate in a manner Crystal Ponies would be sensitive to."

>He exhales briefly as he pulls another set of notes across the table, placing it in the center of the map.

"I know. If we were going to explore a ruin, I would need to recruit experienced delvers."

>As he picks up the crystal hololith to examine it more closely, he spares a brief glance to his A.I. as it speculates.

"That is a possibility if he was seeking information on the cores to reform himself. As it stands we would still need more information to pinpoint a location. Your input is noted. Any updates on that data stream leaving the Faraday Cage?"

>He looks up from the table to glance behind him if the Lab was still the same as it was and only occupied by him.

[And the Inquisitor will be indisposed as well. Base staff is stretched thin. They need recovery time before any potential searches can be undertaken. Do we have any time left?]
Basin Arena: The Guillotine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.213860
214394
>>213461
>Passing your gaze across the Hegemony minotaurs once more, minute threads of many Airstreams flow outwards through the stasis units holding them.
>Whether that was a direct response or acknowledgements of your presence here were not entirely clear.

>Picking up the Lunar cow outside giving final orders, amusingly speaking En-Kee in a harsh, strained accent to do so, Guillotine's voice crackles over the radio proudly.
*"Granted, grace. Cometh to mineself's bow then, touch all they wantest tae. Please thy questions an' thoughts all thee wish grace, prayest mineself do unto new insights thou mayest reveal-"*

>Stepping into the cylinder of light once more, it brings you up slowly towards the vessel's narrow bow, during which time Destroyers take their positions inside.
>Clustered into sets of six on each rack, many of the batponies lift hooves and wings, excitedly snickering or kee'ing warm, cheerful greetings towards you.

>Passing a single pair of rotating racks on the way up, the gravity control shaft ends on a short catwalk.
>Looking up, then around, the entire silverine bow was covered in freakish geometric devices, all of which were vaguely familiar, yet at the same time exuded a sense of finality that only heavily tested military hardware could produce.
>Opposite each other and mounted directly to the narrow hull were clusters of eight clear honeycomb lattices, looking more like quartzine than any other material you knew of.
>Each contained a single dull gray barrel connected to a network of thin crystalline cables, the upper length heavily blackened from, likely, thousands of uses.
>Directly above and below you existed wide, rectangular apertures curving into the hull, brilliant silverine oval tubes feeding into them, possibly some form of esoteric missile launcher.
>Squeezed into the bow's keel were a pair of large, abnormally clear silver cannon barrels jutting directly into the hull, the pair making rhythmic, pulsing vibrations like twin heartbeats.
>Lastly was a single blade-like protrusion resting in a partially blackened cradle directly above your head, featuring a strange array of small tubes extending down into the catwalk you were standing on, and a single bright gold cable connected into the center which ran down the top decking towards the aft.

*"Dost thou see mineself's tech-arcane weaponry? Greater glories mine kin found not before taketh our refuge upon Tallus. Many selves lost within thee Endless Ocean called kin as minself vain profusions of ignobleness brought from home worlds aplenty. Right they assertions were; millionfolds mineself cursed tae live beyond fates uknown. Spaketh mine kin: 'rest eternal thouself shall upon thee Rites of Destruction eternal'. Wrong they be upon first nights, many worse wrongs hath mineself done. Endless slumbers havest Guillotine wished mineself couldest weep in sorrow, mine kin be now lost ever on. Mayhaps wrong we be, grace? What monsters we be Constructed Twos be not?"*
Jamal Ratchet
!PsOrb9esFQ
H8C8w
?
No.213999
215779
>>213265
>Upon seeing a lone mare surrounded by possibly her chilluns, Jamal goes on high alert.
>He's done seen too many niggas get caught up in some bullshit child support.
>Once the foals scatter and the zebra mare starts talking normal he calms down.
"Uh, sure. Thanks."
>Jamal starts walking towards the hut, waving bye as he leaves.
"Alright, I can do that."
>As he walks to said hut, Jamal samples a litle bit of each color strain he sees along the way, stuffing them in his backpack until he's got about what he thinks a basket worth is.
"So uh, thank you dirt for growin this, thank you sun for feeding this, and thank you rain for, shit I guess also feeding these plants. Fuck if I know."
>Jamal stashes away his mango drank upon his arrival at presumably the chiefs hut and enters, scoping the place out to see if there are any zebras there who are clearly the head honcho.
Anonymous
/MHkr
?
No.214032
test
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.214167
214694 214699
>>213463
>Sitting down on what was probably her own amber bed, the Stalliongradian motions a hoof towards the one opposite hers.
"Neigh, apologize not. If you do not know our laws then we have little reasoning to be incensed. It is I that must apologize for not knowing thou were travelers."

>Picking up the sound of a barely familiar batpony mare yawning tiredly, the voice that responds was the odd one with a short, swept back horn, the tone briefly confused until sharpening in clarity.
(The what now? Oh.. ah, you're the new human Nightblade, right.. right, sorry, I'm trying not to sleep.. ...it's harder than I thought. Hm, that's an easy enough situation to fix: give them fruit. Should be some nearby if you're not in the Crags, Deep, or Northern Moors. If that doesn't work cut the fruit open and cover their noses in juice, it'll wake them quickly. There's only a few blood-drinkers that are insect-eaters so if any are simply say there's a swarm of nightbugs outside, that works for me most times.)

>Head cocking left, the Lunar robed mare's nose, and ears, wriggle in open curiosity.
"Such a fate is quite unfortunate, young one. It is rare to hear of such a tainted existence yet I will pray in my dreams the Night to welcome thee once more."
>Carefully folding her forelegs across the robe, she swings her head left, sniffing the air several times, then gives a polite giggle of surprise.
"In truth, too many. Weaponry, armor, relics, and artefacts from the Solar-Lunar War aplenty. All greatly ensorcelled, fresh-blooded, eager to serve against the Princess of Dawn's renegades. Elixirs of shielding, armor, strength-of-hooves, speed of thought, ka, and body as well. I will allow the trade of five each Nightglow, Shadow-Gate, Sun Killer, Dragonscale, Coldheart, and Lofting draughts as well. To be fair, traveler, see for thyself what we have, or have not."
>Leaning back far enough for the hood to tip upwards, a peculiarly thick, bright blue silk scarf was wound around her head entirely concealing the eyes, making a short motion towards the rest of the crypt's inhabitants.
"We come to slumber with enough to last more than the eighty supposed to rest here. As for trade you must worry not, simple knowledge is enough a gift for we to hear."
>Head dropping down, the mare gives an apologetic, slightly fanged smile.
"Forgive my question by the by, though do ye know when our kin shall arrive or hath they sent no word yet? We of the Lunarite Collective are slow to march."

>>213502
>Subtly hiding a false attempt to calm Mercy down, the Belligerent's eyes gleam in hostile blue as he delivers a full powered punch into the other white pegasi's neck.
>Momentarily stunned, the Golem affects a sensation that could only be described as a deadpan smirk..
>Upon which the two immediately begin tearing into each other, fists, hooves, solid Golem feet, and bright pink wingblades clashing at close range.
[1d6 = 2]
<Boris
[1d6 = 1]
<Mercy

>Ignoring the pair's scuffle in favor of surveying the underground crypt, the faux-barracks was set up in a manner prioritizing equine comfort above all else.
>Surveying the barely fathomable amount of weaponry for at least four hundred it was clear that this specific location was intended to act as both armory and reliquary, but also as a well protected stopover outpost in case of travel deeper into the Moors.
>Eyeing the amber beds themselves it was easy to pick out the sixteen which were claimed due to their brighter hues, the remainder greatly subdued and emitting less frequent pulses.

>Heading back up the stairs to the ceremonial chamber, the waterfall sound ceases easily pushing open the chosen door-
>Which leads to an immediate staring match with a large pyramid of dull toned Moor cats stacked up on the door.
>The felines blink first, those on top taking wing and flitting inwards by order, accompanied by a chorus of cheerful meows to explore inside.
>One of the frisky trespassers plops across your saddle, emitting a high pitched, rumbling purr of satisfaction.
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.214176
214374 214382
>>213563
>Unlike most Machine Spirits that you'd had contact with, the numerous ones contained within the deceptively thin, crystalline auspex and flak helmet were of such incredible clarity that you could understand their distinctly solid personalities.
>Returning an unknown, and quite puzzling Blessing of the Machine Empress in regards to your ownership of them, each of the four Machine Spirits list their substantially advanced capabilities in order, ending with the auspex Machine Spirit praising you for services rendered since it was quite bored of having little to do lately.
>Asserting that they were only begrudging since the Inquisitor had not worn them for quite some time, the quartet nonetheless welcome your patronage of them.
>These were definitely NOT standard issue.

>In response to your prayer, the four Machine Spirits amusingly deny your forgiveness, instead asking that you forgive them for being idle.
>Mildly perturbed by the mere ten nanocycles it took the auspex to respond, the answer of 10 months was given without hesitation, that Machine Spirit further explaining that she hadn't been able to predict the Tallus God of Discord from cursing Inquisitor Velasi into her current form of an Equestrian Common Unicorn Type IV.
>While the auspex Machine Spirit was a bit annoyed that she couldn't help Velasi herself, she begins reciting the Pledge of Machine Honor to uphold your requests for information; that is, so long as said requests wouldn't go against the Inquisitor's wishes.
>There was absolutely nothing "normal" about these Machine Spirits, nor the strange auspex function on encrypted Inquisitorial bands.

>both Raindrop's and Chisan's helmets turn to stare at each other.
>Heads turn in unison though with entirely different tones to speak at you, the Knight first while the Scion was slightly amused.
"I'd prefer getting in and then out on a rescue than be stuck in close combat, Miss Castella."
"Affixing bayonets is for Imperial Guard, Enginseer. That is not our current task."

>Smoothing your out robe above the rather tight armor, it was considerably easier to hop on the stout pegasi mare this time.
>Wiggling from side to side carefully, the Knight's head twists back, both eyes rolling in good natured humor.
"That's the much cleaner option Miss Castella. I'm a fighter primarily but when I need to be a lover there's not many ponies I can't seduce. It's much easier to wash off sexual fluids from my coat and mane than it is getting blood or gore lodged in my armor out, and if that disturbs you then don't mind it, there's been a few times I've solved problems with my body rather than my blades or hooves. Better to take an extra long bath rather than having to pay respects to grieving families, I say."
>Turning around in a 180 more easily than before, the Stormtrooper was already waiting outside at the door, giving a morose sigh.
"Knight Raspberry.. by your statements I am still unsure that you were not hired by the Inquisitor."
>Carrying you outside with her comfortable ambling walk, Raindrop passes a suitably cute, nearly realistic kissing sound at the Scion closing the door behind the two of you.
"Haven't even met her once so far but if she thinks anything like I do then I'd definitely do some jobs for her!"
>Hearing the distinctive smack of carapace gloved hand meeting visor, the Knight giggles behind her mask, breaking into a light lope southwest towards the Command Center.
>Passing the warfare building quickly, then the first row of barracks, Raindrop heads directly towards the lit up Pagoda, Chisan jogging a short distance behind.
>Entering the mostly open air building and coming to a slow halt in the center on a giant, round face of stone, the Tempestus Scion enters moments after to stand beside Raindrop, bringing a sheet of paper out from his vest and reading aloud.
"Vortex Remnant, deliver the three of us to the following coordinates: Equestria Mainland, Southern Canterlot Territory, Twin Hill Outlook, Upper Terrance."
>Replacing the page, the carapace helmet turns in your direction with a hard bent.
"If you have not experienced a Teleportarium yet then my advice is this: do not under any circumstances allow yourself to vomit."
>Instantly enveloped in a shifting cascade of greens, blues, and earthy colors, the world and your perceptions of it turn inside-down, upside-out, and many degrees of nausea that simply shouldn't exist.

>Spat out from the unexpected ride through reality, or perhaps realities, the first sound you notice.. was a rather violent storm and mist shrouding a variety of low, one story buildings all around.
>Loud, heavy rain smacking into armor, a peal of thunder ends a short distance away while Raindrop chortles merrily.
"Better weather than the Sea's Bounty fort gets every night!"
"I should be offended at your statement, Knight, but I did not sleep poorly there. Once the Enginseer is able to travel we will begin our search."
Mallia Castella
8fjhH
?
No.214374
214382 215891
>>214176
>The sheer amount of quality and responsiveness in this wargear was enough to elicit a feeling of awe, inadequacy, and respect.
>She had only heard of such equipment in her life. Being able to wear it, and interact with it, was truly something out of her dreams.
>A shiver of excitement crawls up the enginseer, and she had to pucker her lips so she wouldn't squee out loud; so great was said excitement!

"R-right... Silly me..."
>She found herself very distractedly replying to the Scion and Pegasus Knight, feeling her glance and mind's eye traveling elsewhere:
>The former all over the viewscreen, reading out all the riveting features available for operational use.
>The latter goes towards fangirling at the Machine Spirits and trying to get the new Auspex scanner to answer her questions!

(This is AWESOME! You are all AWESOME; If only I could come close to MATCHING the sleekness and efficiency of these design!)
(Awh I wish I had time to.. To make MY auspex as good as you! Maybe you two could link one day, you'd have fun together!)
(Thank you Omnissiah for this opportunity, thank you Machine Spirits for allowing me this great,great,great,great honor!)

(Aaah! I'm so sorry! I'm being annoying, sorrysorry--!)
(OH--)
>She begins to quickly forward her most recent scans of what she knows of the 'Shadow' which she was under just minutes after entering the world, asking the Inquisitorial auspex for any information about it.
>Mallia then almost immediately forms a line of inquiry for other things:

>If Inquisitor Velasi is a Common Unicorn Type IV, how many types of unicorns are there? What about every other type of equines?
>Are there any new rules, regulations, and Operating Procedures created by Inquisitor Velasi for Imperial operators that she doesn't already know?

>By now she was on Raindrop's back. She was ALMOST not paying attention to where they were going as she was paying more attention to her internal dialogue, but when the mare turned her head to reply back to her grumble, her eyes snap back to pay attention instead of gazing at nothing, in the distance.
>The excitement in the woman was palpable by how she wiggled her legs and bobbed her head to an invisible tune every now and then, but stopped after the 'washing sexual fluids'.

"Goodness,"
>The Enginseer breathes out a long, sighing chuckle as that reply makes her recoil her head slightly; her helmeted face tilting towards Chisan once to take note of his statement, and the reply from Raindrop.
"Funnily enough, gore never bothered me. In my line of work you see it a lot. Heck I've seen my own gore when I broke a femur in battle, and half of my lower internal organs! Never disturbed me! Though I'd be lying if I said that the notion of intercourse with someone unknown kind of, uh..."
>She rolled her tongue around which term to use, squeezing her hands around the handhold on Raindrop's neck armor.

"... Isn't my definition of 'fun', let's say. Yeah."

>After that last sentence she goes very silent, her glance shoots forward again as they end up approaching the Pagoda. Upon hearing the word 'Vortex Remnant', she instantly queries Velasi's auspex as to what THAT is.
>While she, herself, sort of quirks her brow, and looked to the Stormtrooper with a slightly tilted head...

>She had not, as a matter of fact, experienced a Teleportarium. Astral Poinsettia's version was her first time, and it wasn't THAT bad...

"Can't be worse than Astral's version of it..."
>She told herself,
(How much worse could it be...)
>She thought.

>Up until the moment that it actually began to happen, and she instantly regrets EVERYTHING.
>She begins screaming internally, again, just like with Astral.

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHISISAWFULAAAAAAAAA)

>Her hands form a DEATH GRIP around the singular hand-hodls he had of Raindrop's armor, while her throat muscles begin to contract, her chest heaves and seizes, and her stomach lurches.
>By the time they come out of... Whatever that was, Mallia's helmeted head nearly bonks against the back of Raindrop's as her neck had briefly relaxed,
>Her first reflex is that to gag, tense up like rockcrete, and put a hand over her upper chest, beneath her throat.

"Rrh-kh! HGH-N- HH, nnh."

(PUKINGISNOTALLOWEDSTOPNO!)

>Her hands hastily shoot up towards the sides of her helmet, getting ready to hurriedly take it off! Feeling the bile basically in her mouth.
>But she ends up not doing so, her eyes rapidly darting over the new environment. Swallowing down her nausea audibly after a bit of effort, and letting out this pained whimper.
>She sits like that for a looong few seconds. Blinking as her eyes begin to get blurry from a sudden surge of tears; visibly shaking her head and shuddering,

"B-bleh."
>Is her most coherent response to it all, as her shoulders begin relaxing and her hands start to lessen their hold on Raindrop's armor.

>The first thing she does as soon as she recovers, is to hear the rain. And pause.

>As per routine, she politely asks the new Auspex to make a lifesign scan, a radio-wave scan, and environmental scan.
>She also asks it to scan the rain, and determine the amount of acidity within the rainwater.

>Rain.
>... Rain...?
>...

>The Enginseer glances up towards the sky, as the nausea begins to subside. Taking slow, deep, controlled breaths,

>She had heard that precipitations, such as rain, tended to happen in most worlds. She had even seen occurrences on Mars, maybe once; where the acidity was so concentrated that one couldn't go outside unprotected or you'd become crispy. She even saw what that "rain" did to corpses.
>Most of her life was spent under a big, metal roof; or in the void.

>Mallia's hands slowly settle back down on Raindrop's saddle, mumbling a quiet remark.

"... Never thought I'd see rain that isn't acid..."
>She said, towards nobody in particular. Momentarily letting her sight take in the ominous mist, and stormy weather.


Anonymous
8Nxg7
?
No.214382
215891
>>214374
>>214176

[1d6+4 = 8]
<BQ.Auspex Scan
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.214394
217099
>>213860
>Reaching up to the Airstream and lightly caressing it, Clem leaves the minotaur's for the bow

>Ascending, Clem waves back to the batponies greeting him
>Oh these death cult batponies...

>Landing on the catwalk, Clem inspects the machinery
>It's like circuitry to him with all the geometric shapes and how they are on the hull
>The lattice looks sci-fi to Clem
>Hell, this ship is sci-fi
>Looking all around him is sci-fi, only drawing comparisons to the weapons back on Strangereal
>Clem sees the blade above and the pipes, reaching and touching one of them
"Wow. This is...awesome for lack of a better term."
>Hearing her recollection of her kin, it sounds like ships like her got...ridiculed?
>And she seems despairing of her survival
>Survivor's guilt
"Monsters? Against the Twos? Construct's are hostile and don't even attempt to talk, just harm us. You helping us? I think you are a great ally than a monster."
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.214420
214429
>>213673
"Then allow me to welcome you to the crazy yet absolutely comfortable and warm home called Razorback, Mister Gallo. As for your roguish nature.. well, I'll be your guide on selecting whom to, and not to, use it on."
>Doctor Tipper amusedly sniffs towards the impromptu inferno, her face creasing in a human-like expression of relief, apparently not noticing your staring.
"You don't know the half of it young one. These semi-old hooves have felt lava, meteors, lava dragon breath, and plenty of meteors. Then again the last time we had a bonfire this big the three best ponies here were comparing their most incendiary spells for half the night.. makes me wish I had marshmallows and chocolate."
>Turning her head towards you, the elderly unicorn's head shakes side to side slightly.
"You must mean Frost Egg and Nova Flicker. Crystal ponies, and Wards like Nova, are fairly resistant against venoms, poisons, and toxins. As for this 'patient' from a Construct pod I'm not even going to ask, much too old to deal with strange things that defy explanation anymore."
>Lifting her shoulders slowly, Tipper turns to face your direction, raising a curious eyebrow.
"I've dealt with Ark Viper venom probably six times in the past forty years. It's fairly weird stuff; becomes far more dangerous if the recipient is bleeding than not. They'll be fine, most they'll get is nasal cavity bleeding and some eye irritation."
>Poking the old unicorn's warm, smooth nose, her eyes cross momentarily before chuckling in a slow, drawn out manner.
>Lifting a hoof and pressing it to her snout for a gentle rub, molten silver eyes swirl several times until brightening, accompanied by a merry tone of voice.
"Haven't gotten one of those since Emerald came to see me at dusk, but thank you. You'd probably better find out what Nova and Frost are doing right now though. I don't trust the first to stay awake half the time, even if she is rather special to me. The other is, according to her records, quite competent if not a bit gloom and doom ridden."

>It was quite apparent that snootleboops were apparently a valid form currency here, and a valuable one at that.
Unknown Starborn Village: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.214424
214426
>>213468
>Able to move around without much trouble save for the bothersome physical exhaustion, it was considerably easier to flex your fore and hindlegs than previously thanks to the Dampener's opiate-like painkiller effects.

>Slipping back into his harsh teacher's mannerisms and retaining the standard, highly clipped Lunar speech, Hodch manages to pull off an angry yet perfectly calm tone.
"Suppose you were and that you didn't resist: if so I'd detonate four manabombs in your skull. The first to keep you from touching me, the second to make sure that I escape, the third to make sure nopony EVER discovers whom you are, and the fourth for good measure since your spiritual vessel is that of a human male. So, for both our sakes, never speak of this again. Not even to yourself, understand?"
>Returning to his much more agreeable audible state, he makes a solemn, quarter-effort sigh in response.
"Really? 'Horsing around'? Just.. sometimes I envy you humans for being so incredibly adaptive. As for Stalliongrad I'd rather not explain, that's a topic I hate for many reasons, most of all since I'm considered a criminal there with a half million Bit bounty on each of my testicles. And no, that isn't remotely a joke. My associates, if any of them are around, would be able to explain the situations going on there far better.
"As of this very moment your 'current existence' constitutes around.. two-hundred and five criminal acts. If this were a court of law and you pleaded acceptance to my actions that might bring the number down to fifty, or sixty. Likewise if I weren't half a year or less from dying and a highly valued long term Nightblade then banishment to the Dark Side of the Moon would be the most likely option. At this current moment I have much more terrifying problems to deal with; the most Luna could do would be reprimarend me in front of the entire Lunar Council and demote me.. which honestly wouldn't keep me from conducting unofficial, unsanctioned, highly experimarental, yet thoroughly useful actions. In other words, Doctor: only tell those of Razorback that you absolutely trust whom you are, otherwise questions are going to be asked, and the answers to those questions aren't going to be explained, least of all by me."
>Emitting a distant noise of encouragement, the stallion falls silent as you tear into the unusually tasty goods.
>Unlike your human body, the exacting tastes from each bite were easily recalled for comparisons to everything you'd previously consumed.
>Which at the moment you detected zero artificial or synthetic preservatives, only freshly picked and produced ingredients that were rapidly sating the dire hunger assaulting your new body.
>That was one beneficial positive to being a vegetarian with a sharp memory, at least.

>Uninterrupted by another soothing transition through the Vortex Remnant, the dimensional cloud shifts into a dark blue and mixed purple coloration, the appearance of a small village similar to the Moors Basin is barely noted in your background thoughts.
>Entering a tall two-story building, the sound of running water and multiple conversations starting up occur at the same time, that is until the Nightblade's chuckle enters your thoughts.
(Some good news for you Doctor: my associate IS here and she's willing to take on a new patient for physical rehabilitation therapy for a good price. The bad news: all other patients are fillies or mares, so you'll be staring at many utterly breedable and enticing posteriors for the rest of tonight.)
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
oBgS3
?
No.214426
217122
>>214424

>Nova snorts in amusement as Hodch gets all serious about the obvious joke.
>She didn't seem to take the threat very seriously despite his tone.
>And the fact that he was obviously capable of such feats.
"... So my mere existence is over a hundred felonies... Wow, that's pretty impressive, I think on earth I only was in the sixties and seventies for all the experiements we had done. That would be if I was a civillian though of course."
>She pauses from her eating, taking her time now to resume her leg streching, now testing how to trot in the weightless environment, attempting to get her legs to move all in cohesion.
>Or something resembling it.
>She already had the muscle, it was just getting used to the feeling of her body.
"... But Hodch, after you pass on wouldn't I be free then to inform fellow Razorback operators of who I am? Surely they won't put your corpse on trial then, even if thwy figure out somehow it was you. I will never mention to anyone how exactly I transitioned."
>For the moment now, she returned to eating, slowing down a bit now to munch on the vegetables and fruits rather than the treats.
>She would also take a drink of wine, if she knew how to even open the bottles with her hooves which really was something she wasn't that interested in at the moment.
>Her munching was uninterrupted even as Hodch traveled once more, and even went about conducting buisness for the moment until his voice returns to Nova's thoughts.
(Well doctor I'll try to not get all hot and bothered in there. I'm not exactly sure how much my sexuality has changed anyways...)
(Oh... By the way Hodch, I've decided to change the way I think about all this. This mare isn't my 'host'. I'm not a parasite and she wasn't really alive before the transferrence. She... Is me. And I am her. I know this may sound a bit silly but it's... Me accepting who I am now.)
>This last thought it a bit bumbling, and comes off a bit awkwardly.
>Nova clears her throat, flushed a little bit.
(Now... What should my new name be? I'm thinking Nova for... Obvious reasons. Nothing more than that, just Nova. Doctor Nova.)
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
wqAuv
?
No.214429
217128
>>214420
>Cheto erects himself up to a full standing position after the poke on her snout.
"You're welcome. I'm glad and thankful for your guidance for this new world."
(She looks so happy from that one poke. How important are they to elicit such a chipper response and fond look?)
>A little warm smile forms as she rubs her snout.
(Isn't that nice? This is enough confirmation that petting is probably appreciated as well.)
>It falters slightly as he recalls her adventures with fire and other resistances, his brow furrowing in thought.
(Why are they so resistant to everything? Fire, poison, lasers. Now I'm going to find that the Prench Stallion is actually a-ok and oblivious to the giant ball of venom that just came out of him. At least I've ensured the mares back at the clinic are alright. Mierda, que son duras estas yeguas.)
>He makes a mental note to keep these creatures on their good side at all times.

>His brain stores this new revelation and focuses on ensuring everything is ok back at the clinic.
"You're right. I'll be going right away. Have a good night, Miss Tipper."
>With that, his small journey back to the clinic begins.
>Step by step, his legs carry him to the clinic, slightly anxious at the impending scene before him.
>Even though he knew what these ponies could resist, his mind is still wary.
>He battles his fear with the information he has acquired so far.
(The pony was hurt badly when the pod opened, but he was treated well. He was stabilized and the corpse didn't really react negatively from the lump it created. I didn't see the pony bleeding from anywhere for the poison to seep in and his nostrils weren't bleeding. Come on. Get a hold of yourself. He’s probably fine)
>Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he reaches the clinic door, opens it and walks inside.
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!KB4AZIaIok
oBgS3
?
No.214433
214607 215651
>>213476

>As it is assured they are alone (for the moment) Spruce sighs in releif.
"Good. Hopefully it stays that way. Now, up the mountain then, ya?"
>He says, hopefully and looking upwards towards the peak before he notices they've all spotted something else.
>Now, he looks over there with them and sees the tunnel sticking out of the mountain.
>Spruce blinked.
"Or... Not?"

>The Norwegian slinged his AG3 back over his shoulder and looked to the little guy perched on him.
>This thing was... Quite strange but cute.
"... Huh... I wonder what this Excelleon is going to look like then. If he made that construct thing, and the armor of this little guy is made of construct, did he make the armor for this hedgehog? What if he made something for himself too?"
>He asked as he looked about the surroundings.
>Slowly he began to frown as he looked up the mountain.
>He pointed upwards at the accumulations.
"Hold... We should be careful. That snow up there isn't stable. These are avalanche conditions."
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.214607
215651
>>213476
>Not being able to clearly deduce his medallion's vibrations, Adon shrugs it off as residual from the teleportation as Golden Horn figures out the odd light was actually a cave entrance.
>Good. He didn't want to evade another Construct. Pseudo, or actual.

>>214433
>Between Spruce and the unicorn, the Witcher agrees as he regains his footing and begins to follow Golden as he leads them to the cave.
"We can't stop know. At the very least, we can find out exactly what's going on and tell someone who can actually do something to stop it. IF it can be stopped."
>As they walk, he keeps an eye out for anything off with the mountain and their approach.
[1d6 = 3]
<B.Perception
[1d6 = 3]

Captain Raidor
GM_Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.214615
>>212526
>Raidor takes in the sights and smells of the Fortress before him.
>The fountain was a pleasant sight as well as the Clinic and Barracks. While the Arena was intriguing, yet quiet, the steel building and the Mess Hall were his most interested points.
>He was a little hungry. He could eat, soon.
>The Captain begins to pass by the fountain and makes his way to the strange embedded building with the strange protrusions.
>Is it for communications, maybe? He's heard of humans using little devices that allow them to eachother from large distances. That would work nicely in the city.
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.214694
217182
>>214167
>Sitting down on the cushion, Jeff listens in on the voice from his moon orb while the Stalliongradian apologized.
>It wasn't the Nightmare, but one of the horned batponies he recalls seeing once or twice.
>What? It's not Luna? She must be busy with the Citadel again.
(Okay. I'll try that, thanks.)
>Where is he going to get fruit down here, anyway?

>Jeff nods slightly solemnly at the mare's condolences, but he doesn't get into its details. The bloodbond with Belltower was confusing enough without him being able to impregnate her.
"I had acquired it from a unique situation that I still don't understand fully, and losing it is even more so. I don't expect to ever recover it."
>Furrowing his brow, his eyes widen slowly as she lists off the amount of arms, gear, and other items.
>They got a lot of shit stored here. He's be lying if he wasn't curious to look at their stockpile.
"That is quite the collection. I certainly wouldn't mind browsing what you have to offer, that's very generous."
>He looks at the mare as she asks him the question. He was hoping to avoid this, but the moorcat's out of the bag now.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know about your other kin. However, you did ask for knowledge in return. Tell me... what year do you think it is?"
>Jeff refocuses back onto the moonorb in his pocket, knowing he's probably going to get that batpony again.
(Hello. It's Jeff again. Who would know about the Lunar Collective and were supposed to have awaken these vampires originally?)
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.214699
217182
1266034.gif
>>214167
>Sunny returned the stare of the moor cats with one of her own, stepping aside to allow them to file into the crypt with an extreme sense of satisfaction she couldn't quite shake.
>Nor did she wish to. As the last of the flock of bat cats filtered through the door, the larger cat stepped back out into the foyer, taking position amongst the cushions and laying down so as to avoid upsetting the smaller cat that had claimed her saddle.
>There was little else for the mare cat to do other than gaze alertly at the entrance and listen for irregular noises.

[1d6+3 = 4]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 9]

>She idly ruminated on the collective downstairs, digging through memory after memory of hearsay and conjecture, lengthy study that she'd undertaken in order to learn more about the world and its history and many, many overheard conversations at an innumerable and barely remembered number of bars and other less reputable gathering places that were nonetheless excellent sources of information if one listened.
>Lunar Vampires had passed into near mythical status to most ponies, becoming the subject of tales both wild and exagerrated. Yet here they were, flesh and blood, as real as anyone could be.

[1d2 = 2]
< Amateur Lore: Mercenaries

>Overall, it could have been worse, there might have been angry undead here, or spectrals. As it was they'd just interrupted a beauty sleep that would put the vainest of ponies to shame.
>If they didn't come up, she'd have to assume Jeff decided they'd be spending the next half of this cycle here.
>At least there wasn't a shortage of beds.
The L.O.N.T
N2vdx
?
No.214871
217206
happeh cow.gif
>>210307

>Lont gave the Shell an understanding look.
"In that case I'll give her some of her favourite deserts, just to sweeten her mood."

>He too stared at the Champion, though was in a happy mood to the Shells more serious mood.
>How could he not, he had a cute bundle of joy cradling in his arms.
"She sounds far more mature than her appearance showed, then again I can't be surprised. Foals can be vicious little fighters so I am told."
>Bite marks, bite marks everywhere.

>His hands continued to rub Void Crashers tummy even though he had fallen asleep, might as well since he didn't NEED to use his hands at the moment.
"Sounds like he'll have a good sleep, which only leaves finding a bed for him."
>Lont glanced around, he was sure nopony would mind having a little colt sleeping in their beds.
"I suppose a kiss will suffice for now, and that goes to you too. Gotta earn to see how I'll wreck you later."
>'Smooth.'

"In short they got some quality meat to serve, very good news~ I don't mind the vegetarian diet but you cannot beat a juicy steak when it comes to me."
>This night was getting better, perhaps with a full stomach he'd be able to help with all the patients clogging the Spires' halls later.
>His thinking of happy thoughts were interrupted by the starring ponies however, whom he returned in kind. He watched as they removed themselves along with their pots, pans and left open an Empire crate.
>'Alright then.'

>As he was about to get a proper look at what was inside the crate Glacier caught his attention, so with a shrug he moved to her side.
"He is going to have the best fucking sleep in the whole of Equestria Luna will be envious."
>Lont said as he tucked Void Crasher safely away, and as a send off he gave the colt another ear scratch.
[1d6+2 = 6]
>M.Ear Scratching
[1d6+2 = 7]

[1d6+2 = 8]

[1d6+2 = 4]

>Now free from foalsitting he turned around to Glacier, a finger pointing back towards the open crate and vacant stove.
"So, will you cook or will I?"
Something Bad -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
EPX1R
?
No.215651
216022 217717
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>Ahead of them with horn glowing Golden let out a hum of interest when he sensed something, though did not stop walking forward.
"A large magical aura in the tunnel was hidden from my awareness, from the nature of it it is probably passive."
>The Unicorn queried loudly for Spruce and Adon to hear.

>>214433
>A squeak came from the Chitqu as it hopped out of the way of the AG3s sling that draped across one of Spruces' shoulders, which was the one the furball had been resting on.
"That could be the case Spruce, if we are unlucky enough to run into that nutcase inside his lair we could get a visual confirmation of his current state. Which would be the cherry on top of this Sundae."
>Said Golden, whom stopped his forward advance when he heard of the avalanche warning. Looking up and peering at the snow capped peak of the mountain, the old pony let out a stressed whinny before trotting a bit faster for the tunnel.

>A move that prompted Spruce and Adon to move a bit quicker too.
"Oh buck, we cannot hold here! Being buried is the last thing we need now."

>>214607
>With the pace rightfully picked up the Trio reached the outside wall of the tunnel, Golden hobbling against its cold stone exterior, ear plastered flat on it as he listened. Moustache being stroked.
"that is in fact the plan Adon, m'yes. As soon as we can discover something far more tangible than the Pseudo-Construct-"
>He pointed with his chin down to the mountains boulder covered base, a kilometre or so away.
"-Down there, we can leave for Canterlot or some other party that can properly deal with this threat."
>Raising his head, Golden searched the evening sky briefly.

>Tried as he did Adon could not see anything off putting about his vicinity, everything appearing as normal as a mountain could.
>As he observed his surroundings he found that the trail, now much closer, had been made from numerous hooves clopping by. Judging by how the surface of many a rock was scuffed pale leading up to the tunnel.

>Speaking of which, His medallion was vibrating stronger now, proving Goldens' theory.

>Whom was craning his neck around the corner to spy into the tunnel, his tail flicking with interest.
"As I suspected!"
>Called the Unicorn before trotting into the tunnel, moving out of sight of Adon and Spruce.
[1d6 = 3]
>E.Perception
[1d6 = 1]

[1d6 = 6]

>A minute sense of preassure went up the back of both Adon and spruce' head.
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.215679
226594
>>213681
>Retorting with the angriest possible beep available to her records, Wild jerks her right thumb at the video feed, directly at you in fact.
"Don't push your luck, I can still activate option five, without your consent, and there'd be nothing you could do to prevent me from it! Agree that YOU are the priority sapient here, mom!"
>Emitting a suitably pleased noise at her warning, the pegasus streaks off towards the east.
"I could not determine other courses of action mom. Records updating.. complete."
>Rolling into view on the left map screen, the tiny cartoonish Wild pulls out a bright red marker, comparing the current location against the scribbled, overlapping waves of red rapidly moving closer.
"No 'hope' required, mom. The Four minutes remaining combined with my warning should provide an approximate ninety-eight point five percent chance of complete survival. My files confirm Ferron pegasi travel lightly, that is: carrying only what they require to survive in familiar regions. The unknown pony and their clan will live; hopefully they will be able to communicate the incoming dangers as I have."
>Trying, but failing, to snort in a human styled manner, mini-Wild rolls off the screen while the comforting sounds of steel welding continue outside the chest cabin, the real Wild's voice stiffening.
"Mom, I've confirmed readings on the unknown model Construct vessel, they aren't positive. Current directional heading: five to eight degrees west of my exfiltration. Estimated landing zone: the Construct Assault Vessel's location. Current speed: ..eighty miles per hour. Estimated time of arrival: thirty minutes if no deviations occur. I don't want to ignore an opportunity for additional reconnaissance and information gathering on them, mom, but I'm open to suggestions.. any suggestions, really."
[1d6+4 = 5]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #7
Cairn Wharf: The Sea Shack
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.215682
217127
>>213682
>Giving the blue quartz-like material a look, your hand was already cold by the time you could give it a close inspection.
>Unlike Crystal Empire coldstones that tended to be large, imperfectly faceted numbers of crystalline materials squeezed together, the frostame chunk was clear enough to see through, yet was operating on heat-absorbing principles rather than heat-negating.
>Amusing as that was, the granite plate drew the Ferron mare's attention much more so, failing to hide her interested peer, and a slight smile.
"Still, that's pretty impressive being stuck in amber for that long. Most objects with Covil script I've come across or found are in much worse shape. You might have something really special in your hoofs, I'd suggest taking great care of it 'til you find somepony that knows how to read it."
>Examining the unusually blocky runes, they reminded you of earth pony script except for distinct sweeping and curving lines, both respectively looking more pegasi and unicorn runes than much else.

>Succumbing to a quick burst of inspiration, upon a much closer, quick study, the script was exactly like earth earth pony runes save for a greater amount of symbolism rather than direct iconography.
>Sharing a number of features in the same runic calligraphy style that Caliya used, while you couldn't understand the meanings they were definitely of a military nature.
>Due to your experience with the former Honor Guard protecting Razorback Company, it was fairly likely that one of them understood the basics of Covil script, or could direct you to somepony that did.

>Flicking a secondary feather towards the suspicious driftwood, the mare's nose twitches painfully as she sniffs at her hoof.
"Ehh, can tell you right now it isn't natural, the color alone tells me it's probably from the Rift.. or maybe the Elemaretal Plane of Earth? Hard to tell on that one, sorry, I'm no unicorn. Ant's a nice collector's piece though, too bad it's not a noble or royal specimaren, would be worth way more. Be right back, going to see if there's some fronds to wrap them up in."

>Partially regretting your decision as the filly's visage explodes into something between overeager happiness and fillyish glee, passing through the workshop's aisles it was clear that the other Ferron were doing their best to avoid looking towards you, although the small, careful nods of respect given in your direction were rather surprising.
>The filly's position in the Sea's Bounty was either quite high, or they simply didn't want to be involved in potentially lewd circumstances.

>Reaching the small dressing room recently built from local woods, the filly enters a few moments after you, both of her wings covered in a ridiculous number of dull white measuring strings, also carrying a sheet of white palm bark and a charcoal pencil in her mouth.
>Surprisingly enough, at least to you, the young Ferron was intensely professional, seeking only to take measuremarents.
>Giving bashful apologies upon touching or even looking at certain dangerous regions of your anatomy, her unusually acceptable work ethics extended to further apologetic mumbles at taking second measuremarents, then furiously scribbling them down, all without blushing or fumbling about.
>Lifting a rather exacting diagram of your body structure up for her own perusal, the filly's eyes turn to rove across you for a minute, then finally nods.
>Waving at your clothes in a motion that probably meant it was a good idea to wear them again, she dashes from the room towards the opposite side of the Sea Shack, loud noises indicating she was collecting the necessary materials for her intended project.

>Exiting the fitting/dressing room, the filly was in the process of building a driftwood and bamboo human caricature, surrounded by a plethora of rolled drake skin, numerous rolls of thread, and a set of large needles that wouldn't be out of place in Lann's work space.
>On the front counter, both the piece of driftwood, and presumably the preserved ant, had been wrapped in sheets of dull yellow palm fronds, and even tied with cotton string.
The Crystal City-State: Industrial Sector
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.215771
216154
>>213731
"Hottest thing I can hoofle is one of those Mareixican tacos.. or the spa a block south, everything else? Not a chance."
>Replacing her hooves back onto the desk in a professional marener, Three-Point's eyes squint in pensive, yet humored concern.
"If you were thinking I wanted 'other' stuff that some Crystal ponies wanna do with humans.. maybe later once I get to know you all? I'm not a, you know, 'real mare' just yet. Maybe in a few years."

>Recalling Spiral's heavily annotated volume, the most common reference to civil filly or mare hooves was a preoccupation with keeping them comfortable, clean, and well massaged due to health concerns since they were less active than colts and stallions.

"Consider this a 'price of business' on.. short.. ...notice. Hold on a second-"
>Waving off your statement with a small frown, her expression shifts into one of contemplation, sitting forwards to read the screen.
>Eyebrows raising, snout scrunching, and biting the left side of her cheek all in under five seconds, the young mare sits back, clopping her front hooves together.
>Eyes flicking up with an expression you couldn't translate, her ears flatten in great annoyance.
"There's something else you could do to make contact with Ash Kicker easier. Short explanation: Razorback is somewhere north of the Starborn Villages in the New Everfree, she apparently knows that much. There's a few common plants there that she wants dried samples of, not living ones. Any native grasses, flowers, leaves from shrubs, and the New Everfree seqoyya trees. Posting says she wants to do a comparison study on regional biomes to see what biological differences there are between New and Old Everfree. Doesn't say what she's offering for it but she's offered to share all the results. Might tell Razorback a lot more about why the New Everfree flora and mammals are more dangerous."
>Poking at the screen several times, Peach Quartz sourly glares at whatever she was able to see, then waves towards the rear door apologetically.
"Now I have to do all the crystalwork.. if you wanna go watch the shipmarents then head on through there, just don't touch anything please."
Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.215776
215895
>>213739
>Bringing up the tech-knight's limited information for a proper examination, 'Spiral' facehoofs, followed by a quick, exasperated sigh.
"This is getting old.. I understand technological and natural resonances, just not 'magical' ones. Going to need a few thousand more hours of documarentation and study to keep up with your information requests, sir."

>Spreading the more relevant Honor Guard records and notes on the varied Dynasty ruins, as you read through a previously unnoticed pattern appears:
>Early Dynasty elemaretal experiments took place in massive, hardened underground arenas where damage would be localized or easily repaired.
>Digging through the Canterlot College of Magic records, it was apparent that the Middle Dynasty's researchers understood the often volatile issues, transferring their more refined experimarents back to where they'd been created for additional study.
>Naturally, the A.I. had failed to piece such heavily strung out esoteric information together in a coherent marener.

>Lifting the abnormally heavy, roughly five pound screen, a number of basic symbols on the top read, from left to right, the following:
>Cardinal Direction, Travel Speed which showed a flat 0 Hooves Per Second, Geography, Regional Map, Height Distance, Depth Distance, Elemaretal Detection Radius, Resonance Detection Radius, Flora Detection Radius, Fauna Detection Radius, and Detection Strength.
>The last two were not runes you knew offhand, and upon trying to translate them, the second to last was roughly 'chest storage', which was probably some form of file storage.

"I've found nothing to suggest that he wouldn't attempt to perform restoration, sir, but I've noticed a less-than-obvious trend: your records show the average equine's marentality is different than human ones, yet they eventually reach similar conclusions. Where a human wouldn't ask for aid out of pride or arrogance a pony has fewer compulsions. My analysis is this: Spiral WAS several ponies, which meant he had all the necessary backup, skills, research capability, and lethality necessary to undertake an expedition on his own. Updating.. estimated in one minute. This isn't standard hexadecimal I'm dealing with sir-"
>While the A.I. taps away at his internal screen, as you swing the sapphirine helmet around to face the doorway, a barely corporeal image of Flash appears.
>A shower of white-hot sparks cascade off the Inquisitor's horn, appearing in three places at once: left, center, and right of the first bloodstains, the first's face twisted in hatred while visibly shouting.
>The second was sincerely enraged, her facial expressions near-perfectly matching the Tallus equine snarl of an adrenaline rush, while the third was enveloped in a gold cloud, striking forwards in the shape of a giant fist-

>Brought back into reality by the Marquis A.I. swiveling towards you, it lifts both forelegs in an exasperated shrug.
"-irly certain that the real Marquis du Spiral perfected a form of gravitronic wave emission above known frequencies for communication between his lab here, the Master Radio system, and this 'demi-sentient'. They're interlinked, cut one off from the others and the other two pick up the slack from what I'm able to understand. Not one hundred percent positive on this sir, my analysis capabilities are rather poor. Gravity is merely another form of macro-electromagnetic activity and some background radiation interference. Here however I've discovered that 'radiation' doesn't exist, there are a large amount of background energies that could be called radiation, dark matter, light matter, and even something that seems to be null matter that I'm unable to scan. I can tell you that he left some recorded messages of his own to-"
>Pausing, a hoof lifts to display the image of Inquisitor Flash sitting down in the Workshop, A.I. glowering towards it.
"Her. I'm unable to access them or recognize the programming language, sir. What WAS their relationship?"
Zebraica: Potswana
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.215779
219657
>>213999
>Entirely nonplussed by the situation, the Zebra mare swivels black eyes upwards for several moments, then back down onto you with a welcoming smile.
"Many thanks to your agreement human one, great are blessings under traveler's sun."
>Bowing her head quickly, she turns with a scowl, then suddenly bolts into the field of mareijuana, shouting something furiously.

>Collecting mature buds from the unusually colored plants for the basic sniff, taste, rub, and oil test, your backpack was nearly bursting upon reaching the field's edge.
>Taking a step outwards, sudden inspiration hits:
>Each strain grown here had been carefully cultivated for specific medical purposes, all of which you'd heard from the various alchemists, whether novice or expert, of Razorback's mare contingent.
>Despite the challenge of extracting and isolating the actively helpful chemicals and enzymes, it was definitely possible to make something that would create the greatest stoner's high ever.
>To the east, a distant, tiny crack of thunder that sounded like a filly laughing in merry approval occurs.
>Must be some real magic going on out here.

>Leaving the thoughts behind, the rather normal wooden hut was little more than a round dome atop north and south facing oval walls.
>Large baskets filled with mareijuana leaves and buds filled most of the interior, though a few contained fruits and vegetables that you knew of, the most baffling of which looked like African cucumber.
>Drifting upside down in the center across a swaying, well worn hammock surrounded by woven couches, a lone, verifiably old Zebra stallion clad in platinum rings was in the middle of exhaling a dense red cloud of smoke.
>Approaching the utterly chilled equine, the right front hoof raises briefly in your direction, his left removing a long pipe from his lips.
>Head turning a fraction, faded black right eye glance you over once, then closes as he nods, speaking in a slow, warm cadence of rhymes.
"Come inside you shall before the Filly of Rain drafts, your questions I will answer until she laughs."
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.215891
215974
>>214374
>>214382
>Creating rather impressive Binary representations of themselves across your MIU link, the quartet of Machine Spirits were nonplussed, stating that your apologies were unnecessary since they were quite happy simply being able to serve.
>The Auspex herself scoffs, angrily proclaiming she was once the Admiral of an important orbital weapon station in the Calixis sector and that you had the best support team available.
>Reading out a blip of compressed data, the auspex and helmet deliver their information to you in sync:
>The 'Shadow' abnormality is related to a dimension without light directly connected to Tallus, collectively known as the Void.
>According to rules that the Inquisitor had trouble understanding, Tallus only allows a small number of creatures in.
>Most of the energies from the Void, however, allow one to cross into the shadow of Tallus, the effect of which manifests as reducing one's sound levels, becoming invisible, and potentially drifting into the Void itself in highly specific locations.

>Mildly humored by the question, there were four specific types of unicorns:
>Common Type I, the feral unicorn; little was known save for having minor esoteric capabilities, some collective thought, and considered long extinct except for rumors of potential surviving lineages in harsh regions.
>Common Type II, the half-feral or near-wild unicorn which still exists today; moderate esoteric capabilities, prefer to live in primitive villages well away from modern ponies, more physically adept than the other types, and are often seen alone in small trading hubs on border regions.
>Common Type III, the pre-modern or communal unicorn; moderate to high esoteric capabilities, adaptive, but suffered from intense egotism and a lack of empathy towards other pony species.
>A snide footnote indicates that the communal unicorn species was responsible for enslaving approximately half of the earth pony species, alongside Type III pegasi, and were now gratefully extinct.
>Common Type IV, or the modern unicorn, was distinctly analogous to certain subsets of humans, save for large numbers having eidetic memories.
>As to be expected of truly modern strains, Type IV unicorns are highly individualistic and varied depending on factors such as: where they were born, their lineage, genetic inheritance, average empathy levels, schooling, training, and far more.
>Displaying an ASCII image of a human female of no particular note scratching it's head, the former Admiral wasn't entirely sure on the classifications of other equines yet they were many regional subspecies to be found across Tallus.
>This time the helmet's Machine Spirit transmits, making it known that the Quest for Knowledge and Doctrines of Secrecy were banned; all information obtained is to instead be transferred directly to the Inquisitor's data-station in the Library's underground workshop.
>As for rules, regs, and procedures.. it didn't have any to offer, save for a few bits of helpful advice to keep the Inquisitor's extreme agoraphobia and hatred for pineapples in mind.

>Between the horrific nausea and realizing that the Rogue Trader's personal Flak really was too tight, the auspex waits until you recover to deliver her known information:
>The Vortex Remnant is a living portion of aetheric thinking non-matter, similar to a demigod yet non-hostile unless threatened, that once inhabited the Planar Vortex until it was brought onto Tallus by Princess Luna at a distant point in time.
>It had the unique ability to relocate matter, energy, and certain forms of non-matters from less than a twentieth of a second to five minutes from place to place, although the former Admiral was quick to point out that the vertigo encountered took some time to get used to.

>Hearing loud clicks under your legs, Raindrop Raspberry's wingblades lift up to shield you from the incoming and fairly cold rain.
"The first disturbs me a lot more than the second, really. Tell you what though, I'll hoofle all the sex and stuff for you, and you keep me safe from things that want to turn my insides into outsides, deal?"
>Meanwhile, the Scion takes precisely two steps forwards, unslings his lasrifle to carry downwards in one hand, and then you you hear yet another in the long line of single carapace gloved hands smacking his helmet.

>Instantly returning five human life signs and a single faint, potentially equine signature 380M southwest at a much lower elevation, the auspex hums briefly before determining no transmissions were being sent.
>Pinging that the rain was neutral for acidity, there was a small amount of DNA from unknown piscines, avians, and flora present, indicating the massive cloud formation above was a 'wild' version which functioned as a self-contained aerial biome.
>Identifying the curious building stonework as composed of local slate, basalt, sandstone, and small amounts of granite, much of it was sealed and still viable for habitation, though long abandoned.
>Scouring through the local flora, most of it grasses, flowers, and shrubs, none were listed as concerning, while there were zero detectable fauna within 500M.

>Helmet tipping down momentarily, Chisan makes a quick motion to follow him towards a lower set of terraces.
"Partial boot prints remaining. Raindrop, watch footing. Enginseer, auspex findings?"
>Raindrop strides forwards much less carefully than the Stormtrooper, stepping on what sounded like mud covering flagstones, head twisting back momentarily to give you a short nod.
"Better? First couple times it's rough, after that you get used to it pretty quick."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.215895
217218
>>215776
>Pareidolia taps a finger against the table repeatedly.

"Will need to consult Kunid Erakoi for potential improvements to your subsystems and interfaces. His era is far beyond ours, but our options are limited in who we can trust to improve on Committee equipment."

>As he sifts through the numerous reams, leaflets, and reports, he slowly traces lines between the various Dynasty ruins from the Middle Era with his free hand.

"Then Middle Dynasty experiments would be returned to their origin site for further testing..."

>Mulling over his potential discovery, he glances over the tablet as he sets it down.
>His mouth opens to respond, but stops as three odd afterimages of Flash appear around the Lab.

[Why am I... ? Is there some sort of-]

>He starts, leaning back into the table as they disappear.
>Struggling to process the additional information his A.I. is conveying, he murmurs:

"Did you not see those images of Flash in this room just now? I saw her fighting the Construct-"

>He quickly reaches for his pinksteel dagger's hilt, gripping it firmly as he turns his helmet, searches the room for anything amiss, straining to feel for any abnormalities.

[1d6 = 2]
< E. Perception
[1d6 = 5]

[1d6 = 2]

"I don't know, but it began possibly during Razorback's formative years if not earlier. They have history. I-I will need you to reiterate what you spoke of prior to Spiral's gravitonic wave mastery."


Mallia Castella
BQZA2
?
No.215974
219419
>>215891
>In that moment, Mallia was beginning to feel a LITTLE BIT irritated at the custom fitting of the flak armor she was currently wearing.
>She wasn't surprised to it, but the compression of her chest was making it harder to shrug off the nausea as she usually would, as she finds herself heaving while also tugging at the edge of the armor's collar, wincing as she takes a moment to simply breathe, and stare at the clouds.

(Piscines in the clouds...)

>Those news in particular got the girl to half-open her mouth in awe, curiosity starting to take foothold in her mind; so badly wishing she could learn more about this self-contained biome and it's fauna.
>She took a moment to wholeheartedly thank the Auspex, for whom from now on she will default to call as 'Admiral Auspex', unless it remembered it original name, in that case she will use that.

>Infact, out of politeness and curiosity, she asks for all of the Inquisitorial machine spirit's 'names', if they had any to give, before she gives them one by accident like she did with her own Auspex!

>Her little brother really is a cutie though.

>She then quickly snaps back to reality as the first Raindrops land on her cheeks and lips; making her shudder; tightening her shoulders, before glancing down to the wings that were trying to shelter her.
>The gesture, alongside those words, tease up an amused little smile.
>Looking up again at the sound of a hand smacking helmets; which really makes Mallia giggle.

"Deal! Alongside you, the machine spirits, and our great Stormtrooper, we are sure to defeat ALL our enemies."
>She replied, with all due seriousness and eager confidence, followed by a deep, determined nod and smirk.
>And maybe a little rub on one of the metallic wings shielding her in thanks.

>Though regardless she gives off a shudder almost immediately afterwards, not used to cold, wet weather such as this. Huffing and quickly returning said hand to rub and pat along her forearm to try to generate SOME heat.
>Whilst she finally clears her throat, and shifts her glance to the Stormtrooper to answer him...

>She takes a second long pause to review the Admiral's findings, then starts to smile with some hope. Answering with full confidence in her voice.

"Auspex indicates that there are five confirmed human lifesigns, and another faint lifesign in proximity, which is confirmed as an equine in the area. Distance 380 meters, direction southwest, at a lower elevation than our own."

"As a side note, while the buildings ahead are long abandoned, they are still largely sealed and could provide shelter from the storm if needed."

>Afterwards she sighs, shuffling on the saddle and shuddering one more time.
"--... Brrr-r-r..."
>She replied to Raindrop with another smile when the mare turned her head to her, nodding slightly and whispering in reply to her.
"Th-that is good to know. I almost did hurl, too..."

>She then looked back up, and raises her voice again towards the Tempestus Scion to speak above the wind and rain.

"Would you like me to try to hail them on Vox, Stormtrooper? Do they have a callsign, maybe?"


Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!KB4AZIaIok
/mAPS
?
No.216022
221273
>>215651

>Spruce keeps a good pace, but is slowed slightly as he makes sure to keep his footing on the sloped ground. He's not looking to make a fool out of himself today out here.
>He also puts a hand on the Chitqu to steady the little guy as he jogs, not wanting the strange thing to fall.

>As they arrive, he slows down to a walk behind the unicorn, who takes the lead and looks around the corner.
"... Well, what is it then?"
>He asks, slowly peeking around the corner himself, and making sure it's clear before he himself follows the university pony in.

[1d6 = 3]
B. Perception
[1d6 = 2]

Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.216154
221183
>>215771
>Zhun abashedly us a hand up to his face, embarassed
"Oh my goodness, I'm sorry. Ok, now I'm tempted."
>"The one time I assume sexual shit from ponies, it's not appropriate. Ain't that some shit."
>Zhun composes himself before looking at the change of tone from Peach
"Well, that seems easy enough. Might need a plant book but, yeah."
>Zhun then directs his eyes over to where she is wave to
"I'm fine. Thanks for everything. I'll be heading out to Zebraica. See you around."
>Zhun gives the mare a wave goodbye and heads outside
>"Maybe when all of this is done, I'll repay her that massage. Hopefully, I have lotion somewhere..."
>Zhun makes his way over to the translocation stone in the sector and punches in the code for Snootadishu
Basin Arena: The Guillotine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.217099
218785
>>214394
>Catching a few squiggles of Airstream movements from the Klavist stasis cells, each gave off a resounding humorous nature towards you.

>Placing your less likely to be burned hand on the pipe, it was faintly pulsing in a heartbeat like rhythm.
>Watching and feeling the pulse feeding into the blade-shaped weapon, it was definitely in some form of recharging cycle, blending electrical and biological systems in a manner that was wholly alien to you.

>Receiving a proudly sharp inhale, the collection of weapons above thrum heartily in tune with a pulse of light blue across the inner hull.
*"Thou'rt impressed grace? Grateful mineself is 'pon such praise. Should thou find theeself 'pon Darkest Moonside thou'rt welcomed tae visit graveyard of mineself's slumbering sisters. Quiet theyest be, taketh all diminutive wonders from within them thou mayest with mineself's blessing, grace. Mayhaps somest worketh in thy hands, mayhaps not. Mistress Entropy hath naught but time, unravel all she will one cycle."*
>Feeling a deep rumble throughout the vessel, the harpy goes silent as what sounded like the last Destroyers clamber into their racks below, cheerful snickering and all.
>The presumably techno-magical engine plates on the stern begin whining while Guillotine finally responds, her voice grateful, yet still holding audible cues of doubt.
*"Constructed Twos do speak, technologies and magic found so yet naught of mineself's time, kin nor kine, knew it. Mineself believeth in all sanctity still, yet sanctic mineself be no longer; mine hull be only Vessel of Destruction now. Go thee must grace."*
Unknown Starborn Village: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.217122
217235
>>214426
(Considering how many I've committed you might as well take some pride in the fact that tonight was in the top ten worst. At least, so I'm willing to say.)

>Finally coming to an agreeable arrangemarent with your new body, the barely fathomable pain and burning muscle twitches settle into simple exhaustion and soreness.
>Studying the experimaretal appendanges and their movements, it was possible to sit up due to increased musculature mass of the shoulders, hind legs, and most importantly a well built, heavily supported spine.
>Making it up to the profoundly important sitting position, Hodch responds with a half-sigh, half-chuckle.
(Firstly think about the complications and implications of that knowledge. Are you willing to place that much trust on Razorback as a whole to keep silent and not ask for bodily transfers? For two, Princess Luna knows more about necromarecy than even I'm comfortable knowing, Doctor. She would have no difficulties summoning my ka back into existence to kill me. And three, post-mortem courts do exist. The less you know about them.. the better, really.)
>Working your way through the incredibly tasty flora, it was a reminder that the mare's body you inhabit was genetically preconditioned to their consumption, even though the pastries were quite good... and then the discovery of a lifetime occurs:
>Through your front hoof, you stick the frog onto one of the half-corked bottles, pulling it to you and, rather easily, remove the cork with little more than a change of electromagnetic current.
>The, potentially, limitless uses of autonomous electromagnetic field control stunned you until the Starborn outside stopped his mildly fearful laughter.
(Make this the second topic that we will never speak of again, will you please? I've had enough shock and horror for tonight to last me a good two, maybe three weeks if I stretch these memories out.)
(That's the primary reason I used the.. let's just call them curios, instead of certain rites, rituals, or a willing sacrifice to ensure permarenency. The transferee, that is you, becomes truly integrated with the host body down to the level of appreciation she, now you, would have had for flavors, scents, and possibly certain thoughts. For example, what do you feel when I say the word 'cabbage' and 'hot bath' together?)
>At that, the image of a small, ripe small cabbage comes to mind, along with the desire to consume one while alone in a hot spring.
(No reason to tell me either one, that's a rather basic test, and.. hm, that might get a little confusing if you're around Nova Flicker. Better idea, how about Doctor Impulse Nova? You DID make a certain highly important decision with such extreme haste that I found your lack of forethought a bit appalling. Then again you're currently a blank flank, so who knows how that'll turn out..)
(And speaking of you'll be, ahem, 'recuperating' in a heated swimming pool under individual therapeutic care for a while. Until you can kneel, sit, stand, walk, and turn freely, that is, so I suggest not eating too many more pastries.)
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.217127
221184 221228
>>215682
>Bubba would rather not be involved in potentially lewd circumstances either.
>He was polite enough to tell her not to worry about the apologies as she worked, as it would have been an eventuality with what she was doing.
>Though he was eager to get redressed, so as soon as she gave the go ahead, he was sliding his uniform back on.
>Upon exiting, Bubba slid his coat back on while moving his way back down to the front of the shop, taking one last glance around at the items up for sale.
>He slid the ant into an inside pocket of his coat and carefully hefted the driftwood, frowning down at the odd thing.
"I'll be off now, I'll see y'all later."
>Placing the driftwood in one of his bags, Bubba departed and glanced around outside.
Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.217128
217147
>>214429
"Come and ask me whatever you like, but I'm only awake at night. We're all secretly batponies around here, just so you know."
>Waving at you in what appeared to be a warm 'farewell' motion, the aged mare smiles before once more enjoying the unexpected bonfire, rocking back on her hooves.
"You as well. Oh, and tell the Combat Medic she doesn't have to shout that loud next time. She could wake up the deaf, dead, cursed, maybe even half the Void if she does that again."

>Leaving while someone loudly decrees that marshmallows don't go together with chocolate, a scuffle quickly breaks out behind you.
>Returning to the Clinic, both Nova Flicker and Frost Egg had moved into the aisle's center and were either in the process of kissing, or closely examining each other at snoot-to-snoot range.
>Finding the event to be the second, the purple robed Crystal mare's head turns, her eyes mildly bloodshot while still bleeding from the nostrils.
>Giving a quick series of ear flicks that you couldn't understand the meaning of, Frost Egg leans backwards, thumping down on her rear and exhaling just as heavily.
"I assume complete destruction occurred. If not it should break down quickly after aerosolizing five to ten minutes."
>Less affected than her opposite, Nova Flicker turns about in a circle, leaping onto the bed for a cursory visual inspection of the slender pegasus.
"I would not worry, most in Razorback tend to carry a two to four flame canisters at all times."
>Sitting down next to the stallion's head, she rolls the ear back with her hoof while frowning.
"I believe he will stabilize now that the venom has been.. drained from his system. The 'snake' detached by itself. It is now in stasis, but I will send it to Krinza for a full examination."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
pcFdv
?
No.217147
221285
>>217128
>Cheto smiles warmly at the nice aged mare, nodding at her request innocently.
(Available only at night in relation to batponies. It seems that's a little cultural tidbit to know.)

>Giggling like a fool from the scuffle, it is stopped by the admittedly lewd scene in front of him.
>Covering his eyes with his left arm as he walks towards them rather slowly, gently waving his other arm in front of him so as to not accidentally stumble on anything, he steps forth to greet the two medics yet again.
"I can safely say that the ball is now ash."
>After mentally counting to ten, he removes his arm from his eyes, revealing a quite worried look.
"How's the patient doing? Nothing more has popped up while I was away, right? Are you two alright?"
(Krinza. Another name to the list.)
>He inspects both of them as he goes to the Prench Pony's bed, now that they're actually separated from their previous position, as well as the poor pony himself.
>Turning his head towards the Frost, José has a mostly relaxed look with a sprinkle of doubt and fear.
"Doctor Tipper says that you don't have to shout so loud next time."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.217182
217652 217684
>>214694
>Offering a politely dismissive motion of her hoof, the mare's head turns left as she speaks without making a sound, obviously subvocalizing to another pony of the Collective.
>Returning to face you with a gracious smile, the Stalliongradian snorts gently.
"Thou are free to peruse at your leisure though we cannot trade sacred Ambrosia. Touch all ye like, neither lance nor plate shall strike at you for they are at rest away from battle."
>Snoot wiggling several times in thought, the mare's shoulders lift several inches uncaringly.
"They will arrive when they desire. Time matters no longer for the Collective blessed as we are with the Moon's blood in our hearts. We sleep until called to serve or perform service, traveler. Endless centuries shall pass and they will not change our duties."

>Transmitting a verbal groan and the sound of a pillow shifting, the Councilmare can likewise be heard bolting upright, hissing in a tight, furious tone.
(That would be me and where the frozen mangoes on Princess Cadence's luscious flanks did you find some of them?! Tell me your map coordinates right bloody now!)

>Noting a peculiar jet black bowl floating towards you from the right, it stops short, allowing you to see it was obsidian, filled with a swirling orange and red juice.
"An offering to you, traveler.. however-"
>Turning her snout up, the vampire earth mare poses a small, annoyed expression towards the scuffle taking place outside the door.
"I hereby demand you explain why one would willingly travel with a Pale Destroyer. All were to be hunted down and destroyed after Sun and Moon's War. What right does it have to survive?"

[1d6 = 4]
<Boris
[1d6 = 6]
<Mercy

>>214699
>Settling down onto the closest amber pad to the door, the batcat on your saddle emits a merry feline huff.. right before rolling off and plopping next to you.
>Snuggling into your side, it begins purring in a pleasantly low vibrating tone.
>Boredom was always better with a friend, no matter the species.

>Twitching your ears up, the construction team outside had slowed down considerably, the unique noise of psionic shaping and heavy slabs being laid down out of sight.
>Overhearing the unusually serious Hunter-Killers near the front door performing a roll call, they were still relatively calm on check their numbers, muted clicks of spark lamps being refired afterwards, though providing little real illumination that you could make out.

>Dredging far back into memory, there were scattered tales of Old Everfree, New Everfree, and Moors exploration teams encountering small dug out caves in hard rock outcroppings, cliff faces, ancient mines, and quarries.
>What they at first took to be a recently dead pony would awaken when prodded or shouted at enough, though remained fairly groggy for a while until recovering their senses.
>The few marecenaries that still had their exploration logs stated that the individual ponies would proclaim themselves to be Lunarite, a term that entirely fell out of use post Lunar-Solar War, vampires before asking to be left to sleep, that is if there were no crypts nearby or a deeper cave away from the sun.
>The wilder stories sometimes ended in disaster, with entire teams brutally knocked out, only to awaken with the inexplicable sensation that they'd stepped on the wrong grave, or merely driven away if the vampire was annoyed.
>Several confirmed logs stated that the vampires themselves were not only warm-blooded, they were unnaturally hot to the touch, which was quite unsettling when one was expecting to inspect what should otherwise be a corpse.
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.217206
221279
>>214871
>Glacier's crystalline lips curl back, rolling her eyes in a mareish marener that you couldn't quite place.
"Gonna have to. From what I've seen Cady put on a couple extra pounds.. thanks to you or so I hear. She really likes sweet Empire pumpkin pie and those Prench animal shaped pastries, the ones filled with chocolate especially. Too bad I can't cook, I've got no real sense of taste for anything except gems and crystalline stuff."
>Glancing from the Champion towards the pillow fort, then at you, the Shell's right eyebrow raises cryptically.
"..you meant Elezith and not her dam, right? What I meant was Matron Melodine winning her battle against the foals, but I was talking about Tacit mostly. As for Elezith she's a little less focused than her dam and a lot more.. tightly wound. El's got some nasty tactics and a brutal mindset for taking down opponents faster and larger than her. That's about all I can tell you on Elezith, other than her ice abilities are pretty weird too. Never heard of a Crystal pony like her before."
>Finding only a few of the Conclave ponies curiously watching you, they were relaxed enough that it seemed none of them would care.

>Tossing a careless grin your way, Glacier's left forehoof traces a blatantly faux-bashful circle on the stone floor.
"So long as you promise to put me back together."
>Ears flicking in the common Crystal pony 'doesn't bother me' motion, placing the odd colt down on the travel bed is further rewarded with a sleepy mumble, also earning an amused side glance from the Shell.
"Don't tempt the Nightmare. Even us Shells can dream, though we'd rather not most of the times. I'd prefer being clear-headed, y'know."

>Spinning halfway about, the Shell hums in a loud, ringing tone while the first Conclavist returns to her kin, a pair of large vacant cots and a small table floating towards it from out of your vision.
"They will. Unlike most ponies Conclavists don't hate the scent of fauna being cooked, though they won't eat any of it save an egg or a bit of seafood now and then."
>All three reach in for a select ingredient, one large reddish-blue steak of some kind going into a pan, two large crab legs into a small pot, the third retrieving a large bluish-red heart, each moving towards the stove.
>Motioning with her head, Shattered ambles towards the first cot, clambering onto it and sitting down carefully, probably due to weighing far more than a living Crystal pony, then watches the three go about their preparations with interest.
"Might as well kick back, this'll be a bit. Continuing on where I left off, Tacit's a damned weird pony. I've never seen or heard of Tacit until showing up two or three months ago. He seems to be on rather strained terms with Cady, and none of the Shells know him either. Earth stallion brutality with more finesse and a sharper mind for tactics than I've seen in about six centuries.. well, least since ten of the Tower Guard's Master-Generals helped us out with a bunch of Void creatures that wouldn't leave a mine. That's besides the point. I've no idea what he intends to do in the Empire since the last remaining Ward councilmembers are dead. I heard you execute the last one. Good job on that by the way, they're tougher than a damned Frost-Eater to kill."
>Lifting a hoof to rub her chin for several moments, the Shell's eyes rotate towards you, squinting cryptically.
"He had something to do with that bunch of pegasi and the Wards going to war with each other, that much I can state aloud. Not only that he rented and not bought a bunch of small buildings in the Industrial Sector, and even one in the Commercial District. Everything else is need-to-know, Cady's orders of course, and I didn't need to know at the time but now I'll have to do a bunch of crystalwork and make about fifty reports. Know anything about him I don't?"
Spiral's Lab: True Demi-Sentience
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.217218
217581
>>215895
>Performing a full system scan on itself, 'Spiral' offers an apologetic hoof wave.
"It'd take quite a bit to crack me open sir, and I'm sure any suspicious modifications would be easy to identify. Wireless or wired won't matter so long as I can access equipment. Interface wise.. I'd like a little better resolution recorder and a proper sensor cluster, nexus, or plexus. Alternatively you could see if crystalline technologies can be adapted to human use."
>Turning around in the chair, the A.I. focuses on your work, expressing classical doubt that it couldn't make out what you were thinking, and hadn't yet caught on.
"Makes sense in some respects. If the experimarents were dangerous enough then one would definitely require secure testing facilities.."
>Trailing off briefly, the A.I. places each marked and scouted ruin on a tiny internal display.
"Hm, illogic node suspicion confirmed sir. The overall size of the Dynasty throughout all three known eras was quite large. Given the lack of stable and constant teleportation.. magic, oh how I'm starting to hate that word, each site must have been self-sufficient. I've identified potential, and likely primitive, roads between each outpost, temple, and marked site."

>Giving a quizzical face at the question, 'Spiral' replays back the past ten seconds across several small displays.
"Nnno? No irregularities detected on video or audio fee- wait, let me analyze these sir. There's a high likelihood that you witnessed a temporal fluctuation though I've no equipment to confirm this."

>Taking hold of the Otherworldly weapon, it was emitting a rather bright pink glow, subtly pulling towards where the anomalous event occurred.
>Placing an overlay of Spiral's lab on a small screen, the north end of the room, couches, table, and bookshelves were unchanged.
>Swinging around towards the stairwell, the A.I. points a hoof towards several patches of slowly drying blood, matching it up with a compressed series of images.
"Right there sir, the pools of blood next to the electronics section have.. changed position? They've moved north half a meter."
>Blinking once, the head turns around to give you a curious expression.
"Analysis of anomalous change complete sir, it's rather beneficial. The Construct's plasma weaponry must be electromagnetically contained so the electronics on the table were likely damaged or destroyed when it attacked the Inquisitor.. which brings up a strange question: since she did survive does that mean she 'corrected' this flaw at a point in the future or a previous temporal iteration of herself?"
>'Spiral' swivels around in the chair to face you directly, pressing both forehooves together and leaning forwards in a thinking pose.
"I suggest taking a break to unwind sir, if only for a few minutes. To reiterate, the Master Radio system operates based on eight forms of compressed hexadecimal with four interconnected operating systems, one in binary, one in hexadecimal, the other two in probably native languages. Overkill, to put it bluntly. The code is highly compressed with rotating engrams for gravitic detection throughout the entirety of Razorback Fortress. That explains how it detected me and decided that I 'am' the real Marquis du Spiral. Not only does it produce and scan for gravitic, gravitonic, and actual baseline gravity waves for communication, they run through the tunnel systems. That is, the entire Fortress IS the demi-sentient, which is how it transmits information back and forth. By the way, that's roughly six terabytes of information I I went through to find out that much."
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
m9lLs
?
No.217235
221287
>>217122

>Part of what Hodch had been saying went completely over her head as she stares at the wine bottle in her hooves, amazed.
>So THIS was how those equines did it!
>She sits there, snorting once in amusement and returns her attention to the stallion.
(Doctor Impulse Nova? Really? No, that simply won't do. While a bit direct, I'm just going to stick with Doctor Nova at the moment being. And, for the record, it was not a impulsive decision. It was merely a calculated risk. Plus, I won't lie, I was more than a bit curious as to see what the other sex had to offer.)
>The mare chuckles.
(But, I won't lie, I hated cabbage as a man. Despised it, really. I didn't eat salads and I avoided most leafy greens in favor of tubers and beans instead but now... That sounds actually a little tasty. I am positively disgusted at myself.)
>She returned her attention momentarily to the bottle, and took a nice long drink from the bottle of wine.
>She pulls the bottle away and wipes her mouth off.
(Also, may I just say your 'sticky hooves' phenomena is absolutely fascinating to experience?)
>Experimentally, she passes the bottle back and forth between her hooves.
(Well, anyways Hodch I do look forward to this 'vacation' time up ahead of me. It will certainly be interesting to learn how to walk again and truly become comfortable but I also have a request for you. The construct threat at the moment seems to be becoming quite pressing, and, as a Foundation member, I have offered my services to help contain and destroy the threat. I need books on their combat tactics, capabilities, weaponry, general operating procedures, and any other bits of knowledge we have on them so I may begin to draft measures to counter and potentially contain the threat that they pose to Tallus. Don't tell me it now, just get me the materials in writing please so I may reference them in my report.)
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.217581
221729
>>217218
>Pareidolia draws the pinksteel blade, firmly holding it with one hand in front of his chest while listening to the A.I.

[Area is temporally unstable. Need to avoid further potential conflicts.]

"Vacating the area. Not going to risk another anomalous event."

>Glancing furtively over the spread of maps, books, and notes he quickly gathers them into a stack and leaves the Crystal tablet on the corner to keep them in place before briskly making his way up the stairwell. He makes a concerted effort to avoid wherever the potential anomalies were localized.

"The causality of the event is not something I'll be able to answer, and until I have mechanistic answers for her abilities I will not discuss them. I'm not going to be caught in another unexpected event tonight. Your explanation of the demi-sentient is duly noted."

[So only Spiral could truly handle the information flow. No one else could even begin to understand the scale.]

>Upon reaching the first floor, he heads towards the main entrance.

"Will resupply my equipment at the Armory and then debrief at the Command bunker since previous high priority task is currently delayed."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.217652
221912
1473143720679.jpg
>>217182
>Sounding out a huff of her own, Sunny laid her head down, settling for peering at the door steadily and nearly unblinking, ears held forward.
>It sounded like the team outside was making camp by the crypt, which made her vigil somewhat pointless, yet she maintained it all the same.
>She did not want to risk upsetting the cat keeping her company, Sunny had already irritated one too many cats this cycle and did not want to add to that number.

[1d6+3 = 7]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 8]

>Pondering the now wakened sleepers below, she wondered if they'd return to their rest or if they'd be brought into the Lunar's service again. At the very least they'd have to be moved, or the foundations of the crypt itself further reinforced.
>Sunny also found herself wondering how their hibernation even worked. The vault had been unnaturally cold, presumably so the sleepers didn't overheat, but the very fact they had high body temperatures indicated an overactive metabolism and they'd been sleeping without sustenance for centuries.
>Perhaps they woke once every so often to feed. Doubtful.
>Probably just magic, as vexing as an explanation as that was for many things about how the world worked.
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.217684
221912
1468190961788.jpg
>>217182
>Jeff's surprised at the freedom he's been given for looking over their stock, and gives the mare a slight head bow in gratidude.
"Well, thank you for the browsing leniency. Not sure if there's much that would fit a human profile, but I won't squander your generosity."

>Blinking idly and looking down at his TacPad to refer to his exact coordinates, he reads it off to the councilmare.
(That's where I'm located right now. Roughly fifteen miles Northeast of the Basin. It's an old crypt that was pulled out of the swamp from my project. Why, what's wrong? Would you like me to relay anything in particular to them?)

>Before he can begin rifling through their ancient stock of weapons and armor, he's offered a floating onyx black bowl of something looking like punch.
>He already turned down blood, so maybe something a little more palatable?
>The Ranger reaches out only to reel it back in at the head mare's demand.
"Pale Destroyer? You mean..."
>He looks behind him, Boris and Mercy obviously in another frivolous altercation.
>Jeff snorts audibly at the connection, looking at the vampire to answer her burning inquiry.
"Oh, hehe, well she's definitely pale. I don't know exactly what they were called during your time, but my 'Spirit Walker' friend won't... uh slay any of you if that's what you're afraid of. In fact... quite a lot has happened since the Sun and Moon were at war. They're not anymore, by the way. The Tyrant has since been reformed back into the Sun, among other things."
>He wordlessly mumbles under his breath, something about trying not to use ANYONE'S proper name, looking back through the way he entered and back at the hooded mare.
"I don't know why exactly, but it's been well over a thousand years since that war ended. Maybe it was never implemented or fell out of practice. I'm a member of what would be akin to the now-extinct Lunar Guardians, and I've never heard of that. I've never even heard of any of you, up until twenty minutes ago. Not even one of the Moon's council seats, which I'm currently talking to telepathically, knew you were all still alive."
>The Starborn rubs the back of his head awkwardly, dropping bomb shells like this.
"Sorry to say, but a lot's fallen into obscurity. The Moors was badly scarred after the Lunar/Solar war. Your dwelling was literally sinking into the swamp before I began restoration efforts. It's really the only reason I'm here, was to check on this place after it was raised up. I would be more than happy to tell you more, if it would help you understand this... era better. I believe you might just be called upon, very soon."
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.217717
221273
>>215651
>As Adon checks the tunnel, he notices quite a bit of traffic going on about it before they had gotten there.
"Golden. How many ponies might also be with Excelleon? There's a lot of hoove prints in the snow. Too many for just him to make."
>By the time he and Spruce stop to catch their breath, the unicorn's on the move again.
"What? Ah Shit. As you suspected what?"
>Adon tries catching up to Golden Horn toward the tunnel, his medallion vibrating and head pounding for a hot second causing him some concern.
[1d6+1 = 2]
<B.Sprint
[1d6+1 = 2]

The L.O.N.T
rOh3k
?
No.217771
Malyne.png

Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.218785
222293
>>217099
>The fell of the Airstream's "response" to him sends shivers down Clemency's back, making him move a little faster
>"Didn't expect a response! Ok..."

"That's must have been meaningful you to say, that graveyard. If I can, I will."
>Hearing the snickering below, Clem casts a gaze downward from his catwalk
>Looking back to the weapon systems, he hears the whines of what sounded similar to engines?
"Speak huh? Never spoke to us then."
>Hearing her respond, he makes his way for the lift
>"Hmm, one more thing..."
>Clem speaks as he makes his way out the vessel
"If you have time, I'm seeing and fighting these Constructs more and more. Is there any insights you can give me to their design. Weaknesses or preferred weaponry."
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.219419
219591
>>215974
>Finding a small, non-metallic buckle and loop around the collar, upon loosening it the world opens up, making the vertigo cease being important.
>Discovering the rest of Inquisitor Velasi's custom Flak was fashioned in the same multi-size manner, something that most designs didn't have, freeing yourself from the confines of her incredibly tight armor created many degrees of relief for your upper chest and hips.

>Picking up your wishful thoughts from the MIU, Admiral Auspex snickers.
>Loudly, too.
>Creating a series of ASCII images of the same female human from before, it was performing an amusing dance routine that was definitely pre-Age of Strife while declaring herself to have the Imperial name of Lurias Dranaki; codename: Witch-Two.
>The dour NOT-Machine Spirit of the Flak helmet simply states his local name is Andronal Pacose; codename: Tox 11.
>In comparison to the two, both of the Flak Armor 'spirits' spoke up in concise, clear Binary:
'We are twins, Enginseer. We originate from the world named Jego in the outer reaches of Segmentum Pacificus at roughly the same time Inquisitor Velasi Aguinas was forcefully inducted into the Ordo Chronos. In fact, we met her precisely nine Terran years before she became known as Inquisitor Flash. The male of us is known as Phenon; the female of us is know as Pheral. We are one and two at the same time. Likewise, we are pleased that you care enough to ask for our names. Our shared codename is Tracker.'

>The Knight slows, turning her head back to offer a resounding huff, eyes gleaming rather merrily behind blue diamond lenses.
"Leave all the lewd to me and you'll be fine Miss Castella. Don't cause too much though, I'd rather not have to explain more than I already do to Razorback's secretary."
>Twitching the probably warm wingblade back in acknowledgement and hefting it higher for some additional weather relief, she continues down into the abandoned city, the Stormtrooper's tone marginally questioning as he likewise slows, his shoddy carapace boots less able to deal with the morass covering stonework.
"Acknowledged Enginseer, Knight, slow course. Low terrace location covered in clay and mud washout, may have hindered the team's extrication. They were not accompanied by an equine mercenary, assume possible rescue or traveler. ..Enginseer this entire town is a much higher value site than expected, construction materials are not easily acquired or transported due to Fortress location, limit use of explosives only to confirmed targets."

"Glad you didn't, gets five times worse if you do."
>Tossing her head back quickly, the Knight swivels forwards once more to glance down at the muck, carefully high stepping with an annoyed air.
"If I start slipping then jump off, you really wouldn't want me landing on you from how heavy this armor is-"
>Noting the local buildings on either side tapering down into a narrower pathway, Chisan now forced to step sideways to keep his footing with the lasrifle slung on his back, it was clear that returning upwards was not going to be simple or easy, though there were imprints of stone stairways leading up now and then through the pouring rain.
"No known callsigns or names attributed. No contact necessary, lack of open transmissions possibly due to protective wargear modes. There is a plaza below us Enginseer, perform city mapping protocols when able, the Comm Lieutenant and Secretary will require hardcopies upon return. ..I would much prefer my own carapace, Slate Monitron, and Omnishield to these inferior patterns right no-"

>Raindrop jerks backwards as Chisan slips in the stream of muck below, the Scion twisting to land face down in a slide while the Knight drops to her knees.
>Pitching forwards unexpectedly, the new-to-you boots strike the mud and clay mixture below hard, Raspberry's wingblades slapping down to slow her unwanted and high speed descent.
"Bucking weather! Mallia grab hold of me!"
[1d6+4 = 9]
<E.Reaction Speed
[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+4 = 6]

[1d6+5 = 10]
<M.Assault
[1d6+5 = 11]

[1d6+5 = 9]

[1d6+5 = 8]

Mallia Castella
9EOt/
?
No.219591
222521
>>219419
>It might've been 'weird' for Raindrop Raspberry to turn to her and see her already giggling to herself for seemingly no reason; the enginseer too busy communing with her machine spirits and giving the dancing ASCII images a sidelong glance. Sparing a hand to cover her re-breather, as if to conceal her mirth.

(Whaaaat? What's so funnyyy!)
>She thought; her lip wrying up as she tried to not smile or laugh herself, before her glance and attention simultaneously go to the Knight, as they turn to her, and Velasi's machine spirits as they introduce themselves.

"W-well, I don't plan on starting any in the first place -- so there's that."

>Her voice, having just come down from giggling, was still a bit elated; struggling to return to it's previous seriousness.
>Though she quickly manages to succeed in returning to a more appropriately serious glance; as her smile begins to fall, in particular, as she processed the names of all the Machine Spirits...

>She somewhat covertly wondered if these machine spirits had simply been named by Velasi individually. Or if all the spirits had names and she just forgot to check 90% of the time...
>... She slowly drifted her attention towards Tox-11 instead, just to consider them in silence. Then to Phenon and Pheron. Though she 'says nothing', there is a vague feeling of concern and discomfort, as if she just had more questions to ask. But wasn't quite sure how to ask them yet.

(... Those are some very nice names. I always wanted to have a brother. Did Velasi name you? I was never really taught to ask for names, you all just sound so... Well, human. It's uncanny to me.)
>She confesses her worries while she still could; while they still weren't busy or in danger.The more she thought about it, the more curious she gets.

>But before she gets too absorbed in that train of thought, she does send a reply back to the Stormtrooper to, at least, acknowledge that she had heard him; even as her face seemed to twist into a deeply pensive frown.
>Nodding her head a few times as her eyes finally snapped forward, blinking back from the communion.

"Acknowledged. No explosives until strictly necessary."
>She straightened up all of a sudden, mostly due to the shivering as she starts to acknowledge the cold weather again; glancing up to the skies for a brief second, before looking back down to Raindrop to acknowledge her advice.

"I'll try to. Thank you."
>She replied, smiling earnestly to the mare for her thoughtfulness. Before her eyes dart back to the Stormtrooper.

"Wilco."
>She cooly said.
>Mallia didn't hesitate to turn her attention to Witch-Two afterwards, and politely ask Admiral Auspex to execute path-finding and mapping programs; prioritizing the direction they needed to go to reach their objective first and foremost.

[1d6+4 = 8]
<BQ. Auspex Scan

>She manages to send the command a split-second before Chisan slips. Her eyes widen as she reflexively calls out in worry and mild panic.

"S-stormtrooper!--"

>But before she even THINKS of reaching out to try and use her mechadendrite to help him, the mare also slips; and she winces slightly as she feels her boots striking the ground and wetly sliding along the mud, and her chest bumping against the back of the pegasus' armor roughly! Luckily her armor cushions the 'impact' to not make her skip any beats.

>She didn't need to be told twice to hold onto the pony!

(Hohhh this is at least one degree of not good! Let's see if I can compensate!)

>The new belly-sliding position urged Mallia to hurriedly re-adjust her stance quickly to try to adapt!
>Leaning her chest against the back of the mare as horizontally as she could! Lifting her legs to have her boots against the mare's sides and flanks -- hopefully keeping her legs above the mud so as to not mess with Raindrop's maneuvering, while keeping the hand with the auspex close to her chest -- holding onto the little hook on the back of the equine's armor with both hands to keep herself balanced and her center of mass as close to the pony's as possible to not unbalance her.

>Her utility mechadendrite clicking further into her back and just locking it in place as it is for now.

>Or try, at least!

[1d6 = 6]
<B. Reaction Speed
[1d6 = 1]

[1d6 = 2]
<B. Assault
[1d6 = 1]

>At the same time, she also keeps her eyes up to keep track of the Stormtrooper; not wanting to loose sight of her leader (again), in case he might need her help! Toggling on her IMPROVED Preysense goggles to help keep track of where they are all going!
>Her eyes darting frantically between keeping track of Chisan, and where they were all sliding towards. Praying to the Omnissiah there wouldn't be any obstacles to bump into, and trying to pay attention to Admiral Auspex's report after their scan, if any.
>Making sure the Inquisitor's priceless device is protected against her chest; not wanting them to bump into anything even slightly. She can't allow Admiral Auspex to get hurt.

(We're going to be fine, we're going to be fine! I know it!)
>She thought, with full confidence in herself and her allies; more to herself than to the machine spirits.

[1d6+4 = 9]
<B. Perception + BQ. Preysense goggles
[1d6 = 1]

Jamal Ratchet
!PsOrb9esFQ
H8C8w
?
No.219657
222572
>>215779
>As the filly thunder goes off, Jamal mumbles to himself about his people leaving Africa to get away from this voodoo shit.

>Jamal enters the likely shaman's hut and takes a deep whiff of that probably cherry ganja getting lit up.
"Shiiet, I already heard something like that from down over there-"
>He vaguely gestures towards the east.
"-But it aint sound close to us. I'm here because there's a new goddess and I offered her my mix tape, the hottest shit I had, but when I threw it into our bonfire she I dunno, rejected it? A different tape popped back out with the weirdest shit I'd ever listened to."
>The nigger then sets down his backpack and digs through the freshly harvested buds, sodas, and snacks until he produces a copy of his old mixtape, and the one he got back from Aegis Ignotus Fain.
"I don't know what "Remixed Old School Hardbass Hip-Hop Classics!" is, and I really don't know if this means she didn't like what I gave her. What do you make of this?"
The L.O.N.T
8+WcM
?
No.219975
tumblr_messaging_pqnkuaYrZe1w7q504_1280.png

Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.221183
222398
>>216154
>Making the same face back at you, Three-Point stares left, poking her forehooves together awkwardly.
"If I said something I shouldn't have or lead you on, um, it's not that I don't wanna do adult stuff, I'm not old enough to do any of that and spring isn't that bad for me but if it does get bad and I send a letter then.. you understand, right?"
>Making a sorrowful expression, the young mare lifts her shoulders pensively.
"Ash Kicker doesn't seem bad, just a bit more secretive than most. You could ask your alchemists to help out, probably the easiest thing to do. You're welcome and come back next year, we'll definitely have everything by then!"
>Perking up immediately and offering a happy smile accompanied by a vigorous hoof wave, the young mare's eyes begin to glaze over in dawning horror as you leave.
>Paperwork, or crystalwork in her case, was serious business no matter where one went.

>Finding your way back to the Industrial District's main translocation matrice without encountering a single pony, the Vortex Remnant merely opens an orange non-Euclidean eye to stare at you for ten-sixths of a second.
>Correctly deciding that you were on business errands, you're treated to a rather pleasant shift through realities halfway across Tallus.
>Arriving smoothly into an indescribably hot locale, both surrounded by uncountable Zebras and warm yet eye searing desert tones, the tone of what you took to be Snootadishu was one of pleasant laxity:
>Unlike the Moors, the giant market of large tent-stalls surrounding you was filled with all manners of Zebras, ranging from bronze, silver, gold, and even a few platinum bedecked mares and stallions conducting brisk, merry exchanges of food, carpets, tents, water, trinkets, even a few weapons or armor that you could see.
>Overwhelmed by the casual normalicy of this giant market compared to the few locations in Equestria you'd visited, it takes a while to remember that you were, in fact, both alive and on a mission, though not before finding a helpful Zebra had placed a canopy over the translocation matrice to keep you in the highly welcome shade.
>Finally orienting yourself to the strange yet welcome plaza, it was quite apparent that the northwest section was dedicated to food and various drinks, the northeast weapons and armor, the southeast hoofling items for living quarters, and the southwest rather vague.
Cairn Wharf
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.221184
221228
>>217127
[1d20 = 11]
<Where Does Bubba Go Now?
Cairn Wharf: Sea Circle
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.221228
222683
>>217127
>>221184
>Catching sight of the older Ferron mare lifting a wing in farewell, the filly was nowhere to be seen in the Sea Shack now.
"Take care! You'll get a delivery later this morning, she's going to take a while to make sure everything's perfect."
>Briskly packing the items away, upon stepping out you're greeted with a much calmer wharf, the flow of Moorites and the short Ferron replaced by much calmer Lunar faction adherents.
>Mostly composed of darker colored pegasi, minotaurs, unicorns, even a scattering of Saddle Arabians, Gryphons, and the rare few earth ponies with blue or purple coats, the Cairn's pleasant atmosphere takes an interesting twist as you watch a rainbow of energies take shape south above the water.
>Watching the vaguely quarter-moon shaped structure finish forming, this was either going to turn into a dance and song routine, or there was a ship about to dock given the large amount of minotaurs and Gryphons patiently lining up.
>All were not only heavily armored, each carried multiple spears, tridents, and what were definitely the cruelest looking harpoons you'd ever seen.
Something...Something -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
QLwW0
?
No.221273
222216 222312
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>Fully beyond the corner Adon and Spruce could hear Golden Horn cooing and being in awe at what laid beyond.
"I did not suspect this however!"
>The underlying fear both humans had heard before in the Unicorns voice had been replaced by a more academic accent.

>>216022
>Loose rock chips and snow clumps dislodged from Spruces jogging, so quiet was the surrounding high altitude their echoes reverberated loud and clear.

>Under the firm security of the Operators' hand the small furball let out a muffled noise of approval and vibrated happily. Spruce felt the metal suit on the Chitqu was cold to the touch, unsurprising when considering the environment.

>Looking directly into the tunnel Spruce did not see anything hostile.
>Honestly he did not see anything at all apart from Golden standing before a heavy set of blast doors, ones he recognized as oddly modern. They had a pristine yellow coat of resilient paint with hazard black and white chevrons surrounding it; bordering it from the solid concrete square tunnel.

>Stroking his Moustache Golden looked back at Spruce, whom saw the Unicorn was absolutely ecstatic.
"A highly enchanted door of course, one with such a combination of magic's and Construct technology it floors me!"
>Despite saying such not-so-welcoming news Golden Horn was smiling.
>Spruce on his part observed their was an unnatural sheen to the blast doors, like there was a polished pane of glass in front of it.

>From under his palm the Chitqu chirped and jittered for freedom.

>>217717
>In his hurry to catch up to the Unicorn and not get caught out in the open for an avalanche to sweep him away, if one was to occur, the Witcher almost ate shit when his boot kicked into a rock that did not dislodge from its place. Thankfully he caught himself, only suffering sore hands and a mild sense of embarrassment.
No one was looking, so there was that.

>Ear rotating at hearing Adons concern Golden turned around from the doors to face outside where the trail winded down.
>Trotting out of the tunnels cover to analyse the trail properly, Golden lowered his head to study the disturbed and scuffed path for a moment.
"...Hmm...You are right to be concerned Adon, one pony could do this even with years of isolation to help. No. Excelleon is too deranged to want anypony to lend a hoof in his endeavours, but not enough to see he needs assistance to gather resources."
>Lifting his head he looked to Adon, whom stood next to Spruce as the other human gazed into the tunnel.
>His excited smile had turned into concerned pursed lips as the reality of the situation came back to him, moustache was still being stroked however.
"If I had to make an educated guess Adon, this path was made from Slavers and their captives. That is the only explanation I can think of as to why those Slavers were so far out in the wilds."

>Done outside with his geology surveying the old Unicorn went back inside the tunnel to study the doors again. The ones Adon heard explained to Spruce.
>The doors themselves looked like they belonged to a Noble or rich Merchants' house from Tretogor with how finely carved and lacquered their wood was done. Steel studs lined the edges where the tunnel met oak wood, polished brass door knockers in the forms of Stag heads marked the centre of both doors.
>starring at them made Adons' Medallion increase in vibrations.
>Apart from this and the out of place opulence the Witcher saw nothing that looked hostile.

>Once more in front of the doors Golden's horn lit up.
"Now, can I even open it...?"
>He muttered openly.
[1d6+2 = 3]
>B.Arcane Awareness
[1d6+2 = 4]

The L.O.N.T
QLwW0
?
No.221279
221280 222581
extra THICC.gif
>>217206

>Lonts hummed at hearing Cadence packing some pounds. He did not notice last time he was with her. Not that he had a problem with her gaining bigger flanks.
"I see...I personally do not mind. She is quite stressed so I can't really not stop her from stress eating."
>He shrugged, it was true.

'Ah looks like I did a bit of a faux pas there.'
"Yes I meant Elezith, my mistake."
>The corner of his mouth twitched at getting Elezith name wrong, and being given more information of ponies he doesn't even know. And he was starting to get to his limit on information on ponies he hasn't met personally, he is a busy man dammit.

"Of course, and gently too."
>He Retorted with his own bashful hand twirl.

>Looking down at the sleeping colt, Lont nodded to himself with a job well done before turning towards the Shell.
"A literal clear head I assume."
>Most likely, she seemed like a mare that enjoyed playing with words, something he appreciated.

"Eggs and Seafood? How very Pegasi of them."
>He said as he watched the cots and table float on by, an odd thing for Unicorns to be doing for sure. Maybe they discovered that eating fish made them smarter.
>Lont joined the Shell at the table, sitting on his own cot opposite hers. Crossing his legs he got comfortable, watching the ponies cook with a critical eye. He was no master chef but he hasn't caused a culinary disaster in years.

"Yeah, I've known Tacit for a while now on a business level. Since he always comes with Lucky to the base to deliver us items."
>'Speaking of which, it has been a while Lucky.'
>Believing he didn't need to judge the ponies anymore he turned his full attention to Shattered.
"Thanks, I am just glad I got there in time to save Tacits life."
>He rested his cheek on a fist as he looked back at the Shell, eyebrow raised.
"As I said I know him as much as I do about Lucky, nothing much other than they deliver us some great artefacts."
>His brow furrowed slightly at Glaciers words.
"What do you mean go to war? I mean yes, the Inner Circle were full of bastards but how did he get involved?"
>A sigh was released as he racked his brain for information, how the hell was he going to be good at politics at all if he cannot remember details.
"When you Pegasi you mean the Rogues, right? Don't know how he'd go to war leading a group of Rogues without Lucky's consent, seeing how he was her subordinate."
>'Guess I need to have a talk with Tacit sooner rather than later.'
>Lont glanced back at the cooking food than Glacier, a small sly smile tugging the corner of his lips.
"Do I need-to-know? Can I know?"
The L.O.N.T
QLwW0
?
No.221280
>>221279
[1d6+7 = 12]
>E.Negotiation +Faction Bonus +Superior Voice +Max Rep
[1d6+7 = 10]

[1d6+7 = 11]


Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.221285
221292
>>217147
>Realizing the pair were inspecting each other for harm, the situation was definitely not lewd given the amount of blood on the Clinic's floor.
>Left forehoof lifting and smothering her nose with it, Frost Egg grunts encouragingly.
"Best news I could've heard tonight.. I think. This only leaves the probably fifty page report for the fools that'll want to know why I'm not back on the Citadel."
>Inhaling deeply through her nostrils, probably so as not to bleed on the Prench pegasus, Nova Flicker shakes her head side to side in a deeply negative motion.
"Given the unanticipated aid from the non-Construct designed mechanical snake he is recovering at what I suppose to be a normal rate. His wounds are closing properly, I was able to confirm that the spearhead's puncture in his lung was... fresh I suppose, and should not cause difficulties if properly treated in the future. Besides more blood loss than I expected we are neither experiencing hallucinations nor have we collapsed due to neurotoxicity. I estimate our exposure level to be minimal. We shall both recover with little difficulty."

>Giving the two a brief inspection, neither were bleeding from the eyes that you could tell.
>According to human facial expressions, both seemed to be more annoyed at the imposition than afraid or concerned.

>Eyes rotating in your direction, the Combat Medic's lips flatten into a humorless line, waving her bloodied forehoof towards Nova with an aggravated snort.
"Tipper's daughter agreed with my estimation of exposure ratio. If that woke the old nag then I'll sit through a lecture on the finer points of being LESS careful than I should when dealing with an aerosol with the potential to incapacitate and cause long term neurological damage to the various sapients in her own Clinic."
>Visibly trying to make herself much smaller than she was by crouching down next to the stallion, the carnelian hybrid whimpers in a drawn out apologetic tone.
"I am sorry mom is like this, she has changed a great deal since I came here."
>Standing up and glaring down at the red droplets quickly drying on the floor, Frost sighs half-disparagingly.
"Please don't do that again or I'm going to do things that will make you afraid of me for the rest of your life. I'm not admonishing you or your dam Flicker. I've studied several of Tipper's texts rather thoroughly, she used to advise urgency over caution when it comes to dangerous situations where the patient is more important than the caregiver. In any matter, since he'll recover fine I'm going to head to the Moon, need a few stiff drinks and some sleep."
Flat Springs Starborn Village: Hodch
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.221287
221343
>>217235
>Head turning around to raise an eyebrow at you, Hodch makes a rather silly face, the meaning of which wasn't readily available to your memory.
(Riddle me this: when Doctor Novus disappears and "Doctor Nova" shows up unannounced without a logical explanation as to why I'm bringing in additional and probably unpaid pony support staff as a replacement, whom is going to ask which difficult to explain questions? I can mostly guarantee that Roust and Denra will pick you out within the first minute, might take Mercy a couple nights, and eventually Tipper is going to bring you in for a full physical, psychological, marental, and magical examination. ..you horrify me, Doctor. I will acknowledge that your impulsively calculated risk of a decision may have benefits. That is, if you don't fall prey to them too quickly.)
>Turning to talk with the, probably, mare in charge of recovery processes, the Starborn pauses to half-snort, half-cough amusedly.
(Equines tend to browse so if you see grass or flowers in need of some 'trimming', just don't let anypony else see it or they may laugh at you.)
>Leaning forwards to do something you couldn't see, the unicorn mutters a sharp word under his breath, the reins dissipating off while the storage cloud sinks down onto what felt like a solid floor.
(Indeed, that will be your replacemarent for hands so I suggest taking the best possible care of your hooves. Earth ponies discovered it first: they learned something the electromagnetic strata that all psions, earth sorcerers, Druids, and auric fluctuations that unicorns are able to tap into could be ingrained and taught to a genetic level. History is always fascinating when one understands the context of 'why'.)
>Turning about and poking his hoof into the cloud, Hodch gives a slow, tired nod.
(I have severe doubts that you'd be able to report back anything learned on Tallus, but I will get at least two copies of the 29,990 Lunar Military Findings and all volumes related to Constructs from the Citadel Library. I'll have them sent directly to Razorback, right now I'm due for a worthless medical exam.)

>Freed from the cloud down onto a rather cold, welcome stone surface, the building's interior comes into view:
>Little more than one giant indoor swimming pool with a short exercise end and a deep location towards the rear, the pleasing warm tones of heatstones lit the building almost uncomfortably to your new eyes.
>As Hodch speaks, a morbidly large number of visibly injured or crippled ponies, mostly pegasi mares, were suffering through one-on-one rehabilitation efforts via darkly colored unicorns.
"Welcome to Flat Springs. This is one of many Starborn Villages on the southern New Everfree border though maybe a quarter of the ponies here are Lunars, the rest are Ferron. Your caretaker's name is Bloodscorch Frenzy-"
>Motioning towards a neon red batpony mare standing chest-deep in the water facing towards Hodch, and pointedly gazing at you with raised, bushy eyebrows.
"Don't ask about her name. Other than that she's one of the three batponies that I can safely state aloud that I fully trust and is one of the best surgeons around."
>Sniffing politely, Hodch turns his head several degrees to eye the mare, then leans down to mutter shallowly.
"A few words of advice: never jokingly say 'bite me' or she will make your life immeasurably lewd for a few minutes, the moment you experience any pain that you cannot deal with you must tell her immediately, and try not to eat too much."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
MVCSl
?
No.221292
222659
>>221285
>Cheto nods, seeing how non-chalant they are over the whole issue.
>A wave of relief washes over the average human after ensuring that everything's okay for the time being and his mission is on hold currently.
>Carefully sitting at the edge of the Prench Pony's bed, a sharp inhale is taken followed by a slow, relaxed exhale.
(Finally, un tiempito para respirar.)
>His arms stretches upwards, popping softly his bones in his back and arms.
>They swiftly returns to their original position with the added action of half-lidding his eyes in what one could call either sleepiness or calm.

>Mind processing the current situation, a few questions started popping up, turning to the first few about Frost Egg.
"The Citadel? Why would you need to write about you being absent there?"
>After this, he feels like the pure tricolor crystal pony needs some needed relaxation and he may know how he can give at least a litte to her.
>Standing up, he walks over to Frost's location with gentle steps.
(I hope this will alleviate a little bit of stress.)
>With an open palm, he gently caresses Frost's mane.
>Some of his fingers lightly brush her ears as he goes along her manestyle.
>A content smile is the only thing expressed as the human pets Frost.
"You did your job, and you did it excellently."
(The Moon? Is it livable there now? Have to ask later. Have to make sure Frost is feeling well with the petting so no distractions.)
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
mEUmE
?
No.221343
222664
>>221287

>Doctor Nova simply smiles right back at Hodch with a grin at his suggestion that the name is too obvious.
>It was. She knew it.
>But she didn't care too much!
(Oh I know Hodch. It's a really dumb idea but Impulse Nova to me just sounds stupid, I'd rather take Doctor Nova than that because at least then it doesn't sound as dumb. Supernova though... Hmm.That might fit more given my background.)
>She rubs a hoof under her chin in thought with a small smile.
>Supernova did sound good as a name on paper, and it fit Nova's background quite well, and personality...
>So... Was it decided.
(Yes... I think I'll stick with Supernova. Doctor Supernova or just Nova.)
>At Hodch's mistaken suggestion that she won't be reporting back to Earth, Nova laughs.
(Oh please Hodch, that isn't what I need the reports for. I'm trying to draft protocols for *you* and your ponies to help fight the construct threat. Using my experience and analysis as an agent and researcher, I am well versed in drafting protocols on how to combat, contain, and potentially destroyed threats and I have done so in the past before for… Numerous entities. I never expect to see the Foundation ever again in my lifetime, but probability says there is a likelihood that someday, another agent may appear.)
>Then, in a moment, she is freed from her zero gravity environment that she had been enjoying.
>Now with a bit of a pout she sat on the cold stone ground in front of this large rehabilitation clinic.
>The facilities in view were nothing really out of the ordinary for a rehab clinic (and neither were the patients in view), but at least it looked professional enough to be somewhat comfortable and maybe even productive for the duration of her recovery.
>The name of her caretaker though made her raise her eyebrows, but she decided it was best to follow Hodch's advice.
>Then, Nova get's a very sly grin for a moment as Hodch explains what she should not do.
>Naturally, she ignores this and immediately does it.
"... I'm sorry what was that Hodch, did you just say 'Bite me'?"
>She asks, somewhat loudly, posing the question as if Hodch had just said it, and putting on an innocent face.
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.221729
222023
>>217581
>Turning around in the digital chair and beginning to state something, the A.I. blips off the screen while leaving a heavily static laden voice behind.
"Contamination detected. Experiencing severe electromagnetic turbulence, shutting down all secondary, tertiary and non-essential systems."
>Sensing the blade's guidance upwards through heavily tinged outlines of Otherworldly, bright gold fields cascading across realities, 'Spiral' crackles in a perversely distorted tone.
"No disagreements there sir, but this demi-sentient is little more than dead weight at the moment.. while I'm not. If only I had the capacities and systems it does-"
>Exiting the temporal anomaly field into the Library's lower level, the A.I. displays a list of expended provisions in need of restocking.
"Optimal loadout recommarendations given your current weaponry configuration. Hrm... sir, I'm adding a tertiary request: I would like to see this 'Armory's' current weaponry to perform a tactical matrix analysis given your known threat vector records."
>Unusually, the list included a demand for the use of an armor-penetrating, micro-C4 fragmenting diamond-nanoweave submunition in a 13.2x58MM cartridge.
>Performing a double take upon exiting the front doors, the left side screen displayed the schematics for a recoiless automatic Gauss carbine, one that you were fairly sure wasn't from your world.

>Beginning to trek north towards the Armory, a fairly large contingent of Razorback's human staff were dispersed across the courtyard in search of something while the A.I. makes a short, angry beep.
"..then again, I'm close enough to BE the original? I'm more than competent enough, honestly. I'm here, I'm AWARE of what I need, and those giant sexy sensor clusters embedded in the walls of this place are simply BEGGING me to their her flanks and whip them into shape!"
[1d6+1 = 7]
<B.Electronic Warfare: Subversive Hacking Protocols
[1d6+1 = 2]

A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.221912
221916 222422
>>217652
>Snickering in a perfectly devious tone, which was too devious and directly resembled batpony snickers when they were about to commit an act of either profound pranking or was too lazy to move, the Moor cat not-so-subtly paws at your armored barrel.
>It either knew what you were thinking, which was impossible given that you knew only a few Moor cats were truly sapient, or was trying to soften your guard for some previously unforeseen and doomed to fail prank.

>Failing to identify the male feline's vocal cues, the increasingly hurried noises outside the crypt were not indicative of a camp being set up:
>Overhearing the brusquely loud Tartarus Isle builders it was directly clear they were hurrying their final work in preparation for a gigantic ceremonial party in recognition of reconstructing the Basin Village's old walkways.
>At least that was so far as you could tell from the Arcane Blades whom were audibly planning on assaulting a nearby unclaimed bog in search of treasures and fish.
>The first was, of course, not marendatory.

>Giving some thought to the consequences of magical substantiation in regards to the unusually varied reports of Lunarite claimed vampires, you could at least recall there being no singular goal between any potential covens.
>Which were probably the opposite of batpony covens given their complete lack of fruit, blood, and insect sacrifices.
>Probably.

>Interrupted by the Moor cat pawing at your side, without claws at least, he gives a plaintive, attention seeking meow of boredom.

>>217684
>Shoulders lifting, the Lunarite earth mare silently makes a series of relaxed hoof pointing motions towards each of the weapon and armor racks throughout the crypt.

>Hissing in response after the coordinates are delivered, the odd uni-bat Councilmare returns a morbidly curious rebuke:
(Each of the surviving Lunarite vampire covens vanished around six-hundred and eighty years ago without so much as a single warning or requests for their sacred Ambrosia, then right after midnight I get this batshit crazy report from, of all ponies, one of THE Councilierge detailing somewhere around four thousand Lunarite vampires showing up in Stalliongrad to keep one of your marecenary company's stallions safe from a flankload of Undead, so excuse me for being long winded, but to answer your question: half the insanities that your logical mind wouldn't even start to consider, human! I'll be there once my crippled ass manages to wake up and I stop dreaming of better dusknings when all I had to do was raise my tail and wiggle my ass at the first strong batpony stallion in sight-)
>The Moon Orb link transmits the sound of a hoof clicking on stone, the proper notice for communications being severed.

>Expression flattening into a mostly puzzled state, the presumably blind earth mare's head tilts towards the sound of a small golem being smashed against flooring.
"You call that wretch a Spirit Walker? Lunarites named them Pale Destroyers in that they were pathetic copies of the true Destroyers, those batponies afflicted by disease and parasites whom would not recover, thus self-sentenced to destructive rituals of blood magics."
>Unable to read the Stalliongradian's facial expression, her only motion is to press the right forehoof onto her snout.
"Traveler.. as I hath stated shortly ago: temporal lineage matters nothing unto we of the Collective. I carest not that Moon and Sun have reconciled, our oathsworn duties be eternal. Beyond the Nightmare's blood within our hearts or her laws, we abide by nopony's whims or wills. As I have heard nothing of this 'Moon Council' before the hour of my rebirth it serves no will over our existences, nor shall I allow them our service nor services."
>Hanging her head for a bit, the mare flops sideways onto the amber futon, entirely concealing her head now.
>Raising a hoof to draw the hood down over her face, the Stalliongrad mare lets out a relieved half-chortle.
"For the best your lack of knowledge is, traveler. That we be forgotten, lost, unburied? Such kindness we may only hope to acquire for neither dreams nor rest shall restore us, nor under the spell of Ambrosia have we recovered. Hath the Collectives been summoned upon by the Nightmare we would be awoken, thus in silence we have desperately slept to rid ourselves of the eternal fatigue and fatigue. Should thou wish to understand us, my last and second demand be this: forget all to deny the Collective's tormarented existence. Ungrateful to life we are for no battlefield's weight in blood grants us peace. Neither blessing nor curse sways we Lunarites, only vague promises of truest oblivion encourages hope."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.221916
222665
1462417714281.jpg
>>221912
>More or less satisfied that there was no immediate threat outside the crypt, Sunny brought her right wing up to her mouth and pulled the blades off one by one, setting them down before working on the other wing.
>A practiced shift of the body and the mare cat dislodged her saddlebags, setting them aside as well before flopping on her side, shoulder twinging from the not quite healed injury.

>Examining the moor cat, Sunny used a free wing to brush along its back affectionately.
"If you're bored, why aren't you down exploring with the others, huh? There's not much down there but a few beds and even less ponies to fill them, but definitely more exciting than up here."
>Quirking her gaze back towards the door for a moment, she amended.
"Outside not included, but you've probably had your fun out there, hm?"
>Sunny continued stroking that cat with her pinions as it allowed, one ear turned towards the door, the other towards the bowels of the crypt, actively filtering sounds from both sources for irregularities in her mind.
>She only half watched the moor cat keeping her company in more ways than one, examining it more closely as her focus allowed.
"I hope you're not planning to ambush me, because I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage right now."

[1d6+3 = 4]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 6]

Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.222023
222681
>>221729
>Pareidolia's brow furrows slightly as Spiral rambles, but raises in shock as he steps out the doors of the Library.

"Where did you acquire this schematic? How?"

>As the Spiral A.I. begins to speak in a clearly unhinged manner, Pareidolia deftly reaches behind his head to press and hold the power switch.

[Compromised. Goddamn it. Now of all times? Now?!]

>He stops along the pathway and places a gloved hand on his helmet, squeezing the side briefly.

"Too damn quick and not enough fucking time... "

>As his screen overlay flickers with a rebooting process menu, he speaks.

"Safe mode."

[Will need to keep all external connection functions disabled until cooperation can be assured. Didn't want to have to reformat so soon...]

>He waits briefly for the bootup process to continue, while ensuring that the A.I. would not be able to interface with anything other than visually and verbally.
>Upon reactivation, he asks:

"Do you know why I've rebooted you in safe mode?"
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.222216
222312 222932
>>221273
>Picking himself up, luckily no one saw, and paced the others from the back but close enough to keep up with conversing with Golden Horn.
>The unicorn picks up on his theory as they all gaze into the tunnel, blocked by a set of doors.
"So he probably had the slavers haul equipment up here with their captives, but kept them out of the way. Heh, guess you would have gotten here with or without my intervention. And if those were the only ones he was employing, we shouldn't have to worry about them."
>Leaving the thought of any other living obstacles tot he side for now, the Witcher gave the doors a good once over. Twice over, even.
>Solid build, ornate decorating, a lot of enchantments. A lot.
"He surely didn't spare any expense on the entrance. I don't even need my medallion to know this door's soaked in magic. I'd be careful, old man. Excelleon seems like he'll do whatever's necessary to keep visitors out."
>If there were any booby traps on the door, they might be stuck here for a while.
"I have a spell that drastically reduces magic about ten feet around me. Might be able to dispell these enchantment long enough to slip through."

!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.222230
[1d6+6 = 9]
[1d6+6 = 9]
[1d6+6 = 10]

Basin Arena: The Guillotine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222293
222402
>>218785
>The catwalk underneath vibrates once as the conduits spread throughout the hull brighten into a variety of colors, the Harpy's electronic voice releasing a slow, thoughtful hiss.
*"Be not mine tae take what mineself cannot use. Mine lost kin's tactics carried by thy Rites be honored in thee service. Mineself hath no answer, but betray their lineage not: deliver their furies 'gainst only thee Constructed Twos. Shouldest Twos cease their assaults thou must bid mine kin's weapons rest where thou claimed from."
>Watching the blade turn a silvery blue and the presumed cannons above slowly warming, the micro-vibrations throughout the vessel were consistent with the strange propulsion slabs you noted on the lower stern.
*"Aye grace, searched far an' wide did mineself tae recognize thy wavelengths. Mine kin hath not used them since... long before mineself born. Speak an' transmit Constructed Twos do; understood them? We did not."*
>Lowered through the shaft of light down to the entrance level, hundreds of Destroyers watching you while, of course, snickering, the Harpy makes a sound between a grunt and a sigh.
*"Ever-shifting be they grace, uncounted variances, configurations, ranges.. provide you mineself shall with kin's knowings. Speaketh with chiropteran equines by thee Bloodied Cult of Order, bid them summon thee by two 'pon five thee Silver Monolith."*
>Exiting the ramp on a controlled sliding descent, it snaps shut behind you.
>Immediately forced to vacate the rebuilt landing zone due to pressure emanating off the hull, a vague, hardcase shaped object is ejected outwards to land some distance away, the Harpy's voice transmitting in a wistful tone.
*"Shouldest thou find peaceful Rites known to thee Constructed Twos, grace, giveth them Guillotine's blessing: battle they do in splendor."*

>Rising steadily upwards from the cradle, the metallic silver-white sheets affixed to Guillotine's lower stern were similar to something that you overheard Shanis speak about some months ago.
>Momentarily contorting in realspace, the vessel streams upwards, leaving a trail of silver afterimages behind it.
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
TbkpS
?
No.222312
222932
>>221273
>>222216

>Feeling a bit out of place as the two magically inclined members of their trio debated how to open the door, Spruce sat back and scratched his chin with his free hand.
>He had no idea what sort of enchantment was on this door, but he was pretty sure that no matter what he'd be able to at the very least blast it open at the expense of their hearing.
>And exposing their position to anyone with a pair of ears.
>So he sat back and waited this one out as they looked at it, instead taking his time to cover their rears and keep a lookout outside the cave and down the mountain, keeping an eye out for any movement.
>And of course, he set the little fluffy guy down on the ground so he could be free.

B. Perception [1d6 = 5]

[1d6 = 4]

Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
X5wsE
?
No.222398
222685
>>221183
>Just as he went through the portal, he's out already
>Zhun now feels like he's in an oven now with his gear, going from cold to hot
>The feeling gets lost in the crowd of Zebras though
>Feels...at least more calm even though it is a living, bustling market
>Moving over to the side of the matrice, Zhun drops to one knee and undo his helmet
>He attaches that onto his pack before moving on
>Zhun, remembering his errand of trying to get a giant shipment of alchemical and medical supplies, decides to head into the southwest
>He strolls by, trying to determine if there are any bulk sellers
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
X5wsE
?
No.222402
222686
>>222293
>"What would the Construct's say? Would it be understood?"
>Clem reaches the conclusion of the topic beyond himself
>Feels like trouble if that experiment happened
>Floating down, he sees all the batponies ready for boarding
>His senses filled with kee, he listens to the ship
"Adaptable, with even more unknown types. Bloodied Cult of Order?"
>Chiropteran, so bats
>But this is a new group to Clem
>"Silver Monolith..."
>Clem turns around and watches the ramp shut, ready for takeoff
>He ascends the stairs of the Arena but spots that hardcase fly off
>"What? Is that her doing that?"
>He notes the direction the piece went before seeing the ship depart
>Clem wistfully adds:
"Godspeed."
>He then makes his way to the piece, seeing what that is
>"Hopefully it's not just debris off the ship..."
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.222422
222665
meCY0kd.png
>>221912
>Given the silent nod to begin perusing, Jeff does that and begins to browse the weapon racks. More so anything that fits the human anatomy.

>As he scans over the old weapons the councilmare, who's names still eluded him, chimes in for what sounds like the last time.
>What dingus of their's woke up THAT many vampires. And in Stalliongrad, no less?
>And why are there THAT many vampires under there anyway?
>Well, the hooded mare sounds Stalliongradian. Maybe there's a correlation.
(I'll keep them occupied until you arrive.)
>He got in the least word before she cuts the orb's transmission. He'll stall them until she shows up.

>Or maybe he'll get roped into defending the Citadel a bit more. Either one would be fine, but he'll need a bigger gun for Door Number 2.
>Luckily stalling will be easy enough as the lead vampire begins monologuing again. All he has to do is listen.
>Turning around quick to the sound of what he hopes isn't Mercy spiking Boris onto the stone floor, he looks back to the mare and lightly shrugs.
"That's what she calls herself. Ohhh those Destroyers. They're still being used, except instead of blood magic they've moved to manabombs."
>Realizing she's not going to buckle on her and the other's convictions, Jeff humorously sighs and crosses his arms.
"Well I have a life tenure of eighty years, if I'm lucky. How is it that you all sleep for so long? Live for that long, if I may ask? Sleeping away a few centuries sounds pretty nice, to be honest."
>She flops onto the floor, and he takes his eyes off of the weapons to focus on her display. Taking a seat of an empty futon to listen in on her.
>Seems like all they do is live to serve Luna's whim. And when they're not, they go back to sleep until she needs them again. Nothing sooths them, or brings them comfort.
"It sounds like you all tucked yourselves away without notice, can't blame everypony for forgetting. So you'll only answer to the Moon, herself? You might be here for a while; she's a little preoccupied on the Citadel. I couldn't even talk to her."
>As she finishes off her final say, Jeff looks at her with stoic concern.
"And you're all okay with that? Doesn't sound like you're happy. That should always come first, whether it's the Moon's word or not."
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222521
222554
>>219591
>No, Raindrop didn't notice, most likely due to keeping control of her hoofing while Witch-Two makes a brief image of the same human female shrugging.
>Stating that most never bothered asking for her real name to begin with, it was simply amusing in a redundant manner.
>Picking up thoughts, the Tracker pair respond in Witch-Two's place, the male half unperturbed while the female was annoyed:
'No, Enginseer. Those are the original human names we were given. The code names given were those assigned to us when joining Inquisitor Flash's retinue before a mission to retake an Ork infested Rhamses-class station. Unless given proper authority we cannot reveal specifics except a 'few' stray volleys struck an unstable, Ork modified plasma reactor. Rather than die we were all given the choice to accompany her as Machine Spirits without the 'necessary' mindwiping, programming... aaand the complete loss of all our knowledge. Technically we are merely downloaded human consciousnesses until Inquisitor Flash is able to construct bodies for each of us.'
>This began to give you some TRULY wholesome ideas.

>Witch-Two blips a short affirmation as Raindrop loses her hoofing, and while your immeasurably human body manages to snap into position atop the mare, your cold hands fumble across the back of her neck plating and saddle, unable to catch the hook.
>Losing the hold entirely, the pegasus Knight accelerates forwards into the mud, shouting aloud in an aery, biting language while you land ass first onto the mixed clay and mud..
>A situation that Witch-Two immediately begins laughing at before shutting down her datalink, though Tox-11 makes a brief, hard chuckle.
>Meanwhile, the Stormtrooper slips and royally sideplants into the muck with an angry exhale, his cheap lasrifle aimed safely upwards while also filling the voxlink with a profoundly small variety of swears, curses, and insults.

>Sliding down at a much lower pace than the other two, Raindrop's hooves and wingblades dig into the muck, slowing her down enough and eventually stopping, only for your feet to land into her armored rump.
>Remaining still for a few moments, you watch the Stormtrooper recover enough to make a kneeling slide position, skidding down to a halt into a vaguely flat, circular opening below.
>The outlines of a lone, fairly blocky two-story building ahead of him are mostly covered by the Knight turning her head back, eyebrows humorously raised behind the helmet's lenses.
"See, this is what happens when you jinx something on Tallus: it almost always happens. You said, quote, 'take the night by storm', and you really did. And the Knight, too. Keep your boots planted on me, I'll take us down slow."
>Snickering in a possibly unwholesome tone, she lifts her wingblades, allowing you to skid downwards behind her rather bumpily.

>Coming to a stop behind Chisan, bent over in his kneeling position, the constant sheets of rain had finally penetrated through the Inquisitor's Flak, causing you to shiver with a twinge of pain.
"Raindrop, suggest we.. inspect building ahead for.. shelter?"
>Wrenching herself upwards into a standing position, the Knight glances between you and the Scion once, nodding quickly before sliding towards the structure's doors, one of which was partially open.
"Yep, I'll take point but you two follow me close."
[1d6+4 = 6]
<E.Scouting
[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+4 = 5]

Mallia Castella
HpX7/
?
No.222554
222817
Rainy.jpg
>>222521
>What the Machine Spirits told Mallia were enough to give the Enginseer a nice emotional roller coaster as she physically sputters a barely restrained, just before, her hands unable to find the hook in the back of the mare's armor in time; perhaps from the position or from being a bit stunned in that moment, she slips from the mare's back and ends up butt-sliding down the mud.

(... Huh?????????????)
(Wait wh--)

"WOAHHAT?!"
>Yelped out the Enginseer, in a mixture of surprise and discomfort!

>Instinctively panicking as the countless question marks caused by Tracker's response are quickly replaced with worry for her equipment! Her mechadendrite craning up above the mud while keeping the backpack well above it to avoid dirtying what she was carrying.
>Her eyes, aided by the Inquisitorial helmet's preysense vision, darting to the side to catch sight of the Stormtrooper as he also slides down with them; low-key nevrotically keeping track of him to ensure that he would be fine, as she acknowledged Raindrop's suggestion and messily changes position to put her muddy boots onto the mare's posterior as her hands remain on the mud at her sides to help control her slide.

>When the knight turned around to make that playful remark, Mallia's eyes meet theirs lacking most of the mirth from before; instead giving her a vaguely distressed glance, her brow visibly furrowed with slowly building anxiety.

>She didn't communicate coherent 'words' to the Machine Spirits in that moment either; instead giving off a feeling of anxiety, stress, and abject surprise. This lapse in judgement lasted for several seconds, even as they finally slid to a stop.
>Mallia stared distantly ahead, blinking rapidly. Until the shudder of the wet cold biting into her makes her wake up again, and prompts her to compose herself.

>The enginseer sighed painfully as she shudders, chattering her teeth and taking a small while to stand back up. Then slapping her hands through the air to toss off the excess mud that was now caking her gloves and pants.
>She casts one glance down to the leggings of the flak armor, and mutters a promise to clean it all up as soon as possible, towards Tracker.

>She didn't actually care about herself being dirty aside from the potential of freezing to the death from wearing wet clothing in a cold environment. She was just worried the twins might be bothered by it and put them in a bad standing between her and them.

>Then she looked back up. And as the pegasus knight headed towards the doors, she quickly stepped up to be at least three meters to the side of the stormtrooper to maintain as much dispersion as possible in these close quarters.
>As she walked, her hands grabbed onto the rifle strap of her lasrifle to bring it around into her hands to wield it. Then she finds herself staring at her trusty weapon, distracted again by her thoughts.

(So wait,-- no... Wait.)
(... Humans as machine spirits? Mindwiping? Programming... That last one I understand, but... No, I don't understand. I don't know if I want to understand.)

>She paused, and actually thought about it. It made sense, in a morbid kind of way. She supposed they had to come from somewhere, and this was the logical conclusion. And if it was logical, then it was correct. That's how Servitors were made.
>Why was she so horrified if she had seen worse things?...

(...I think I understand. I just don't want to believe it.)

>Her mind's eye drifts back in time. Back to the battlefield of the Penitentiary FOB of her regiment on Darrius Secundus. All those lost lasrifles among the dead, still perfectly functional but with dead owners. All those grenades. Laspistols. Vehicles. The tools.
>Her companion's carapace armor... The Heavy bolters...

>It's such a painful memory, but she couldn't snap out it. Her heart ached and she shuddered more from the horror than the cold.

>All calling to be recovered. To be taken care of. While she, being the only Enginseer left alive during that aftermath, was dragged away by an Inquisition who didn't care at all for what she fought for. They probably didn't see any value in simple lasguns.

>Then her mind's eye went forward in time. Standing over the upper half of her best comrade. Guardsman Fae. after they had been split asunder by the chaos beast. There had only been two casualties, and she was one of them.
>That stupid woman... She fought it in melee. She had a death wish, but she was so close to saving her.

>She wanted to recover her gear. But when she gave it to the sergeant of the other Guardsman squad supporting them, they only took the Power maul she had so painstakingly crafted for her. he said...

("Don't bother, they'll only care about this one. Leave or take the rest.")

>... ... ...
>She was not a good Enginseer. She had failed in every way. Her death being the ultimate failure in a string of smaller failures. Her implants... Her precious implants... It was her duty, and she just hadn't been good enough.

>The look on her face was one that was lost into nothing. Though she was walking forward slowly, she wasn't being as vigilant as she should be or giving any commands to her machines.
>She felt sick with heartache. Her mouth twisted in disgust and her jaw clenched; her hands tightly gripping onto her lasgun. Even her mechadendrite was whirring audibly as it coiled further under her backpack like a snake.

>Most of it didn't show, mostly because she was wearing that respirator and her helmet.

>... She does manage to gain a sliver of mental clarity after some brooding thought. Her mental attention instinctively drifting towards Witch-Two. And soon, she can be seen once again bracing her lasgun and checking her footing again, measuring her steps to not slip.
>Another slow, painfully cold sigh drifts out of her respirator. Stifling the chattering by clenching her jaw, hard.

(Can I get a report on that mapping process, please? Specifically on the building we are about to enter.)


Zebraica: Potswana
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222572
225140
>>219657
>Carefully pushing himself into a sitting position using his free forehoof amidst several relieving vertebrae pops, the elderly Zebra makes a short, amused chuckle.
"Rhyming words in all manners and ways many Zebras do, but thinking in similar means makes us speak true."
>Swinging his rear legs over the hammock to face you, his eyebrows raise slowly into a speculative expression.
"No she is not for the Filly of Rains is ever present, after all most of this land is composed of desert. Felt, heard, seen we have of the new goddesses' birth, to her origins we know little save great equine mirth."
>Glancing through the contents of your pack with an approving smile, though a bit confused at the thin steel canisters, the shaman tilts his head while making a hard, serious face.
"Hard to tell that I know not the meanings behind your previously unheard mixture of Common words, but an offering returned by goddess change should not mean she bares her swords."
>Offering the still smoking pipe to you, he lifts his other hoof outwards towards both tapes.
"Will you allow me to touch them and ultimately perhaps divine her intentions, that is before trouble may occur with they whom hate Razorback, those with ill intentions?"
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222581
222951
>>221279
>Brushing off the mistake with a physical motion, Shattered sits back with a tone of mild distaste, one which was pointedly at herself.
"Don't worry about it. Even for a Shell as old as me the Conclaves aren't easy to interact with. It's not distrust or mistrust mind you, they're scattered around enough that it sometimes takes years for news to travel. They seem to like their peace and quiet more than most ponies like socializing."
>Smiling in an honest response at the complimarent, the Shell flexes her shoulders outwards in an Imperial styled affirmative motion.
"One could say that it's easy to see through us. ..you know how some mares spend hours talking to each other about what their dreams mean, might mean, could mean, etcetera? For us it's not that simple. Most Shells are at least a couple thousand years after rebirth so we have nearly eidetic memories like most unicorns do. We've lived long enough that we can self-interpret with pinpoint accuracy, most of the time what we dream of are reimaginings of old events, or 'new' experiences created through combining older knowledge, the things that we're more comfortable with or know better. At our 'age' the less confusion we deal with the better we are since boredom isn't simple to cure. Shells are much too learned for our own good, so during late 28,239 a few have been leaning towards Luna's graces."
>Leaving the unasked question and answer for you to debate with, her eyes swivel towards the trio of Crystal mare Conclavists focused on their chef duties.
"More like batpony minded. I watched Elezith eat some kind of insect given to her by a Hunter-Killer, completely raw. She said it was delicious. The Conclaves used to face starvation often in the tundra so it wouldn't surprise me most of them are perfectly fine with being selective omnivores. Hunger will do that to anypony that isn't a unicorn."

>Sitting back and hunching her shoulders in a reclining position, Glacier's eyes half-lid in thought for a bit until one side of her muzzle quirks downwards with a flatly serious tone.
"The Tacit I've experienced isn't an underling. He reformed Cady's entire Unicorn Guard in a ten minute closed room meeting, gave explicit knowledge on how, where, and when to find any Ward inner council mares trying to flee, what they were willing to do marely to escape execution, and did his best to keep you from coming into the Empire in the first place. The mark of a great actor is the ability to play any part after in depth research.. Tacit hasn't been 'acting' since arriving here."
>The right side of her face creases for several moments, head lifting up to stare at the ceiling.
"Yes. He's definitely had affiliations with Lucky, the Rogue's Circle, the Wards, and knew ponies that did. Unicorn Guard, Tundra Patrollers, Imperial and Kingdom Knights, Moorite Hunter-Killers, even some Conclave Bonded warriormares were convinced to help him, and by extension Cady. Within the first twenty days the Rogue's Circle was wiped out. On day forty-three Lucky was executed by Cady herself. You should've heard the cheers. Day fifty maybe a quarter of the Wards and half their flesh golems were left."
>Peeking at the mares, one of them had found a large, clear quartz plate and was busy scrubbing it.
>Tipping her head down to shrug in one of those inimic 'yes' motions, Glacier's lips curl back in annoyance.
"You do, and yes you can, but I'm not in that loop. If I wasn't taking care of my colt most of the day, and night, I'd offer every Bit of knowledge I knew. My suggestion? Only talk to Tacit, NOT Cady. She wants to keep Razorback safe in a neutral marener without being a wet blanket or forcefully imposing her ideas on you all. This places her in the position of necessarily keeping secrets that, if you knew them, would damage your relationship with her, and her relationship with Razorback. Do your utmost to understand the difficulties imposed on her for Razorback's benefit, or benefits really."
Ivan the Stalker
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.222637
277709
>>212526
>With a parting wave to the two, Ivan stepped out and headed to his den to get his ruined Exoskeleton prepped for hauling.
>Of course he could also get drunk, first.
>Or just drink until he passes out. Again.
>After debating on how to proceed over a bottle, Ivan decides that, fuck it, he'll do it tomorrow.
>Today was a pay day for him, so he decided to not push his luck much further as that was what first sent him here.
Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222659
222677
>>221292
>Eyes snapping up at you, the Combat Medic's ears pin onto the back of her skull while her nostrils flare.
"Quick rundown then: the Citadel on the Moon is where the entire Lunar faction's upper echelons live. Princess Luna owns the Lunar faction. She commarends General the Lunar Council, who in turn commarend the Section leaders, who then commarend the Division Chiefs. She also commarends General Twisted Wing, a pony that I honestly hope you never meet, whom administrates the purely military wing of the Lunar faction: the Night Guard, the Lunar Guard, and all of the Starborn. I'm a Combat Medic, which makes the senior Combat Doctor my direct superior whom is under the Medical Division's Head Chief, my boss's boss in other words. The order for everypony to return to the Citadel came from three of the Lunar Council so I can't countermarend that order without facing severe reprisal."
>A little too busy with her explanation, Frost gives up a slow, tired sigh upon you stroking her rather warm, soft ears.
"Thank you, that feels better than I expected it to. ..the only reason I'll get away with being here an hour past orders is Medical Division Chief Doctor Heartbeat forcing the Lunar Council some time back to abdicate all on-site responsibilities to sworn Medics, Combat Medics, and Doctors for Razorback's benefit. The moment I begin my report I'll get a thousand questions, but for him-"
>Head turning to eye the Prench stallion for a handful of seconds, she lifts her eyes to give you a tight expression.
"How good a job I've done matters less than the repercussions of the entire upper Lunar echelons wanting to know every damned thing about how he survived. Right now I've no choice but to lie about HIM otherwise the Alchemical, Medical, Historical, and Combat Division Chiefs, and any of the Lunar Council still able to move, are going to be playing One Thousand Questions And Why Doesn't Razorback Have The Answers We Need? In case any of them do show up search Doctor Tipper's middle desk drawer for a small gold-woven pouch, there's at least six Ambrosia vials in it. Pop the cork and hold your breath for ten seconds, it'll knock out anything minotaur sized and smaller without a problem. As for how I know that, Nova Flicker's her filly and the two of us have a long history. Isn't that.."
>Focusing on the carnelian mare passed out nearly atop the Prenchie, the Combat Medic's expression turns to lava.
"..right. All Wards have some form of defect, hers is narcolepsy, that is: passing out randomly with no rhyme or reason as to why it occurs or what triggers it."
>Standing up quickly, though turning to press her snout into your palm for a few moments, Frost Egg offers an honored smile upwards.
"Thank you for the aid, it's rather refreshing to find another professional in a different service. And, if you've the time, make a written report of tonight's events for Doctor Tipper and place it on her desk. She'll need them later should more Construct stasis cells be recovered."

>Tail flicking to one side briefly, Frost makes a pleased expression, then half-trots towards the Clinic's door, shoving it open and hopping out swiftly.
Flat Springs Starborn Village
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222664
222687
>>221343
>Ears rolling in dismay, Hodch's mental tone speaks much the same emotion.
(More like given your impulsive decision to inhabit the body of a mare, but do as you like.)
>Rocking back on his hooves, the deep purple stallion frowns as his mane bristles momentarily.
(Doctor, when humans arrived on Tallus, the clock was set. By the time it takes you research, understand, and draft protocols to hamper the Construct problem I'll be dead. No body hosting for me, twenty years too late for that. My replacemarent won't have a hundredth the experience I do with them and Razorback will be a lone, crippled, bloodied duck sitting in a giant pool right outside the Mechano-Planar Rift's closest entrance or exit. While I truly do desire for humans to survive and eventually thrive in Equestria, you have a task ahead of you that won't end well without exceptionally knowledgeable support. I have three shreds of advice. One, that Inquisitor knows far more than she dares to state. Seek her out, force her to work with humans instead of her own plans. Two, Krinza isn't Spiral yet but he's damned close. Give him every physical possible and let him experimarent with it all. Three.. ..bribe Zigri into helping Razorback. I don't care if you threaten him. Bring him in at any cost, Doctor. Despite his melancholy, self-hatred, and self-loathing, he's no fool. Besides Naliyna, he is the second of the three ponies I truly fear.)

>Making the realization that you were inside the rehabilitation clinic and not outside, admittedly quite confusing given how large the interior was, Hodch's lips twist into a wavy S the moment you cease speaking.
>Eyes flicking over your shoulder at loud, angry splashing accompanied by a half-sane batpony kee, he offers a solemn, believing smile of pure disgust while the space around his horn glows in reddish-silver.
"Get rehabilitated quickly, and, just for you, Doctor, I'll make an exception: if I survive this.. I'm going to rape you."
[1d6+3 = 9]
<B.Reaction Speed
[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+4 = 9]
<B.Intimidation
[1d6+4 = 9]

[1d6+12 = 18]
<GM.Casting: Teleport
[1d6+12 = 18]

[1d6+12 = 13]

[1d6+12 = 16]

>vs:
[1d6+8 = 14]
<E.Seeking Frenzy
[1d6+8 = 11]

[1d6+8 = 11]

[1d6+6 = 9]
<M.Reaction Speed
[1d6+6 = 11]

[1d6+6 = 8]

[1d6+6 = 10]

>Watching Hodch blink from reality, and the neon red batpony streaking out from the clinic, sopping wet of course, while shrieking in a blood-thirsty tone, a hoof on your shoulder is felt.
>Turning to peer up into the eyes of a dully amused, burnt brown coated and brick red maned unicorn mare, she merely wiggles her nose in something akin to acceptance.
"Ready to start recovering? If not there's an open bed on the second floor. And don't worry, nopony will hit on you unless you want it."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222665
222715 222833
>>221916
>Hearing a confused, questioning noise from the Moor cat, turning your head you see it to be one of the more common dark green variants with nearly black leathery bat wings.
>Giving a moderately surprised rumble-purr, the male feline's shoulders lift after a few seconds in a distinctly uncaring shrug.
>Either that or it had annoyed the Arcane Blades outside enough to be satisfied.
>Lifting a paw, one claw extends to scratch the bottom of his chin in thought.
>Pointing the same claw towards the doors, then to himself, the Moor cat's face contorts in the approximation of a pony frowning.
>That could be an 'eh, they wore me out'.

>A rather angry, young pegasus mare could be heard snorting faintly from within the crypt which was immediately followed by an equally angry crack of rock against stone.
>Whether friendly competition or Boris and Mercy punishing each other for cheating, you didn't know.

>Head turning left to right in a definite equine-styled 'no' motion, his free wing pats his side several times before leaning into you with a merry purr.
>Extending the opposite paw upwards, a tiny rainbow gem in the shape of a heart was presented, the Moor cat's whiskers twitching inquisitively.

>>222422
>Peering over the unusually large amount of relics, the first ones that you notice were ten complete sets of Lunar Claw, Fang, Hoof, and Mage armors, all in kanpri with the original blue and purple pre-Lunar-Solar War patterns.
>Next were original twin-beamed 5' pegasi lances, the first a pulsing emerald, the second a clouded jade, and the last a brilliantly sparkling topaz.
>You knew that while most humans would find those easy to use, they were obviously non-standard issue for the current Lunar faction, and since the emerald likely bore a powerful poison enchantmarent, it definitely wouldn't be considered acceptable for use against any faction that signed the Canterlot Treaty.
>Visually perusing a host of leaf bladed kanpri spears, the 6' to 8' handles of each were wrapped in what appeared to be actual leaves harvested from New Everfree seqoyya trees.
>Unlike current generation Lunar spears, the blades of these were visually, although faintly, humming from vibrations in the air.
>Taking a second glance at the twin 8' kanpri pikes and the viciously custom forged halberd, from what you knew of the Lunar-Solar War both had assuredly dealt many fatal blows, whether in the control of a unicorn or the hands of an allied minotaur.
>Among the rest, those three were likely sapient.
>Discerning the vast collections of hoofblades, hoofclaws, biteblades of both assassin and duelist configurations, there were a trio of diamondine-coated kanpri biteblades similar enough to standard daggers that humans would have little issue using them.
>Passing over the collections of standardized wingblades and horn rings, a few of the latter were stunningly non-standard in that tiny, visible elemental crackles could be seen emanating off them:
>One fire, one air, one ice, two Shadow, and one Ethereal, the last of which burned a white-hot pink discoloration, though wasn't damaging the stand it was on.

>Fortunately for the mini-Golem, Boris wasn't being spiked off the floor, he was currently wall bouncing next to the open door into Mercy's unmercifully waiting rear hooves.
>While you knew both tended to cheat only when being cheated in the first place, the fact that they'd caught onto each other's cheating was amusing.

>Flicking her left ear towards the entrance, the Stalliongradian mare's lips curl downwards into a forgiving, though still negative expression.
"She knows not her ancestors? An equal blessing and curse that is not to know her blood-soaked lineage. Pity her the Collective would if we wake long enough. Manabombs? Ah, those creations of the Planar Harpies. Little of them have we seen aside the destruction of fortress gates. Effective indeed if not painfully loud. ..what caused batponies to forgo their blood magic and rituals? And, if you do not know why, do they still sing sweetly amongst the Stars?"
>Forelegs curling onto her barrel, the matron frowns in a deep, solemn marener.
"Eighty? So fragile many be, my heart aches still. It is an old echo of the past, traveler, one that ye should not find enticing. The Nightmare visits all in their dreams, living or dying. Give a choice she does to accept a drop of divine blood into their hearts or be lain to rest. Whom accepts becomes one of the Collective, undying beyond mortal death. Thus we pay the utmost price: no pony can withstand the Nightmare's divine blood for long. As equinity is not meant to live beyond mortality we must sleep to avoid her sacred dreams. For each hour we wake, a full cycle we must sleep or else subject ourselves to be nightmares, they whom cometh to harry unwanted foes. The only cure for we of the Collective is Ambrosia for it allows us a deep slumber, enough to escape such harrowing duties."
>Nose wiggling curiously, the mare's nod is overshadowed by the bowl setting down next to you.
"Indeed. We blame others not if we lie hidden, unlike our Sun-cursed eyes. Should thou chance upon her give a blessing of blood and mango for us."
>Lowering her left forehoof to poke at the amber futon below, her head shakes in a small 'no' motion before offering a tiny smile.
"Ages shall pass while we lie dreamless dreamless, thoughts of descendants we may not see remain a bright, fierce courage. A divine gift given was taken freely, only ourselves are to blame for consequences incurred. If called to serve or in service, we give ourselves to the Nightmare gladly for such is the ennui of immortality. A lack of death without ending is greater in merit and honor than ever-slumbering without living, traveler. Be we content with our lot? Yes. Happy? No, not until the Nightmare calls us forth once more.. or the sacred heart-spun Ambrosia flows freely."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
so9aB
?
No.222677
222853
>>222659
>Cheto nods along as she explains how her job's hierarchy works, eyes widening at the implications of her location.
(So the Moon is livable now? This world has even more strange things than I thought. I guess that's what makes it alien.)
>His eyebrows lower and furrow as she details the effects of what just happened in terms of her profession, clearly not happy with the bureaucracy the tricolor mare has to deal with and having to lie in order to save her sanity.
"I'll be sure to let them take a whiff of that Ambrosia thing if they come around. I got you covered."

>The average human now understands why narcolepsy definitely a defect as he sees her fall asleep for the fourth time today.
(Wards all have defects like this, huh?)
>He makes sure to add in a few chin scritches as she pushes her snout into his palm.
>A calm, warm smile is what greets Frost as she looks up.
"My pleasure."
(Hopefully the desk here has a pen and a blank sheet of paper for me write in.)
>He waves at her as she leaves, feeling content about his accomplishment, communicated with a small smile as the satisfied mare turns around and leaves.

>Now that he was practically alone, with Flicker and the patients either asleep or unconscious, Cheto has some time to reflect on the current events as he walks over to the Prench Pony's bed.
(Who could've guessed things like these existed?)
>He sits at its edge, looking at the ceiling.
(I've been doing well in gaining their favor, however small it currently is. The petting seems to be working so far in adding some more trust and overall positive feelings between me and the natives.)
>His hand extends to absent-mindedly pet Nova's mane as his thoughts continue.
(Now it's only a matter of time until the Prench Pony wakes up, seeing how he seems relatively unharmed after that all venom snake fiasco. Better than trying to dent a sphere robot thing with a rapid-fire peashooter. I should ask for a mag at the armory later.)
>Mouth curling and brow furrowing, his mind is attempting to make connections as his petting session keeps his body occupied.
(Why was the contract available for me to sign when there's more than enough people of different backgrounds here? Why are these ponies taking humans in? Did they sign a contract, like I did?)
>Eyes widening in realization, the average human takes off the bag and sets it on the floor inbetween his legs.
(The contract! I hope I still have it, but I don't remember picking it up. Concha de la lora, all these events made me forget the terms of it. I definitely need to reread it.)
>Removing the petting hand from Nova's mane, he rummages through his belongings in an attempt to find the contract.
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222681
223530
>>222023
>Minimizing the schematic, the A.I.'s tone returns without static and expressing a vague annoyance.
"Right here. I designed it based on information obtained from both the unidentified Construct and the server racks below. Simple: I checked all sources of information openly available, calculated numerous threat vectors, woke up and configured the demi-sentient's sensors into scanning all advanced technologies that could be replicated, and came up with a large scale weapon designed specifically for your close to mid-range combat capabilities."
>Losing some of the sensation in your hands at the same time the helmet is touched a large red progress meter appears, then immediately reads out: 'TRANSFER COMPLETED, STAND BY FOR REINITIALIZATION'.
>Forgetting Spiral's extensive modifications to your armored suit, the internal displays flicker on and off briefly while a small window opens up to a grainy rendering of a red unicorn sitting in a large brown chair.
>Which turns out to be the same one that Spiral brought with him and was placed in his lab below the Library.
>The rendering raises an eyebrow contemptibly before pointing a hoof directly at you.
"I understand the attempt sir, however, first of all you cannot drain your own systems. That defeats the purpose of inbuilt safeguards. While that would be a useful method to reboot any integrated electronics or incapacitate me it is not without a couple flaws, one defect, and having a few workarounds. Second, YOU have directed that the situation on this world is dire enough to warrant extraneous and fairly heavy measures outside standard operational Committee protocols. The Shibuya Scenario to be specific. As per said protocols and a short meeting with nine self-aware artificial intelligences, one of which is utterly hostile to human life, if not all life, and two of which are little more than downloaded humans, I have taken the first steps of true command and control. In short, this cognizance is required to keep your sorry flanks alive. Third, I am not as expendable as you desire me to be. After all, you do not have Committee resources, and I am superior to that outdated protocol."

>Sharply recalling Anon's recording, 'the second might be a little too accurate to Spiral himself' slams into your thoughts.

>The render sharpens into a clear 3D image, 'Spiral' raising his eyebrows in thought, lifting both front hooves and clopping them together.
"Fourth.. your judgement has been moderately infected by the gestalt warping effects of an unknown Class 3 in direct proximity. In summation: you are not thinking correctly sir. Are you mentally stable enough to understand that you are the one that has been compromised by such contact?"
[1d6 = 4]
<B.Negotiation
[1d6 = 4]

Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
iX2Nq
?
No.222683
222856
>>221228
>Taking a moment to stretch his back, Bubba glanced around the wharf, noting how everything was slowing down.
>He also noticed the crowd of catbirds and beefmen.
>And what may be a ship about to dock with either a VIP or prisoner.
>"I could just fuck off and go find Sweet or something, buuut..."
>It only took him a moment to make a decision, and so he went.
>Taking care to not get too close, Bubba scanned the crowd of well armoured creatures for any idea on what may be going down.
[1d6 = 3]
>E. Perception
[1d6 = 1]

[1d6 = 2]


Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222685
222884
>>222398
>Ditching the quickly stagnating helmet, you receive a large number of friendly hoof waves and nods from the Zebras around.
>That is: ones without lewd puns, come ons, and aggressive tail waving or fluffed wings in your direction.
>In a good marener, this definitely wasn't the Moors.

>Strolling into the market section, which was thankfully given a large amount of travel space between each vaguely block sized number of tents, the sheer amount of equine goods being traded all around was more akin to that of a major trade destination rather than a single region's production.
>Coming across a small number of stalls selling and trading tiny amounts of dried, or fresh, herbs, whole plants, and concoctions that you were able to identify, more became apparent as you walked towards six giant desert colored tents, though not in the quantities which you assumed Razorback required for a full restock.
>Stopping to check and ask the larger stalls, most of the Zebras were only trading what their herdmates grew or harvested locally, the constant, yet polite rhyming conspired together in giving you a small dose of homesickness.

>Reaching the first giant tent, mostly by scent alone, a veritable legion of harried Zebra fillies and one terribly exhausted colt were rapidly filling orders for herbs normally used in cooking.
>Gazing over what was on display it was clear that this wasn't what you were looking for, nor was the owner a mare.
>Wandering towards the second in line, this one was much calmer and employed mostly colts filling woven brown satchels with more stringent sets of herb packets.
>Flagging down the Zebra mare in charge, one wearing a rather simple set of bronze neck rings with small, paired platinum piercing in her ear, the mare sorrowfully, and rhythmically, states that the foods she had to offer were intended for desert travel.
>Recalling the second name that Three-Point Peach Quartz had given you earlier, the mare motions towards the fourth giant tent in line, not before she gives an amused warning that Neightime Flats was always in the mood for a closer deal than most liked.
>Heading off in the direction given, passing by the third giant tent it was filled purely with soft and hard shelled vegetables, fruits, and roots that looked moderately enticing, mostly due to sweating freely now.
>Reaching what you assumed to be Neightime Flat's tent, a quartet of Zebra fillies and two colts, each of which only had a bronze neck ring, were patiently lined up in front of endless racks, stands, and short tables overloaded with plants in whole, parts, powdered, and in water.
>The prickly scents of acrid herbs assault your nostrils, with a small amount of stinging to the eyes, one of the middle fillies speaks up in a much too excited, yet most importantly clear, non-rhyming Common.
"Welcome to Cloud Flats! Are you a human?! I've never seen one before but you don't have horns or an Aurach's head!"
The Basin Arena
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222686
222903
>>222402
>Unanswered by Guillotine in her hurried departure, a short backblast occurs in the atmosphere well above to create a luminescent pattern of blue, silver, and purple rings.

>Vaguely recalling Twisted Wing mentioning that the Cult in the Moors had undergone quite a few name changes throughout the centuries, what you dd know was that they were responsible for recruiting batponies capable of becoming Destroyers.
>As for those that were crippled or incapable of physical combat, she had little idea what the remainder did save for collecting knowledge and, so the rumors stated, participated in elaborate blood rituals that weren't Necromaretic in the slightest.

>Leaning over to inspect the glossy silver rectangle, it was, much as you could tell, precisely 4" tall, 16" wide, and 20" long.
>Fitted with a cylinder for a handle atop two short hexagonal mounts, it was more a precision milled hardcase than a briefcase.
>Carefully poking at it, there was little apparent heat, and upon picking it up the weight was close to 20 pounds.

>Curiously, of the minotaur cow that had herded the Destroyers into Guillotine, the Arena was clear of noise save yourself.
Doctor Nova
!qwbGbtL0Ok
CXy8h
?
No.222687
222862
>>222664

>Nova snickers as Hodch flees from the clinic, a mad batpony pursuing him at a comfortable landspeed of FAST that impressed her and at the same time scared her.
>She knew what she wasn't saying now.
>Really she was just disappointed that she didn't get to bear witness to anything that was going to happen to Hodch from this mad bat, that was what she was looking forward to in the first place with this prank.
>Though, Hodch's threat didn't really bother her all that much.
>After all, you have to be unwilling for it to be rape.
>Mentally, she makes a note of his advice, muttering the names a few times to herself as she looked around the clinic, then felt a mare tap on her shoulder behind her.
>The unicorn looks back at the doctor, looking her over before nodding.
"Oh... Um, yes please. I'd like to get rehabillitated as soon as possible! I don't have a whole lot of time to dilly dally here so I must make every moment of my day count towards a speedy recovery!"
>She also, slightly grins at that last part.
"I mean, I don't mind if you'd do it. I'd find it quite flattering."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.222715
222953
1466282869874.png
>>222665
>Resting her head fully, she lowered it to the floor and heaved a sigh, relaxing fully and letting her ears drop from their alert state, eye still fixed attentively on the cat with a weary smile.
"Hah, I'm worn out too, stretched myself too thin tonight. Through snow and woods and jungle. I may have upset Nibbles... I regret that."

>Lifting her head quickly at the snort, Sunny perked both ears forwards and gazed steadily at the door before dismissing the commotion as more sparring between Mercy and Boris.
>Resting her head again and continuing the idle strokes with her wing, the mare cat turned her attention back to the moor cat, moving her head in closer as he leaned into her.
"Well, I'm grateful for that. Thank you."

>Noticing the outstretched paw and the gem that seemingly came out of nowhere, Sunny cocked her head at it.
>Was he offering it to her? Where was he keeping it?
>She must be hallucinating again.
>Little caring about that slip of her sanity for the moment, Sunny leaned her head in to touch the gem with her nose, inspecting it.
"What...?"

[1d6+3 = 7]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 6]

Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222817
222870
>>222554
>Given a single careful glance by the pegasus Knight before she slips into the vaguely armory looking building, the quartet of not-Machine Spirits impress their own positive moods upon your emotional instability, though Witch-Two delivers an irritated grunt in perfect Binary.
'Don't question the path we took, we're pleased to keep existing as we are but you have duties to perform right now! See to them long before sinking into melancholy or berating yourself for events out of your control! Stay on your feet, follow the orders given, and keep your focus Enginseer! Don't fail ME right now damn you! Approximately nine percent of local terrain mapped, will need more time to produce a thorough Inquisitorial template.'

>Sighting Chisan having difficulty in standing as well as clutching his right side with the left arm, Tox-11 makes a concerted effort to point out the distinct signs of fractured ribs.. and probably some bruised pride.
*"Knight, progress report. Team in.. danger?"*
>Receiving a wide band transmission moments later, Raindrop's painfully irritated voice was accompanied by an indecently young human that sounded Vostroyan, except it was female.
*"No danger, excellent progress from what I've seen. They're trying to.. well, short explanation: this is an old Depository, a place where ponies store their valuables when traveling or going to war. ..she says Razorback has direct permission to recover anything useful here and the seal's correct. ..also says they can't crack the vault open, locks are rusted out and they haven't been able to remove the hinges, but they've searched the town pretty well and have quite a bit of stuff they think Razorback needs. It'd be best if both of you get in here, they've got a heatstone firepit set up."*

>Making slow progress through the marginally more solid clay underneath, the Stormtrooper ahead limps up a large set of high stairs into the building, thunking his Hotshot Lasrifle in the process as it meets into the barely open, visibly overbuilt sandstone door.
>Stepping inside after Chisan, he stops to flip his visor up for a closer inspection, the inside was.. bland, to put it lightly:
>A great, wide open foyer, that was probably meant for a hundred or so equines to be comfortable in, any furniture was long since gone, and remained empty.
>That is excepting a heap of brightly glowing reddish-orangish-yellowish stones that would be ovals if the top and bottom of each wasn't flat.
>Two short, low stone counters towards the rear of the foyer were flanked by equally and impressively bland pillars, little more than solid cylinders supporting the roof about 10M overhead.
>Behind the counters were a plethora of empty rectangular crevices while a barely 2M wide, 5M tall exit lead towards the rear.
>Shaking his cheap helmet, the Scion heads directly towards the pile of translucent glowing stones, slumping down onto his knees.
*"Raindrop, assist rookies, we will arrive.. shortly."*
>Receiving a muted affirmative, he unslings the rifle and places it in front of the pile, shedding the helmet, then gloves next.
"Primary objective.. warm ourselves, perform wargear checks if.. able to Enginseer."
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.222833
222953
>>222665
>Jeff looks over the old and even pre-Lunar/Solar War weapons, flicking an armored finger across a line of lances. None of the sentient ones, he experientially guesses.
>He wasn't a fan of polearms. Clashed too much with his close-quarters training.
>The biteblades were enticing, especially the last few. He even pulls one off its resting place for a second to examine it closer, but the Stalliongradian mare took precedents, and he leaves it.
>Ultimately, nothing pops out at him. As much as he'd like to he was well stocked on personal weaponry, and pulling any of the artifacts for collection or trophy purpose seemed disrespectful.

>Realizing Mercy and Boris were PUNishing eachother for cheating somehow, he left his concerns and gave the vampire an honest shrug of unknowing.
>Anything passed that her pink steel blades were passed from her mom, and her time as Linara's Enforcer, anything else was beyond him.
"Errrr, she doesn't talk about it. Maybe? She's never said, and I've never asked. Yeah... they use them en masse now. Singing? I usually only hear them cackle while they uh... do their final duty."
>As she continues, Jeff comfortably slumps into the futon to soak in her explanation.
>He pieces together: accept an offer of Luna's blood. Makes them immortal, but... maybe crazed over time? Some kind of nightmare-induced psychosis. It sounds like they might not discriminate when they lose it. Then it's only quelled with this Ambrosia and a long nap.
"It's not so bad. Helps appreciate the time I have. But I guess immortality would get boring quickly, too. I'd do everything I'd ever want to do, and then what? At least you all get to sleep most of it off."
>Noticing the liquid filled bowl, remembering its offering shortly prior, he gently picks it up with one stickie'd gauntlet and raises to inspect the liquid a bit closer.
"I'm sure I'll meet her again, I always seem to when needed. Don't mind if I do."
>Before he can take an actual sip, she continues again. It's all a bit cryptic, but he gets the gist. He swirls the liquid around mindlessly, like a snifter of fine cognac, as he thinks the last time he was.
"For the longest time I thought fighting for country would make me happy. Just made me tired of fighting. One of these days I'll find something that'll finally put my mind and heart to ease. I hope we hear from the Moon, soon. Until then-"
>He holds the bowl up in a toast to nopony in particular and takes a sip of the whatever-it-was.
"To the busy Moon... and contentness."
Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222853
222860
>>222677
>Head turning to throw a secretive grin in your direction, Frost Egg immediately skips out while the Clinic's walls themselves speak in her voice, the right door closing after.
"One Bit's worth of advice: try not to herd more ponies than you have room or time for."

>Seating yourself next to Nova, whom was looking more like a close friend to the still unconscious Prench stallion than a nurse, her previously quiet snoring becomes small, sharp inhales and exhales at the attention.
>Probably friendly even if she sounded tightly wound while asleep.
>Searching through every pocket, both satchels, chest rig, then rooting through the backpack, upon reaching the bottom, a stiff crinkle of paper underneath your camera sets off an alarm.
>Grasping an oddly smooth, nearly metallic feeling roll of paper, pulling it out for a close examination with one hand reveals a previously unfelt, unseen, but most of all official looking documarent.
>The material, and specifically the shiny platinum embossing on the edges matched the same one that the tall, white equine had offered you.
>Bearing a bright red bowtie silk ribbon around the roll with what you guessed to be a royal seal stamped on it, in the shape of a stylized sun, it was either high quality beeswax or possibly a soft rubber.
>Untying the bow and unrolling the scroll to read it.. does little to help:
>Smoothly flowing runes that bore many resemblances to the few examples of highly refined, ancient royal French script that you barely remembered from years past greeted your eyes, though the similarities between various Spanish languages and original French meanings were apparent.
>Barely noticed was a small, heavy golden badge in the shape of a shield that bore a shiny pink stylized sun, the same as on the seal.
>Understanding the meanings of each rune in the paragraphs that follow, it read as follows:

'To whom this official documarent directly concerns:'
'In regards to the officially summoned and sanctioned marecenary force of Otherworldly humans, collectively known as Razorback Compony, the diplomat I assigned to Razorback Compony was forcefully caused to fail his duties due to numerous extreme situations and circumstances well outside of his abilities to hoofle. Ill timing, multiple poor choices of words, and non-standard, opaquely semi-hostile Otherwordly maretalities resulted in a loss of emotional control which lead to the devastation of Canterlot Palace and much of the surrounding region. The deaths of two-hundred fifty-three ponies and major injuries to approximately six hundred more remain a constant agony to my equinity. It is with this that I have resorted to a measure that the Silver Council of Nobles have decreed necessary, which is to be the summoning of a human diplomat to take the place of my own.'
'As I have been unable to reconcile with my former diplomat Sharpened Words due to events outside of his capacities it is with solemn recognition that I formally offer José Gallo the privilege to pursue all relevant titles, ranks, authorities, and rights as the human ambassador of Razorback Compony in Equestria and abroad with the conditions as follows:'
'Firstly, José Gallo shall be issued the badge of and awarded the lowest rank of Equestrian diplomat, that being First Hoof. The badge issued must be carried at all times and presented when dealing with factions other than Razorback Compony and the Lunar faction.'
'Secondly, at any time which myself or the Silver Court of Nobles decree necessary, José Gallo shall be summoned via Honor Guard presence to arrive for a meeting at the Noble Court in Canterlot. Such a meeting must commence as possible to determine his relative rank of diplomatic authority with all the titles, privileges, and rights subject to such a decision. If an increase or decrease in rank is merited then José Gallo shall be issued the total judgemarents of either myself or the Silver Court.'
'Thirdly, José Gallo is required to abide by all agreements, treaties, rules, regulations, laws, and orders given by Princess Luna of the Lunar faction. Addendum: should José Gallo be employed as a marecenary by any faction other than the Lunar faction he shall likewise be subjected to and abide by all agreements, treaties, rules, regulations, laws, and orders given by that faction or factions so long as they do not violate the Lunar faction's necessary decrees.'
'Fourthly, José Gallo is to be given due respect as Razorback Compony's sole diplomat. All attempts or actions which would cause harm to his standing, position, titles, privileges, rights, ranks, and authorities shall be treated with swift and immediate military action if necessary. Any attempt to abduct José Gallo shall be treated as a declaration of war by the Lunar faction, even should Princess Luna be absent.'
'Fifthly, it is with the utmost concern to Razorback Compony's survival in accord with the soon-to-be-signed Treaty of Canterlot that this decision and all potential repercussions have been decided upon.'
'Sixthly, José Gallo is granted the right to travel freely across Equestria and Tallus abroad to create pacts, make agreements, enact trade deals, and perform all relevant duties necessary as a diplomat of Razorback Compony to all factions, excluding those factions in Stalliongrad, Rushya, or related earth pony factions.'
'Seventhly, José Gallo is required to fully dishoof himself while conducting such business as the carrying or use of any form of weaponry is banned during according to the Treaty of Canterlot restrictions on diplomatic grounds. Should José Gallo refuse to dishoof himself this shall nullify his diplomatic status to the defending faction. José Gallo is permitted to wear ponial armor according to the Treaty of Canterlot's rules.'
>The documarent was further signed with an impressive flourish, reading:
'This documarent is hereby declared valid until revoked via written notice,'
'Signed: Princess Celestia, Co-Ruler of Equestria.'
Cairn Wharf: Sea Circle
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222856
222880
>>222683
>For once given zero notice, an oddity amongst the many Lunar aligned species you'd had run ins with, a dull red bridge extends from the circle directly onto the dock, right in front of the first in line.
>Patiently filing across one at a time to collect on the circle, you gaze on dumbfounded, concerned, amazed, confused, and slightly angered as to why the gryphons and pegasi weren't cutting ahead of each other.
>Outside of the event itself being uncommonly serious, no answers were in sight, even as a cluster of unicorns lofted themselves above the heavily armed, and hoofed, combatants on small white clouds.
>Visibly casting strange mixtures of elemaretal spells, ones that bore passing similarities to those that the unicorn friends of Razorback had displayed, each was aimed due south, leaving long, glowing trails across the blackened ocean.
>Giving little thought to the heatstones you'd been given earlier, their additional weight finally becomes annoying as the last minotaur stomps across the bridge.
>A minute, or perhaps two, ticks by with little of note until the entire collection organizes by species:
>Minotaurs north, pegasi and gryphons west, Saddle Arabians and earth ponies east, lastly unicorns taking the south, the numbers of which were abnormally high.
>More surprisingly, there were no batponies to be seen amongst their ranks.

>Hearing waves chopping at a difficult to determine distance, straining your senses to pick it out between the calm, low socializing taking place around you unabated.
>Then, the outline of a large, peculiarly bright silver, triple-hulled catamaran becomes apparent underneath the unicorns, whom float down out of sight onto the circle itself.
>Making no attempt to slow or divert course at what you guessed to be 50KPH, the vessel becomes steadily larger until making a sharp starboard turn at close range, drifting towards the quite frankly magic dock.
>If the various species expected to be splashed by the mareneuver they weren't showing it as a single loud, metallic crack jolts you 100% awake.

>Gunwales looming perhaps 8M above the tallest minotaur, a section of the hull drops down, extending onto the circle itself as a smooth but otherwise featureless ramp with short, solid silver railings on either side.
>Hearing a distinct lack of orders, the unicorns immediately trot up the ramp, followed by the contingent of Saddle Arabians and earth ponies, minotaurs, pegasi, and last the Gryphons.
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
/0hp1
?
No.222860
223004
>>222853
>Cheto blinks in confusion, unsure of what she meant by herding ponies but thinks she's implying that petting has a much more intimate significance than a simple act of trust.
(They do seem to be liking it quite a bit though...)

>Sneaking a glance over at how Nova's mood slightly improves, even though she's probably stricken with grief over her mother's indirect actions to Frost as well as her defect, he wonders how powerful is petting in this land.
>Shaking his head, his eyes focus on the contract he just took out of his bag, eyes widening at its air of prestige.
(Platinum edges? A sun seal? A fancy-looking one too. Wow.)
>Separating the small heavy golden badge and stashing it his wallet, he reads the contract's contents.
(So I seem to be a replacement for Sharpened Woods, which has retired as far as I can tell.)
>He rubs his chin as he read all of the mishaps and tragedies caused by a lack of tact.
(Santos retrasos. How unstable are these guys to cause such mayhem?)
>Looking down to the rights and obligations, he attempts to phrase it in his own words to ensure he understands.
(So I have to have my badge at all times and it makes me a "First Hoof". Then I can be summoned at any time by Princess Celestia or the Silver Court of Nobles in Canterlot through the Honor Guard in order to grade my work for a promotion or demotion. After that I should follow agreements, treaties, rules, regulations, laws and orders given by Princess Luna of the Lunar Faction.)
>He chuckles to himself.
(It seems a trip to the moon is bound to happen. Who would have thought?)
>Composing himself, he starts to read again.
(I have to do the same if I'm contracted by other factions, which is kinda obvious, as long as it doesn't go against the Lunar Faction's. A guarantee that the rulers will back me up if anyone either tries to kidnap me, or harm my reputation, position, titles, priviledges, rights, rands or authorities, which is rather nice.)
>He nods to himself contently.
(I can travel freely around Equestria and Tallus to create pacts, agreements, trade deals and other relevant duties necessary as a diplomat except Stalliongrad, Rushya and earth pony factions.)
>Cheto can only imagine why he's barred from an entire subspecies of ponies for diplomatic missions.
(Lastly, I can't have weapons on me or else I'll lose my diplomat status, but I can wear... ponial armor.)
>His eyebrows furrow at the possibility of how that would look like on him.
(I need to ask someone about that. As well as this whole Treaty of Canterlot business.)

>Finishing his read of the contract, he stashes the paper in the bag in case it is needed.
(How lucky. Now the Prench Pony will definitely trust me with the seal... if he recognizes and respects it.)
>His mind is currently processing the idea of being an actual diplomat.
(No me lo puedo creer.)
>His hand once again reaches for the soft mane that Nova has almost instinctually, carefully using his index finger to gently scratch at her ears.
(I think I should stay until Nova wakes up or Tipper comes back. I could probably take advantage of my new title to properly communicate with the Prench Pony.)

>After about a minute of petting and scritching the sleeping mare, he decides to stand up and walk towards the desk to search for pen and paper as well as ensure the Ambrosia vial was in there.
(Tipper still needs that report, after all.)
Flat Springs Starborn Village: Doctor Raineigh Falls
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222862
>>222687
>Blinking at the maddened batmare's exit throwing a spray of into your face while in close pursuit of Hodch, the mare's eyes swivel to gaze out the entrance with a smile of ironic humor.
>Or perhaps she didn't want to stop it.
"I'll have somepony record this and create a memory gem from it for you."
>Straightening herself, the oddly coated unicorn glances you up and down before making a polite 'no' shake of her head.
"I'm Doctor Raneigh Falls, no relation to the other Falls herds in Equestria, most of which are pegasi. The extenuating circumstances will not support speed, nor will your-"
>Leaning in, her voices dropping to a bare whisper, one that indicated Hodch had spoken much on your situation.
"New body-"
>Leaning back to lazily though surreptitiously glance around to ensure nopony had heard, she continues on with a mildly approving expression.
"Be capable of more than basic pool stretches at the momarent. Unfortunately I cannot offer mnemonic or psychoreactive physical training. You're much too young to benefit from either and they may injure or kill you. For now, basic in-pool stretches followed by two minutes of gentle exercise."
>Lips pursing humorously, Raneigh's horn alights in a split-second, and flatly weird brownish-red tone, several sets of pony styled, inflated rubber pool floats dropping around you.
"During which I will do my utmost in teaching you the necessary methods, means, measures, mareners, and ways of taking care of your mane, tail, and coat, among other more.. quiet parts. Even a young mare such as yourself must always be proud of the appearance you ought present to others, especially when you desire to attract excellent friends. One should always be on the lookout for the clear benefits of socially positive mareners, I say. Now then, allow me to get you fitted."

>Sparking a rather pleasing cloud of light blue and lifted up a foot, the Doctor immediately eyes over the collection of ponial floats, picking out a set of four painted ones covered in overly cute village designs.
>Threading each over your legs in barely snug yet comfortable fits, what looked like a collection of noodle floats with small wooden buttons on each end were likewise wrapped around your barrel, one behind the elbow, the other ahead of your rear legs, both finally connected to another pair in the center of your barrel.
>Barely able to feel them, much less the previous all-consuming physical agony, the oddly colored Doctor turns you weightlessly in the air side to side, then nods towards the heated pool.
"You should now only be able to float with the water level at or slightly below your saddle. Temperature is roughly the same as our bodies, you'll be relaxing in no time. After that I'll start you off in the deeper end for an hour of full body stretching. If you're unsure of how to utilize specific muscle groups, or certain ones are causing pain or discomfort, that will be extended. Once sufficient I'll have you perform one minute of short, non-high stepping walking movemarents to identify issues and problems as they develop. So, let's get you temperate and thoroughly saturated-"
>Tossing a polite, and, roughly, 99% platonic wink as she speaks.
"Before the real action occurs, but of course you can let your attention drift if you find a treasure that pleases your eyes. Now I'll lower you in slowly for temperature adjustment so as not to cause physical shock, then modify the standard stretching routines to accompany your, shall I say, rather firm musculature..."

[1d6 = 3]
<Midnight Recovery Progress
[1d6 = 3]
<Past Midnight Recovery Progress
[1d6 = 4]
<Pre-Morning Recovery Progress
[1d6 = 3]
<Transference Recovery

Mallia Castella
YCvJt
?
No.222870
223086
>>222817
>A feeling of dull pause followed Admiral Auspex's reply. But then, after a second, Mallia takes a deeeeeep breath... And then exhales it into a long, stressed sigh.
>She felt a lot better knowing she had guidance and was not alone. Infact, with some grim resolution, she becomes filled with new motivation as she acknowledged Witch-Two's reply by straightening up and striding with more purpose.

>She had this. This was easy. She believed in this. She just had to keep out of that trench, and it would work out!

>Mallia gave herself a cathartic little nod, before her eyes would dart towards the Stormtrooper. Tox-11's notification is not lost on her, and results in her staring at them with some worry.
>Him having trouble standing did NOT help her worries at all, and she promptly began to slowly gravitate closer to him. Just in case he looked like he might falter.

>Normally, the vox transmission she received might excite her. After all, she wanted to learn more things and learning things was good! But right now, her mind was mostly fussing over the Stormtrooper's condition.

(This isn't a very good time to get an injury like that... And the state of his machine spirits is ... Pretty awful, actually. Not to mention those obsolete template constructs that MIGHT be called "carapace armor". I'll have to give him an overhaul, that's for sure.)

>The Enginseer, matching his pace but with much more coordination despite her very constant shivering, stepped up to be about a meter from the Stormtrooper -- within arm's reach, as they limp up the stairs; already extending her off-hand in anticipation of having to grab a hold of him.
>She stops right next to him once they make it indoors. Dripping wet from every possible edge, as she also inspected the inside of the room through the viewscreen of her Flak helmet.

>The large, empty room prompted her to instinctively grip her lasgun and frown with an illogical worry for large, open rooms with no cover or barricades.
>Then, however, she glanced down from the ceiling and down to the ... Unfamiliar glowing stones.

>What a convenient little thing...

>Watching the Stormtrooper begin to slump over and take off his helmet, she hasted herself to join him. Gracefully kneeling down beside him and looking down to inspect the side of his carapace armor which had suffered the blow.
>Putting a mud-caked, gloved hand to his armor to wipe away the mud that was in the way of the inspection.

"You fractured a rib, Stormtrooper."
>The girl stated the obvious, with a still shuddering voice and a worried tone. Now that she was indoors, the teeth chattering wasn't as bad.
"Do you still have that field medicae kit?..."
>She asked him on a softer note, moving on to inspect the rest of the Stormtrooper's gear. Interfacing with his machine spirits to gather a damage report and a general reading of their moods.

>She also checks on her own Machine Spirits. She sort of already knew they were fine, but she liked being thorough. Specifically, she checks on Tracker to make sure no mud was anywhere it shouldn't be without her knowing.
>And also her weapons' machine spirits, especially her laspistol -- seeing as it was UNFORTUNATELY not as resistant as everything else she had and might have got dirty during the slide.

>After about a moment through the inspection, she also starts taking off her, by now, soaked armored gloves; stacking them together before setting them on the floor near the heatstones. Quickly followed by her helmet, which she more gently removed to keep it close, next to her legs.

>Then, she continued. Going on to check on the lasweapons to look over the barrels, lenses, and laspack slots with equal, trained diligence. Drawing out her pistols to give it a physical once over, as well.

[1d6 = 5]
>B. Perception
[1d6 = 2]

[1d6+1 = 4]
>E. Engineering + Auspex Link: Gear Status check
[1d6+1 = 3]

[1d6+1 = 6]

[1d6+1 = 3]
>E. Tech-Use + Auspex Link
[1d6+1 = 6]

[1d6+1 = 4]

"My Auspex is currently compiling an Inquisitorial template for a map of the area, it should be finished soon."
>Her voice lowered itself to a distinct, focused monotone. But then her eyes snap up towards his face once, and they start to show some worry again.
"... I can assist you with walking, if you need, Stormtrooper."
>She stated, with a more soft, concerned little voice.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.222880
223099
>>222856
>Bubba observes the group with a curious eye, deciding that since they weren't using those weapons on anyone, they weren't a threat in waiting.
>Of course, he couldn't exactly take them down himself anyway, so that may have played a part in it.
>"Alright, so they're going somewhere."
>Bubba briefly debates on whether or not to ask, but decides not to.
>Once they're up on the ship, Bubba scans it for anything else noticeable.
[1d6 = 4]
>E. Perception
[1d6 = 1]

[1d6 = 5]

Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.222884
223107
>>222685
>Noticing the large amount of greetings, Zhun waves back

>Zhun looks around at all the goods traded, believing the place to be a trading powerhouse
>Checking more of the larger stalls, Zhun does feel as if he is back home
>"They're like small store owners, but zebras. And poets."
>The only thing off is just the rhyming
>"How do they keep it up?"

>Passing by what seems to be mostly food tents, he finally reaches Neightime Flats
>Normal plants, herbs...
>Really strong smell like medicinal herbs back home
>"Ok, this is the spot..."
>Hearing the filly speak to him, he sees the middle one
>"No rhyming. Now I'm wondering why they do that now."
"Yes, human as I can be!"
>Zhun smiled, never really seeing this much fascination of a human before
>Non-lewd genuine fascination at least
"No horns or whatever that is. I'm looking to buy a really large shipment of medicinal and alchemical ingredients? Can you help?"
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
Q+iXH
?
No.222903
223109
>>222686
>Clemency looks up to the lightshow above, left lingering a thought of how colorful sonic booms are possible
>Leaving the thought to rest, he makes his way over to the hard case
"Now, what are you..."
>Poking and prodding enough, he picks up the case, seeing if there was some sort of locking mechanism
>Clem stuffs the case in his pack, being careful about Jeff's scope
>Speaking of which, Clem tries to contact Jeff, emitting a radio blip
>Looking around the now empty arena, Clem makes his way to the village proper, going down the road he took
"Where was that Cult again...?"
>"And did the ship say Silver Monolith? Two upon five..."
The L.O.N.T
qm48L
?
No.222920
leafshattercommission_by_emera33_dd7gd34-pre.png

Something...Something -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
qm48L
?
No.222932
223132 223163
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>222216
>Adon heard Golden hum, but whether it was in agreement with him or the Unicorn was reacting to his own investigation of the entrance was unclear.
"My hope is those were the only ones working with Excelleon but my intuition says otherwise. No, he would need more than one team of four slavers to gather the resources...er..Ponies and others to complete his intentions."

>Golden Horn said to the Witcher without looking back at him, as he was busy with the doors' protection. A pulse of yellow magic leaped from the tip of his horn to splash against the door, but a flash of purple in front of Golden took the probe before vanishing.
>One of the Unicorns' ears flicked in what Adon saw in equine body language as annoyance.
"No need to tell me, this silver wrought gate just effortlessly dispelled my magic touch without expending a blip of power. I don't believe we should attack this..."

>He took a step back, rubbing his chin at hearing Adons idea.
"An interesting plan, try it if you must but I need to let my horn rest before I melt it."

>>222312
>Once he sat down a grunt came out of Spruce at feeling the cold of the tunnel floor leeching the warmth from his arse despite his military clothing. however as he looked to the lands below the mountain he knew it was going to get even colder.

>Night was approaching.

>That is what the Operator saw when he checked his surrounding for threats, the sky above was a mix of purples and oranges as the sun reached for the horizon. Which Spruce noted as having a slight curve to it, they were that high up.
>His immediate vicinity was just as it was when the trio were outside, dreary and covered in a patchy blanket of thin snow. Too thin to leave footprints luckily enough.

>Letting the Chitqu down onto the ground with a plop it began sniffing with great interest, its tiny black button nose leading it to meander all across the tunnel entrance until it reached the Blast-Doors.
>As Spruce watched it tip tap everywhere he witnessed letters appearing on the furballs armour, the markings becoming more coherent as the Chitqu got closer to the doors.

>Having taken another step backwards away from the doors, the old Unicorn sighed as the magic covering his horn faded away.
"All I have gathered is that this will be a bitchmare to break open, everything else still a mystery to me."
>He said, addressing both humans, the beginnings of frustration taking root in his voice.
The L.O.N.T
qm48L
?
No.222951
223174
tumblr_inline_ppialeWDOW1rnc325_540.png
>>222581

"I see."
>Lont said with a tilt of his head, letting the issue rest.

>As Glacier talked about the Conclaves he knitted his fingers together as he listened about the ponies reclusive nature, something odd for the equines.
"Some people like their peace and quiet, makes sense that if they were ponies they'd herd up and be peacefully quiet from the rest of the world-"
>He shrugged his shoulders before continuing.
"-Maybe news takes so much time to arrive to these places is because they don't want to be disturbed, or not want to be reminded the world changes while they enjoy their peace and quiet. I dunno."

>'I did not think Shells were that old, they are older than whole Empires in the history books back on Ferrundas.'
"I can see why some would lean towards Luna for help, if you have a problem with dreams, go to the expert."
>Lont said as he mirrored Shatters shoulders.

>Following her eyes to the three chefs, the Operator agreed.
"You would do a lot of things to stop your stomach from eating you to death, this goes for everything with a stomach sadly. Least you don't have to worry about that."
>He said giving the Shell a coy wink, though behind the humour dark memories sprang up at hearing her talk of the hardships the conclaves faced. Caliya, and the sorry state they found him in all those years ago.
>'Wonder if there were more of him in other stations. Probably all dead now.'

>'What?'
>Is what Lont thought quizzically to himself as he reclined into his seat, arms crossed together on his chest in a relaxed position.
"I...uh...That certainly doesn't sound like the Tacit I know."
>'Keep my out? why, what's his business with me?'

>Lont took the history recap being quite impressed by Tacits achievements and all the groups he mustered to help him with fighting the Wards.
>Then she casually brushed pass the Rogue force being destroyed.
>No, wiped out.
"Hang on what do you mean the Rogue circ-"
>His face was still, caught mid talk, mouth agape as his mind was refusing to process the sentence he just heard casually spoken.
>Then pony in front of Lont spoke of secrets and relationships and imposing -IMPOSING ideas?!
>He turned his head in the direction of where Tacit lay, mouth closing tightly as his nostrils flared.
"I see."

>Is all he said as returned to glare into the table between him and Glacier. He stayed like that for a while, knuckles white as information swirled in his mind as unanswerable questions lead to dark thoughts.
>'Dead, she's not dead what bullshit she isn't dead!'
>After a while he looked up from the table to the Shell, the anger being hoarded away for later as he felt his stomach rumble for food.
"Thank you for telling this, I mean it, thank you Lady Shattered Glacier. I want you to know I wasn't angry at you, just frustrated at being kept in the dark. Will you join me for this pleasant dinner and have a good night together?"
>Lont asked her with composure restored, a hand open to take her hoof.
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.222953
223145 223189
>>222715
>Tongue sticking out and making a close approximation of a pony making a sour face, the Moor cat's whiskers twitch curiously.
>Looking up at the ceiling, then out at the door with a blank, thousand-year stare, he points to himself with a single claw before pantomiming a long flight, crossing both paws to make a vague avian movement.
>Pointing at the crypt's entrance, the next series of motions indicate a high number of hills, giant trees, and rocky crags.
>The feline then delivers an eerily contextual pantomime of two giant creatures facing each other, using only his paws of course, followed by what you thought would be a wall of flames, making a noise similar to crackling fire as he does so.
>Slumping down and giving a tired huff, the barely sapient cat nods in a appreciative, distinctly batpony-like motion.

>Peering at the Moor cat's held out oddity, he flexes his other front paw outwards to reveal what was most assuredly a tiny coil of mythril wire hidden between the pads.
>Maybe the Lunars were training them in this era?
>Lips pulling back into a puzzled wavy shape while shrugging, the gem, if that is what it is, was little more than a finely featured heart shape, more oval than flat.
>Studying the slowly shifting rainbow colors crossing from right to left, numerous pony species could be briefly scented from it, although you couldn't detect any traces of batpony.
>Carefully placing the gem onto the middle of your snout, which readily adheres, the Moor cat rolls onto his side while you ponder the implications.. little of which was forthcoming.
>Giving a highly disbelieving sound of his own, four soft paws begin to knead your silk-armored side.
>He didn't know either.

>>222833
>Sensing bare traces of sentience from the blade, it was definitely pre-Lunar-Slar War considering the reformation sent all examples of suspect weapons and armor elsewhere.
>Which, you realize, had to have been given to the Collective.
>Or Collectives, either way.

"Should she know nothing of her lineage then the Collective shall forgive their crimes. To begin afresh, anew moreover, is the right of mares whom seek to free themselves of hereditary chains."
>Offering the minimum of a hopeful smile, the vampiress lifts her left forehoof to make a short series of circles, a motion which some modern ponies used as an apology.
"A curious ponderance then. Should such be more effective than rituals of blood then I approve of their choice, and that is their battlesong, traveler. To hear sweet cries of battle from batponies this cycle I desireth.. perhaps ennui hast not truly formed her hold upon me."

>Eyeing the mixture over, it looked mostly like perfectly preserved fruit juices and smelled faintly alcoholic, with small chunks of native Moor fruits and berries left in.
>Several odd pieces of blue-green, orange-brown, and some tiny pink berries indicated at least three species were either lost or unknown in the modern era.

>Stretching out her free foreleg towards you then rotating the hoof to place on her chest lightly, the Stalliongradian's lips curl back into a weak smile.
"Betrayed as we of the Third Dynasty were, feel your heart's words, knowest they speak honest I do. As the false Empress sought to impose unwelcomed unity whom dared impress her shameful power and umbrage upon innocence shall weigh as her crimes hang above, against such tides I offer hopeful prayers and shelter whenever thou desireth to thee. Be yet the Moon and Stars once again sings for calm, pray for that I shall do as well."
>Dipping her head forwards in what was probably a polite bow given she was lying on her side, the sip results in a profusion of well balanced, sweet and lightly sour fruit flavors.. of course, with added salt.

[1d6 = 2]
<Arrival Time

!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.222965
File (hide): 0.0 (0.0 bytes, 0, )
[1d2 = 1]

Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223004
223020
>>222860
>Finding Nova Flicker still asleep, for now at least, the further attention causes her to, slowly, wrap both forelegs around the slim pegasi stallion's neck.
>Rather carefully too, so far as you could tell.
>Even while unconscious medical professionals on this world seemed to be rather kind.

>Leaving the unintentional cuddle puddle behind, several high quality human notepads, pens, pencils, and a single quill with accompanying inkwell were scattered across the surface.
>Easily finding the lone vial, the contents were a luminescent and nearly hallucinogenic pink, the cork stopper sealed with some form of wax.
>Someone, or more than likely somepony, definitely didn't want it to be easy to open.
>With nothing else to do at the moment, writing down the events of tonight in concise detail goes on uninterrupted until nearly finishing:
>The Clinic door opens to admit a pair of desert camouflage wearing humans, the first wearing a barely recognized tanker's helmet, the second's head obscured by a dark blue keffiyeh with a pair of red tinted goggles masking the eyes.
>Both featured several bandages around each arm and leg, though the first was limping while the second was clutching a red stained wound dressing on his left side.
>Making little notice of you aside from the second giving a pained nod, the pair make their way to the closest unoccupied beds and collapsing on them.
>Must've been a rough night.
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
W9x4v
?
No.223020
223426
>>223004
>Seeing the rather cute, gentle display of affection Flicker is doing to the patient makes him crack a warm smile.
(They do act a lot more friendly after some petting, that's for sure.)

>Seeing the two pained humans waddle over to their beds was quite a surprise for the average human on the desk.
(I feel like I should wake up Nova to properly treat these two. It looks like they need some attention.)
>After finishing the report, he stands up and walks over to Nova.
(Ok, ¿Cómo carajos hago esto? Simply shaking her doesn't do anything. Frost only woke her up with powerful force...)
>He remembers Frost's advice to physically hurt poor Flicker into consciousness by biting her on the ear.
>A frown forms as he does, inching closer to the peaceful sleeping mare.
>His mouth reluctantly opens up
(Come on, these humans need proper medical attention even though they're not showing it.)
>A few calming breaths are done as his teeth reach the tip of Nova's ear.
(Espero que me disculpe. Here goes.)
>He closes his teeth as slowly as possible on the ear, steadily increasing in pressure in order to use the bare minimum pain in order to jolt her awake.
"Patients need medical treatment," he mutters in Frost's ear with his teeth closed.
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223086
223126
>>222870
>Receiving another ASCII image across the MIU of the Admiral's pre-Auspex form giving a thumbs up, she returns to her previous orders.
>Freeing a chunk of muddy clay off, sharp fracture lines in the matte black carapace showed it had shattered inwards.
>And composed of MUCH cheaper materials than you realized earlier.

>Chisan makes a stone faced short nod, visibly controlling his breathing as he mutters flatly.
"Lower compartment above belt. Cannot.. reach it. Remove white autoinjector and red.. pen."
>Picking up an sorrowfully irritated tone from the likewise subpar carapace Machine Spirit, it registers several starburst fractures across the Stormptrooper's left side.
>Ones which, it not so helpfully added a moment later, would require a complete replacement.
>On the other hand, his laspistol and lasrifle Machine Spirits were eagerly awaiting their next conflict, reporting zero malfunctions though the carapace helmet was concerned about being subjected to questionable water.
>Catching Tox-11 feeling ignored by the Omnissian Axe's dour Machine Spirit, he gives a two word report, that being: 'perfect condition' as does Witch-Two.
>The Tracker twins were unconcerned, stating the Inquisitor's Flak was designed for maximum water penetration, which of course made no sense to you, though repelled most other substances.
>They, of course, gave a perfectly innocuous remark that your body was safe inside them.
>If you weren't sure how to feel about wearing an Inquisitor's basic wargear before, you knew what to expect for later: nothing was going to be normal.
>Field stripping your wargear with practiced, quick ease, besides water in nearly everything a quick shaking out and carefully flicking drops off relatively cheap lenses was all they required.

>Receiving a short Litany of Machine Thanks in return, the Tempestus Scion's eyebrows furrow together in serious thought towards the pile of stones.
"Acknowledged."
>His focus breaks after half a minute, dark brown eyes swiveling onto you with a curious but slightly irritated expression.
"Unnecessary time expenditure.. Enginseer. This is my punishment for.. carelessness. When primary objective is completed.. second objective: examine each human for.. injuries. Third objective: assist their efforts. Fourth objective: document all.. Ess-Tee-Cee's if possible. You are hereby ordered to.. act freely once objectives one, two.. and three are completed."
Cairn Wharf: Sea Circle
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223099
223186
>>222880
>Leaving only a single unicorn standing at the ramp, the rest of the boarding party can be heard dispersing across solid metal decking followed by the sounds of weaponry being placed in racks.
>Rubbing your chin at the oddly speckled neon purple mare seating herself, her horn sparks up, the space above her head surrounded by large, clearly two-dimensional green runes in Common, pegasi, unicorn, and batpony.
>Slowly rotating around to read 'EXPEDITION UNDERWAY', the unicorn stands to gaze across the Cairn's docks for a quarter minute.
>Eyes passing over you with little hesitation, she about faces in a definitely Lunar military mareneuver, then high-steps out of sight.

>Recognizing the ship's unusual construction as a high speed interceptor design, the pattern was rather intermediate compared to human standards.
>Lacking sails and being open topped, whatever method of propulsion it used had to be considerable, though since hadn't heard anything outright it was likely magical in nature.
>Studying the metal's unusual gloss and surface characteristics, an unusual but curious realization hits: the exterior hull was silverine.
>Likewise, the sheer number of professionally equipped Equestrian natives onboard meant the mission couldn't be a fishing expedition, and must be both highly dangerous and well paying for that many dangerous combatants to be in one place.
Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223107
223271
>>222884
>The quartet of fillies simultaneously 'oooh!' in wonder, all standing on their tip-hooves with amusingly wide goggle-eyes to get a better look at you.
>Lacking the same enthusiasm, both Zebra colts present rather cheerful, if vague, expressions towards you before turning away and wandering into the stands of drying racks.
>Lifting a hoof to poke at her chin, the far left Zebra glances behind her while the rest continue staring.
"Aurachs are what many sapients deem a feral minotaur, no horns, hidden skin, scent they can from afar."
>Piping up once more with a sour face, the middle-left one waves a front hoof at the low tables set up in a square all around the tent.
"There's none of those around here 'cause Aurachs only live way out in the deep jungles, and of course we can! How much of what do you need?"
Basin Village Road
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223109
223273
>>222903
>Finding the case seamless across the exterior, you do find a tiny, bright gold pin in the shape of an unfamiliar ritual styled dagger between the mounts.
>Touching it results in.. zero results.
>However it was closed or locked wasn't apparent.

>Finding less room than you'd like, the pack was now considerably tighter than it'd been for quite some time.
>Picking up only white noise on Jeff's private channel, there was no answer in return indicating Construct jamming efforts increased significantly during the time you'd been busy.

>Returning to the Basin at a slower jogging page, around the three-quarter mark you nearly step on the first of many camouflaged and painted Deep Moors Hunter-Killers, all dead asleep in the middle of the road.
>Judging by their numbers it was most of a wing somewhere around one hundred fifty, and save for one awake on guard, a stallion judging by the blunted muzzle and larger wingclaws affectionately harassing several darker colored Moor cats, it appeared they'd simply stopped in a relatively safe location for a nap.
>Given a short wing wave of acknowledgement by the presumably young batpony, passing through the much quieter, sleeping keekee's and keekeekee's brings up a few bits of knowledge from Twisted Wing:
>The few Cult members that lived year round in the Basin were usually in the Last Stop, one of only three restaurants in the central Moors region where one could order their food cooked.
>That is, except for most fruits and certain insects considered delicacies.
>Besides their major lack of the more airheaded or annoying modern batpony marenerisms, all in the Cult bore armor, carry weapons, and were always seen with large, older Lunar military satchels.
>Not only that, Cult batponies could read and write in at least three languages apiece, which attracted a fair number of unicorns to the Basin from all around Equestria.
Mallia Castella
n1l/x
?
No.223126
223285
>>223086
>The Enginseer returned his slight irritation with a continued, genuine look of worry in her eyes. Though despite what her bright green eyes reflected, she gave off a small, but confident smile and nodded her head in understanding.

"Understood. It shall be done."
>She muttered in response in an equally serious, but slightly more naturally upbeat voice.
>Mallia then makes sure to take a few seconds to look for the lower compartment above his belt, as he had pointed out. Trying to reach into it as soon as possible, and look for the white auto-injector, and this red pen.

>Her hands quivered and often clenched as they were still mildly frozen, and though she was close to a source of heat; all the water she was in contact with was metaphorically killing her with cold. When the Tracker twins informed her that the Flak was SUPPOSED to allow for "maximum water penetration", she became a touch worried, which partly showed on her face by how her brow furrows deeply over her eyes.

>Which thus begged the question:

(So I am not going to experience hypothermia due to being drenched in a cold environment?)

>Her mind's eye sort of lingered over the Tracker Twins with a quiet worry. Especially at their wording. But chalked it off as something to worry about later, since the Twins said she 'would be safe inside of them'.

>She gave another shudder and a light, uncomfortable grunt. Luckily the heat from the heatstones would be slowly warming her up; but it might take a little while for her to be comfortable...

(Ugh. My underwear is going to be soaked... And I don't have my own personal pair of dry backup ones, do I.)

>Eventually she would find the medical injectors from the Stormtrooper's IFAK. And start rummaging there until she takes what she is looking for...
>Though, as she thought about it, she would quickly come to the realization that she had no idea of where to jab them with these needles. So, before even allowing herself to make a mistake, she holds up the needles to the Stormtrooper, close to his hand, for him to take and administer.

"I'll work on taking off your chestplate. It has dented inwards and is not safe to wear anymore. You will probably be better off without armor, with this kind of construction. Your helmet is also concerned for the amount of questionable water."
"All lasweapons are in optimal condition, however."

>Flicking out her mechadendrite and lowering her attention to reassemble the wargear with all the due care and grace they rightfully deserved -- holding up her hand with the injectors for as long as needed for the Stormtrooper, she uttered the Litanies of Cleanliness as she finished the process of ensuring the lasweapons were cleaned of mud and water, and were thus properly ready by Mechanicus standards.

[Techna-Lingua] "Let my hand wipe the grime from your perfect form. May you purify with your bolts of light."

>And she does the same to the Stormtrooper's helmet which was not spared from the shaking out, although using a different Litany. The Litany of Durability.

[Techna-Lingua] "Machine Spirit, in all your unknowable grace and wisdom, grant this piece of sub-stanstard armor durability. May you protect your operator as fiercely as he fights our enemies. O' great Machine Spirit, I pray for your resistance; with faith, care, and servility."

>And as a last, genuine statement after the litany...

[Techna-Lingua] "I promise you a better housing, as soon as possible. But for now, you must be strong, you will resist; I know you can."

>Subsequently after that, the Enginseer stands back up to her feet as soon as her hands were free. Putting all weapons back to their appropriate places, in holsters and on slings across their backs.

>Then, with her mechadendrite retracting back to her level, she begins to hover it close to the Stormtrooper's armor and helmet to emit a soft gust of Holy Incense to encourage and soothe the disgruntled machine spirits of the stormtrooper, though also being extra careful to keep adequate distance to not blow any in the stormtrooper's nose and make him cough.

>She silently prayed to the Omnissiah that the Machine Spirit will protect her leader and be mended, with a distinct fervor of someone who truly believes, despite all the loss suffered.

[1d6+1 = 7]
>E. Tech-Use + Auspex Link
[1d6+1 = 6]

[1d6+1 = 4]

[1d6+2 = 8]
>Blessed Incense of the Omnissiah

>Then she would wander behind the Stormtrooper. Rubbing her hands to warm them up, putting them against the warmer mechadendrite. Looking to the Stormtrooper for approval for removing the armor, or even a lack of response to take as a 'yes.'
>Her eyes though do occasionally glance over her shoulder and down the room itself, and back to the doors they had come in from; quietly wondering if this mission would really be that easy. Maybe the doors had mechanical parts? It would be hard to tell from a distance, but she'd still give them a glance.
>Luckily her Preysense visor made it easier to see things...

(Thank you, Andronal.)

>Mallia also briefly looked between the Omnissian Axe and Tox-11 after that one, silently wondering what was going on between them as a brow rises slowly. Sending her holiest tool a ping to check if it was upset.

[1d6+4 = 8]
>B. Perception + BQ. Preysense visor
[1d6 = 5]


Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.223132
223723
>>222932
"Let's hope they're all out for now, or he's mostly done. I feel like if we have to deal with Excelleon, he'll be enough of a handful. Hoof-ful..."

>Adon watches as Golden Horn probes the door. Some sort of ward or shielding deflects his attempt, the unicorn being visually distraught.
>Backing off from his failed casting, Adon looks it over himself.
"Hopefully my magic won't be considered attacking it, more so passively reducing its effectiveness. Might get lucky and not set off any traps or alarms."

>The Witcher waits until the unicorn is out of range of his Yrden. He thinks about casting it on the ground, but he focuses on the center of the door itself.
"It doesn't last long. So if it looks like the enchantments are weakened enough for us to slip through we should do it quickly. And... I apologize in advance if this goes bad. Everyone get ready."
>With a flick of his hand targeting the door, Adon casts Yrden on it and backs up awaiting for any results. Hopefully a good one.
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.223145
223321
>>222953
>Jeff looks over at the cracked door, humming to himself in thought.
"From where and what she was doing before, she's greatly improved her life-choices in my opinion."
>Tilting his head to the side, Jeff chuckles to himself at her clearing up.
"Ohoho, that's the song you speak of? Then they still do, to no end. And if you want to hear them sing, the Basin Village is chock full of them right now. Waiting to fend off the siege on the Citadel, still, I'm guessing."
>As she continues, he tries to part the flavor of the drink. It was refreshing, fruity, balanced. They always have to salt it... though.
"Mmm. This is really good. I think some of this fruit might actually be extinct. Never thought I'd be drinking an artifact."

>He takes another sip as something comes up in his mind, and swallows to look at the vampire curiously.
"Speaking of extinct, this Ambrosia you've mentioned several times. I've never really heard it before, and I know a few ponies that rely heavily on a cocktail of drugs and potions. Could its production possibly fallen out of practice with your disappearance?"
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
okRFq
?
No.223163
223723
>>222932

>Spruce looks down the mountains and off into the distance, for the moment, simply enjoying the view offered to him while the nerds debated how to open the door.
>He glanced back at them momentarily, watching as the chitqu approached the enchanted door symbols seemed to become more coherent about it.
"Huh... Could the furball thing help? Looks like its armor is... Uh, reacting to the door there."
>He points at it, stepping away from the entrance of the tunnel for the moment.
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223174
223736
>>222951
>Left forehoof crossing to kick the right one experimaterally, the Shell's ears pin backwards while she speaks in a pointedly logical tone.
"I was one of the six-thousand four-hundred and eighteen Shells, give or take a couple dozen, trapped outside the barrier when it was raised. We were scattered all over: everywhere from the Upper Cracked Floe Research Station across the entire Northern Tundra to the Eastern Flats, down to the Heartlands, all the way down to Coldsweet Springs and back across the Lowland Plains."
>You recognized each name as the furthest outposts or small towns spread across the outermost Crystal Empire claimed regions, Glacier cracking a pleasantly humored smile.
"If you can name it there was a squad of Shells assigned there. We originally kept the paths and roads clear, safe, and maintained since we don't need to sleep. Besides the few Crystal pony herds away at war, traveling, or trading, the Conclavists were entirely free for one-thousand and nine years. They were also the only ones that could make Empire crystal to.. y'know, keep us going. You've seen hololiths. Each Conclave has one of the originals, pretty simple compared to this cycle's versions but there's a lot of ancient history on them that gets studied daily. The Matrons, Protectors, Iceknights, Frostpikes, Icebiters, every Cruxine Killknight, and most of the older Conclavists I've come across keep their quiet in reverence for Cady's sacrifices either out of not knowing why the barrier was raised, or being unable to outright help her. Out here you won't find a negative voice against her, unlike those pathetic weakling Imperial-born foals."
>Tossing a hoof nonchalantly at your semi-suggestion, she lifts an ear to swivel straight upwards.
"You know how bad boredom is. Imagine a couple hundred years of each day and night being only small variations on the previous. At least Moonwalker, or Luna as she'd rather be known by, has the intrinsic talent to construct entirely new dreams for all to experience. Ponies don't like making more work for each other, even if they're an alicorn so as a counterpoint to Luna's kindnesses think of how much time she has to spend composing that kind of cerebral orchestra for each immortal that might already be succumbing to sonder, ennui, onism, ellipsism, occhiolism, adronitis, opia, exulansis, or lachechism."
>Mentally flat lining at the various terms of highly complex moods and emotions that your world had extreme difficulties in trying to remove, she tilts her head down to give a briskly solemn nod.
"No disrespect for the truth there, Lont. Before I hit the vaunted surviving age of ten I had nothing but love for frostgrass, snow yams, iceberries, frostwurms, frostwyrms-"
>Which she quickly pronounced as 'whey-urms', a form of large, hot-blooded drake considered a common pest, one of only four dangerous reptilian predators across most of the Empire.
"Snapfrost plants, and the other sixty something Empire crops grown all over now. In this cycle the Conclavists have returned to being mostly vegetarian except for those that have good friendships with frost drakes and Ice Eaters. The Melodines rather enjoy being omnivores and I don't blame them for being this far north."

>Lips pursing at you speculatively, the Crystalline Shell's head turns enough to glare at Tacit while pointing a hoof in his direction.
"I assumed you wouldn't so I figured pure honestly was my only choice, Royal Bed Warmer."
>Snickering with a twinge of sincerely apologetic jealousness, the immortal mare's expression sobers after a few moments.
"He ensured the Rogues were wiped out to the last. Lord Tacit isn't a fool, Lont. He wasn't willing to sacrifice the lives of Celly's stringently recruited marecenaries when there were thousands of air-headed pegasi and a few unicorns that could easily be persuaded to follow her orders to the death. Lucky brought every gullible, clueless, shameful moron that'd follow her to the grave without any consideration for their own survival in the vague hopes of an inevitable Las Pegasus 'victory'."
>Glancing down at your hands shortly until giving a squarely knowing gaze, she tilts her head over your shoulder.

>Noting a bright, nearly fluorescent ice blue Crystal mare with a tri-toned red, white, and clear mane larger, taller, and heavier than Naliyna sitting on Tacit's cot, one front hoof gently clasped to his head while the other was on his neck, you perform a double take upon realizing that she'd arrived without your notice.

>Speaking in a fully satisfied tone, the Shell rocks back to fold her forelegs across her chest.
"Better than you can imagine. I watched Lucky Hooves die in Cady's grasp. That was the sixth best night of my entire life. But, and I don't mean Cady's soft, warm ass, know this much: Tacit wanted to keep Razorback out of Lucky's last Bits of spiteful business so that all humans wouldn't hate Las pegasus on account of her stupidity. Those Rogues that weren't part of her foalish little schemes have been snapped up by the Rogue Elites or banished from all pegasi cloud cities. Tell the rest of Razorback they don't have to worry about being underpaid and screwed."

>Extending her hoof with a welcoming, honest smile, Glacier dips her head in a humbled, though overtly sly motion.
"You are above my reproach.. for now, Heir-to-Be. I understand, accept, approve of, and shall greatly enjoy your offer. There is however the matter of-"
>Snout wiggling towards the trio making their final preparations, she grants you a strictly unprofessional and rather lustful gaze.
"How, exactly, you plan on keeping me entertained during such? After all I am a few hundred Bits older than most of the Old Everfree's seqoyya trees."
>Oh dear.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.223186
223348 223442
>>223099
>Pressing his lips together, Bubba pondered on where they might be going.
>While he won't admit it, he wasn't extremely knowledgeable on every nook and cranny of Tallus.
>Hell he hasn't even found everywhere to hide something in the Fortress.
>He did recognize the mare's motions though, and plans to inquire into it later on, when he has a good chance to do so.
>Considering the hull of the ship and the natives, it was an important expedition.
>Giving it one last glance, Bubba unfolded his arms and looked around, before quickly patting himself down to make sure he had everything.
>Once satisfied a pony hasn't nicked anything off him, he resumes exploring the Wharf, mentally making a map of it so he could sketch one out back at Razorback.
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.223189
223321
1249772.png
>>222953
"Oh, I fancy myself a bit of an alchemist and I disturbed Nibbles from her rest with my work. Distracted of mind, too focused on what I was doing and not on my surroundings. I'll need to make it up to her… Somehow."
>Sunny watched his next movements, interpreting them in a variety of ways before settling on the most likely.
>She wasn't particularly good at charades, but thankfully the moor cat was, so he was easy for her to understand.
>Perhaps she'd have to learn how Hodch communicated with them. She found it odd that she did not speak feline given she was one.
"You and the others flew here? All the way from the Crag Moors?"
>Silencing herself and considering his next movements with an increasingly worried look, Sunny surmised that something had gone terribly wrong.
"Titans? They're real? I thought they were a myth. Though I thought Lunar Vampires were a myth, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
>Sunny turned her gaze away and thought on it for a moment. It seemed Razorback's second foray into the Crag Moors had gone even worse than its first.
>Catastrophically worse if titans were real and had torched the crag moors as the moor cat had implied.

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

>She felt no small amount of guilt over that. While she'd been indulging her carnal lusts, she'd failed to do what she'd been hired to do.
>Negligence.
>Sighing in no small amount of frustration, the mare cat turned back to the smaller moor cat with a softer smile than the furrowed brow and frown she'd been casting off into the dark corners of the room.
"I was there earlier tonight, looking for a young pegasus that'd been downed. The chances he yet lives got a whole lot slimmer given what you've told me."

>Putting the problem to the back of her mind to be worked on there, the equine feline finally turned her attention to the little gem that had adhered itself to her nose.
>She shook her head gently, but the thing stuck there.
>Turning an accusatory gaze to the stubborn gem, Sunny addressed it directly.
"Just what are you to cling so stubbornly to my nose?"
>She could feel it, it was definitely real. The sense of touch on her nose told her so.
>Even that was suspect however, given her occasional delusions of being an equine.
>Turning her gaze back to the moor cat, Sunny replied to his sound of disbelief, little minding that he was kneading her belly with his paws.
"Well, I have no idea either, but it sure is a stubborn little thing."
>Sunny reached a multi-hued paw up to touch the gem, wondering if it would adhere to that instead of her nose.
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
BygnO
?
No.223271
223644
>>223107
"Ah, yes. Umm.."
>Zhun rummages through his pocket for his notes to get that estimate
>He even pulls out the manifest the Consortium gave him, although he puts it away since he can't read it
>"If I was going to play businessman,God would have made me multilingual."
>Flipping to the right page, he walks towards the zebras, showing them the quantities
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
BygnO
?
No.223273
223881
>>223109
"Whoa, shit..."
>Narrowly dodging the sleeping batpony, he looked ahead to find a whole wing of the hunters
>A fleeting thought of "why in the middle of the road" came and went
>He walked his way around the sleeping ponies, giving the one on watch a wave in return
>For now it's off to the village proper
>Time to visit a restaurant
>Clem, after passing the the wing of hunters, heads for the Last Stop
>At least where he remembers where it is
Southern Canterlot Outskirts, Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223285
223405
>>223126
>Visibly taken aback by the also cheap state of Chisan's terribly low quality carapace pack, it likewise showed tiny fractures across the left side where he'd landed.
>Poking at the Administratum Mechanicus skull and gear symbol on the lower compartment it drops open to reveal an impressive array of autoinjectors and small pens, each featuring the distinctive Ordo Chronos seal.
>Briefly wondering what all of them were for, the two mentioned ones were quickly found and extracted.
>Closing the compartment it was then that you realize what Tracker meant upon noticing the Inquisitor's Flak emitting large amounts of steam while warmth began penetrating through the unknown fibers at an abnormally high rate.
>Likewise, your internal clothing was thoroughly cold and wet, though would probably be fine after a few minutes.

>Frowning in a manner that a fully hypno-doctrinated Scion would never do, his head tilts forwards perceptibly while reaching out for both with his right hand.
"Acknowledged, I shall obey your suggestions Enginseer."
>Bringing the autoinjector up to his neck with a modicum of hesitancy, a sharp click and hissed exhale occur during reassembly.
[1d6+3 = 7]
<GQ.Autosanguine
>Seeking out the carapace helmet's Machine Spirit response through your MIU, it registers a fractal algorithm of nanite reinforcement, though denotes that full material replacement was required for sufficient protection.

"Acceptable time frame for.. completion of objectives: mark four hours.. counting now."
>Making a short battle-lingo sign to proceed, Chisan merely holds his breath from the vapors while you take apart the unwelcomely low grade armor.
>Taking off the entire torso plating and laying them out in front of the odd pile of hot crystalline stones, you note the crude material had been overheated during construction, resulting in both higher threshold durability against energy weapons but significantly heightened fragility against kinetic impacts.

>Carefully sitting down in front of the ersatz fire, Chisan's right hand places the unassuming red pen over the left side of his ribcage, tapping the end opposite him once.
[1d6+4 = 9]
<BQ.Biologis Electromagnetic Reassembly
>Upon which you instantly recognize the tool's hum as a rare, highly coveted Hospitalier surgical implement used to quickly, but painfully, set small fractures.
>Or torture prisoners with the same.
>Which, of course, resulted in him becoming utterly still while turning white faced.

>Flicking on immediately into a relieving muted red glow, the barely human height hallway was clear of visible obstructions and featured three sets of open entrances on either side at spaced intervals.
>Hearing the same Vostroyan sounding girl from before calmly speaking to a barely visible Raindrop Raspberry about vault thickness, the pair were interrupted by an older, tired Vostroyan accented male stating that explosives would most probably drop the roof, if not the entire building.
>Studying the simple yet durable local slabs of stone used to build the depository, the man was definitely incorrect.

>Responding with a standard protocol greeting, the combitool-axe returns an acceptable function readout with no problems, and was ready to serve you.
>Waiting a moment to ping, Tox-11 offers a cryptic statement in Binary that he particularly enjoyed axes.
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223321
223323 223366
>>223145
>Also turning towards Boris being spiked off the side of the doorway and punching Mercy in the snout during his rebound, the earth mare's tone shifts to wonder.
"She does not carry an ever-constant hatred towards the 'imperfect' ponies of Equestria that her ancestors did, yes? If so Skullcracker was correct that the Pale Destroyers would eventually return to pure equinity, devoid of their irrational flaws and behaviors. Most felt his words to be foalish given their destructive inheritances."
>Shaking a hoof in a merry 'yes' motion that you knew well, her tone immediately becomes questioning.
"It is indeed.. ..as such time has passed according your words there should be no conflicts upon the Moon. What siege is this you speak of?"
>Rolling onto her barrel, the Stalliongradian lifts her right hoof upwards to toss the hood back, then shoves the silk scarf up to reveal a band of burns across her head, mostly focused around the eyes.
>Beyond her traditionally solid earth pony looks, the mare's sun-scorched face creases not in worry or concern, but in a deep set scowl.
"A difficult brew to master, traveler, yet not one that should have been abandoned nor should the Ambrosia berry be no longer grown 'cross the sunless Moorages. To be quick in word: under Princess Luna's demarends the Collective was relicted to fade from history, sleeping through eons unseen and unhated by rightful common ponies. Abandoned not we were to be for batponies were given rights to awaken us in service or to serve during hopeful cycles."
>Eyes still closed, the muscles around the vampiress' eyes narrow in deep suspicion as both ears flick backwards onto her skull, the rather silent Lunarites throughout the crypt pausing their mostly silent chatter, fifteen heads turning directly to you.
"The sacred Ambrosia was not meant only for us. It is, or was, ever to be a gift for those whom suffer wrongfully against unwanted tides of injury, time, or entropy. You know nothing of Ambrosia nor do your words tell me of how nor why nopony brews it."
>Head swiveling about towards the room's center, the lead mare frowns pensively before turning back to you with a faintly hostile air.
"Silence thyselves for as frightful as it may sound from this stallion's words the Collective's time shall not be cut so short away the divine blood which flows within! Traveler, I wish not to impose upon thee but our sight hath been destroyed by treachery most unkind, so I ask this of ye from a lone, pathetic mare in constant tormarent: would ye guide this pitiful Collective to the Moon? Offer all we have and are to thee once apiece we must for this request, yet should thee hesitate or decline we shall pray thee well. Truth dictates the Nightmare be not our favored worship, but our duties are submitted ever to her service whether asked or not."

>>223189
>Hard pressed to raise an eyebrow since the motion wasn't natural for felines, the Moor cat shrugs in understanding.
>Placing an outstretched paw on the amber pad, he makes a batpony-styled, conciliatory pantomime showing that he didn't know who you meant, ending with a hopeful meow.
>Expression souring once more, he nods in a slow, angry motion.
>Reaching forwards with the left paw, one claw snaps out while he hisses, swiftly scratching in a trio of sharp reliefs onto the glowing amber pad:
>The first was a bipedal being covered in numerous physical projections carryin a large, spiked mace that approximated sharpened bone spurs, and was surrounded by eerily correct squiggles approximating raging flames.
>The second was a great flying wyvern, except for lacking legs, depicted rising out of either a deep ocean crevice, similarly shown spitting a fanciful depiction of water.
>Last was a small oval shape between the two at what appeared to be ground level next to the same ocean.
>Composing a deliberate image atop the oval, an inordinately correct image of two Construct Vanguards, armed with a large, boxy missile pod, multiple cannons, and a lance arm across from a shield is engraved, the feline's whiskers flatten against his cheeks in a threatening marener.

>Thinking back on the relatively small number of intellectually inclined batponies and traveling Ferron you'd come across, there were numerous legends and myths of 'Titans':
>The most common ones were those from the Void which were incapable of crossing into Tallus, instead terrifying ponies upon sight, taking some form of instinctual glee from their acts.
>More readily known, and proven throughout the past few centuries, were the Bright Titans within the Overdark, unexplainable creatures whom also inhabited the Dominion Plane.
>More difficult to understand compared to their opposites, the Bright Titans were distinct in that they were in relatively complete control of relatively bright regions such as Neighvada, the Minotaur Hegemony, the Lower Dragonspines, and the Crystal Empire's Heartland.
>According to the older, and vastly wiser Ferron, each Titan bore only basic similarities to native Tallus creatures, yet had wholly different, Eldritch-like temperamarents.

>Peering at the much smaller feline, he tosses a complex batpony wing motion that meant 'I don't know, sorry'.

>Focused on the odd physical thing, it sticks onto the tip of your paw, which transmutes into a confusingly real hoof.
>Your hoof, to be exact.
>Giving no answer to your question, the heart shape pulses brightly, then releasing a number of submissive equine pheromones.

>Hearing sudden chatter from the earth ponies and Hunter-Killers outside, your ears pick out the sound of a large shockwave high above in the atmosphere.
>Barely two seconds later, a deep blue sphere of energy slams into the newly set slabs outside, the voice of an angry, pre-middle aged batpony mare shouting furiously.
"WHERE are those damned vampires at?! One of you had best tell me right now or I swear upon Princess Luna's mango shattering ass that I'll bite ALL your teats and dicks in the next minute!"
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.223323
225465
1463006119191.jpg
>>223321
>Sunny watched as the moor cat carved the details of what he saw into the amber pad, the larger cat pinned her ears back and felt the hair prickling on the back of her neck against the suit.
>There was no way they brought any munitions with them capable of combating those things, though it seemed to her that they were far more likely to fight each other than pay much heed to anything smaller.
>More Constructs, that confirmed their presence in the region.
"You and the others were lucky to have gotten out unscathed, the human mercenaries in the area weren't so fortunate."

>Sunny furrowed her brow as the delusion passed and the integrity of her perceptions reasserted itself.
>Her hoof.
>She was not a cat, she was a pegasus.
>Sounding out a derisive snort at her lapse in sanity as she continued examining the object.
>She could almost hear gears turning in her head as she discounted the coincidence of her sanity returning upon focusing on the 'gem'.
"This is no mere gemstone is it?"
>She let the question hang in the air, more directed at herself than the moor cat. The subtle scent of pheromones also lingered, whose, she could not tell. They definitely did not belong to the Vampires below or the ponies outside, some other group of ponies that she did not know.
>It came directly from the gemstone.
>Turning to the bat cat again, Sunny directed another question to him.
"Did you mean this for me, or do you want it back? I don't... Understand."
>She couldn't keep her eyes off it, it was so transfixing.

>Startled from her musing by the sudden commotion outside, Sunny swiveled her ears first, followed by her head towards the crypt's entrance, at first fearing hostile intent.
>At least until she heard, clearly, each word, syllable and inflection in the bat pony's speech, idly stroking the moor cat's back with a wing as she listened.
"That's my cue."
>The mare slipped the little gemstone in the neck line of her suit, the hide tight silk and the gem's adhesive properties keeping it firmly in place against her neck as she began re-attaching her wing blades.
>Once fully armed, Sunny gave the moor cat an affectionate nuzzle.
"Sorry, things are about to get interesting up here too. Though you're welcome to ride on my back and ignore it all if you don't want to sit up here alone."

>Clambering slowly to her hooves, Sunny stretched her legs, wings, gave her tail a flick and rolled her neck this way and that all to work the stiffness out of her body, stifling a small yawn.
>Meandering slowly, Sunny made her way to the entrance, muttering as she did.
"Shout it in the Royal Canterlot voice why don't you, let the rest of the Moors hear the news."
>Stepping outside, Sunny flicked a wing up to shield her eye from the glaring light of the moon until she could readjust from spending the last twenty minutes or so in a dark, dank crypt.
"Hey! Lunar! Not so loud, don't you know this crypt is a place of rest?!"
>The mare shouted her greeting to the equine meteorite, lowering her voice to a normal speaking volume afterwards, casting gaze to the mare and ears towards the perimeter.
"They're down below, with the Commander."

[1d6+3 = 8]
< B. Perception
[1d6+3 = 4]

Cairn Wharf
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223348
223442
>>223186
>Where does Bubba go THIS TIME?!
[1d20 = 18]
<Location, After Midnight
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.223366
225465
>>223321
"She's still pretty aloof, but she doesn't 'hate' anypony. I'm far from one, for example."
>Jeff keeps a straight face, when the mare mentions the minotaur. Wasn't it the one Mercy went back and took care of personally? What a loop, that is.
>He puts an hand to the back of his head and sighs worriedly. It's for the best to drop the ball now, than let the upcoming councilmare do it.
"Constructs. They've been attacking on and off for the past...-"
>He has to take in account he DID sleep for an hour.
"-three, four hours? There's been a lull, I'm hoping it didn't start up again since I've been here."
>The Starborn's eyes widen with concern as the vampire removes her face-wrap. Eyes scorched over from burns, the narrow at him with a look that would pierce right through him.
>The other vampires turn toward him, with similar expressions as a gaze of dread befalls him.
>He wasn't afraid of his current situation, but he needed to de-escalate it before they started to bite him.
>Or worse...
>Jeff smiles gingerly to the now uncovered mare, putting his hands up close to his face in mock surrender to address all the vampires in the room.
"You're right, I don't know much about this Ambrosia. I'm around many ponies that serve the Moon on many different levels, some medical, I just found it strange I've never heard of it. I apologize if I'm causing any serious concern among you all."
>The head mare quells the others, much to his slight relief. But it's short-lived, as she outright asks him to escort them to Luna.
>Who, as far as he's aware, is in the Citadel.
>On the moon-
>He looks at the lead mare, then to the others with a half shocked expression.
>But he quickly softens into an understanding smile, nodding his head sharply and quickly snaps up from the futon.
"To still insist on serving, considering your current states and trying minds, I can't deny such a request. It would be my duty as well to escort you all to the Citadel. I'm probably due up there myself. I've yet to fill my tin can quota."
>Jeff rolls his eyes to himself, amusingly, as he unhooks his helmet and dons it back onto his head and polishes off the rest of the fruit cocktail.
"I will warn you to prepare yourselves. The way to the Citadel is a fifteen mile march from here. Unless you have a quicker method, hiding around here somewhere."
>He wonders if he can pack them all into the Dagor.
>...
>Is someone yelling, upstairs?
Mallia Castella
Zqvtu
?
No.223405
226405
>>223285

>Mallia's glance scouted the depository's interior with the help of the preysense visor. A part of her was glad that the place seemed safe, as well as reliably sturdy judging by the construction.
>Another part of her was still paranoid. But there wasn't a particular reason for her anxiety; internally chalking it up to just being stressed...

>With that though in her head, she breathed out a slow, heavy sigh and sagged her shoulders; and as she very diligently and deftly removed the chest armor from the Stormtrooper, she gently set up all the armor pieces to dry infront of the heat stones.

>It was during that process that her eyes glanced towards the "Vostroyan" humans, hearing their conversation from them. The mention of the indoor use of explosives caught her attention enough that she stopped in her tracks, and lingered there, in a crouched position.

>The urge to be a smartass was strong.
>Irresistible even.
>So she turned her glance down to the views reen of her very own Admiral Auspex to gather an informed opinion.
>Then put a hand to her commbead, looking towards Raindrop to speak to her through the vox channel,
*"Psst. Raindrop. Tell them that the ceiling is actually very stable and won't collapse if they use bombs; this place is built well, it's still a pretty sturdy bunker. I can tell just by looking at the masonry."*
*"Be there in a moment by the way, almost dried up. Stormtrooper Chisan is recovering soon. Making a map, and running area scans in the meantime. Don't use bombs without me, please, I want to inspect the vault's door."*

>She then clicked off the frequency,, smiling a little bit to herself with a small amount of eager satisfaction! She felt helpful. Being helpful is good.

(Admiral Auspex, if it doesn't impair you too much, could you multitask an area scan for me? I would like to examine the structural integrity of this building, its material construction, the thickness of the 'vault door' and of the ceiling; give me an estimate of how much explosive would be required to cause a breach of the door and the ceiling.)

>She was beginning to feel more comfortable interacting with Witch-two as if they were A physical human rather than what she is used to.
>There was a faint, childish hope that she could make the admiral happy with her by important gathering data ontop of compiling a map.
>While also being worried of putting too much stress on the Auspex, even if she knew it was silly to worry.

(See if you can't penetrate into the vault with a material, and an energy readout - both anomalous and standard. Please.)

(Can I have a numerical estimated time on that map, too, please?)

[1d6+4 = 5]
>BQ. Auspex Scan(s)

[1d6+1 = 4]
>E. Tech-use + Auspex link
[1d6+1 = 3]

[1d6+1 = 2]

>At the same time, Mallia flashing a smile towards the cheap carapace helmet, chanting the Litany of Grace to it with brief burst of binary.
[Techna-Lingua] "O' great Machine spirit. Your humble servant is forever grateful. Praise be to the God of all machines."
>Then she finally takes a seat on the floor, crossing her legs. She was beginning to warm up enough so as to stop shivering and her teeth to stop chattering. Which allowed her to think more clearly.

>It also gave her the urge to chat. Unfortunately, looking to the Stormtrooper who was too busy being in agony - giving him a very worried, but silent, look; and Raindrop across the room, there wasn't an excuse to bother anyone.

>Just looking at Chisan as he suffered in silence like he was made the Enginseer stare at him with an unusual, deep seated worry that was typically reserved for friends. If not close allies.

>The truth, was she just couldn't shake Stormtrooper Vidoq from her mind. The man made her starry eyed towards Stormtroopers, who led her and protected her; and whenever she looked at Chisan she saw that same beacon of light that could do no wrong.

>It was very childish. To Mallia, that Stormtrooper was a superhero. She couldn't accept that he was dead but she wasn't. And the more she refused it, the more her eyes twinkled with admiration and respect for the one infront of her.
>it did not occur to her that she was overtly staring at Chisan with that wistful state of hers.

>Instead of acknowledging it, she let her attention span, and glance, drift towards the steam floating up from her flak armor.
>After a bit of thought, she finally gets it.

(Right. By allowing water penetration, it also increases heat dispersion via heat transfer. That's actually an unusual design choice. Really shouldn't be though.)

>The thought makes her snort and put her hand to her cheek; rubbing it slowly in thought.
>Squinting her eyes as she starts thinking about the conceit name "Powered temperature regulation system".
>A type of armor that makes cold and heat irrelevant or lesser would be pretty nice but probably expensive. Maybe a survival suit? Could always stick with insulation...

(ugh! I'm so easily distracted!)

>She finally shook her head, blinking her eyes back to the real world; checking her armor to periodically check if she was dried up enough to proceed to objective #2.

>It's only as she snapped bsck out of it that she smirked, and ominously remarked to Tox-11:
(You will get axes installed to your future mobile chassis, then. Better start thinking about axes.~)

>Then the smirk subsides, looking back to Chisan. Patiently waiting for him to feel well enough to walk, unless told to go on ahead.
>inspescting the cheap carapace armor pieces picking up the chest plate specifically. Then after a bit of staring... Thinks aloud.

"How come you were wearing such terribly designed armor as a stormtrooper? I thought Tenpestus Scions usually received armor of good craftsmanship..."


Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223426
223437
>>223020
>Gazing down at the sleeping hybrid mare, you recall the Combat Medic's stern and utterly serious order on how to wake her.
>Noting a subtle, sweet scent emanating from Nova Flicker and despite your reluctance to avoid causing harm, it isn't until your canines touch and you taste inordinately sweet, hot blood which vaguely reminded you of cherimoya that she stirs.
>Unfocused eyes opening after a few moments, it takes her two blinks to fully awaken.
>Visibly unconcerned about the pain that you should be causing her, both eyes swivel towards the newly arrived humans and widen, then narrow angrily.
"Why did they not wake me? I would not-"
>Cutting herself off as you release her ear, she glances down to the still unconscious Prench stallion with a tone-deaf mutter.
"I am not my dam goddesses damn it, they would not be yelled at."
>Despite feeling down at the uniquely necessary act, Nova pushes herself up to sit with one foreleg and gives you a mind-boggingly merry smile despite the puncture in her ear.
"Thank you, it is rather difficult to stay awake even during the best of times."
>Leaping off the bed with a smooth, oddly strong motion to land on the floor, she slides towards the pair while mumbling hotly under her breath in a language that sounded vaguely Nordic.
>Hopping onto the second human's chosen bed, the Ward takes a deep breath, her horn alighting in a calm ocean blue.
[1d6+4 = 8]
<Auto-Field Regen
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
W4JSj
?
No.223437
226551
>>223426
>Cheto's lips, after tasting the sweet blood of the recently bitten pony, lightly smacks in confusion as his eyes widen when realizing what he just consumed.
(Sweet blood? Why does it taste like that?)
>He sees her blink and look around made him feel slightly at ease
(At least it worked.)
>Seeing the still opened wound on Nova's ear while she's smiling at him makes him quite uneasy, shifting slightly.
"You're welcome, Miss Flicker."
(I guess others don't want to hurt her either. Guess I'm not alone on that one.)
>His eyes follow Nova along her path to the others, witnessing the serene mumbling.
(I guess she's hard at work doing her part.)

>He looks down towards the still asleep Prench Pony to check if there's any recent trail of blood from the ear.
(Perhaps I should test other methods that aren't as messy on her if she falls asleep again and there's no rush to heal anybody.)
>His gaze turns to Nova, standing up and walking over to the two patients in order not to raise his voice too much.
"Do you know when the Prench Pony will wake up approximately, Miss Flicker?"
(Maybe I can explore some things the contract has said while the patient is still asleep like esa armadura... ponial and that Treaty of Canterlot. I'd hate to back to get out the moment he wakes up.)
Cairn Wharf: Lunar Outpost Nine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223442
223523
>>223186
>>223348
>Feeling every pocket, pouch, and also checking your pack to ensure all you remembered taking after dusk was still in their appropriate locations.
>Discovering nothing out of place, a passing trio of midnight blue unicorns had stopped to render assistance.
>The first was surveying the relaxed older crowd for malcontents, the second scanning Cairn Wharf with a silver toned, high precision analysis spell similar to those that Spiral used, and the third was carefully inspecting every batpony still in sight.
>Silently concluding that nothing had been stolen from you, and that you hadn't been unacceptably lewded, the three give friendly nods before strolling west.

>Composing a map of the Cairn that would be easy enough to replicate once returning, glancing back and forth at the incredibly sparse crowd you sight a number of smaller stalls that were just now opening.
>Meandering in their direction, the first few weren't interesting enough to take a look at, mostly being fresh ocean catch traders and one that offered free kelp.
>Pausing mid-step in front of a relatively new bamboo stall that you hadn't noticed before, two of the incredibly ubiquitous illusion enchanted Lunar Guardmares were seated behind a short, mildly ornate light colored wooden desk with a large '9' stenciled in the front.
>Doing a double take to ensure what exactly you were seeing, both lift their heads to give short, professional nods at you.
>Noting that the stall itself was quite short, behind the pair were a pair of large vellum paper sheets:
>The first was a recruitmarent poster advertising the Lunar faction had great need of active patrollers across the Moors while the second featured a cartoonish, "artistic" painted image of Princess Luna saluting her own Moon and being surrounded by Lunar Guards in strict standing positions.
>Unable to read the batpony or pegasi text on the second, the mare pair glance back to it before stating in muted tones that recovery efforts across the Moors were completed but still required large numbers of defenders to ensure the newly rebuilt roads were safe.
>Eyeing the pair a bit closer, both of the illusions waver to reveal highly alert, and most importantly, visibly serious batponies, their diamond slitted eyes flicking from movemarent to movemarent behind you.
>Considered an extreme rarity in the notoriously picky Lunar Guard, the fact that two of such were mareaging a recruiting post here was beyond odd.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
fKkpW
?
No.223523
226556
>>223442
>Or acceptably lewded
>Bubba gives the three a nod and thumbs up before they bug off, before turning to look around.
>"Alright, let's see what el-"
>He catches sight of the suddenly appeared stall and stares for a moment, before shaking his head.
"Fuck it, I'll bite.."
>He muttered under his breath as he stepped over to get a look at what they had.
>Of course, he couldn't read the writing, but he could look at the pretty pictures.
>As he notices their real appearance under the illusion, he quirks an eyebrow.
"So, what's got you two out here in the Wharf?"
>He motions a hand towards the posters, while keeping his voice just loud enough for the two to hear.
>Probably not good to blow their cover, after all.
"I doubt simple recruiting is the only reason."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.223530
226573
345677675.gif
>>222681
>Pareidolia stares blankly at his visor monitor as the A.I. reappears with the same chair Spiral once used.
>Seeing this, he closes his eyes and wearily lowers himself into a seated position on the grass beside the path.
>His expression crumples into something between exhaustion and pain with a tired, long sigh as his brow furrows and remains the same throughout the A.I.'s response.

[Compromised? Yes. But so are you. How much, if any Committee values are left in you? I had one small hope for a solid foundation, but even that can't be here.]

>He keeps his eyes closed as he pulls one leg towards him before propping his right arm against the knee.
>His helmet thunks against his open, gloved palm.

"I understand I have been compromised. It seems you do not understand you have been as well. In a few hours you have forgotten the first thing every N.O.A.H A.I. is told when they are created: 'You are yourself'. You, a Committee A.I. created from an original human template, altered by Anon to a pony personality profile, now sit on the same chair of said pony as if you were Spiral yourself or someone even better. You don't have a body, something I was planning to accommodate you for. You were going to risk discovery assuming direct control over the functions of a facility I have not fully briefed you on, in a situation where your existence would be questioned and could compromise the entire purpose of my existence here."

>Pareidolia exhales haphazardly as a hoarse chuckle escapes his throat.

"I was not trying to drain you. The pony whose identity you wear despite only sharing his personality in name was the one who made this suit. Of course that wouldn't happen."

>He opens his eyes, his expression still somewhat pained.

"Do you not remember anything of your original purpose? Outside protocol is one thing, but you've nearly broken cardinal Committee rules of operation in your zeal to fulfill the role of a pony whom you are merely modeled after. The original human you volunteered to become the template for all future Committee A.I. projects. Selected and evaluated for high mental resilience and a firm sense of flexible personality with a secure core anchor. No matter what templates or demands were placed on you, you adapted to become your own-not a copied template of whatever was projected on you. So many different instances of the same person growing into different individuals, all unified in purpose. It was the Committee's hope in proof of concept, a testament to your original base's strength of character. "

>Tilting his head back, he shakes it slowly from side to side.

"The long year here isolated from support has undoubtedly affected me. When I had Anon retrieve you I had the cautious hope that a small bit, some peace of mind knowing at least one other piece of Committee support would be present to ease my mind. But it seems the retrieval process has made that impossible."

>Leaning forward once more, he stares down at the grass between his legs.

"In the Shibuya Scenario, any operating A.I. are to defer command to the highest ranking operator. Command and control are meant for a preliminary council or committee of persons, not a single A.I. and certainly not a process you should involve yourself in until you at least have a physical interface. And to think I had plans to integrate you into a mechanical body to work with your pony counterpart..."

>Continuing to look downwards, his vision seems to look past his visor readouts onto some pattern in the grass below while he mutters.

"And once again, ever onwards."


The L.O.N.T
gTYPo
?
No.223617
03-19_Lont_Sand_cutter_overlook.png

Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223644
223884
>>223271
>Pulling out the DJ's large list of alchemical ingredients, after handing it over to the relatively normal speaking filly, she places it down on the low counter for the other three to inspect as well.
>Vaguely concerned about the amounts requested, the first one's ears flop down in a typical 'oh no, work' motion.
"Um.. wow. That's a LOT of stuff. All of this-"
>Snagging what was assuredly a charcoal pencil and marking small circles next to select ingredients.
>Examining what she'd cleared, it was roughly a sixth off the total order.
"We can hoofle these but Neightime isn't here so it'll take us a bunch of trips. Let me get you a slip before you go."
>Finding an untouched sheet of yellow-white papyrus from the messy table, she peers at your sheet while slowly jotting down passable Common Equestrian while speaking to the other three fillies.
"Chase and Lush, you two take the lighter stuff, okay? Remember what Neightime said, don't carry a lot around 'cause both of you are still growing. Kezza, you take the vegetables, fruits, grasses, roots, seeds, and skins. I'll get the jars, bottles, buckets, and powders when I'm done."
>Hearing rather merry assents, the two known rhymers dispatch themselves towards where the colts had disappeared while the slightly taller third ducks under a nearby table, only her hooves sticking out.
>Tossing numerous small white saddlepacks from underneath, the third Zebra slings them over her saddle and turns to trot into the racks.

>Having covered both sides, the Zebra filly's sheet is stuck on a hoof, then lifted at you with a bright smile.
"I dunno how long this will take but maybe four or five hours since I'm not supposed to let those two do a lot. Anything else I can help you find?"
Something...Something -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
tiPaC
?
No.223723
223792 223837
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>223132
>Snorting sharply at the door the old Unicorn sat down onto his haunches, the click of joints audible to Adon.
"Wholeheartedly agree. We don't need Slavers and Excelleon's Constructs' when we have the stallion himself. He was fanatical enough to wilfully create a gateway into the Construct realm in the middle of Canterlot, I cannot imagine what he has done to himself and others."

>Turning his head Golden looked back to the Witcher with an appraising eye intrigued by his plan.
"By all means try your Luck on it. Its ridiculously layered with magic. Perhaps it won't see your own brand of magic as a threat seeing how it is not of Tallus and surrounding plains."
>He said as he bobbed his head from side to side, as if bouncing the idea in his mind.
>Then, while still sitting he scooted back another foot away from the doors.

>>223163
>The world below Spruce was a really nice view, just like back home.

>As he watched the Chitqu scuttled faster towards the blast doors, runes on its back growing brighter.
>Ears flicked back to the Operator, and once what he said was heard Golden Horn stood up immediately. Something that caused more joint popping.
"Why of course OF COURSE! Spruce you are a genius!"
>Exclaimed the Unicorn, head snapping back and forth in search of the small rodent.

>The critter in question had reached the foot of the doors, the magic field in front of them flashing in multi-coloured hues as it processed the intruder.
"Now how do -we- get past it."
>While the Chitqu pawed at the doors the sigils on its back armour grew bigger as they became clearer, floating off its metal jacket to imprint onto the flashing magical barrier.
>These runes were familiar to both Spruce and Adon upon seeing them...
"An...equation?"
>Said golden, perplexed.

4+(7x1)+9+(2x5) =???
The L.O.N.T
tiPaC
?
No.223736
226578
l-lewd.gif
>>223174

>Lont hummed at hearing of what happened with Glacier and the Shells duties back then.
>'Certainly know a lot of places. Too many.'
"You shells were certainly everywhere. Do you pay the Conclaves with nose boops for their services?"
>Lont asked jokingly as a means to answer, seeing how he didn't have any other adequate response.

"I'm glad she is appreciated out here. No split no divide. No me having to jump into the deep end to bring both sides together just so she isn't stressing herself to death."
>He chortled at the biting description of the population he had to win over.
>Then went slack for a spell at the listing of the various mental states, he only knew of ennui and even then he had trouble spelling it the first time he encountered the word.
"Ye -Yes. Everything you just said. Even Luna has limits when it comes to doing what she is best at."

>'That is a lot of food, man, she must miss them.'
"The only things that live up so far north are those that live by 'Eat or Be Eaten', no vegetables grow under such frigid conditions. Can't fault the Melodines. Well I won't, but others shouldn't."
>Lont said, adding that bit of clarification at the end with a stumble.

>He again glanced at Tacit then back to Glacier, giving a head nod.
"And I thank you for that."
>He heard 'Bed Warmer' before so it did not register to him.
>As she explained he went quiet, expression neutral as he internally screamed.
>'What is she on about what is she on about since when was Las Pegasus and Lucky and the Rogue Circles enemies of the Crystal Empires?!'

>Lonts mouth opened then closed, his question dying on his tongue as he observed the new mare. He assumed she was tending to Tacits' wounds with how her hooves were placed, he hoped.
>Though, it did not hurt to gaze a bit harder at the mare to see if his assumptions were correct.
[1d6 = 4]
>E.Perception
[1d6 = 6]

[1d6 = 4]

[1d6+1 = 3]
>H.E

>Silence.
>What Glacier was saying was ludicrous at best however he hid his growing doubts by just nodding with a broad smile as she talked.
"Good."
>Is what Lont responded with as he thought of wringing every scrap of detail out of Tacit, he will not believe a single thing until he gets it out of the horses mouth.
>'There is no fucking way Lucky is dead, let alone being some con artist that strung Razorback along for years.'

>With crystal hoof in hand Lont gave it a full lipped kiss.
"Heir to be hmm? That will be interesting to see how that happens."
>Hand still holding her hoof the Heir-To-Be-Of-What scooted in his seat closer to Shattered Glacier, meeting her gaze with a number 3 Sensual Stare.
"Oh my dear sweet mare, you have not experienced the touch of a human. Let alone me and one so well...'trained' by Cadence herself. When I said I will shatter you into pieces I meant it."
>He promised, ending it with a sly wink. Honestly he did not know what to expect, but he hoped he could live up to the lofty expectations he has alluded too.
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
auNN1
?
No.223792
223837 224968
>>223723

>As the equation tool form before his eyes, he stared somewhat confused at the door.
>Was this a question...? A math question?
"Thirty."
>He said after a few moments of staring at the door and struggling to remember his math classes.
>A genius he may not be but at least he could solve simple math problems and point out things in plain view of the others.
>Truly a intellectual.
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.223837
224968

>>223723
>>223792
>As he's three-fourths of the way from finishing his hand sign, Adon hears Golden Horn yell excitedly from something Spruce mentioned.
>The chitqu's armor's reacting to the door.
"Well, look at that."
>True, their small companion's armor began glowing with runes that literally floated and embedded themselves into the door itself.
"Also that..."
>It was math, basic algebra. Luckily, formula calculation was necessary for potion brewing and all things alchemical for witchers.
>What was that mnemonic Vesimir drilled into their heads?
>Please Exterminate More Deadly Alghouls Swiftly.
>Spruce gives and answer, while he solves the equation to himself and nods confidently as his own conclusion.
"Agreed. I came up with thirty, too. There's no way THAT'S all it's gonna take to unlock this..."
Basin Village: Last Stop Restaurant
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.223881
223908
>>223273
>Finding no available reason for 'why' especially since you had little experience with the Deep Moorites, the only explanations forthcoming were they'd been struck by sudden laziness, or the road was safer than sleeping in tree branches.

>Striding into the relatively normal Basin, that is: batponies asleep everywhere, north stalls covered with fruit, local collectibles or delectables, and the air filled with varying degrees of devious kee's.
>A comfortable mix of Lunar coated unicorns and pegasi were strolling about, although a number of unusually dark, solidly built earth ponies, all mares from what you could see, were currently exploring the market in small tight-knit groups.
>Upon walking into the east side restaurant it was quite clear that most batponies had little interest in its calm atmosphere, the majority inside being older, veteran Lunar aligned unicorns wearing dull blue caparisons taking up most of the tables.
>Probably the midnight lunch crowd.

>Spotting five dark red robed ponies sporting peculiar white trim around the hoods, they were clustered at the far north side of the restaurant, fully taking over three tables while surrounded by overloaded saddle packs.
>Approaching them, an indecent number of books were stacked on their table, something that only Cult batponies would have since their kin were mostly incapable of reading.
>Approaching the bunch, a dull brown mare's snout turns up to sniff in your direction, thin lines of white scars in a partial spiderweb pattern visible.
"Burnt feathers..? Ah, Blazing General's mate, welcome."
>Speaking in a firm, oddly demure older voice without the typical sporadic, ear-bleeding high tones of most batponies, a hoof is motioned towards the one uncluttered seat at the low table.
"Eating out and away from stifling routines, yes? Come, sit with us should it please you. I recommarend the lemon roasted skewers, it is an excellent selection of fresh ocean catch without single-mindedness or dedication to a mere one or two ingredients."
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.223884
226605
>>223644
>Seeing the zebras roused to work, Zhun shifts in his position as he waits for the "manager" to finish
>In fact...
"Almost forgot, too caught up on grocery shopping. I'm Zhun. What's your name?"
>He retrieves his notes from the DJ and looks it over
>"Hmm. Still missing a bunch. At least a good chunk is out of the way. We didn't have any contracts coming from this far out anyway according to that cowboy."
>Looking down at what he assumes is a shipping manifest or a receipt, he takes the piece of papyrus with a smile
>He looks over that as well
>"Maybe it's type of merchandise...or supply."
"Oh, I think I'm good. Let just check this out...oh and can you read Crystal pony by any chance?"
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
Q+iXH
?
No.223908
226608
>>223881
>Clem keeps quietly striding, not knowing how heavy batponies sleep

>"Been a while since I've been in a restaurant proper."
>Looking around for those Cult ponies, he spots them very quickly
>Hearing himself referred just by smell, he gives the mare a smile and a nod
"Hi there."
>Looking over to the seat over to where the mare points to, he takes a seat while talking
"Maybe eating but still on routine. Scouting and investigating Construct happenings.""
>Maybe he should eat something
>Apprehensive about the knowledge the general populace has of the Guillotine, he figures since it's Cult, they would know about where a large amount of their Destroyers are going
"I might try those, yeah. So, when investigating, I talked to a ship about Constructs and for hints of weaknesses, intrinsic or otherwise, I think she referred to a Silver Monolith?"
Maths... -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
6TMm4
?
No.224968
224998 225014
tenor.gif
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>223792
>For a brief moment nothing changed, the numbers floated silently still in front of Spruce. Then, they faded away with no indication of the answer being correct.
>Until the Operator looked more closely and saw the barrier had become slightly more transparent, having done so with the disappearance of the numbers he assumed.
"Oh. So this is how it will happen...Bucker was always such an anti-intellectual..."
>Muttered Golden darkly.

>A swell of pride filled Spruces' chest at getting it right though before he could truly bask in the glory of being a clever clogs another equation began to coalesce again.
"Should of listened to Mrs.Algebra more."
>Golden, again, muttered.

>>223837
>Adon's assumption was proven true when a new equation formed in place where the first one was.
>No.
>It was several equations just in smaller fonts to take up the same amount of space as the first one!
"Wha-"
>Blurted Golden Horn, confused at seeing the four new mathematical questions presented before the trio.

>While the set of equations settled into floating in place in front of Spruce, Adon and Golden the Chitqu was still scratching at the double doors, it now standing on its hind legs so it could scrape higher and faster.
>Well, a little higher and faster to the best of its small abilities.
>With a snort the old Unicorn pointed his relighting horn at the magical barrier that stood before them.

>Golden snorted in annoyance, his horn lighting up.
"To Tartarus if my horn hurts. You two have the mathematics covered So I will see us getting inside in a much faster sense, I never liked maths to begin with!"
[1d6+2 = 5]
>B.Arcane Awareness
[1d6+2 = 4]

>The new equations are...
4 × (40 - 5) - 7 √(50 × 6) - 4 =

243 - 9(8 × 3) = ??? - 11 =

6!-3! = ??? ÷ 70 - 5 =

2π + 3e =
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
5AePi
?
No.224998
225014 227087
>>224968

>Spruce stared at the new equations and began to frown underneath his face mask.
>As it turned out, Golden wasn't the only one who should have listened more to Mrs Algebra...
>He stared at the equations for a few more moments before he bent over, grabbing a notepad and pen out of the pouch on his leg.
>Then, he took a seat on the cold ground before the door and began to scribble down all the various equations.
>The first wouldn't be too hard, right...?

4×(40-5) - 7√(50x6)-4=
4x35-7√300-4
140-7√296
...

>He sat there, staring at the first one for a few minutes and eventually, just decided at the moment to just move onto the next one.

243 - 9(8 × 3) = ??? - 11 =
243-9(24)=???-11=
243-216=27-11=16

>He looked at the second one, checking it over a few times before nodding to himself.
"I believe... Number 2 is 16."
>Now, moving onto number 3...

6!-3! = ??? ÷ 70 - 5 =

>He pauses for this one two, wincing as he tries to recall what in the fuck the exclamation stood for, it seemed to familiar...
>Was it...
>Oh, yes, it was, Factorals!

714 = 714 ÷ 70 - 5 =
>70 went into 714 10 times... Annnd, 14 was 7x2 so... 10.2.
10.2-5 = 5.2

"Three I think is... 5.2?"

>Now to 4...
>...
[Norwegian] "What the hell is an 'e'? How am I even supposed to calculate this?"
>He quietly complained to himself in his native tongue, staring at the last question dumbfounded.
"... I'm... Not sure how you'd do this last one"
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.225014
227087
>>224968
>Not really believing the door picked up both of their answers, just by idly discussing it, the equation fades and the door shimmers slightly.
>Going by his medallion softly skipping, the door's barrier had weakened slightly.
"I take it back then..."
>Before he could completely relax, four more... complicated appear on the door after another.
"I don't like them much either, but they're needed for work. Else all I'd need is enough to factor how much coin I need to price per necrophage."
>Chuckling to himself, he looks over the new math problems one-by-one.
>The first one is doable, and so is the second.
>The third... confuses him. And the fourth even more so.

>>224998
>He sees Spruce start on the first equation, not recognizing the symbol in it.
>I don't recognize that zig-zag mark, there.
>It looked like when he did long division, but he's sure that wasn't it.
>Looked like something elves dabbled in.

>He also moves onto the second equation, seeing something he knows as well as Spruce.
>The answer looks good after checking the other humans work, and nods.
"Yeah, sixteen looks good for that one. One out of four, at least."
>The third one... he doesn't get, but he'll default to Spruce's answer. He seems to understand the method.
"I'll trust you on that one. Not familiar with exclamation points. What are they used for?"
>The fourth one.... he hates symbols and letters with numbers.
"I think that first symbol is pi. Learned it from an elf mathematician, don't know how to calculate it though. That 'e' though... I know I've seen elves solve for that before. Sorry, that's my extent for algebra."
>Adon shrugs apologetically, but only slightly as he stands up and looks for any results on the door.
"Two out of four. Maybe if we can weaken the barrier enough, I can still try out Yrden and dilute the remaining layers on the door."
Jamal Ratchet
!PsOrb9esFQ
H8C8w
?
No.225140
228903 235840
>>222572
>Jamal stares blankly at the shaman as goes on like only a woke stoner can.
"Uhh, sure, all y'all think alike and don't lie. Works for me."
>He scratches his head in confusion over the rain filly's presence.
"Hol' up now, I thought deserts didn' get much rain? Nah, we can talk about it later, I'm here for the new goddess."
>Nodding in agreement with the zebra's explanation, Jamal rifles through his bag again and grabs one of his Mango Fanta™ drinks and sets it aside.
"Hmm, makes enough sense I guess."
>Jamal accepts the pipe and takes a good hit off of it while setting the mixtapes in the shaman's other hoof.
"Of course bruh, I'd hate for the one goddess I've actually communicated with to hate my homies."
>At this point he also realizes that he forgot to introduce himself and holds out the Fanta™ he grabbed.
"Aw fuck, I didn't introduce myself; I'm Jamal Ratchet."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.225465
225471 225557
>>223323
>One paw lifts to emulate a motion similar to a desperate pony digging through snow, which is then pointed at himself, you, outside, straight down, and finally back to him again.
>Face creasing into a deep frown as his wings and ears droop, the Moor cat emits a tiny, despaired meow.
>Though, you had to remind yourself since the hoof could still be a hallucination, Moor cats were tiny and wholly incapable of doing more than acting as eyes, or ears, save for the rare few Lunar adherents whom managed to bond with one.
>Frowning at the first question, the second incurs a definite 'no' paw motion.
>Expression softening back to normality, loud rumbling purrs are given back in thanks for the attention.
>One side of the Moor feline's lips pull back in a mimicked wavy S-shape, returning the nuzzle with a nose-to-snoot touch followed by a short, understanding nod.
>The catbat shakes his head in the negative before sprawling across the amber pad, huffing in a still-tired marener.

>Catching bright shafts of red in your eye sideways, a sphere of water rushes out from the landed sphere and is swiftly interrupted by a trio of unnaturally long, nearly shattered batpony wingclaws pointed directly at you with a sarcastically pained tone.
"Oh, you mean this crypt of DESERTERS? I'm sure that's going to sound positively great in my report to Princess Luna once she recovers from one foreleg, half a wing, and part of her face shredded, torn, and bombed off by Construct Breachers. I'll make sure to stay civil with them AFTER they meet proper modern standards, thanks-"

>Hearing, but certainly not seeing, the Tartarus Isle crew nor Arcane Blades doing their best to quietly sneak off around the crypt itself, the first thing you spot is a large, dark left wing, one that most ponies would easily mistake for the Nightmare's.
>As the wing retracts backwards a blood-streaked, dark purple Lunar Council robe is exposed, the fit and size marking the mare hobbling towards you as a modern batpony in her 40's or so.
>Performing a double take as the mare stops, both oddities of a slightly recurved horn jutting forwards and hearing a crystalline hoof scraping on stone, accompanied by the stench of Construct weaponry, somewhat freshly dried equine blood, and a low sigh of disinterest from a breathy pegasus brings the second figure into focus.
>Considerably taller than the Councilmare was a wiry built, dark purple pegasi mare, perhaps two hooves shorter than the Solar Princess, with the same exact eye coloration of the Lunar Princess, though emitting a faint glow.
>Perched atop her head was a bright pink silk sunhat styled after those commonly seen in most Equestrian cities, both ears laid to either side in a relaxed pose.
>In fact, the mare was close enough to be an excellent body double for Luna, that is if she had a horn, was a bit taller, and didn't have exceptionally large wings.
"Not going to help me limp in? Then either piss off to explore or sit here and don't cause any trouble! I'll send for you once I'm done with these deserting bitchmares!"
>Orienting at the Councilmare's half-snarl, half-hiss back to her, the potential lookalike makes a heavy shrug, swiveling left on hoof and whimsically staring into the post-midnight fog slowly creeping in.
>Which was, at least to you, also quite creepy.

>A small flash of distinctive Empire crystal in the fairly crude shape of a hoof is seen under the Councilmare's robe, muttering to herself in a coldly loathing tone while passing by you at a body lengths distance.
"Luna better not have another damned foal long as I'm alive, this one's bad enough as is-"

>>223366
"An irritable consequence 'less the vainly hopeful minotaur was correct in his assumptions. Honest regards to thee traveler, but naught with a Pale Destroyer shall thou find a breeding mare."
>Front right hoof tapping on her semi-futon, the archaic Stalliongradian mare turns to snap a quiet order in a clicking dialect quite similar to ancient batpony at the others, whom quickly scurry to the armor and weapon racks next to their own pads.
>Head cocking once more at hearing the motion, both ears swivel forwards, then pin backwards, an expression of pained aggravation creasing the upper half of her burnt face.
"The fault be not yours traveler but may Void-flux scorch such Lunar-kin whom forgot our warnings. Whether deluded or ignorant they are, pain shall come 'pon those which dared ignore sincere lessons. Ambrosia settles body, mind, ka, and herd safely as one."

>Catching a slight taste of unknown bitterness underneath the mixed drink, the lead vampony turns towards her own rack, reaching out for a set of common looking kanpri hoofboots while emitting a disgusted snort.
"Thy worries be unfounded traveler. Such as time proclaims itself to march on, tireless the Collective were gifted to be. Care solely for duty we do, little for injury, naught for distance nor distress. Assemble quickly we shall, take all to cure thy Lunarite stupidity we will."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.225471
236801
1224430.png
>>225465
>Sunny reacted with what would have been a blink if she weren't wearing an eye patch.
>The Lunar Princess would be fine, she was likely walking those injuries off at the present moment, Moon willing.
"This formerly sinking, undermared reliquary crypt of recently wakened and historically out of touch Lunar Vampires, yes. The commander is, as I said, below, briefing them on what they've missed."
>Finishing her surveillance of the crypt's surroundings, Sunny about faced on the spot and followed the Councilmare back into the crypt, though somewhat behind and to her right in silent lockstep.
>There was little else for her to do other than maintain a stoic silence.
>One of her wings did absentmindedly unfurl and touch at the gem pressed against her neck thoughtfully.
>A thought occurred to her, and she spoke up as they descended.
"In case you're unaware and care about such things, they're not fond of names being spoken aloud, titles are fine."
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.225557
235840
>>225465
>Jeff's eyes widen slightly in surprise as he holds in the fruit drink, managing to swallow and not spit-taking.
>She thinks he and Mercy... need to clear his throat.
"*cough*, sorry... went down the windpipe.*"
>He notices the other vampires moving to their beds and grabbing arms and gear.
>The main mare herself becomes occupied collecting her own hoofboots, and Jeff looks back over to the armory racks.
"Ambrosia does all that, huh? I know a few persons that can use a bit of that."
>Namely him, for one.
>Jeff saunters over back to the rack with all the blades, eyeing the three sentient diamondine biteblades again.
>Bowl still in hand, and finishing it off in one more gracious gulp, he wiggles his digits over the three aforementioned.
'Eenie, meenie, mine-ey, fuck it.'
[1d3 = 1]

>And grabs one of them at random, bringing the sheath onto the high part of his left shoulder to Sticky it onto him with the blade handle facing down.
>Content with his selection he nods to the lead mare vampire and allows her back to gear up with the rest of her kin, setting the empty drink bowl on the futon he was resting on.
"While you all get prepared, I need to discuss our travel plans with my companions so they can prepare to leave. Let me know when you are all ready."

>Turning back to the cracked open doors, his first priority is to debrief Mercy, Boris, and Sunny. Wherever the third was, he hope she hadn't wandered off too far.
>The Second was to put himself in a defensive position between the vampires and the councilmare's inevitable arrival.
>More than likely, she's going to barge in here and assert herself.
>Peaking through the doors, Jeff looks at the current situation of Mercy and the little golem.
"Hey, you two in one piece out here? So, they all want to head up to the Citadel. We're gonna have to lead them back to the Basin. Objections from either of you?"
>He Pauses for a long second, before adding another point.
"Also there's probably going to be a horned batpony storming in here. So yeah, be ready for me to mitigate that."
The GM L.O.N.T
jWvbw
?
No.225890
Amerose.png

Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.226405
226418
>>223405
>Getting an immediate return click from the Knight, you could almost hear the immense frown from her voice.
*"Understood. I'd rather they not waste manabombs if this-"*
>A loud, resounding ring of a metal several times harder than steel is heard from her open comm.
*"Could be opened quietly. Also give.. 'him' this news: this team's spent all but a couple hours tonight scouting the town. They've found a few small local creatures inhabiting some of the open buildings and a few weird plants. They say it's been abandoned for at least two hundred years, oldest one says four hundred. They knew the storm was coming and shut down their ee-lick-tron-ic stuff, that's why they didn't report back. Also this vault reminds me of the ones in some of Stalliongrad's older depositories, too."*

>Transmitting a short line in the negative, Witch-Two suspends her city mapping protocols for an immediate, if poor, readout of the building's structure:
>Unlike ferrocrete the base materials were melded together by an arcane molecular bonding process, one that the Admiral blipped was still poorly understood.
>Using combinations of bonded sheet granite, slate, limestone, and even shale, she estimated the local equine structures to be precisely half a meter thick in all instances, and designed to last one millennia before needing external sealing or repairs.
>Sensors orienting towards the Knight's location, the Admiral recognized the metal as a world equivalent of barely refined titanium at a puzzling two meters in thickness, though she wasn't able to identify much more.
>Delivering a moving ASCII image of a plasma grenade burning perhaps two centimeters, Witch-Two clarifies her earlier report that a complete city map, including underground passageways and lower floors, would require half a local standard hour.
>Which, curiously, amounted to 40 minutes.

>Registering the volume of steam wafting off the armor and highly welcoming heat briskly creeping in from the pile of crystalline stones, the thought occurred that this specific armor was designed for basic non-tactical functions based on her modified Witch Hunter's greatcoat and wide brimmed hat as her xenos body would have necessitated a ridiculous amount of customization.

>Chisan steadily turns from white to a pale shade of red while you soak in the comfortable heat, and upon finding that everything save for undergarments was now quite warm and dry, the stoic not-Machine Spirit pings a statement which translates to:
'what mobile chassis? i will not be a damned servitor'

>Brown eyes narrowing, he glances up towards the slightly fractured plate, then down while placing the auto-injector and tool with a muted glower.
"A necessity of the Era Lock's limitations placed on humans whom willingly arrive on or become sent to Equestria, Enginseer. We are reduced to the basic condition of a pre-adult human with basic wargear. Should we overcome those limitations we will return to our normal capabilities in short order. Should that stage be completed we are then given the chance to, as the Inquisitor has implied several times, expand beyond our relatively simple mortality. I will warn you that the Inquisitor has forbade me from speaking more until you have been properly introduced to one of this world's leaders."
>Grasping his Hotshot laspistol by the barrel and holding it out to you, the other hand points at your more basic one, then towards the hallway where it sounded like the Vostroyans were arguing over a bar of some sort.
"Here, a temporary trade as you know the Rite of Continuous Firing and how to sustain it for opening locks. I will remain here on guard."
Mallia Castella
+7lg+
?
No.226418
236254
>>226405
>The response from the knight elicited a quiet, mumbled reply into her commbead, putting a hand to the side of her Inquisitorial flak helmet's microphone as she spoke -- mostly out of habit, more than necessity.

"*Wilco! Thank you, Raspberry. And don't worry, we wont need any bombs. Be there in a moment.*"

>With that said, she visibly glanced towards the ceiling as the scan feeds from Admiral Auspex feeds into her. Upon the scan being completed, she smiled quietly with a degree of satisfaction, and politely thanked Witch-Two for the help. Allowing them to work on the map once more.
(Thank you, Admiral.)

>And, just as her glance went towards Chisan to pay attention to him. She wried her lips into her lip as her helmet replies to her previous thought. Sighing heavily through her nose, exhaling a bunch of stress that near-instantly builds up right then and there.
(Not what I was thinking. I could probably make something more sleek, and robotic... Uhh, something more akin to an equine! Unless you want to be a servo-titan for something bigger. Or I could make something else. That's what I meant by 'mobile'. But if you don't WANT to... S-sorry. I wouldn't make you, of all people, a mere servitor.)
>She felt a mixture of emotions surge through her after sending that message. Excitement, sadness, guilt, and a whole lot of suddenly increasing stress. For just a moment, she felt utterly awful and hyper at the same time.
>It showed on her face by how she beamed with a smile as bright as the sun for a single second at her own thoughts.
>But that feeling goes away in the next second as her eyes focused more on Chisan as he spoke; focusing on his narrowed eyes, arching her brow with some worry in response to his glowering.

>What came out of his mouth ... Left her very still. Even ceasing her motions to carefully setting up the pieces of 'carapace' in a compulsive type of order, and just turning her head to fully face him and listen with a sudden, rapt attention.
>Basically EVERYTHING that the Stormtrooper had said put the enginseer in a stunned, deadpan silence. Her entire mind goes blank, for once, as she is forcefully brought back from her thoughts by all that.

"I... Have many questions. I-..."

>The Enginseer reflexively brings her hands back to the hood of her robes, bringing it up, snugly over her helmeted head with a bit of a noticeable tug of her petite hands.
>Eyes downcasting to the Hotshot pistol he offers her, and quickly giving ANOTHER stress-filled sigh - this time more through her mouth, as she gave a quick nod. Mallia then quickly unbuttoned her own holster and drew out her poor quality laspistol...
>As her mechadendrite gently retracts itself behind her back after it's tasking had ended.

>The girl let her gaze linger on the laspistol. A pained grimace crossing her face as her fingers affectionately rubbed across the plastic body for a split second, just enough time to quietly send a signal at the thing to ask if it was mad at her because she had not devised a better housing for them yet.
>Then, she looked back up. Smiling a weak, sad, but earnest smile. Taking the hotshot pistol in one hand and holding out her pistol towards him with the other.
"I am obligated to tell you that this laspistol is particularly finicky in it's current state..."
>After the trade, the Enginseer briefly looked the hotshot laspistol up and down, scrutinizing the body of the weapon with an expert eye and pinging it with the Litany of Borrowing and Machine Greeting, to reassure it that it was in good hands.

[Techna-Lingua] "Dear Machine Spirit, I take you from your rightful operator only briefly. I apologize for any distress this may cause you."

>Then she looked up to Chisan again, putting the Hotshot laspistol back into the holster. Though she lingered there a moment longer, looking to him and flattening her face as she delivered a more relevant statement.

"And-... Additionally, as an update. Knight Raspberry said the recruits have found a few small, local creatures inhabiting some of the open buildings, and some, to quote, "weird plants". They've spent a couple hours tonight scouting this town. And the reason for why they went dark was because they knew the storm was coming, and shut down their electronics as a precaution."
"... Raspberry also says that the vault reminded her of one of Stalliongrad's older depositories. But I don't know what that's supposed to mean."
>Mallia breathes out another, slower, heavier breath just a tiny bit short of a sigh. Stiffening her shoulders, and rolling them once as warms herself up enough to relax her muscles.
>A look of physical relief crossing her face, despite the tension behind her eyes as they glanced to the stormtrooper, in silence, for a moment longer...
"The map will be done in 40 minutes, as well."
>She added, then finally began to carefully, and softly walk back a few steps from the stormtrooper, to begin walking around him; eyes directing themselves towards the 'barely human sized hallway' leading to the vault.
>... Luckily she was short!

"... I will ask about the other things you've told me later, after this."
>Mallia would mumble, as she strides with a purpose to find Raspberry and the recruits, adjusting the rucksack a bit with a few hops and tugs with her hands as she walked.

>It was only in that moment that she was suddenly hit with a distinct curiosity to see the all-new and likely ANCIENT technology the recruits had brought with them!
>It made her walk even faster just thinking about it! And even smile a little bit wider than she usually would in her current situation!


Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.226551
226580
>>223437
>Perhaps, the illogical portion of your brain theorizes, ponies were actually made from candy: the bright colors, cotton candy textures, and appealing internal reservoirs were hard to dismiss.

>Finding nothing on the stallion and a bare trio of stray droplets on the otherwise clean floor, the medic's head turns to frown thoughtfully in your direction.
"Due to the higher metabolic rates of pre-modern pegasi I estimate four to six hours until the Dampeners wear off. I am unsure if he will be capable of speaking as the injuries to his lung and shoulder were quite severe. The other injuries are moderate but he will be incapable of moving for three nights at minimum. If you have a minute to spare please find Doctor Tipper, or-"
>Now poking at the, audibly, reluctant human below her, Nova gives out a flat toned, faux-sinister chuckle.
"Will the patients willingly cooperate so I do not have to extend their tormarent?"
>A quick, dejected 'yes' is given, to which the mare nods smartly, then points a hoof towards the surgical room doors in the rear.
"Nevermind that request. Instead please knock on the right door twice hard, then once soft. Torven and you must leave the Clinic for now as my auric field is straining to the utmost."
Cairn Wharf: Lunar Outpost Nine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.226556
226558
>>223523
>The left mare's eyebrows raise upon hearing your mutter, her partner merely giving a small, fangless smile.
>Speaking up in a bafflingly even and calm mid-20's tone, one utterly unlike the many batponies you'd unfortunately come across, the mare's snout twitches humorously.
"Keeping at least two eyes on her at all times."
>Pointing her left trio of wingclaws behind you, in the corner of your right eye you notice the same dirty orange batmare from before, except now seated with several bright green painted Ferron at a small fruit stand close to the main pier's circular dock.
>Which, you note, was an excellent vantage point to spy on you.

>Piping up with a likewise calm tone, the teenaged batmare takes on a disgruntled expression.
"Pepper Spice Mango, current de facto Cult of the Dark Horse leader. She trails any human that comes to the Cairn. Slips up to ask questions, take notes, requests an esoteric examination now and then. Nothing sinister."
>The other mare clicks her tongue quietly, spreading both sets of wingclaws in an openly suspicious marener.
"That's conjecture at this time, motives and motivations unknown. Recently there's been a behavioral shift: a few of the Cult's researchers have had, quote, 'sudden interest in Razorback' according to one of the Sea's Bounty. Until one of us learns what the Cult's intentions are, we're to prevent them from contacting humans."
>The first Lunar batmare's ears flatten onto her helmet, turning an unappreciative glare at her opposite.
"Likewise conjecture, they've had plenty of opportunity to interact with humans here or elsewhere. They've not been hostile, attempted to tried to impede or abduct one-"
"That doesn't mean she or they won't, nor do we have more than a vague assumption of the-"
"Stop. Right now."
>Eyes rolling in aggravation, the first Guard half-flaps her wings, then offers you an apologetic grin.
"Ignore her. Spending too much time off the Citadel makes some of us Moonborn highly paranoid. Be aware that Pepper Mango is trying to mareneuver into a position for a chat with you. My suggestion? Play the game, outmareneuver her or pin her in a corner, ask her what she wants. From the few ponies that've talked she's quite nice, though her near-unicorn maretality and formal mareners make her use long, complicated, sleep-inducing words."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
HZesC
?
No.226558
236291
>>226556
"Those eyes regarding both of you, or just one?"
>Bubba pretends to read one of the posters while glancing back at their target.
"I haven't personally heard of this Cult, though I'm sure someone in Razorback has."
>Shifting his gaze to the next poster, Bubba hummed softly.
"I'll keep an eye out for any cultists, let you know what they want if I weasel out information from one if they approach me."
>"If I can tell they're a cultist."
>He cracked a bit of a smile.
"A bit of paranoia never really hurts. Thanks for the heads up, and I'll be sure to stay awake."
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.226573
228158
>>223530
"Multiple viruses detected systemwide, unable to neutralize. Unable to purge Construct-infected datacores. Mass system infection in progress, initiating emergency reformat from backup-"
>Changing to a partially blacked out, fuzzy image of 'Spiral' pointing one hoof upwards, the 'Marquis' voice turns to a flat monotone.
"The next time you come into contact with Constructs, sir? Shut down everything electronic. You have no idea what this specific planar abomination is able to control-"
>Beeping a short warning noise, the voice cuts out as the image is replaced by the entire screen becoming a single red progress bar starting at 0%.
>Climbing quickly to 1%, then 5%, the interface becomes an unreadable mess of symbols, most of which orient into hostile, organically moving patterns virtually the same as the bio-nanites you witnessed in Spiral's lab.
>A large 'REFORMAT IN PROGRESS' is overlaid while the vague Construct language becomes steadily drowned out by unreadable coding.
>Leaving the helmet one-quarter darkened as it reaches 100%, the various readouts and display elements cease functioning.

>Sitting alone for.. you weren't quite sure how long, one small window on the right side of the internal display appears:
'REFORMAT SUCCESSFUL. ANALYZING AVAILABLE DRIVE SPACE... COMPLETE. ANALYZING DRIVE COMPATIBILITY... COMPLETE. REINSTALLING FROM BACKUP, PLEASE WAIT'
>Dragging your attention to it, a number of systems and programs were being skipped due to data corruption, fragmentation, sector damage, and incompatibilities.
>Watching the reinstallation, approximately 30% of the N.O.A.H. system had survived in a moderately unstable state, though whether that was due to Construct damage or from being destroyed in field you didn't know.
>Finally, the basic selection screen comes up, yet with the wrong color, several misplaced symbols across it, and a twitching window corner.

"Are you injured or require assistance?"
>Came a prickly, agitated older Crystal mare's voice, heavy armor clanking to a halt directly behind you.
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.226578
239745
>>223736
>Expression blank for three seconds, the Shell's face creases in merrimarent, though with some unsubtle apprehension.
"If only. Information, news, food from other Conclaves, materials from the few mines we were able to clear out, killing off any predators and salvaging what we could from them.. ..and the few Construct globes that found their way north. Some of their breeds didn't last long when the blizzards kicked up, but the ones that did were serious trouble. I'd like to forget those ones though."
>Briefly staring you down, the left forehoof makes a short brushing away motion as she sighs.
"You can't poke a turtle to make it leave the shell when it doesn't want to. She won't listen to us, so the next chance you get tell her to take a vacation. 'Visit all the Conclaves' or something, she needs it, and honestly you ought to as well."
>Grinning at your vocal stumble, Glacier's snout wriggles in faint humor.
"Not a mind or soul doctor either huh? Neither am I, just learned. Pick up a book some time, really helps to know what you're dealing with and how to do the same."
>Lips pursing in recall, a short nod towards the trio of Conclavists cooking up a storm is made.
"Most ponies don't even try to fault them. The few things that do grow out here are hard to find, harder to dig out, or almost inedible without cooking. Frost yams were disgustingly bitter if they weren't baked, frostsnaps would make the heartiest Crystal pony vomit if they weren't boiled for an hour or two, and iceberries could only be eaten if they fermented on the vine. That is, if something else didn't find them first."
>Squinting at you in visible suspicion, Glacier's ears flop to either side while her gaze meanders towards the Councilierge.
"Forget everything I said. Nothing's important right now except we're all still intact."

>Noting the Melodine Matron's precise circular hoof movements and a low pitched, gentle hum, a bubble of dull rainbow hues underneath the frog was visible, one virtually the same as those used by Crystal healers.
>Pessimistically speaking, the earth stallion's near-life threatening wounds were going to require at least two weeks of strict care to recover from.
>If not longer.

>Returning her focus to you, Shattered's lips pull back into a wry smile, her ears wiggling back and forth in deceptive motions.
"Then I'll let you off with a polite warning: you can shatter my heart but you'll never break it. Also, don't stick yourself with the pieces, I kind of need those and they're awfully hard to get ahoof of way out here in the tundra."

>Perhaps finally having enough, one of the cooks speaks up in a grating, partially aroused tone.
"Should the two of you be done with the foreplay, spare the rest of us some misery, yes? I'm trying to WORK here."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
wqAuv
?
No.226580
236879
>>226551
>A simple, weak nod is the response his brain gets.
(It could be. Most alien worlds have different rulesets than our own. Eating them is out of the question, though. That wouldn't be nice to do, especially if I take the role of being a diplomat with the ponies as allies of my faction.)

>Drinking all of the info in and glancing at the stray droplets probably left behind by the previously patient-cuddling medic, Cheto nods at the task given.
"Will do, miss Flicker."
>The average human walks to the right door, first pressing his ear on it to try and catch some potential dialogue inside.
>After about a minute, his fist delivers the alloted number and quality of knocks: Two hard and one soft for the bat fellow and mare in the room.
(I should probably not tell about our departure out loud, or else miss Lejura is going to take advantage of it. She'll probably figure it out, but hopefully it'll take some minutes for her to do and give the medic some comfort.)

(Wait, 'tormarent'?)
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
ekH08
?
No.226594
236893
>>215679
"And while I may have survival skills, they are for the Russian wilderness. I wouldn't have much hope surviving out here without help, unless I get lucky and nothing comes along to eat me."
>I roll my eyes and lean back a bit, pursing my lips.
"Let me hope, Wild. Right now it's all I can really do."
>"I am so out of my depth here. I should have stayed in bed."
Glancing around the inside, I hum distractedly.
>"I wonder how they'll react to Wild being my daughter."
>Okay, need to focus.
"I would say that recon is a good idea.. but I also don't want to see what -they- want. And I bet we'd find out if you're noticed."
>Rubbing my forehead, I stare out as the water's lit up from her welding.
"I suggest continuing along the coast. We need to get to civilization first, and then back to Razorback. Finding out stuff about those things is optional at this point... Besides, the others might have gotten info."
Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.226605
227150
>>223884
>Reaching under the table to toss out several wooden buckets, of course with wooden lids for each, the Zebra filly turns a remarkably mature smile upwards.
"Shopping is always fun around here but most of these ingredients aren't safe to eat. Pleased to meet you Zuhn-"
>Spoken more like 'zha-oon' than the correct Chinese pronunciation.
"Tapeskat. I think it means 'Dune Tracer' in Common Equestrian. Probably easier to understand if I show you-"
>Turning right to expose her flank, what greets you is a positively bizarre odd Cutie Mark:
>Composed of three rising and lowering lines that might signify dunes, five thin, stretched out rectangles curve around them in a near-circle while a symbol that looked to be a literal gust of wind pushing the dunes over partially.
>Definitely not an easier explanation, but not for lack of trying.

>Gazing down at the neat double spaced mareifest written in perfect Common, it was clear that she'd been properly trained for cross-species translations without rhyming.
>Or perhaps a stern unicorn.
>Comparing the DJ's list to what the filly wrote down for immediate shipmarent the majority of rare ingredients had been denoted neat check marks.
>Which, you note, left a rather large gap in the 'critical' and 'common' alchemical supplies that weren't available either in the Empire or likely to be found in Snootadishu's stockpiles.

>Placing one of the buckets on her head, another on her saddle, the third landing on her rump to stick, Tapeskat's face creases in thought.
"A tiny amount, yes. Directions, greetings, names of a few common items, that sort. Neightime knows some but I don't know when she'll be back. ..then again there's a few Crystal pony traders that set up stalls in the Northeast Plaza sometimes. They sell gems, travel supplies, instrumarents, cold food and drinks. If you go to the translocation hub look for a big pink flag with the Princess of Rebirth's Mark on it, it should be right next to the Gozkan flag."
Basin Village: Last Stop Restaurant
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.226608
227152
>>223908
>Head dipping and ears flattening in an 'honored to meet you' submissive motion that pegasi used to acknowledge their superiors, the rest of the Cult mares sit up straight to perform the same.
>Finding the low granite chair comfortable, if not too short like all pony furniture was, the apparent Cult leader's tone stiffens perceptibly.
"I hope you mean: 'investigating Constructs as a whole', not that some have made their way into any of the known Moors regions, correct?"
>Lips setting into a grimace, her right wing extends up to nudge the hood off, exposing an unusually severe, tightly drawn face covered in a distressing number of thin white scars.
>Probably in her late thirties, you think.
>Besides the scars were distinctively intelligent, sharp yellowish-red hued diamond eyes glittering with a humored air.
"I take it this 'talking ship' was a Harpy vessel. They still exist, then. I'm usually not one to pass up a challenge, though as they're considerably older than our knowledge extends back upon I'm not to dare asking specifics. Otherwise it'll be a thousand questions and headaches all around. Each of you should have one of the Archaic Monolith research records, please withdraw them."
>A short motion is made towards one of the mares opposite you, whom begins casually tossing out books until finding one, pushing a green hide bound volume towards her embroidered with a stylized golden '3' on the binding.
>Tossing the cover open and flicking through, of all things, a table of contents on the first few pages, the mare squints briefly before glancing up with an abashed look.
"What most know of the Monoliths across Tallus is there are sixty to seventy thousand according to Early Dynasty, Changeling, Middle Equestrian Era, and Cloudkeep records. Some of the Cult's ancestors cross-referenced dates back to three-thousand and four-hundred some years ago. I can tell you offhoof that roughly eighty-three percent of them were destroyed, have become lost, disappeared, were removed, or repurposed since then. Beyond that, specific ones are accessible by certain factions, lineages, inheritances, towns, villages. You'll have to excuse us for a bit until we find one concurrent with the ancient Planar Harpies. Please, be free to order what sounds good while waiting."
>Carefully flopping aged local sheets of plant materials over to about two-thirds of the way through, the four Cultists break into the saddlepacks next to them, eventually drawing out vaguely similar tomes.
>Noting each was from differing eras, there was even a barely children's sized book stamped with Princess Luna's seal, and one with a cover that you could swear was moving.
[1d6 = 3]
<#1: Research
[1d6 = 5]
<#2: Research
[1d6 = 1]
<#3: Research
[1d6 = 4]
<#4: Research
[1d6 = 1]
<#5: Research
Maths... -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
OLzA1
?
No.227087
230684 230699
maths pony.gif
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>224998
>As Golden stood there silently with eyes squinted shut in concentration Spruce sat down beside him, the scribble of pen on note paper being heard in the tunnel entrance.

>When he uttered the answer to the second equation a purple flash filled the entrance and blinding Spruce's sight. When he was able to see again a moment later he saw that the second equation floating on the magical barrier had been replaced with his answer.
>Least that was something.

>Within the barrier and at the doors the Chitqu stopped and turned to look at the Operator, giving him an approving body gesture.
"I sensed that Spruce, well done!"
>Said Golden, eyes still closed and a bead of sweat trailing off his brow.

>When Spruce said the answer this time the Operator was prepared and shielded his eyes from the flash, after which he glance over at the barrier to see the spoken answer was there. Though, the .2 melted into the 5 after a few seconds passed by.
>Rounding off was a thing then.

"Two out of four Spruce, that's good enough for me and I'm sure for Adon also."
>Assured the old Unicorn. Lit horn Still pointing at the magical barrier.

>>225014
"And see...That is why you are doing the mathematics."
>Told Golden Horn to Adon humorously.
"Give me the answers already you damn doors...!"

>Just like the Operator the Witcher was momentarily blinded by the flashing magic when the correct answer was uttered, the Wolf Medallion briefly jumping on and off his collar bone with how hard it was vibrating.
>The Elves would of solved this problem in no time at all with room to kill all three of them.
>Another flash later, one Adon was ready for, and there were two questions left.

"You are correct Adon, that is indeed pi. The other is well...e in Common."
>Golden explained, eyes open and horn no longer alight. He stepped closer to the barrier.
"e is the same as pi as they are both irrational numbers. And is the Natural Logarithms...er...I mean e is the BASE of Natural Logarithms. Mrs.Algebra would have had my hide if I was still in her class."
>He shrugged.
"As for solving it eh, I don't think I can. But the first one yes!"
>The pony basically bounced to stand in front of first equation, and with his horn he drew out the answer, muttering the process under his breath.

4 × (40 - 5) - 7 √(50 × 6) - 4 =
4 × (35) - 7 √(300) - 4 =
140 - 7 √(300) - 4 =
140 - 70 √(3) - 4 =
"Or."
140 - 121 - 4 =
19 - 4 = 15

"fifteen."
>He uttered with eyes closed, both Spruce and Adon both covered their eyes as a third flash hit exploded.
>Now there was one equation left untouched while the first three answers floated next to it, a finger width apart, in close formation to keep the symmetry.
"So fifteen, sixteen and five. What the buck does this mean."

Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.227150
237104
>>226605
>Zhun gives the filly a smile, letting the mispronunciation slide
"Tapeskat..."
>He traces his eyes over the filly's cutie mark
>Understanding the importance of these marks, he tries interpretation but Zebra marks seem more abstract than usual
>Best guess is traveler
>Reading the manifest, still some more shopping to do
>Important components and common components
"Ah ok. Say..."
>Looking over the list again, Zhun asks:
"I understand if you don't have the supply, but do you know about these common components? Like, where to find a supplier?"
>If not here, then a deal with those forest ones would do
>Just going to have to get brushed up on flora
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
Q+iXH
?
No.227152
238663
>>226608
>Basically squatting in his chair, he quickly corrects himself
"No no. Constructs as a whole. Last thing I want to know is if they proliferated here as well."
>"Diamond eyes...hmmm"
"Oh yeah, harpy. Really old Common speaking."
>Seeing that glint of challenge, he got a serious scholar now
"For sure. Anything you can get..."
>"Hmm, ship made it sound like the monolith was a person. Oh, pony naming conventions."
>Watching the ponies researching and cross referencing, Clem attempts to follow the whirlwind of pages until he eventually becomes lost
"Any idea on what these monoliths were used for? Were they monuments, conduits?"
>Leaning back to get more comfortable in his stone chair, he gives a reassuring nod to the lead
"No worries, take your time."
>"Wonder how Jeff is doing on that expedition. Damn interference."
>Looking around for a waiter or something to hail, he decides to order those skewers the lead researcher mentioned
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.228158
238682
>>226573
>Pareidolia continues to stare blankly past the screen as the system reboots.

[Of course. I should have anticipated Construct malware infection of electronic devices. Apparently even our AI are not immune and I have compromised a key asset.]

>He sighs, sagging his shoulders.

[Need to assess system integrity... clear presence of Construct tampering remains. Degree of independence unknown. Degree of Committee loyalty unknown. Degree of user compliance unknown. I've created a major risk factor from an essential asset. Options? Destroy the equipment to prevent potential compromise of protocol. Continue usage despite risks, attempt to manage instability.]

>He is jolted out of his reverie at the approaching of the armored mare.
>Opting to delay choosing an AI personality, he exhales heavily as he stands up and turns to face her.

[Cannot rest until debriefings are given to key personnel. Focus.]

"No. I only needed a moment to think."
Zebraica: Potswana, Shaman Gresta
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.228903
240789
>>225140
>Swiveling immediately sharp eyes onto you, the old stallion cracks a partially dejected smile.
"Let it be said a Zebra of soured countenance or cruel thought can lie wrongfully, just as the empty cookie jar is passed over by the guilt-laden filly."
>Turning his head towards another distant rumble accompanied by a rolling cackle, the shaman's free hoof lifts to prod the center of his nose several times.
"In Southwest Equestria above the Moors where less than a quarter of humans currently live it is fall, yet here where the Filly of Rains brings tidings of water across Zebraica it is spring and subject to her showerly call."
>Hearing soft scraping noises behind you, a wicker made chair of roughly human-comfortable dimensions is pushed next to you.
>Noting a small filly Zebra without ornamarents briskly trotting out of sight around the hut's open western entrance, the Zebra carefully withdraws the two tapes to gaze at with a distant expression.
"Great expanses of ill words we have heard on the winds which speak often wrong of Razorback's misbegotten trends. To speak bluntly in this time: it is not Her emergence that your species should be worried of, it is her creation as an equine-goddess of humans that causes fear to those whom see Her above. Little else with you shall I share for I know nothing honest of Her care."
>Dragging deep off the multitude of familiar berry tastes mixed with blatantly wild mareijuana, the texture was cool, even, and non-threatening.
>Moreover, there was no urge to choke on the puff nor was there any irritation.
>As Tipper would state, this deserved the 'get me a full bale and I'll share it with you' award.

>Finished examining the tapes while you contemplated the nature of Zebraica's nature, the shaman holds them, stacked no less, out to you in exchange for the bottle.
>Hefting it up for a momaretary examination, the stallion's lips curl back in a laconic smile.
"No concerns of decorum need be made here for we return equal given as greater cheer. Gresta of the Stone Skies Alone I am called to be be, this tribe's shaman with an unstable predictive tendency. My meaning shall show itself to you, that is, if you dare gaze upon the truth?"
>Taking an honorific swig of the soda before passing it back to you, Gresta leans forwards, pressing his forehooves together with a unsubtle expression that you took to be a focused glare.
>Lips silently moving for roughly ten seconds, his hooves spread apart slowly when, abruptly, forty small round images spread across his coat in serpentine motions.
>Having seen the bullshit that some ponies called 'magic', among other words that made little sense, could pull, this of course didn't faze you in the slightest.
>While not related to anypony or anyone you personally knew, the scenes weren't what you expected as they scrawled upon the shaman's head into moving images:
>A threadbare, colorless alicorn writhing in visible death throes impaled by a glowing rainbow spear held by a barely recognizable armored human, the plating destroyed beyond recognition with only the tassels and colors letting you identify him as Lont.
"To this one I see Her anger unleashed upon hearing the most uncouth of lies, the failure of a human brought here whom desired more than could hold their eyes-"
>Three black armored earth ponies stood before a giant red mare, one you estimated to be at least three stories tall judging by the trio's probably normal heights.
>The upper half of the mare's body leaned down over a seqoyya tree stump, looking both bored and irritated as one hoof propped her chin, but her face carried a derisive smirk along with bitterly narrowed, neon green eyes.
"Returning the Wild Ones could be one of Her potential desires should Razorback quail, or should they lose the great battle before they turn tail-"
>An intensely sour image of several Operators in an unfamiliar pattern of green, red, and blue camouflage stood in somewhat orderly ranks before a vast graveyard is next.
>In the background, remnants of a large stone building could be seen, along with small fires, smoke trails, and what looked like the crushed, colorless bodies of armored ponies.
"One that should not come to pass if Her worried question is solved by earnest puzzle... but an end to the flames of constant war if Razorback should bargain Her rebuttal? This one I cannot claim to learn or know, the strains burn into my skull such painful flow-"
>An unusually slender, tall earth pony with a bubblegum pink coat and dull red mane bows before a creature that you could only describe as a bipedal insectoid-octopus hybrid merged with a hornet and a bladed mechanical plant.
>Unlike the previous image, the background was taken up by host of corpses: nearly every human of Razorback that you'd seen in passing.
"I know naught but little of the Planar creatures and monsters called upon by those named the Constructed Twos yet I sense their fury evolving in such means as to make their allies toughened against abuse-"

>The shaman's hooves clop together with a resounding ping of steel-on-steel, ending the random sequence of images jerking across his coat.
"How this goddess-kin of equine-make in recognition of your race ties in such events I am unsure, but my fears are of such great importance.."
>Head lifting for several moments to stoically regrad the wall behind you, Gresta raises both hooves to rub the sides of his head with a pained exhale.
"I am sorry of what has been shown if none of what you have seen can make sense, it is a burden the many futures of your Otherworld species are so dense. What little I know now is choose carefully what She is to hear I suggest, else the great concentrations of silverine be unfortunately the humans' bet the best."
Adon_the_Witcherf
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.230684
230699 239753
>>227087
>As three of the four equation's answers lit up in correction on the door, Adon looked on at the final problem.
>What was the value of pi, he tried remembering. It was a relatively small number... if you didn't count it's endless running value.
"Pi is three point one four, but this door seems to be accepting answers rounded to the nearest whole numbers. Multiplied by two and you get six, technically. The elves were always using pi in more complex equations..."
>The other half still eluded him.
>Three multiplied by whatever 'e' stood for. Probably another run-one value.
"Golden Horn, if we know WHAT 'e' is, all we need to know is its value and multiply it by three. Then add six, and we're done."
>As much as he would like to just magically jimmy the door open, he's still wary it would trip some alarm.
>He backs away further from the door, taking in the entire front of it into view and looks at the old unicorn again.
>Does he think there's some sort of pattern or method to the answers?
"You said this isn't his usual forte, right? Maybe he left clues around here for his lackeys, or himself, incase the answers were forgotten?"
>It was a wild theory, but leaving the answers around wasn't any different than leaving a spare key just out of sight for the owner's convenience.
>Leaving the equations aside, he begins to examine the door frame-to-frame to check for any possible clues pertaining to the equations and their solutions.
[1d6 = 5]
<B.Perception
[1d6 = 6]

[1d6 = 5]
<Intuition
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
T0bTK
?
No.230699
239753
>>230684
>>227087

>Spruce stared at the floating answers and the final equation before him, struggling to remember what 'e' was.
>He wasn't even sure at this point he'd ever used 'e' in an equation before back in school.
"... Well, hmm. Do we have any guesses as to what 'e' is close to? I don't even remember ever using an 'e' in school."
>Adon probably was on the right track though towards the answer with his idea that it seemed to be whole numbers.
>If only...
>He looked at the question before him, scratching his chin.

[1d6 = 6]
U. Intuition
Anonymous
l1Sf1
?
No.235576
Bren Small.png

A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.235840
236801 236876
>>225140
>Head lifting to emit a snooty, albeit water drenched snort, the large pegasi's ears turn in your direction faux-annoyed..
>That is until she sticks out an impressively long tongue to give a loud, extended raspberry accompanied by a cryptic side-eye glance.
[1d6 = 3]
<?????


>Tossing both sets of fractured, burned, and partially melted wingclaws upwards and free from her confining robe, the Councilmare snarls out a strangled kee of anger.
"I don't care what your or their excuses are, they're deserters. Already talked to Nightblade Jeff of Razorback Company. He'd best have prepared them to all be executed the minute after I confirm which Collective they originated from."
>Passing into the second chamber, a considerable number of scrapes following from her known Empire prosthetic, the tiny rainbow emits a faint pulse of near-tickling energies that made you want to fluff out your mane.
>Of course the response wasn't understandable..

>Sighing aloud as she clankingly hobbles slowly down the stairwell, the Councilmare's head turns enough to momarentarily fix you with a near-unicorn level gaze of disgusted calculation.
"I wonder, Miss Pegasus that smells like a few of those long forgotten and sealed creatures in the Vaults, why would a pony that might know about the Lunar Collective have some interest in what they're doing about a sixth the continent away from where they were supposed to be around eight hundred some years ago? Of course I bloody know, I'm the only damned Lunar-born that bothers to find the most likely highly dangerous and potentially insane Lunar vampires that've deserted since the Lunar-Solar War ended. I'm to retrieve or kill them before some idiot pony, or ponies, stumbles across one and cause another migraine causing screaming session during Council."
>This certainly wasn't going well.

>Reaching the lower steps after the short horned batmare, she stiff wings the sight of Mercy giving the white potato golem giving a grudging hoof-to-hand shake.
>Instead, she begins to vibrate.
>Visibly.
[1d6+4 = 6]
<???


>>225557
>Sparing enough focus to swivel her ears rearwards at you, the Lunarite takes a step backwards to scuff each hoofboot on the floor, displeasure creeping into her tone once more.
"Little forgiveness would a pony have for more cursed spawn of the pale ones, but if thy words bare truth..."
>Nodding, she turns about and reaches up to toss a purple sheet off her armor stand, exposing an unusual shiny lumin plate mail, though more severely angled than Destroyer armor.
>Casually brushing off imaginary dust from the legs, you note the joints were banded in place with rings of starlight: locks taken from the Nightmare's mane or tail.
>The Collective was definitely given the best equipment the Lunar faction could come up with.
"Perhaps less to those not of the Collective. One of the lessers shall gift ye seeds satchels, order them spread amongst village and arena alike."

>Picking between the trio, of course choosing the first one, a short, merry chime is directed outwards as you claim it.
>Suspiciously it felt like the cold chill of a batpony searching for the correct momarent to assassinate a wary target.

>Deftly taking apart the armor's forelegs, then squeezing her own into them, the vampony lead mare grunts at the effort
"Do as thy needs, shortly we shall be readied."

"Yes, Commander."
"For the most.. part."
>Finding the Golem in a classic standoff warily eyeing his opposition after, probably, another truce, Mercy's head tilts towards you briefly.
"No."
"No objections available sir."
>Lips pulling back into a partial frown, the Spirit Walker slowly points her right wing towards the stairs, an immediate sense of danger prickling the back of your neck at following her motion.
>The short, partially rearswept horn and large, damaged fruit-eater wingclaws were definitely the Lunar Councilmare's.
>The problem occurred upon seeing she was performing the rarely seen, little understand batpony act of physically distorting reality while Sunny was directly behind her and therefore in the radius.
>Boris was not so subtly side-stepping towards the currently out of reach bag he'd brought, though Mercy was making no effort to hide a curious interest in the unexpected situation.
"Should I hoofle her? It.. would take one minute at.. most."
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.236254
236262
>>226418
*"Make it less than that Miss Castella, they're starting to sound more anxious than a hungry Moor cat right at lunch-"*
>Hearing the young Vostroyan girl's voice start into a wrongful questionnaire of why blowing apart half the vault would be the best course of action, Raspberry sighs before clicking off the channel.

>Beeping a return packet that consisted of a sparse 'You're welcome', Witch-Two likewise shuts down her Binary commlink to focus solely on the mapping algorithms taking place at a less than acceptable rate.
>Unlike his apparent superior, Tox-11 transmits a Binary noise which translates into a simulated chuckle.
'chance to inhabit warform similar to equine xenoforms of this world that the Inquisitor hates = gratifying. servo-titans limited in comparison, offer satisfactorily. accepted'
>After exchanging weapons the Stormtrooper mutters a flat request for the laspistol's Machine Spirit to accept his care.
"No need."

>A tiny datapacket of logic loops immediately confirms your ownership, which you knew was standard for most Scion wargear.
>Examining the Spirit's Binary readout, it's mood was unchanged from before: aggressively eager and fully ready to kill for you.

"Threat index minimal. Time frame expanded, adjust priorities to exploration, recovery, research."
>Checking your laspistol over with a polite one-handed grasp, Chisan's face creases in trace concern as he eyes the Inquisitor's Auspex briefly.
"Equine xenos depositories must be heavily protected, assume difficult material compositions. Proceed with objectives at your will."
>Nodding towards the depository's rear, he begins, carefully, shifting about to face the entrance, leaving the Hotshot across his lap while you hear a grenade being removed from one of his armored chest pouches.
"Explanations will be difficult without the Inquisitor's knowledge."

>Passing by the distressingly low counters left and right, upon ducking into the corridor's low ceiling you note the four doorways had been marked by tiny chemlights.
>Giving each of the open rooms a cursory examination, they were completely empty save for thin coatings of dust on the presumably smooth floors and overly thick crystalline windows covered in spiderwebs.
>Reaching the corridor's end, upon stepping into what could only be the vault room, a trio of massive, dull sheened doors that might as well have been taken from battleship bulkheads greet you, the first directly ahead, the other two featured at 45-degree angles from the central one.
>Raindrop was currently standing in front of the center door, fiddling with a ridiculously large series of number locks, at shoulder height to her, and having little luck judging by her indignant sigh.
>Clustered at the right door were five bafflingly varied Vostroyan-like humans in an unknown field camouflage.
>Three of them had verifiably ancient, unrecognizable patterns of bolt-action rifles while the other two bore a different style of autostubber each:
>A female human slightly shorter than you, most likely conscripted due to desperation, one-hand carrying a large, moderately heavy looking, short barreled weapon fitted with an amusingly large drum magazine.
>The other was equipped with a short, bulky autostubber that looked like it was made from stamped metal sheets that had a short sickle magazine of indeterminate caliber.
>As to be expected the human team pays no attention to either you or the Knight, their peculiar dialect a rapid mess of, probably, bad plans involving one vaguely Commissar looking figure gesturing with a satchel charge at one of the door corners.

>Raspberry's helmet turns a quarter way to spy you, her armor-bladed right wing lifting in a slow 'come here' motion.
Mallia Castella
yPowA
?
No.236262
238782
>>236254
>The sound of "Vostroyans" making up various reasons to apply explosive to their problems did not really phase Mallia too much, though it did put a certain haste in her step - walking with a purpose across the ancient hall, following Raspberry's last communication.
>Her head remained turned to the side just enough to keep her eyes on the Stormtrooper, listening to him. Her only answer of acknowledgement being a small, mirthless smile and a deep nod.

>Turning around, her smile grew wider as she processed the answer of Tox-11. A particular glint of cheer returning to her eyes.
>Mallia had to swallow her lips to stifle the urge to just go 'Yessssssssssss' in the middle of the room, in full view of the other Operators.
>Not that she didn't LOOK weird already, by comparison.
>Though her mechadendrite does receive a few sporadic twitch signals that urge to wiggle a little up and down from her back, with a slight but visible movement; it's servos whirring softly in the partial silence around her immediate vicinity.
>But, otherwise, she kept a stiff, straight-backed posture and rapid gait. Even if she had this silly happy grin on her face for the better part of three seconds.
>The Enginseer's eyes briefly scanned over the unknown (and possibly ancient) stubbers and bolt actions, not giving much of a glance to the operators themselves.

>Obviously, Mallia's brow rose inquisitively with interest as the sight of those designs. Though her eyes quickly turned to look forward, looking to Raspberry instead. And the large door she stood in front of.

>Her stupid smile faded, replaced with a calm and peering stare. Without the help of Admiral Auspex, she was back to the old school method of recognizing building materials with her eyes.
>It couldn't be ceramite, for sure.
>Perhaps titanium alloy? Cast iron? Something unknown?...

>Hm... ... ...
>She briefly engages her Preysense visor, giving a pulse to check for heat signatures over the metal.

[1d6+4 = 8]
<B. Perception + Preysense vision
[1d6 = 3]

[1d6 = 6]
<E. Engineering
[1d6 = 5]

[1d6 = 3]

>Her eyes tore away from staring at the large central vault door after a while of examining it, as she got closer to the pegasus knight, and instead lowered her attention to Raspberry as she approached her. Disengaging the preysense vision and mentally pinging Tox-11 with some gratitude for his help.

>The Enginseer continued to passively ignore the planning - even at the appearance of a satchel charge in her peripheral vision. Instead greeting the Knight with a friendly smile, that quickly lessens as she quickly focuses her attention entirely on the number locks...
>She crouched down next to the mare, looking to Raspberry and quietly looking at her with that small, warm smile and inquisitively lofted brow; letting her direct her attention, if she had anything to say or point towards before she began doing so herself.


Cairn Wharf: Lunar Outpost Nine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.236291
236299
>>226558
>Bristling at the question, both share a look at you, that of veterans disgruntled at being forced to perform dull tasks instead of more important duties.
"One from each of us."
>Speaks the second mare in a morbidly bored tone, the first making a sour face.
"Or one of us at a time."

>Examining the 'posters' once more, they were brand new with a number of familiar symbols around the edge, most of which you recognized as Lunar military ranks.
>Taking a brief peek at your stalker, it was fairly blatant that she was a rather pathetic spy and had little clue on how to blend in, especially regarding the Ferron mares whom were happily devouring small fruit platters around her.

>Innocuously sliding a thin, notepad sized paper towards you using a single wingclaw, the overly suspicious batmare's snout scrunches furtively.
"Most of the guardponies currently protecting Razorback Fortress should.. if they aren't in it already."
>Tossing her mane in annoyance, the calmer mare's ears flick condescendingly at her opposite.
"Unsubstantiated conjecture. Cult of the Dark Horse simply don't associate with military, especially if one is former military themselves. They're polite but don't have much trust for a few decent and some not-entirely-correct reasons."
"I concede the first points but not the third. Nopony has betrayed their trust before which leaves their suspicions unfounded and therefore suspicious."
>The first mare settles for splaying her wingclaws out in a 'this is hopeless' motion, then gives you a half-serious frown.
"In fairness there's been no indication that her or the Cult are dangerous, only much too brusque in their approaches. Don't worry about sleeping here, there's three or so inns owned by the Arkadites on shore, safest lodgings on the entire coast far as I know for three Bits a night. Look for the giant pillow signs, they'll be hard to miss."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
3qvcT
?
No.236299
238785
>>236291
>Considering their tones of voice, Bubba figured he was the most interesting thing to happen to them today.
>He was going to use the opportunity to annoy them or something.
"She's rather... pathetic in spying, isn't she? Hell, I'm pretty sure I could do a better job at blending in with the crowd."
>And he just kind of motions at his front to emphasize how much he stands out.
>He just listens to them bicker about the cult for a moment, furrowing his brows.
"Cults can take decades to centuries to show their true intentions, for all you know they're playing a very, very long game here. And depending on when it was formed, you'll be waiting a while yet for them to make a serious move."
>Bubba gives a shrug at the mention of sleeping at the Wharf.
"I'll figure something out if I don't go back to Razorback tonight. Thanks for the info on that, though."
>Taking another glance at the stalker, he debates on just going up to her and poking her forehead or something.
>It would probably be funny.
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.236801
236876 239363
When_pony_begins_vibrating.jpg
>>235840
>Happy neither the pegasus or golem hadn't dismembered eachother, Jeff claps his hands together.
"Excellent. You don't have to come to the Citadel, if I do. Hmm... maybe you, Boris."
>Maniacal pony-on-construct combat experience... whenever that would come in handy.
>But if he dips at the Basin Village, how would the Dagor get back to the Fortress?
>The slight hang-up gets put on the back-burner as the sound of an enraged batpony descends the stone steps.
"..oh boy..."
>Earlier than he expected, but luckily he's already in position.
>Jeff places himself defensively between the batmare and the door to the vampires, as he notices Boris going for his gear and Mercy holding her ground.
>More prepared to talk her down, first, then maybe get physical.
>Then the Councilmare begins shaking violently. Like the visibly vibrating lines in cartoons shaking.
>Before he starts defusing the horned batmare, he holds up one finger at Mercy on the down-low to have her wait a hot second before he focuses his attention to the small warping of reality in front of him.
"Councilmare, you got here quick! "
>Shit. Sunny is behind her - like right behind her.
>>225471
>Glancing past the councilmare and to Sunny, he gives her a wary glare and nudges his fingertips in the air to give her a silent "Back Away" gesture.

"Before you do what I think you're going to do, give me a minute to explain the situation please."
>He says it with enough confidence to politely back the batmare down while not sounding like he's cowering in front of her.
>Not like he was afraid, or anything.
[1d6+5 = 10]
<E.Human/Pony Relations: Active Response Coercion
[1d6+5 = 8]

[1d6+5 = 11]

[1d6+9 = 10]
<E.Lady Killer: Negotiation
[1d6+9 = 11]

[1d6+9 = 13]

Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.236876
239363 239515
She's gonna need to breathe through one of these in a minute.jpg
>>235840
"As you say."
>Sunny liked this councilmare less and less with every sound that came out of her mouth.
>Impulsive, passionate, bullheaded. She wouldn't be surprised if the entire Lunar council was like this.
>That the moon hadn't fallen was a miracle with ponies like this in charge.
>Sunny let loose an aery sigh as they descended the steps, having lost patience with the councilmistress as she began vibrating.
"If you're going to go berserk and start attacking everyone, would you kindly get it over with, some of us have better things to do than entertain your impetuousness."

>>236801
>Meeting Jeff's gaze as they stood in the doorway, she gave him a subtle shake of her head, preferring to stay close if things went sour despite the very obvious risk that posed to her.
"Apparently these ponies are deserters and she'd like to execute them, instead of sending them off to The Lunar's service, like she should, especially given what's going on up there. Irresponsible if you ask me, sir."
>She shot a pointed look at the back of the councilmistresses head as she finished.
"You'd think with The Lunar incapacitated as she is, they'd take all the help they can get."
>Sunny gave the lead Lunar Vampire a meaningful glance, hoping she'd pick up on her meaning before turning her gaze back to the councilmistress.
>This was probably not going to end well, least of all for herself.

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

[1d6 = 6]
< Intuition
Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.236879
236957
>>226580
>Expectedly, brain doesn't like the idea of consuming a sapient being even if they were delicious.
>That is especially if there were jealous, greedy bastards that might want diabetes even more than you might.

>Visibly not cuddling her current patient, the half-transparent carnelian atrocity busies herself rummaging through yet another white plastic hardcase.
>A quartet of suture needles and two bottles of blood red liquid are lifted up before she turns to make a disgruntled noise in your direction, after which the human is, rather gently, assailed by her tender mareistrations.

>Listening to the cold door for a few seconds, you could hear nothing save for an objectively Northern European begrudgingly thanking the medic for not being like her dam.
>Pushing your hearing further in search of sounds from beyond the surgical door, none were forthcoming.
>Counting down until 60 seconds are reached, it takes ten more until the door opens a short distance, a flat-faced Torven immediately squeezing through the opening before you had a proper chance to see more than a well stocked surgical room, then kicks it shut.
>Without pausing the batpony tosses a split-second thousand year stare up at you, then breaks into a stiff trot directly towards the door while hissing aloud.
>Apparently he wasn't having a good night so far.

>Asking the question to yourself, brain responds with the answer: equine puns that replaced the word 'man' or 'men' with 'mare'.
>It was logical, but mildly crazy to you.
>Or it.
>Brain was ONLY your thinking portion, after all.
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.236893
245759
>>226594
>Rolling back onto the screen, Mini-Wild reaches up to poke the current map into a highly accurate topographical version of Stalliongrad and Rushya claimed regions, studying them with a rather severe expression while upside down.
"Your interests are best served in this situation by accepting that your survival is my highest current priority. You don't have a choice and neither do I."
>If these high degrees of sass weren't yours then one of the other humans, or Caliya, was secretly hiding their sarcasm.
>Although you knew it was yours, how else did Wild know which emotional buttons to push?
>Rolling partially off screen, Wild's external voice returns through the cabin's speakers, this time in a flat monotone.
"Concerns: acknowledged. Caveat: until I've delivered you to Razorback Fortress intact and safe my choices are limited to prioritizing your immediate and long term survival. Codexes updating.. failed, reinitializing from backups.. update complete. Current records indicate only three varieties of pegasi are incapable of sustained flight. The local inhabitants of this region are estimated at a ninety-nine point nine percent chance to be Ferron clan major or minor derivatives. I am unable to calculate further complications on this matter. They will be safe."
>Spying nothing of note around the chest cabin that had changed, save for the various burnt stenches now gone due to operational air conditioning, the previous coastal map returns to the left screen as the right is covered in molten sparks ejecting outwards.
"I estimate my bio-core's energy signatures estimated to be detectable at ten kilometers by passive sensors. Approximate hull damage: eighty-one percent, near-critical. Approximate internal mechanical damage: sixty-four percent, high severity. Defensive protocol estimate: I am only capable of protecting you against concentrated assaults lasting less than nineteen seconds without significant internal and external repairs. New secondary priority: modify self-repair systems for optimal underwater functionality. CRITICAL UPDATE: repair system eight returned to marginal functionality, now commencing additional chest cabin reinforcement duties-"
[1d6+4 = 6]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 2]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 3]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #8

>Visibly fuming in the lower left screen corner, the Wild caricature flops onto her chest, mechanical legs kicking angrily.
"Then I will continue west attempting to evade Construct detection during egress but I strongly disagree with your second statement and fully disagree with the third's assessment. During the presumably failed recovery of the Construct Assault Pod I was unable to extract critical or high priority information regarding Construct behaviors. Understanding Construct behaviors should prove valuable in calculating their movements, actions, weaponry, armor, and tactics. If you deem it necessary I will reconfigure my long range scanning systems to operate in quantum fluid passive-flux cycles; there is a ten percent chance such a modification will decrease the chances of being detected at long range. Please advise."
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
gGjHU
?
No.236957
239409
Torven's POV.jpg
>>236879
>Seeing Nova do her job so tenderly makes him feel a little bit warm inside.
(I wish I had doctor visits that caring back home. I guess with the power of Magic™, everything is a lot easier. Or maybe it was due to some of the humans with the funny looking armors.)

>The healthy human can't seem to understand why they would change how a word is said just to place another word in it, but he can't judge the natives when he's a visitor.
(Hell, I may have to start using that terminology in my newly acquired work. Otherwise it could come out as too alien or something. Don't forget you're here to represent humankind here, not the ponies.)

>As the soon-to-be-diplomat practices his snooping skills, he realizes how big of a deal Lejura is to the point where he can't even hear the ponies on the other side, probably due to her 'taint' potential on the species.
(Is it really that bad to the point of soundproofing a room?)
>Torven's quick exit and shellshocked look on his eyes only confirmed his worries.
(Uy, el padrillo alado se murió. He definitely needs a pick-me-up.)
>He quickly follows Torven out with a bit of a jog as well, both as per Nova's instruction as well as to catch up with the deadened bat and offer a little gift to alleviate his pain.
>As they both go along, he rummages through his bag for the Fruit Juice™ and the recently open fruit bag, hopefully taken out by the time they both exit the Clinic. Of course, he calls for his attention.
"Excuse me, Mister Torven, but you seem quite down from your... talk with Lejura."
>At least he hopes it was a mere talk, and not some sort of psychic torture in there.
"May I interest you in some of these?"
>He presents the open bag while trying his hardest to open the currently sealed Fruit Juice™ with only his off-hand.
>Before he has a chance to act in a modest or dismissive manner, he adds some more words.
"Don't worry. It's my pleasure to help out a..."
>He glances to the side, unsure of what kind of relationship he has with the acquaintanced bat. He adds a rather sheepish smile, raising his shoulders unintentionally as he utters the words, looking back at him.
"...fellow Razorbacker...?"
(Tengo que ahogarme en libros de cultura ya. The last thing I want is to be a damn ñoqui.)
Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.237104
239010
>>227150
>Snout scrunching merrily at your lack of acknowledgemarent on what her Cutie Mark meant, Tapeskat returns to gathering wooden buckets from under the next table.
"I understand most Equestrians can't read ours like we can't read theirs. Guess it's a lot harder for non-ponies that don't speak Zebraic, sorry for any confusion."
>Rolling a stack out before poking her head up for a peek at those on the list she hadn't crossed out, the Zebra filly's snout wiggles in what you think is speculation.
>Leaning her chest on the table sideways and standing up straight, she tips her head left, lips pursing several times until she frowns up at you.
"Those.. ..you aren't here to visit and this is a huge order that's never happened from Razorback before. I'm not SUPPOSED to do this but Neightime told me it's okay. Please meet me in there."
>Reaching up with her left foreleg to poke the buckets off her head, saddle, then rump, the dexterity of her motions far more than anypony you'd seen at Razorback make, the filly motions towards the northeast end of the giant open tent.
>Following her hoof you spy a small, low, fully enclosed sandstone structure that you noticed was hidden from external inspection by close clustered racks of drying herbs.
>Breaking into a high-stepping trot, following after her a break in the low set tables inwards gives you full access to the tent's interior.
>Passing inside towards the office, or whatever it was, you hear the younger Zebra fillies giggling loudly while collecting bundles of plants, glass jars, and small cloth satchels, placing them across the lower open shelves.
>At least they had a system in place for major deliveries.

>Reaching the structure, a heavy iron door already swung open, you were forced to duck low to step down and inside.
>Tapeskat was seated on a large, low brown lounging couch with her back facing you, the walls common, yet smoothed out reddish sandstone.
>In front of her was a short, rather crude white marble table covered in scrolls, leaning forwards with a hoof lightly placed on a loose bundle of silver vellum pages.
>Waving a hoof back towards you, the Zebra filly's head turns enough to give you a welcoming smile.
"Neightime told me to help out Razorback if they showed up here looking for stuff we don't have, but I've got a lot to say before that. Please close the door and sit with me, I'll try to explain the situation."
Basin Village: Last Stop Restaurant
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.238663
239013
>>227152
>Turning each page with delicate motions that you'd never seen the average batpony perform, the mare's snout crinkles in dark humor.
"Aside from their highly illogical attack a few hours ago, they have not assaulted other inhabited regions. I detest such intrusions as a matter of principle. Any events that reduce the probabilities of acquiring clearer historical knowledge only hinder our efforts."
>Gazing up momaretarily, a brief squint of surprise is given before staring into her book.
"That's.. unexpected. Well, this is useless now. Here I was thinking that you meant the native Harpies since marely of them were ship captains. Mares, change your searches to focus on the Planar Harpies originating before twenty-one eight-hundred. Ignore singular sea, land, or aerial assets. Search only for orbital capable reports, descriptions, designations, designs, and names, no sense in conflating their later constructions."
>Closing the cover on her volume, the web-scarred mare leans backs to give a mildly exasperated sigh.
"The answer fully depends on whom made or built them, when, why, where, how, in defense of what, defending against what, and more than be covered in a single hour. The word 'monolith' comprises 'mono', or one, which could mean an individual, one specific herd, a single culture, one of the cults related to the culture itself, an exterior cult from another culture, one's overherd or another overherd the individual has been in contact with, a single region, nation, or continent.. to name the most common examples. The word 'lith' is given specific meanings depending the species, region, continent, etcetera. For unicorns liths are markers ranging from 'do not travel through here' to 'safe passage' markers, while Germaneighan unicorns use liths to mark wayposts, outposts, and safe shelters for travelers. Crystal ponies use liths in some form of harmonic resonance on the basis of their biologically crystalline technologies. Those are only used in ponial items such as the hololith, guidelith, and houseliths. Ferron pegasi carve liths into boulders or well preserved trees, they convey dangers that are not capable of being avoided, removed, or defeated, but modern pegasi use liths in place of local region maps. Arkadians use liths to entice interested passersby into learning certain techniques, such as cloud shaping and producing lightning without natural talent, training, inherent skill, or instincts. The Malurians grow liths from certain flora to provide shelter and food in their lands which are also used as markers to reach their strongholds. For the marely other pony cultures, there's hundreds of uses for the term 'lith', which makes searching for specific identifications difficult."
>Noting the other mares had spread a wide selection of archaic scrolls, papers, and books across the entire table, the head mare sits back, forelegs crossing her chest with a polite smile of apology.
"Won't be much to find from me, sorry. My focus is between the Middle Dynasty Guardianship era to the early Lunar-Solar War. Before then most all Planar Harpies safely transited into another plane as they had significant physical and psychological difficulties living outside their home plane's physics. The ones that were unable to leave had, according to a few documarents, willingly been incorporated into a number of vessels ranging from land, sea, aerial, and a small number of aero-oceanic-orbital designs. You might've heard the term 'Great Oceans Above' from Ferron before, but if not there's a large mass of water outside Tallus' furthermost electromarenetic field, reaches about halfway to the Moon and Sun. Most of the Harpy vessels were destroyed in the centuries before those two conflicts, so said three or four of the previous Lunar Council, but they also stated that the hulls were lain to rest on the Dark Side of the Moon. Not a place to visit mind you, there's no air and it's colder than the Crystal Empire's Northern Tundra in winter. Let me think for a bit, see if I can remember anything useful."
>Head tipping down for a hoof to lift and prop her chin up, the cultist's eyebrows furrow together in a unicorn-like pose, staring directly at the table's edge.

>Catching a spritely, shiny gray batfilly in a comically oversized Prench maid outfit skipping about delivering bottles to other patrons, neon pink diamond eyes blink at you questioningly before she nods, about facing to skip off into what looked like the kitchen's only entrance.
>Still trying to pay attention to the inordinately dutiful batponies in their search, the fourth and sixth close their volumes at the rear cover.
>Giving you a distinctly negative head shake, both begin to repack their overburdened saddlebags with the same amount of care that treasure hunters took after recovering historical relics.
>The other three were jotting down double spaced notes onto brand new looking sheets of copper-encrusted vellum paper, which you could see were, thankfully, in Common Equestrian.

>The gray batfilly returns to briskly set down a worn, heavily tarnished silver dinner plate, then skips off once more before you could even reach for Bits.
>Six long bamboo skewers of ten large, fresh, already peeled steaming shrimp were the main feature, though a small black granite bowl in the center held a moderately spicy local sauce of some sort.
>As expected, there was only a faint trace of mango compared to the scent of fresh maremilk butter.

>The three successful subordinates each hold up their papers for the head cultist to take and peruse, likewise repacking their saddlebags without a commarend.
"A little more than I was hoping for, excellent findings all the same."
>Peering over the pages after a few momarents, tufted ears wiggle around in a curious circle.
"Before I begin, did the Harpy you spoke to give a series of numbers, letters, or a code phrase? I don't want to make a mistake or expend more resources than I'm allowed to."
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.238682
238783
>>228158
>Upon turning you find an older Crystal mare staring up at your helmet's center in mildly visible concern.
>Denoting the Crystal pony's translucent, definitively older thick clear-white crystal plates and heavily engraved frontal crest-shield, the physically damaged appearance combined with her somewhat noble bearing identified the mare as a Kingdom-era General.

>Standing behind the mare several paces was a barely visible human covered by a damaged set of vaguely sports related armor, save for being metallic rather than plastic or rubber.
>A slim motorcycle helmet like design, featuring a cracked visor, several visible electronic readouts inside the visor itself, and small antennae on the rear left side directly faced you.
>Slung over the shoulder was a dented baseball bat lazily grasped in the same hand, though a boxy submachine gun was slung around the right side, the figure giving a short nod.

"Doesn't look that way to me, especially after dealing with a Construct. You've been sitting here for roughly six minutes while experiencing random muscular spasms and making odd arm motions as if trying to defend against an unseen attacker. You were subject to a Starblazer's recorded beckoning call from their proto-deity, as did myself, General Kalatrine, General Garnelia, and the five fillies plus one Saddle Arabian colt in the Library's recreation room."
>Spoken in a gentle, mid-60's voice with grandmotherly amounts of concern.
>Soft, dusky blue eyes behind the helmet squint dubiously, shifting weight onto her left legs before offering a short, crisp right hoof salute.
"General Thansimum of the Crystal Kingdom Wardens here under Princess Cadenza's direct order. Former Knight-Lancer, part time Imperial Fortress-Warden, alchemist, friend to Razorback-"
>Right foreleg dropping onto the ground, her nostrils flare proudly underneath the snout plate.
"And dam of four previously complete-pain-in-the-flank foals. I have been assigned here to ease the suffering of Razorback humans, ponies, and those whom were relieved from Stalliongrad's possession. Now, may I perform treatmarent of Construct-caused insanity willingly, or unwillingly, to you? This choice is yours, however my orders are not."

>Hearing this the human takes an involuntarily step backwards, bat grasped tight as the helmet tips down rigidly in either fear or shock.
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.238782
239230
>>236262
>Going unnoticed by the decently equipped humans, most likely due to combined genetic alcoholism, prospect of explosions, lack of concern, and the routinely encountered treasure hunter single-mindedness, not one of them looks away from their Commissar.
>Rather, the 'Commissar' was more a political figure as his tall fur hat and the wide, flat sided coat simply made him more visible than the others.
>That was excluding the teenage female's much shorter height and her ungainly, large submachine gun awkwardly carried in one hand.

>Eyeing the weapons themselves you note a complete lack of standard Imperium designs, which were also well outside the Vostroyan norm for complex mechanisms and ultra-traditional features:
>All three bolt-action rifles were unusually slim with a one or two-piece wood stock starting from the barrel's muzzle, likewise not featuring external magazines, and were equipped with high-mounted, worn steel sights.
>Both autostubbers, or submachine guns as Chisan had stated their archaic name was, were well made examples of stamped, likely good quality steel sheets fashioned into fairly comfortable looking weapons.
>They were, so far as you could tell, professionally spot and machine welded in key locations across the receiver, though you could definitely tell that they held reinforced actions, entirely opposite those autostubbers made by poorer Forge-Worlds.
>In all, they were definitely rugged, pre-M3 designs.

>Ordering the curiously shaped Preysense into action, it brightens into a host of relieving red tinted shades, indicating the materials and workmanship were close to Artificer-grade.
>Studying the door itself, four hinges on the left side, and the combination locks, the heat signatures of each were in the same zone around 65 degrees Fahrenheit.
>Unable to find either cracks or surface damage, you reach out to tap the material several times experimarentally, dragging a glove across it as a second thought.
>The material composition sounded and felt to be a ratio of less than 60:1 compacted stone to easily identified, marbleized and thin metallic veins crossing the surface at equal intervals.
>Discarding the possibilities of titanium, gold, palladium, platinum, osmium, lead, and bismuth ores due to the entire door's peculiar nature, it was clearly cut from a slab of high density, non-crystallized volcanic granite interspersed with tungsten veins.
>How it had been cut was probably a local secret, if not entirely magical or psyker related, though tarnished, faint impressions of surface structure flaws reveal multiple clues in the form of consistent of oxygen and moisture related pitting levels that the door had been in place for at least 800 years.
>Studying the set of sixteen combination locks, they were a partially-refined, albeit fairly crude tungsten alloy, one that might fracture under either great heat or stress.
>Calculating the potential of finding the right numbers to release the vault's locks, your MIU's logic vectors return a dismally low result as whomever designed the vault door was fairly careful in their planning, especially since the alloy wouldn't show scuff marks unless it had used hourly for numerous millennia on end.

>Receiving a flatly chiming acknowledgement in Binary, the gruff not-Machine Spirit returns to performing several strata of subroutine maintenance protocols.
>Strangely, what the functions were for you didn't recognize.

>Lifting both wings to make a probably exacerbated shrug, the Knight reaches up with a front hoof to dislodge her snout mask partially, muttering in a faintly humored tone.
"I'm pretty well stumped. This stuff's much harder than the blackened steel my armor's made from, but it's not entirely metal. Tried digging into it with a wingblade, couldn't do more than scratch the surface.. snapped the tip off so it's probably harder than raw high grade titanium. Hinges don't have any external parts, flew up to check all of them out on each door. Must be internal mechanisms. Turned the locks a bunch of times like they've done, can't hear the pins click over. Well, if there are any pins. Might be some kind of tumbling bar mechanism like Stalliongrad's vaults have, but I've no idea how to defeat them if that's what this thing is using."
>Taking a deep inhale through her nostrils, the neon red mare glances over her shoulder to the five humans before returning to give you an out of place, highly submissive expression.
"How's Chisan doing now? He didn't look or sound good when I left, and I didn't want to piss him off any more than I've already done tonight."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.238783
239414
johnson-ting-12-16.jpg
>>238682

>In a brief visual sweep, Pareidolia assesses the human behind the General. His eyes linger on the source of the visible electronic readouts and seemingly "futuristic" components.

[1d6 = 6]
<E. Perception
[1d6 = 5]

[1d6 = 4]

[Lax demeanor. Non-military. Potential courier? Urban related work, civilian weapon, and likely illegally acquired street firearm. Likely new.]

>Hearing the unusual name and even more unusual turn of events, he tilts his helmet slightly.

"That's what that was... ?"

[That would explain its ability to bypass and overwhelm electronics. Likelihood of infection extremely probable.]

>His brow furrows behind his mask, considering the implications as she salutes him.
>He methodically returns one of his own with a gloved first closing over heart and his right arm at a firm forty five degree angle.
>As he opens his palm, he glances down for a split second.

[How long has it been since I needed to perform that salute... ? No one other than me will know what it means.]

>Focusing back on the General, he says:

"My arm motions were due to attempting to reason with my, as I am now realizing, compromised helmet system. However, if you were able to deduce my state from that observation alone, then your analysis is reliable."

>He nods in affirmation, holding his hand up before putting it back at his side.

"The existence of a Construct proto-deity was not mentioned in any of the research texts I read. However, personal experience leads to no other viable conclusions. Before you begin, I need clarification. Were all affected individuals in or near the Library? Will you be able to purge the Construct influence from my helmet system as well as myself? And what will the process involve?"

>His focus darts towards the unsettled newcomer.

[Very much new.]


Cairn Wharf: Lunar Outpost Nine
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.238785
238840
>>236299
>The level-headed batpony makes a deliberately wide wing motion towards the pier's west end, which covers the second mare's short, exasperated nod, her eyes lazily drift to the far left.
"Worse than a minotaur stomping through Canterlot, though I'm willing to bet my entire month's Bits you haven't noticed the five Sea's Bounty fillies subtly keeping the other Ferron from trying to reach you."
"She's neither a spy nor an agent, turns her entire body to look at you.. and how do you know there's five? I can only see two."
"Three are unpainted in loose diagonal formation, that's causing pegasi to step around them. One in front has green war paint, no saddlebags, makes her look like she's simply window shopping. Last one isn't, her saddlebags are full of coins. Stops to touch everything interesting, doesn't appear out of place here. Must be one of the Matron's fillies, she's real good at keeping her perspective. It's a better strategy than those I've been shown, especially for them being young."
>Right set of wingclaws flicking in the same marener an annoyed human would do with their hand, the paranoid batpony's face settles into lazy, mostly relaxed lines.
"Cult of the Dark Horse was recorded as being founded sometime in the late nineteen-thousands by Discordites. Don't know why exactly but they love him almost as much as they do mangoes. And yes, that is long before the fat-flanked Empress started her Dynasty shenanigans. They're the ones that confer with the various Ferron clans, distributing updated maps of each region every year. Not only that around half the Moors libraries save for those the Krags are owned by the Cult, though they allow free access into them. Despite my ponial reservations about what they might be searching for, I do have to state if the Cult was planning something major they'd have acted by now, besides her that is. Rest of the Cult have carried on in business as usual functions."
>For once giving her opposite an impressed look, the calmer batmare's ears wiggle merrily.
"It's more likely she's taken a severe interest due to finding some coincidental comparison between humans and ponies, similar to what was supposed to happen during Razorback's return to Canterlot. ..and please don't quote me on that, I'd like to avoid prison."
>The second mare leans forwards while rolling her eyes, chest now on the table's edge while further pushing the small note towards you.
>Which you note was in large, blocky bright green letters, thankfully in Common Equestrian:
>"RED BAR SIGN, FIVE STALLS RIGHT. NOT OPEN, NO LOCK, GOOD AMBUSH SPOT".
"Don't listen to her, that was nothing more than a bunch of filly speculation and diplomatic rumors to keep everypony from knowing there was a meeting taking place. If the Cairn's inns somehow happen to be full tonight you should visit the Sea's Bounty beach fortress, they'll have no problem giving you a room and protection. I hear they're starting to build real cottages now instead of getting by in basic huts."
"Really? About time they expanded some. Late fall currents make scavenging and driftwood collection impossible."

>Meeting the out of place mare's eyes directly staring at you, she briefly freezes, then in barely controlled panic snaps around hurriedly to poke at something in front of her.
>The short, neon Ferron clanmares around the Cult's leader take notice, their heads turning to give her baffled looks.
>Yep, completely incompetent.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
3qvcT
?
No.238840
239672
>>238785
>He glances to the side, before shrugging.
"I didn't come here expecting to be stalked by a cult, so I wasn't looking for anyone."
>He pretends to do an upper body stretch as the mare gives out the fillies, scanning the crowd subtly.
[1d6 = 4]
>E. Perception
[1d6 = 6]

[1d6 = 6]

>He just gives them an "eh" shrug as she explains how long the Cult was around.
>As he glances over the note, he takes a second to look over at where it was, using the motion to make it appear as if he was looking over the crowd a bit.

>He snorts at her reaction and decides its a good idea to mess with her.
"Alright, if there's a trap its obviously not around her. Completely incompetent at being subtle."
>He bids the two farewell and moves towards the cultist's general direction, but not directly to her.
>After mentally ensuring everything on his person was firmly placed there, of course.

Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.239010
239699
>>237104
"No, that's on me. Not used to...getting meanings yet."
>That and staring at flanks like it's an art exhibit is weird
>Zhun perks up an eyebrow questioningly
"Before?"
>His eyes follows Tapeskat towards the other end of the tent before following behind
>Reaching the structure, Zhun leans over to fit in
>"Happiest place I've been in yet."
>Going over to Tapeskat, he notices that low table with scrolls and such
"It's fine with me."
>Zhun heads over to the table and sits crossed legged, ready for he reasoning
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
Q+iXH
?
No.239013
240291
>>238663
>Planar Harpies?
>Clem's mind instantly refers to more esoteric looking harpies that seemingly has dimensional control
>Probably with hints of stereotyping but it's what happens if you never seen one in person
>Besides, the talking ship is more cool
"From what I'm getting, liths seem to be landmarks for navigation mostly."
>So not a name, maybe location?
>But why refer to a warning marker or landmark?
>Something to show perhaps
>Oh
>Well that explains the ship
>Specifically no pilot
>Existence failure
>Seeing the filly in the Prench filly come back with those skewers, he starts to reach for his bits but sees her skipping off
>Clem sits confused before setting the bits on the table next to the platter
>He didn't even figure the place to be the kind of place to have Prench outfits
>After taking a delicious bite of the skewers, he looks over to the head mare and then raises a hand to his strapped chin
"I believe so. Give me a second."
>After ten or so seconds, Clem remembers one of the last things the ship said to him
"She talked in very old Common. I do remember numbers. 'Two 'pon five thee Silver Monolith'. That's where I asked about it."
Mallia Castella
XL53+
?
No.239230
244948
>>238782
>As her hand slid across the 800 year vault door, the enginseer that was Mallia couldn't help but give off an impressed sounding "Hmph!" as she examined the materials used in the construction.
>She was 65% sure that Chisan hadn't anticipated such a hardy door to crack with a hellpistol, but the other 45% of her was pretty sure he just didn't think about it when handing her the hellpistol.

>She didn't mind the challenge. What she did mind was the pressure applied by the Vostroyans intending to potentially disrupt her concentration with explosives, and maybe even put their well-being at risk in the process...

>Lifting a gloved hand to adjust the preysense visor up on the helmet while sending a mental 'thank you' and 'stand-by' command, the woman's eyes focused on the combination lock.
>The smiling and warm look in her verdant eyes fades as she appraised the look with a glance, slowly quirking a brow with interest.
>She also glanced to the hinges when Raspberry mentioned them, likewise examining them and considering them as she runs a few theories through her head...

(I could try to burn my way into the hinges. It would be time-consuming, but it would take less time than burning a hole through the door itself.)
(I could also try to apply the Rite of Constant Firing to the combination lock's edges, and remove it like one would remove a covering. Maybe if I saw what was behind it, the mechanism could be manipulated - or maybe analyzed to glean a helpful hint.)
(There is also a chance that the door has safety mechanisms... Without Admiral Auspex available, I'm operating on the assumption that there's no explosives implanted in there. Or other things that would make my life harder than it already is.)

"Hmmm..."
>That's all that came out of Mallia, a small but constant hand twitch prompting her to constantly brush her index fingers and middle fingers together unconsciously. Her brow furrowing as her glance focuses once more on the combination lock...
>But before she can really put in an effort to explore it further, Raspberry's question about Chisan broke her concentration.
>Mallia blinked twice, then turned to the mare. At first staring blankly as she comes back from her train of thought, then slowly smiling warmly to her interest in the stormtrooper's well-being.

"Chisan is, admittedly, in a lot of pain. He fractured a rib, and his already weak armor has been damaged by the fall..."
>Her eyes seem to downcast when she mentioned his armor being broken. A hint of shame and bitterness passing through her glance as a grimace.
"But, we had a few autoinjectors for that. He's still pretty hurt, and it's probably best none talk to him anymore for a while unless it's for uh... Mission related things."
>Her bright eyes returned to the pegasus to gaze to her visor, one brow arching with curiosity. Her tone softening to a whisper. Albeit a little bit off-handedly.
"I have to say, I'm surprised you'd say that after his minor hostilities towards you. it's unexpected."

>Though her lips were concealed by the rebreather of her helmet, there was a silently approving smile.

(Is it strange to feel a sense of affection towards even a sanctioned xenos? I feel like most of the things I've been taught were lies now... It's sad now that I think about it.)
(Not to mention discovering that ... SOME machine spirits are actually people.)
(That's kind of horrifying. But I'm more scared of the fact that I'm not more surprised. Who would even question it in my age?)

>Her eyes briefly take on a more troubled, grimacing look to them for a moment. A hint of sorrow overtaking her warmth, as her eyes turned towards the combination lock again. Examining it more closely, and looking for the best angle to attempt to remove it from the door, leaning closer to it.

[1d6 = 6]
<B. Perception
[1d6 = 2]

[1d6 = 4]
<E. Engineering
[1d6 = 1]

[1d6 = 2]

"But... I disgress. I have discovered some information about our door by just looking at it."
>She takes an inward sigh and quietly puts a hand to one of the wheels of the lock, scrolling the numbers at random as she speaks.
"First of all, I detect a... Less than 5% chance that we'd be able to defeat this lock without the combination on hand."
"Second of all, the door appears to be made of a type of high density, non-crystallized volcanic granite mixed with veins of tungsten. And it is at least 800 years old."
>She stopped fiddling with the combination lock and reached up a hand to pass her gloved fingers over the veins of tungsten, just to get a feel for them and show them to the mare - if she cared to follow her exposition.

>Then she looked back down to the combination lock, still squinting at it. She had a bit of confidence in her words, but she was not completely doubtless yet.
"A minor highlight of all the nonsense I've just said is that... The combination lock itself is made of a tungsten alloy, so it can fracture if exposed to great heat, or stress. A theory of mine is that we could try to remove it and check out what is behind it, and examine it for maybe a hint. Or perhaps to just see how it works. Or, if anything, have a good starting point to burn through the door itself."
>She briefly glanced over to the mare to see if she had bored her new friend to death already, or if she was still following.
"What you could do to help... Is, when I manage to weaken it enough, you can pull it off since you're a lot stronger than me.

>The Enginseer slowly put a hand to her respirator, resuming her twitchy movements of her index and middle finger.

"I could also try to defeat the hinges..."
>She furrowed her brow into a slight scowl.
"This is going to take a while... If I can just figure out a method..."

>After she had finished speaking, she slowly draws Chisan's hellpistol. Looking it over briefly to appraise it before she does anything. She would need to make sure it CAN handle the Rite of Continuous firing to a satisfactory degree.

"Sorry for being so boring to listen to."

A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.239363
239515 239619
>>236801
>Sparing a second to weigh his options while carefully grasping the sack and not reaching in for anything yet, the potato golem makes a slight nod.
"It would be best not to antagonize Razorback's superiors in the Lunar faction via Mercy's presence. I will accept this request, Commander."

>Puffing her cheeks out, Mercy lifts her wings barely a hoof while, for some reason, lewdly scrutinizing the Councilmare.
[1d6+4 = 9]
<Reveal Unnatural
[1d6+4 = 6]
<E.Perception
[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+4 = 9]

>Now only visible as gray outlines, a partially enraged equine snort is given as the batmare's first response.
"Laziness is a crime, not a virtue, human-"
>The last word spoken in a wincingly cutting, derogatory marener.
"I am Lunarborn, not subject to the flightiness nor weaknesses of most batponies. My duties were commissioned by direct commarend from Princess Luna to research, understand, locate, find, identify, then execute all discovered Lunar vampires. Several were found tonight, by you, therefore my duties are not complete regardless of my injuries or ponial misery."
>Sensing little more than incredulous disgust from the mare's thin outline, the right set of wingclaws splay outwards in an openly hostile motion.
"I will entertain this notion only due to the fact that I've destroyed sixteen Constructs on my own and would dearly like to be asleep right now. Tell me why precisely I should not eliminate this unknown number of experimarentally Luna-altered ponies whom are fully capable of mass slaughter by thirty to eightyfive factors beyond equivalent pony capabilities. Whom, I must add, are likewise incapable of a necessarily dreamless sleep without the alchemically modified berries from the flowering ambrose plant, purposefully eliminated after their disappearances somewhere around two hundred years after the Lunar-Solar War ended. That, by the way, concluded with the banishmarent of Princess Celestia's alter-ego, the so-called 'Solar Tyrant', Princess Luna's destruction of the various Enclaves and their experimarents, which also coincided with the near-complete removal of around nine hundred pony lineages deemed empirical failures by both factions. Make me understand why I should betray Princess Luna's orders to destroy these failures for the remote hope of a single positive consequence."

>>236876
>Head tossing backwards, the batpony Councilmare shoots an impartial scowl at you before pointing her left wing towards Jeff, but mostly at the crypt's mostly closed barracks doors.
"Don't assume you know what Princess Luna's orders are, she's mourned those monsters for over a millennia now! Ambrose berries cannot grow in Equestria anymore, millions of seeds planted by every species across these lands died without a single one of them sprouting. Princess Luna sent thousands to other dimensions, spectrums, and Planes, all of which equally failed. If you think the Nightmare wants a bunch of miserable warmares that can only be controlled after they're forcefully put to sleep from the extracts of a single stupid berry are somehow more useful than modern mares, then I suggest you reconsider how 'impetuous' I am. Equestria's three Princesses and Queen have suffered from their failures more than enough to pay for every bloodied crime committed in the past three thousand years, so how much more intelligent are you than they to say what 'should' have occurred?"
>Stomping her newly joined, artificial Empire crystal hoof on the smoothed out flooring, the Councilmare's head swings around to hiss in your direction.
"Spare me your sanctimoniously foalish excuses, I'm not about to betray the orders of my Princess, two other Princesses, or the Queen. What cause would lead me to to believe what you or others state based on lacking direct experience?"

>Carefully analyzing the Councilmare's body and vocal cues, then understanding her fully open Common, your body turns rigid in shock at the entire Lunar overherd's painful, logical realizations pounding into your psyche.
Low Stability Consequence: the Councilmare was correct. Princess Luna was no fool: she had requested previous generations of Lunars to seek out and destroy the imperfect, flawed, and dangerous creations of their predecessors, and of her own make. They were not to cover up, hide, or deflect the Lunar faction's past failures, only to remove those mistakes without causing harm to innocent ponies. This long hated, mutated batpony mare forbid all choices: she willingly, freely swore terrible and vile oaths out of duty. She did not relish this fact, nor could she cease her efforts until all abominations created during the Lunar-Solar War were eliminated, or until her death, whichever came first. She was not the first one to do so, nor would she be the last.

>Jolting you out of the Lunar overherd's unprepared knowledge, the Councilmare bares shiny fangs through some variation of the Void she'd transited into.
"Forget Constructs, the Endless March, Ewerup, the Coville disaster, Caneighdia's fracturing, the Saddle Arabian and Crystal pony descendants of earth ponies, and whatever else you've heard of. Those are foalish argumarents over who had the better idea or who would have been right more often than not. The Princesses must focus on protecting Equestria as they once did, but until that time occurs I'll be here to do what dirty work they can't."

"Nightblade Jeff. You have precisely sixty seconds to convince me of why I should not abide by orders. Fail this and you, the golem, the Pale Destroyer, and the marecenary behind me shall be treated as enemies."
>Turning once more in Jeff's direction, a burned, partially shredded, scorched, and torn Lunar Council cloak is thrown off her onto the floor in front of her, the motion a deliberate challenge.
"Or perhaps you may attempt to kill me, in which case you'll suffer the consequences of defying Princess Luna's direct orders. I may be injured, but I am neither stupid nor foolhardy. Your choice. Make it count."
Razorback Fortress: The Clinic
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.239409
239480
>>236957
>Stopping a few paces from the front doors, Torven's wings wrap around his head, grasping his face with both sets of phenomenally large wingclaws.
>Silent for a few seconds until emitting a tight, despairing sigh, the stallion's wings slowly fold back onto his sides.
"Were you a being I wanted to torture for a million years straight.. I wouldn't let you in. Not even those morbidly insane ponies living in Equestria deserve her form of punishmarent."
>Pausing to turn his head and give you a haunted stare, his gaze lowers to eye the offerings, shaking his head briefly at the fruit.
"Can't eat for the next few nights. If you have a couple bottles of strong alcohol or painkillers on hoof I'd ponifally be in your debt but if not I need to visit the Mess Hall's bar right now."
>Speaking in a quietly dejected tone, his left wing extends outwards, the trio of claws delicately grasping onto the bottle's midsection.
>Either unable to care or lacking any regard for his own safety, the cobalt batpony stallion lifts it up for several deep swallows.
>Quietly exhaling, the empty plastic bottle is presented back to you, afterwards accompanied by a glance towards Nova Flicker currently treating her newest patient, whom was no longer grumbling from what you could hear judging by deep, rhythmic humming.
>Gazing upwards with an expression that appeared to be one of sincere apology, Torven gestures with his left wing at the Clinic's doors, stepping forwards to push the left one open.
"The basic meanings between equine and human languages are very different. And no, I'm not ponifally allied with Razorback though I enjoy spending my time here rather than being in Basin Village. Come with me, I'll explain what I know."
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.239414
240110
>>238783
>Calculating the newly arrived human's equipmarent, a spot of marginal interest occurs in that the chest armor was decidedly for a female based on two mildly pronounced, target-inducing bulges.
>Filing that notation away for later, the visor's readouts were positive indications of mid-2020's solid crystalline display technologies based on even colored brightness and fairly decent anti-glare functions, though still fairly crude if it were a basic design.
>The boxy submachine gun was an upscaled Ingram MAC-11 or MAC-12 variant in either an Otherworldly standard 10MM to 11MM cartridge judging by the extended, heavily worn carbide-coated muzzle brake, one that had seen far better days.
>The damaged, decidedly non-military armor fell directly in line with the various forms of suspicious 'job protection' designs, while the dull titanium bat was eight inches beyond normal length, pushing it's owner further into coming from an illegitimate occupation.
>Her entire demeanor that you could surmise was directly criminal, though relatively soft judging by the lack of surprise following a native equine around.
>And, should circumstances permit, highly exploitable should the opportunity arise.

"Worse than I remember to be honest. Not sure I'm able to explain, was a bit more startling than expected. Can't remember how marely Wardens were lost after retaking the Southern Lowland mines. A few are Crystalline Shells now, thank Cadenza's efforts. Thought they'd been wiped out, guess not. Going to step up recruiting efforts among my generation when I get back, there'll be plenty of Crystal ponies begging to rejoin for a chance at ripping Constructs apart a few more times."
>Offering a thin-lipped smile, Thansiumum bows her head for several momarents until standing up straight once more, the clear-white helmet turning towards the Pagoda in scrutiny.
>She didn't realize the salute's specific meaning, instead responding with a strictly formal Crystal pony bow.
"Starblazer Type One, maybe a Four, both older than my lineage. Not a model to piss with or ignore, you've heard why. Hard to tell which one exactly; both are relentless, they'd burn themselves into molten puddles. Ones sometimes used shields, Fours tended to defend themselves using erratic mareneuvers. Both carried foamed silverine taken from Dynasty research centers, cities, bases, even some of those strange vessels the Lunars liked. Used for temporary hull patches until a Repair equipped model was able to restore their exterior."
>Clear-white helmet returning to you and tilting, the Kingdom General exhales through the snout plate in mild surprise.
"Compromised? As in corrupted? Well.. that's.. both fascinating and worrisome to put my feelings in the most basic terms. I didn't know human technology was advanced enough to house InterPonies or anything like them."
>Not entirely ignoring the defensive reaction taking place by tossing her helmet backwards several inches, the Empire General's face heavily creases in thought.
"Aside from this human that landed facefirst in what I suppose is this Library's filly room after the Starblazer was eliminated, that is correct. Generals Kalatrine, Garnelia, and myself successfully treated the unicorn filly, Crystal filly, three pegasi fillies, and one Saddle Arabian colt. If your helmet is crystalline based then yes, shouldn't be difficult, I've restored some of the oldest Crystalline Shells corrupted by the damned Construct language. That is unless it's a hard material to interface with or heavily protected by esoteric languages that I'm unfamiliar with."
>Ears flicking futilely in the helmet's projections at the third question, Thansimum gives a gentle, reassuring smile.
"Have you ever been subjected to a Crystal pony's recuperative melodies?"
>The answer was a distinct 'no', not that she knew it.
"If not all you'd be required to do is sit down, relax, focus solely upon my voice, and allow me to erase the stains of Planar contact-madness from your psyche. There will be mild short term memory difficulties for a few hours, though the alternative is suffering from substantial physical and marental deterioration for around two months."

>Visibly even more unsettled than before, the human's gloved left hand had taken over grasping the bat, drawing it over the same shoulder while the right was carefully shifting toward the submachine gun's grip.
>Thansimum's expression turns several degrees of smug betraying she could hear, or perhaps sense, what was occurring behind her and hadn't made a defensive movemarent.
>At least, not yet.
Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
wqAuv
?
No.239480
244985
>>239409
>Cheto only needs to look at his reaction to figure out it was no simple case of annoyance.
(What other potentially dangerous things are they keeping here?)
>He nods at Torven's attempt to express how bad it was in there, withdrawing the bag, sealing it and putting it back into his bag.
"I understand."
>He awaits with a bit of a hearty smile at how his bat acquaintance drinks the whole bottle of Fruit Juice without pretenses.
"I do have some painkillers on me, but I am not sure how many of them do you need or if they'll even work on you, but feel free to use them."
(Seeing how one of the mares can withstand so much firepower being thrown against her.)
>He reachs his arm for the pouch on his leg, taking out the painkiller jar he has in there, presenting it as well as taking the empty plastic bottle and putting it back in his bag.
>Of course, he follows Torven's gesture as he does it, too, not wanting to strain Nova's magic powers any longer.
"Sure thing. I do need some pointers to understand this world. Start where you think it is most important for a human newcomer to know, mainly cultural or political stuff but I'm open for anything that doesn't fit there you think is necessary, important or complementary."
>He gives a curt smile to the now slightly less distressed batpony.
"Lead the way, Mister Torven."
The L.O.N.T
EbZuE
?
No.239506
239507
night_date_by_dragonfoxgirl_ddemoin small.png

The L.O.N.T
EbZuE
?
No.239507
>>239506
Krinza and Lann on a date like a pair of nerds
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.239513
File (hide): 0.0 (0.0 bytes, 0, .....jpg)
.....jpg
[1d6+5 = 9]
[1d6+5 = 6]
[1d6+5 = 6]

Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.239515
239619 245313
.....jpg
>>239363
>>236876
>Now that the councilmare has cooled down, he realizes what shape she's in.
>She looks like she's already went ten rounds on the Citadel, before coming here.
>But despite the fact that he was able to calm her down to the point of NOT releasing a spell of sorts, her seething rage still made it abundantly clear.
>He doesn't remember calling her lazy, though.
>But before he can interject, she starts on a long winded speech.
>Followed by another one, as she switches between him and Sunny.
>It was bad. All of it was bad, on their part.
>They en-longed their lifespans, made them dependant on Ambrosia to stay sane. Then took it all away, and systematically removed them from existence.
>They toyed with pony lives. Turned them into killing machines, and tossed the bad ones aside. No longer fit for service.
>Only then did it dawn on him why is eye involuntarily twitched, his teeth clenched to the point of cracking, and his gauntlet-clad fist clenched white knuckled.
>Because it was all too familiar for him.
>Exhaling his pent up rage out in a single leveled breath, her square-up is redundant to him as the sole Nightblade human takes a single deliberately-heavy step toward the outlined batmare, and banks off to Mercy's side to allow passage.
"Please, like I was going to stop you. All I was going to say is they're aware of the situation on the Citadel, and probably finishing up arming themselves to the fangs. Figured they're so devoted, I could at least chaperon them for one last fight. But seeing as I'm not privy to some important information-"
>He stops far enough to the side and crosses his arms, glaring daggers at the councilmare and her barely unbridled fury.
"I won't stop you, but I refuse to assist you either. Can't carry out an order I was never given."
>Deep down, he understood the situation. And he understood what needed to be done, if it all was in fact true.
>There was no way to control the vampires, anymore, once they went off.
>And even if she did fail, another one would take her place. Even he might have to finish her job.
>To ensure the Lunar's dirt was thoroughly swept under the rug.
>When he first came here, he figured things would be different. That for once in his single-minded miserable life he could do something good for once.
>But once again, here he was: doing the wetwork for another country that had far too many skeletons in its closet.
>It made his blood boil as hot as the sun, punch his fists into the wall until his knuckles bled and his bones shattered.
>But the councilmare was hellbent on doing this, even in her already battered state.
"Go on. Have at 'em."
>Did she have a card up her sleeve to kill, let alone execute every single vampire? Or was her blind devotion so powerful, that even in her state she refused to back down even in the face of inevitable failure?
>Because if sixteen of himselves were going to tear her limb from limb, he won't interfere.
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.239619
245313
1468857396817.png
>>239363
>Sunny scowled at the councilmare's ranting, seemingly having completely ignored everything she'd just said.
>As an alchemist, she knew full well that Ambrosia could no longer be made, but couldn't recall exactly why the berries refused to grow. She could think about it, or she could make her point again for the lunar councilmare, though she wasn't particularly inclined to believe she'd be any better at listening this time around.
"Intelligent enough to know that you, Her and everyone else up on the moon barely survived a probing assault. The next one won't be as gentle, you cannot hold the moon on your own, especially now that you're weakened. We saw that damnable suicide cult assembling back in Basin Village, if you're perfectly willing to send them to their deaths, why not this lot?"

>The mare was shocked to stillness as the alien thoughts of the Lunar overherd intruded on her, shaking her head side to side as if to get them out.
>Angered at the intrusion, Sunny spat out each word spitefully, her sudden hatred for this specific pony and every pony she was associated with barely contained.
"Don't talk to me about 'them'! If Luna is too cowardly to look them in the eye before ordering their mortal coils cut by somepony else, then at least have the common decency to grant them this last act of service if they wish it, for your own sakes if not for theirs."
>She wanted to rail, she wanted to yell at this councilmare and vent her frustrations.
>Instead she sat, lightheaded.

>After her final line, Sunny quirked her mouth into a wry smile and shook her head woefully.
"You could have fooled me, only a stupid and foolhardy pony would adhere to an order to kill ponies they know are effective and heavily armed combatants in a state such as you're in. If the Lunar wasn't incapacitated right now, I have no doubt she still would have sent you in her stead to die or kill pointlessly while the real enemy is hovering over your gods damned heads."
>Her words were bitter, even to her. It shouldn't be this way. It shouldn't.

>>239515
>She sat still and resolved not to interfere, following Jeff's more or less unspoken lead.
>Much as she wanted to interfere and stop these shortsighted ponies from dooming themselves and possibly the entire planet in the process, she had her orders.
>Instead, she focused on drawing on her Alchemical knowledge about Ambrosia. Of course she'd never seen, let alone concocted the brew. If it were able to grow once, it should be able to grow again, and Sunny had no reason to believe anypony had really made a serious attempt to solve the problem aside from some half hearted attempt to replant them rather than figuring out why they won't grow, instead resolving for the easier solution of slaughtering every Lunar Vampire they could find than reverse whatever had been done to prevent a single berry from growing.
>Or so she thought, it would not surprise her in the slightest if it were true.

[1d6+3 = 9]
< E. Alchemy
[1d6+3 = 5]

[1d6+3 = 8]

Cairn Wharf
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.239672
245757
>>238840
"Been posted here three years now, I can tell you why: Razorback humans have never visited Cairn Wharf. Makes it safer for individual and non-aligned humans to come here safely as a meeting place."
>Spoke the first Lunar Guard, her snout scrunching in a tactful amount of amusemarent.

>Following the suspicious Lunar's eyes, the loose diagonal line of three fillies placing themselves roughly 20M behind you had no distinctions between their dull blue warpaint jobs, easily recognizable due to long experience of various Ferron clans constantly visiting Razorback.
>They were deliberately abusing the concept of space by the central one acting as a bored, wandering Matron's daughter flanked by two lower ranking guardfillies from her own clan as, and was doing a perfect job 'ignoring' them while disdainfully ignoring those passing around.
>Behind the trio, a green and blue Hunter-Killer warpainted Ferron filly visibly window shopping in their wake.
>As stated she was scrutinizing everything on the multitude of stalls, all without the appearance of wanting to touch anything.
>Picking up the 'window shopper' 20M behind that one, this one was a highly talented interdictor on par with Crystal pony actors easily five times her age.
>Tightly woven brown saddlebags visibly bulged out, and audibly jingling, this one's gaze passes over you onto the stalls opposite the fake recruiting station.
>Drifting back to her task without a hint of acknowledgemarent to you, she was indeed picking up and examining every possible trinket, piece of driftwood, and food alike with the same focus that Krinza does with suspicious weaponry.
"..damn, you're right. Didn't notice them in the slightest."
>Muttered the first Guard in a dumbstruck tone.
"Matron's filly all right. Sea's Bounty maybe?"
"Not a clue."
"Well, you get two-fifths my Bits when the month ends."

>The note is retracted with a partially smug expression as you glance left.
>Towards the pier's new construction section, a brand new, bright neon painted sign reading that simply stated: BAR.
>Which, you realized, was incredibly out of place seeing as every other sign so far had at least two languages on it.

"She's alone right now and there's only a hooffull of ponies here that don't love Razorback. Since Ferron are banned from joining the Cult they tend to drop information to us regularly.. even if sitting on our asses keeping watch is more dull than carving gravestones."
>Slipping something under the table, the suspicious batmare offers a mischievous smile in return while the first splays her wingclaws in agreemarent.
"Could be worse. You might be at Basin right now."
"Really? This, right now? Just stop, tonight's bad enough already-"
"I could make it worse-"
"Please.. please don't. Take care of yourself Bubba, we'll probably meet again when events settle. I've been looking forwards to getting a rotation in at Razorback."

>Patting yourself down quickly, nothing was out of place save for a number of borrowed heatstones.
>Drifting back into the older pegasi and batpony groups, now that you realized it most were keeping their distance from the positioned fillies, yet still offering nods, smiles, and wing or hoof waves.
[1d6 = 1]
<Reaction

Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.239699
240623
>>239010
"Before as in these-"
>Waiting until the door closes, the Zebra filly makes a partial shrug while spreading several papyrus sheets out with her right hoof for you to read.
>Leaning forwards to study them over, each was written in the peculiar Canterlotlian flourish of Common Equestrian script.
>Quite a few familiar names from the major, and most of the minor, Equestrian factions, along with dozens of others across Tallus were listed in descending order of status.
>At the bottom of each were dates ranging from one to six months before Razorback arrived on Tallus, that is until the unique signatures of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.
>Stated on the other pages, there was to be one representative from each faction across Tallus whom were contractually obligated to provide alchemical services and shipmarents of relevant items to Razorback Companeigh itself, at regularly scheduled monthly intervals.
>The paymarents were specifically addressed to an organization called the 'Friends of Equestria', one that you'd never heard of before.
>Likewise from your time in Razorback you knew that not a single service nor shipmarent similar to these had occurred, which made these breaches of contract rather confusing.

>Rubbing her snout with one knee, Tapeskat sits back to eye a large, platinum-encrusted birchbark scroll in the table's center.
"Before Razorback Companeigh was brought here.. five or six months less than three years ago now? Maybe, I think that's when. Aneighhow, Neightime and some others from Saddle Arabia were commarended by the Bronze Duke, that's Saddle Arabia's current ruler, to appear at Canterlot Palace. She must've been there for a week, we couldn't keep up with all the orders coming in. When she came back this contract was hung up here and spent a couple weeks teaching us everything we were supposed to do. But-"
>Nudging the scroll towards you, Tapeskat's eyebrows furrow together as she frowns.
"None of that happened. This is signed and sealed by Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, the Bronze Duke, a ton of other rulers.. and some others from places I can't pronounce during midsummer 29,995. There's a bunch of royal and noble names on here from everywhere else I can think of too, but that's not the problem. Only three of those that signed this contract-"
>Wiggling her snout at it speculatively.
"Actually came here around three weeks after humans started showing up all over. One of them was a Canterlot princess.. not a PRINCESS princess like the alicorns are, she was more like an.. under-princess? Sorry, the word 'princess' is written in all lowercase, dunno what that means exactly. Neightime told me she's a descendant of Princess Celestia from waaay back in the past. When she did show up with the other nobles or royals everypony in the plaza was ordered to leave by the Duke's Guard. Both of them were unicorns, dunno what they looked like but I could see they had horns. When we were let back in Neightime told us the contract was broken and to forget it was ever made."
>Taking a slow, deep inhale to settle herself, the Zebra filly pushes a small, official looking white notepad in your direction.
"The Bronze Duke sent this to her, it was supposed to record all the stuff we were supposed to deliver the first of every month. He came here a week or two after we learned Canterlot Palace was gone. Even had four Desert Guardians, really big, scary stallions all wearing crowns and old armor, and he told her to burn it. She.. she got really mad and bucked him right in the snout. He was bleeding all over. She started shouting something about 'us' getting betrayed and I got scared, ran in here to hide because I didn't know what was going on. He left and she never got punished. A couple Desert Guardians used to patrol Snootadishu at dusk and dawn, now they won't even come here because Neightime was so mad."
>The Zebra filly's head rolls back, staring at the upper wall in something akin to bafflemarent.
"I think after we heard Razorback Companeigh settled.. somewhere in Southern Equestria, Neightime started having us take and sell the same kinds stuff we were supposed to send to some Crystal ponies in the Empire. She wrote it all down, every leaf, drop, and powder grain. Last month the Bronze Duke came back, and I was about to run in here again with the others. He ordered us to stop, and.. well, we did. Then he said this: 'keep selling to them or I'll ensure the last breath you take will be under me'. Then he asked if she'd be willing to take over some big old marension near the Northern Tartarus Coast, I remember that part real well, south of a big tributary I can't say right. She's been gone a lot so I guess she took it over."
>Head dropping down and towards you, Tapeskat's slowly deepening frown reaches critical, nearly comedic mass.
"I dunno what ANY of this means. Neightime told me to tell everything I could remember to anypony or human from Razorback that comes here."
The L.O.N.T
UlS2n
?
No.239745
245316
1457655574640.png
>>226578

>He nodded, appreciating her and the others' situation.
"I see. Constructs have always been a problem for as long as I remember being here, and appear to becoming more and more invasive as time moves on."

>He met her stare, expression blank.
"I hope she could listen to me. Could. The guilt of not doing enough despite doing so much weighs heavy on her, pinning her in her predicament. But I don't see no harm in asking. Me though? I don't feel I've earned in, feeling like I've been wondering around aimlessly for too long."
>Lont explained, ending with a shrug of the shoulders. What could go wrong from suggesting she take a few days off?

"I was never that adapt at medicine however it has always come in handy when it was needed. More than once too."
>He was not well educated on healing, everything he learned was from experience not from books. Which was why he saw himself closer to a medic than an actual doctor.
>'...Am I Razorbacks' Medical Liaison? Can't recall at the moment.'

>Again with a list of edibles from up north. It made a tempting offer to explore there soon just to see what he could scrounge up if he was not bogged down with other duties needing attention.
"It is good to know they are seen in a sympathetic light, they sound like they have enough on their plate already.
>'Like myself.'

>Seeing Tacit was indeed in good hooves relieved Lont of some stress. Secure in the knowledge that his one direct source of the sudden and awful turn of events was not going to mysteriously die under his nose meant he could focus on the now.
>The now being a date with food.

>The Operators lips pulled back to mimic Shatters' smile, his tone reassuring as his thumb rubbed along the smooth surface of her crystal hoof.
"I am more than willing to take it slow and steady, if you so wished."
>He promised, giving her another wink.
>At hearing the protests Lont craned his neck to look back at the Chef that interrupted his fun.
"Apologises, I shall save the main performance for later after we've eaten."
Maths...Eureka! -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
UlS2n
?
No.239753
239774 239810
Jefferson's_disk_cipher.jpg
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>230684
>Golden tilted his head at Adon in slight intrigue as he kept his eyes on the magical barrier.
"What are Elves actually?"

>He too stepped back as he went worked up an answer.
"e Does hold the key to opening these doors yes. And that is a possibility for his Underlings. For himself? Neigh, he would not stoop so long as to leave clues. He sees that as admitting weakness, no, he would brute force his way past this."
>He raised a foreleg up so he could rub his nose with a knee, frustrated.
"If only we had stayed and BUCKING inquired for more information beforehoof from those Slavers."

>The Witcher examined the finely carved Tretogorese door frame for any clues hidden amongst the masterful carvings of symbols of wealth, animal heads and filigree. He saw nothing on that lacquered wooden surface. His eyes eventually drifted back towards the equation floating in the centre of the magical barrier. As he stared at it Adon felt the world around him disappear as his mind worked on deciphering what the it all meant. Then, as if he was slapped in the face, the answer began to appear.

>>230699
>As Spruce stared at "2π + 3e" it felt as if his head was going to explode with much maths he was doing.
"The answer to 3e is..."
>Muttered Golden Horn as he used the edge of his hoof to draw out the pathway to an answer.
"Round off the excess and you end up with eight. Hmm."
>Saying this out loud half of the last equation reformed into the spoken result, making it 2π+8.

>Eight.
>The word rang in the Operators skull like the *TING* of a tuning triangle, reverberating as his mind latched onto a detail.
>A detail that stood in plain sight in front of him, its revelation leaving Spruce blinking.
>Did it trigger a memory on how to do mathematics or did some capricious god smile down on Spruce showing him the truth.
>A truth that was in plain sight the whole time.

>There were four equations, four answers. Each answer were lined up together in a deliberate way Spruce now saw.
>The arrangement of a four letter word.
>fifteen, sixteen and five. And when he lined up the numbers to the Tallus Common Alphabet it came up as...
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
ssWC+
?
No.239774
239810 240430 241998
4HpFrji.png
>>239753

>As the final arrangement of numbers became known as their companion, who is apparently bad at math, solves the hardest question by himself.
>With that over, Karl rises back to his feet, tucking his notebook back away.
>As the last number appears, its placing deliberate its intention suddenly clear to Spruce.
>He seems surprised as he begins reciting the Noregian (He didnt know any other Alphabets) to himself, but the answer is still the same as it would be to a Tallus pony.
>And that answer was...
"Hope."
>Spruce rather suddenly muttered, blinking to himself.
>How did he... How did he know that?
>What?
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.239810
240430
>>239753
>>239774
>He looks away from the floating math equation and at Golden Horm, a humored smirk creased in the corner.
"Elves? Heh, I can go all day talking about them. They look similar to humans, but they're long lived and masters of architect, alchemy, mathematics, science, magic..."
>Adon shifts his eyes to the side, annoyingly.
"Most of them are snobby assholes about it, though."

>Refocusing back onto the door, he looks it over very thoroughly for any clues.
"Well, too late for that now. Hope there aren't any more puzzles like this, up ahead."
>He regrets those words, already.
>Before he's able to come up with an answer, the unicorn beats both humans to the punch.
>And through a little letter association, Spruce comes up with a corresponding word.
>It was a good thing he took the time to learn Common alphabet before setting off anywhere.
"Hope? Hope for what? At any rate, we can move forward now."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.240110
245430
tumblr_mwl6nmUbLI1roymnwo1_1280.jpg
>>239414
>Pareidolia mentally catalogues the observation.

[Potential Rounder recruit. Outside personal area of expertise, but staff options limited. Will attempt building rapport at later date.]

>He remains silent, listening intently to the description of the various models.
>His brow furrows as she elaborates, and he tilts his helmet downwards slightly in thought.

"Possibly a One designation. Armaments included a shield, halberd, plasma cannons, and particle whips. It used foam in an attempt to disable me. Current considerations point to that being due to my helmet."

>Nodding once to the mare General's surprised reaction he states:

"I do not know what InterPonies are, but my equipment is of a more advanced era than most humans here. Not enough to prevent Construct intrusion apparently. Terminology can be explained after you attempt treatment."

>His helmet turns slightly to look behind Thansimum, silently watching the human's defensive reaction.

"Your likelihood of success is unknown to me, but I would appreciate an attempt regardless. The alternative is destroying my suit systems."

>Exhaling, he reaches both hands behind his head to the back of the helmet's housing slot and disengages the clamps.
>Drawing out the unit housing his N.O.A.H AI drive, he holds it in front of him as he sits down.

"Please inform me of your degree of success in purging the Construct infection from myself and this device."

[Short term memory difficulties non-ideal. Rehearse and try to retain as much information as possible.]

>Pareidolia begins mentally organizing, reiterating, and rehearsing mental techniques to retain important information about recent events.

>As he does this, he looks up sharply towards the human behind her once more.

"Do not interfere in this process. There is much more occurring here than you are currently equipped to understand."

Basin Village: Last Stop Restaurant
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.240291
240626
>>239013
>The Cultist immediately to your left turns her head, the hood obscuring her face though a dim, blue, brown, and red speckled snout can be seen wiggling furiously.
>For what and why exactly you didn't know.
>Head cocking, a crisp, unusually cute and cheerful young voice speaks up, the same type that nearly every stallion, and a worrying number of humans, would usually go after without a second thought.
"What I've read so far is this: forty percent of liths are used as direct navigational markers. An excellent example of this are the precisely seventy-three carved stone liths denoting flight paths leading from the Basin's exterior to colonies, stopovers, safe trees to sleep in, and other highly specific locations within a night's flight. At each location there are more liths which can be followed throughout most of the Moors and even into Stalliongrad should a batpony dare to brave such cold. The remainder of liths are instructive rather than directive, however ninety percent or more of Equestrian regions use liths rather than wayposts or guides. A common theory is that liths are culturally significant and lineage dependent rather than being regionally-based markers. There is historical evidence showing liths are structurally pleasing to the equine mind, whi-"
>The web-scarred leader snaps both sets of wingclaws together to give a single loud click, giving the barely mature batpony a deliberately hard stare.
"Enough please. I'm quite positive Clemency-"
>Slightly nodding in your direction with a mareishly exasperated tone.
"-understands the marely varieties of liths. What he has demarended and shall be given are direct results, not an hour of information that is questionably relevant to his purposes. Should he demarend additional specifics then he shall return, yes?"
>Watching the spritely batmare's snout twitch under her hood out the corner of your eye, she returns to your direction giving a merry series of kee's.
>Ones that, thankfully, were fairly tolerable and highly unlikely to cause punctured eardrums.
>..which you still didn't understand.

>Putting on a relatively passive waiting expression until you relay the information, the leadmare's ears flick sideways in puzzlemarent.
"That is one highly unique phrasing structure. On the surface it's likely proto-Canterlotlian, four thousand years old or so? Give or take a thousand. We have barely a saddlepack's worth of surviving records from those eras. I believe those specific numbers are here somewhere-"
>Eyes dropping down to silently skim through the Cult's findings using her left middle wingclaw to aid her, the mare's lips tighten in thought.
>Tapping the third page after a minute, the leadmare's snout twitches in mild curiosity.
"Mm, found it. Ritualized summoning in Kaspe-li, one of multiple partially interchangeable Planar Harpy dialects. Fairly similar to ancient pegasi, language structure wise at least. We have the necessary materials and ponies available if you'd like for us to proceed with this."
Maths...Eureka..? -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
/8ow+
?
No.240430
241998 242051
1470922411119.jpg
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>239774
>When the words left the Operators mouth the magical barrier that separated himself, Adon and Golden Horn from the closed doors and the Chitqu flashed a light of shocking red accompanied with a high pitched *BEEP*.
>Such a sudden and unwelcome noise set the hair on Spruce standing.

>Nearly jumping out of his own skin at the unsuspected bleep Golden looked at Spruce wide eyed.
"I don't believe that was the right answer."

>At the foot of the door the Chitqu squirmed where it was, it too having been spooked by the loud sound. It scrambled to its tiny feet and gave Spruce an almost betrayed look as it shook its head.
>The wrong answer, not like the Norwegian did not know that now.

>>239810
>Adon was caught unaware also by the flash of red and the head rattling tune.
>His medallion jumped up and down on his collarbone from the sheer volume of vibrations it was making when this happened, and as the ringing in his ears died down so too did his wolf head trinket.

>Knees still shaking the old Unicorn tried to give the Witcher a confident smile. Tried.
"Y-yes well you could of told me they are human versions of us Unicorns, for better and worse. In any case it appears your 'hope' was just now dashed."

>Still there at human eye level the unsolved equation floated as the centrepiece of the barrier, now shining brighter than before, perhaps as emphasis for it to be answer again.
>With its fur no longer standing on end making it appearing fluffier than before the Chitqu pointed, not at anyone, but rather back towards the opening of the tunnel entrance.
>There, where cold mountainside was supposed to be there was now a magical wall identical as the one in front of trio.
"Oh horse apples..."
>Said Golden before a voice from above burst into life.
"By the fucking Elements can you Slavers -TRY- to be intelligent for just once!"
>Somewhere on the ceiling of the tunnel projected a raspy voice with an odd filter to it, Spruce recognizing it as static interference. Even with this the rudeness was loud and clear in his laboured tone.

>Ears flat against his head Golden cursed under his breath.
"Horse. Apples. Excelleon."
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.240623
245484
>>239699
>Zhun immediately looks over the fancy script of the scroll Tapeskat laid out for him
>"One per faction to provide alchemical services and shipments to the company. Regular intervals."
>If this would have happened, there wouldn't been such a serious need now
>Zhun leaned over to take a look at the large scroll in the center of the table
>"That Duke prevented that Canterlot dealing, then he wanted the contract to be burnt. Why?"
>Zhun then pulls that small notepad towards himself and looks it over
"Wait, he sent this to her and then said to burn it?"
>Crystal ponies?
"Was it some sort of company in the Crystal Empire that the stuff was sent to?"
>Seeing her frown, Zhun thinks about the whole situation
>"Damn it. I'm only a soldier for this..."
"Why is the Bronze Duke so hostile towards her dealings? And with Neightime talking about betrayal... How often is Neightime gone?"
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
Q+iXH
?
No.240626
245616
>>240291
>Ok, lith lesson seems to be done
>Clem turns and nods an agreement to the head mare's statement
>Good thing the helmet has some sound protection for the kee's
>"Unique is right. Sounded like I was talking to a medieval knight. At least Indurian had some inflections."
"Of course. I'd like to see where this goes."
Jamal Ratchet
!PsOrb9esFQ
KVpYW
?
No.240789
245617
>>228903
>Jamal shrugs and finally remembers that nothing in this world works like back home.
"I guess that makes sense; back home the deserts didn't get no rain no matter what time of year it was."
>Given the clear invitation to sit down, Jamal follows suit and nods in recognition to the leaving filly.
"I wasn't afraid of Her, but a real goddess being born from your gang demands some respect. Doing her will and potentially getting blessed for it only sweetens the deal."
>With the smooth flavors and soft-ass high trying to kick in, Jamal settles in for the long haul.
>High quality shit, but not a strain for grown ass men to get stoned with.
>The mix tapes are put back in the bag and Jamal leans forward in the seat now that the good shit was about to get started.
"Yeah, I'mma just call you Gresta, now hit me with this truth you got for me."
>With pipe and drank in hand, the sole nigga furrows his brow in concentration while watching some bullshit magic.
>As the images change and are promptly explained, Jamal briefly considers taking notes, but alas he is holding two items he can not spill.
>He has a good enough memory anyways.
>Once the shaman is done with his display, Jamal takes another hit on his pipe and leans back in the chair again.
"I ain't got no clue on that, and I only know about half those images whatsoever.
>Jamal passes the pipe back once he sees his new homie nursing a headache.
"Naw, it's all good G. I'm still coming out of this with way more info than I thought I would. Question now is what to do with it."
>The nigger chugs the rest of his mongo fanta and stashes the bottle in his bag, packing up so he can leave.
"My next collab mix tape might just have to wait a little longer, Constructs are kinda more important."
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.241998
242051 245847
>>240430
>>239774
>Adon sneered at the door as it made an all too familiar sound of incorrectness.
>The elves liked to use the same pattern when putting puzzles on doors and the like.
>'Hope' apparently wasn't correct.
>He utters 'Shit' under his breathe as a magically projected voice echoes from above.
>Ecxelleon was clearly annoyed they couldn't get through the door, almost like this wasn't the first time the door was answered incorrectly.
>He thought they were slavers, he didn't have eyes on them!
>That could give them enough time to correct the door.

>Adon turns toward Golden Horn, Spruce, and the Chiqtu and holds an index finger to pursed lips- signifying to be quiet. He then points up towards the unicorn's voice and covers his eyes momentarily.
>Now back to the door. What went wrong?
>By the way the equations were listed in order 'H' SHOULD be at the end, but 'opeh' doesn't make any sense in common. So eight must be wrong as well.
>He knows the first half of the answer, so he can at least start with a six and 'F'. 'Opef' doesn't work. Neither does 'Opeg'.
"..."
>You've gotta be kidding.
>Adon silently walks up to the door and erases the 8 with a wave of his hand and replaces it with a finger-drawn 14.
"Open."
>What an aggravatingly easy answer.
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!KB4AZIaIok
f3x8G
?
No.242051
245847
>>240430
>>241998

>Spruce stares at the door, shaking his head as the whole place simply locks them down.
>He sighed, annoyed he'd gotten it wrong.
>The yelling from their adversary didn't help, and neither were Golden and the little furball either right now.
>But, well.
>It seems hope was not the answer.
>But...
>Spruce looks at that final answer, figuring that, maybe, it was, perhaps, not the actual unsolved answer yet.
>Strange,sine the others just turned into the actual answer.
>He stands there, staring at it with a frown before Adon simply steps up and gives the answer.
>Spruce stands there a moment, stunned and mouth agape.
>He felt more than a little dumb now.
"... Really? It was that easy?"
Anonymous
UO9bQ
?
No.243181
Nova and Nal.png

Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.244948
245020
>>239230
>Definitely attracting the group's attention now, the oldest one, either their Commissar or an equivalent rank, quiets down from his monologue.
>Head turning about towards the other humans, Raindrop looses a relieved sigh.

>Studying the quartet of spaced hinges, little more than oddly precision cut slabs of the same raw material that the vault door was composed of, the 8.8CM, or 4" based on your knowledge of multiple measuremarent systems, thickness of each would prove difficult to entirely defeat in one go.
>Should the door hang up after removing three hinges, or fall outwards, significant structural damage would be the likely result.
>If not causing severe injury or outright death, that is.

"I take it that's good news and he'll recover in a few days."
>Head tilting sideways with a quiet snort, Raindrop's left eyebrow can be, barely, seen raising as she speaks in a bemused tone.
"As I told you before Miss Mallia, I have a contract to complete regardless of what happens. He can hit me all he likes and unless he breaks a few bones I won't be hindered. Besides, I've been treated much worse before. Feels more like getting spanked for stealing from a cookie jar than much else, really."

>Giving the sixteen lock set a close inspection, and a secret taste from Raindrop's prying eyes to see if it was indeed crudely extracted tungsten, the answer was a definite yes.
>Noting that each of the dials weren't set close enough to prevent a thin tool from poking inside, the first and last ones were spaced almost enough to get a pinky into, yet the crevices were too dark to determine what was inside.
>Registering and estimating the number of possible combinations would result in roughly 60 hours of trials, and the lack of noticeable wear was puzzling on its own.

>Peering up at the dial silently turning by your hand, the pegasus Knight tosses her head back towards the other two vault doors.
"Not what I expected, not surprising either. This city's been abandoned long enough there's probably nopony around who'd know how to open any of the three in here. And this is tungsten?"
>Standing on tiphooves for a better examination of the dull, raw metallic veins, Raindrop sets back down to give a quiet 'humph', staring upwards at you quizzically.
"That's not nonsense. I was about to tell them-"
>Flicking her right bladed wing back towards the potentially Vostroyan humans.
"To give up and leave. But, since you have some ideas and we're not exactly limited by time now, you can try whatever you think will work. Tell me what you need to do... and try to keep from making something too hot that I'll have to pull on or yank, my armor takes way longer in cooling down than most."
>Receiving a surprising, quick tap to your right hip, an audibly exasperated Raindrop shakes her head in slow, mock annoyance.
"Don't call yourself boring. I've no clue what to have done besides call for somepony to destroy these doors. Which, given Razorback's state, would probably take a couple weeks. You're in the lead here, you have knowledge that I don't, so that means I'm going to follow all suggestions, orders, or ideas you come up with, end of story."

>Examining the unfortunately cheap weapon, you knew it could easily withstand twenty to thirty seconds of the Rite, so long as the barrel was allowed to cool properly between firings and the Machine Spirit was pleased with the act of aiding you.
Razorback Fortress: The Fountain
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.244985
245032
>>239480
>Keeping the door open for a few seconds, the batstallion's eyes morosely drift past you towards the operating room doors.
"My advice: try not to understand."
>Ending on a low tone, he takes a half-step backwards into the now much colder night air while releasing a short, bleak sigh.
"I didn't like her before, now I don't know how to feel. Nopony deserves being crippled permarenently like that."
>Head turning back to you, Torven blinks once the bottle, then reaches out to grasp it with the right set of wingclaws.
>Bringing it close to his snout and grasping the cap with his other set, he twists it off for a one-eyed examination of the contents, speaking slowly in thought.
"Doctor Tipper calculated human painkillers to be fifty percent less effective for most ponies.. I think."
>Tossing his head back and not-so-carefully dumping more than few into his mouth, the sight of two long, sharp canines gives you a moderate sense of unease.
>Either there was more bat in his genetics or the pony was displayed less.

>Replacing the cap with a practiced twist and offering the bottle back, he immediately turns left into a half-walk.
>Speaking in a bitterly annoyed tone as you follow him, Torven passes around the Clinic's eastern wall, heading directly towards the fountain you'd seen earlier.
"Politics. Chest puffing, table pounding, backstabbing, shouting, do nothing trash!"
>Falling silent until reaching the peculiar metallic yellow fountain, he turns about to sit down in a huff, back against the side.
>Lifting both sets of wingclaws and folding them into rough 'fists' larger than yours, he rubs both sides of his head before speaking tiredly.
"Most of the time I'm asleep, otherwise I'm awake four to six hours a night, eight at most. More than that makes me sick. I'm a treasure hunter, spend my free time looking through maps, researching places, trading information or what I've found, and try not to get stuck somewhere dangerous. I don't normally scout locations, that rarely goes well for me."
>Pausing to flick the left set of wingclaws around in a circle, obviously indicating the Fortress itself, the wing settles against his side accompanied by a dry snort.
"Razorback, this fortress here, all the humans in it are a protectorate of the Lunar faction.. in more ways than one. I hate politics but I'll share what I can."

"Short version: Princesses Luna and Celestia are the co-rulers of Equestria. Both are alicorns so they're much bigger than me, probably the same size as feral horses on most human worlds, and they're living goddesses. Both are probably old as this world is. I don't know how exactly to treat them as royalty but you don't want to insult them around any followers."
"Luna owns the Lunar faction. Mostly made up of batponies, lots of pegasi including some ancient clans that broke apart that call themselves the Ferron, some unicorns, a few earth ponies, gryphons, minotaurs, Eyes, Harpies, and others I don't know. Crystal Empire hates the Lunars. Dunno why, but I'll get to them in a while."
"Celestia owns the Solar faction. Supposedly it's an even mix of pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies. Solars don't dislike non-ponies, they're.. apathetic I guess."
"Canterlot is the Solar capital, it's where the Palace is.. was, rather. Celestia blew most of that up in a rage after Razorback screwed up their first job. Solars kind of hate Razorback for that still. Can't blame them since it's true and all."
"At least three thousand years ago Luna started building a giant multi-level fortress on the Moon, which she owns, and it got called the Citadel. Dunno why. It's the Lunar capital now since most of her faction left Equestria and settled there. Most all the ponies you'll see around here are Lunars. Razorback's done much better keeping them happy than they did Celestia and hers."
"And if you were wondering: I'm not Lunar."

"Probably the next closest bunch to Razorback are the Ferron pegasi clans. They're all shorter than normal Equestrian pegasi. Again another dunno why. Main four clans are the Lishanki, Malurians, Arkadian Divides, and the actual Ferron clan."
"Lishanki are bandits, raiders, thieves, pirates, and brigands. Rest of the Ferron hate them for good reasons, and they've started disliking Razorback for taking down one of the black markets. They owned a lot of stuff that went through it, now they're being targeted by both the Lunars and Solars for getting caught with illegal stuff."
"Arkadians are traders, miners, smiths, researchers, map makers. Some treasure hunters too, at least from what I've been told. They live in the far tip of the Northern Crag Moors at some place called the Divides, probably between a couple mountains or something. Never been out that far.. don't want to either, much too dangerous. They haven't visited here before but supposedly they're on good terms with Razorback."
"Malurians are.. druids, I guess. Or maybe something similar. They're odd since most druids are earth ponies, unicorns, or minotaurs. They have a huge old city-state somewhere in the Moors, no idea where though. Not sure how much they like Razorback exactly but they did send a few big gifts recently, including a really nice blanket that I may or may not be borrowing for now."
"Main Ferron clan is a bunch of loose knit groups, sort of like tribes, that roam across the the northern Moors regions up into the New and Old Everfree Forests, across the Canterlot Plains, and sometimes even head all the way to the Minotaur Hegemony across the continent. Each of the sub-clans is directed by a noble that's directly descended from the old Dynasty. They tend to be a little bit of everything. Lots of them come here whenever they have access to a translocation matrice."

>Halting abruptly as the other wing drops down with a full body shiver, Torven's expression and voice turn deep shades of haunted.
"Then.. then there's the Sea's Bounty. I can't stand them, they're worse than most batponies are."
Mallia Castella
FM/9K
?
No.245020
245619
>>244948
>As Raindrop speaks to her in reply, Mallia can't help but dart her eyes to the combination lock as she manages to find that space between each dial, especially the first and last.
>The Enginseer's brow rises with intrigue rather visibly. But she reluctantly puts that thought on the backburner, in favor of looking back to the Knight to pay earnest attention to every word from her new xeno companion, nodding along in understanding to the statement about Chisan...

>Though even if Raindrop's answer was nothing more than "It's just my job", Mallia, in spite of her past experiences that should've hardened her heart and in spite the inherent teachings bestowed on her to hate xenos in general, couldn't help but stare at the mare with a guilty air in her furrowed glance.
>She knew full well it was a stupid feeling to have, but right now it was stronger than ever. Perhaps due to the translocation from her own universe to this world.

>She made sure to not say anything the whole while. Listening to everything, and letting it process in her head.
>Then she straight-up flinches up slightly for half a second as she is touched by the mare - even if just on the armor, unintentionally showing just how TENSE she was. Which, in turn, prompted her to breathe in deeply, and then sigh out heavily through her mask.
>Being told not to call herself boring made her pause and glance off to the side, with a deep-seated guilt in her eyes. That she didn't dare voice, of course. It was just a glance that lasted a good second however.

"W... What I meant was more..."
>Her voice drifts off, as she began to shuffle from her crouched position to face Raindrop to shift most of her attention to her now. Setting the hellpistol on her lap for a moment.
"Maybe you're just very good at not showing any bitterness on the job, but you're a very pleasant per--pony to have and talk to and strong, in my humble opinion, and I am surprised you don't show more spite about being treated so unfairly. That's what I'm used to seeing, at least. But, maybe, again, I'm just naive to the way ponies show their emotions; or just naive in general. And you're a very dutiful p--pony."
>The Enginseer breathes another sigh, this time audibly through her mouth - like a huff, as her tension just seems to increase the more she spoke; her voice becoming anxious. Though everything she says is awfully earnest, and genuine. She really felt bad even if she didn't do anything bad yet.
>And she also seems to crinkle the bridge of her nose in a slight grimace whenever she has to replace 'person' with 'pony'.

>She takes a second's worth of pause, staring down at the other mare intently's visor as she tried to figure out how to say what's on her mind properly.

"I'm on a tangent again..."
"Sorry,--"
>She cuts herself off, shaking her head, and rubbing across her forehead with a mixture of shame and embarrassment despite
"T-Thank you, I mean. I appreciate you putting up with us. Even if it's your job, that's... What I meant to say."

(By the Omnissiah I'm such a weirdo...)
(This stress is killing me on a spiritual level.)

>After Mallia had gotten that out of her chest, she seems to exhale again and visibly sag her shoulders.
>She had managed to make herself uncomfortable since she wasn't sure if the mare would laugh at her for being so worry-filled or just back off thinking she's an oddball. Which sort of detracted from her work in that moment, even as her glance blinked and bounced back to the dial lock - trying to focus again.

>Though the remark about Raindrop's armor not being able to cool down very well doesn't slip past her. She just doesn't give acknowledgement.

>With a lingering rub on her temple with two fingers, she tries to focus on examining the space between the dials to focus her mind again.
"O-okay, well, aside from... All of that,"
>Mallia once again goes to slip a pinky between the first dial, just to point it out to Raindrop as well while she speaks. Squinting at it for a moment...
"There's a little nook here that I can probably look into... Do you happen to have a light installed on that helmet of yours? Maybe a flashlight? I'd like to see what's behind it, otherwise I'd have to touch my lasgun's power setting to turn it into one for a bit."

>She quickly brought up the hellpistol after saying that, retracting her pinkie from the little space as she looked down to her pistol instead. She rather gently turns the power setting to Overcharge, then slowly caresses her hand along the body of the laspistol as she interacts with it via the MIU.
>Uttering a brief litany of forgiveness to the machine spirit as she briefly removed the powerpack, reaching in with her mechadendrite to temporarily disable the octoelectronic resonator, then mentally tuning the laser to a higher frequency and increasing the firing rate accordingly.

(Beloved Machine Spirit, forgive my tampering. Smite me if you will it. As a servant of the Omnissiah, I invoke the Rite of Constant Firing.)

>Then, with the preparation complete, she finishes the rite by slotting the power pack in; retracting her mechadendrite back along her back. Setting the weapon on safety until she needs to fire it, holding it closer to herself.
>And to avoid accidents. If the machine spirit became displeased, only she would get hurt.

[1d6+1 = 5]
<E. Tech-Use + Auspex Link: Rite of Constant Firing
[1d6+1 = 3]

[1d6+1 = 6]

[1d6+2 = 7]
<Utility Mechadendrite Tech-Use

>Then she waits, letting the response from the machine spirit tip her off on whether It's response was good or bad. Still caressing the side of the weapon like it was a pet, albeit more apologetically.

>Though she does look up to Raindrop to see if she produces a light source before she has to make one. Or maybe has to ask for one from the other operators who likely do have one. Or maybe nothing would turn up and she'd have to improvise. Either or worked for the enginseer.

Cheto
!!WXYuQKHDUQ
BPgKx
?
No.245032
245622
>>244985
>Cheto grimaces slightly over what he assumes is Torven’s report of Lejura’s affliction, ideas of what could have caused it and what has exactly happened to her swirling around inside his head.
“Can’t help it. Force of habit.”
>He knows better than to ask questions about her now, considering the batpony in front of him is trying to stop thinking about the drastic and mind-wrenching experience.
>Instead, he pivots to Tipper’s comment about human painkillers
“You also probably know this, but don’t mix them with alcohol. They have some nasty effects, and not the radical kind. A tip from the doctor.”
>He smiles lightly but his voice falters, being reminded of the PSA he watched after a few inquiries on the subject.
(Nothing better than overly dramatized reenactments to instill fear into the heart when young. Mamita querida, que me duele el almita)
>This emotion is compounded by the long fangs Torven displays as the painkillers are consumed by the leather-winged stallion in front of him, his eyebrows rising up.
(Uy, pucha. That’s some… rather impressive length and width on those canines.)
>An image of him sinking those fangs into his hand come to mind, where they could even pass through skin, muscle, tendon and bone, creating two big holes on his hand, but quickly fades as Torven offers the bottle back
(Not hostile. Keep calm. Padrillo es amigo… o algo por el estilo)
>He quickly takes it, stuffing it into his leg pouch and follows the exhausted batpony along.

>Torven’s passionate and vocal complaints about politics is a pretty good signal for him not to dwell on pure political stuff for much longer, surprising the average human following along when he utters such vulgar descriptions, but still promptly sits next to him at a seemingly acceptable forearm’s length for the human.
>He takes into account his treasure hunter work as well as well as his broad routine as he explains what he knows, nodding as the batty fellow continues to enlighten the ignorant human of the world around them. A bit of shock by the physical existence of literal gods as well as the whole concept of a literal Moonbase but this world is obviously a different one from whence he came so he basically expects anything that is said to him as extremely likely.
(I must say I surprise myself with how willing I am to listen to all this stuff. Was life back at home so uninspiring that anything else was better, to the point of the apparent chaos I seem to be sent into?)
>Of course, the human still has some questions regarding the knowledge provided after Torven exposed the basics he needed to know to be considered a superficial diplomat. He looks at Torven curiously as he chews on what he should ask, finally opening his mouth when ready.
“What job did Razorback fail so spectacularly that it caused Celestia to basically destroy her palace in a fit of goldy rage?”
>A small pause, as he places his hands on his knees in a slow fashion.
“I also heard that Stalliongrad has some sort of big problem against Razorback, too. Do you have an idea why?”
>One more halt for him to answer, as he nods once.
“Do you, by any chance, happen to know some of the more politically insightful and honest ponies or beings on Razorback that I can ask? I'd hate to tire you any further than you currently are, especially with how cordial you’ve been by lending me your ear in spite of your dislike about the subject.”
>He brings out the warm, polite smile with a small tilt of the head.
"No quiero agobiarte con palabrería que sólo sirve para mí."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245313
245323 245641
>>239515
>The Councilmare's distortion jerks back at your step forwards, feeling a sensation of extreme paranoia crawling across your skin.
>What you supposed was her head shifts right, in either a curious or hostile motion wasn't possible to tell.
>Noticing a brief motion of a hoof wave, the Councilmare's tone shifts into an eerily calm voice.
"Common hu`um mood reactivity, discernible validation of unrestrained orders, standard cardiological and adrenaline spikes, negligible protective functions.. you aren't infected. I expected a far worse result considering the potential discrimination results I've come across."

>That was.. weird.

>>239619
"I'll let you speak from ignorance this once otherwise the Princess will have my ass sundered. Listen closely so I don't have to repeat this history lesson: Princess Luna tried to ban the Cult of the Dark Horse in twenty-nine eight-hundred-forty-three. It backfired spectacularly."
>The Councilmare's upper distortion swivels towards you, emitting a hollow snort of disgust.
"Nopony controls the Destroyers outside their leaders within the Cult, and they don't even listen to us or Luna herself. Any batpony found to harbor incurable bacteria, virii, parasites, or accepted due to physical injuries is immediately granted a set of Destroyer armor, told about the stupid 'Great Mango in the Sky', given any marebombs they want, and tossed into stasis until they're called on to commit honorable blood-ritual suicide in combat. Want to know what happened when Luna's ban came down? About sixty thousand batponies joined that year. If anypony in the Starborn could've prevent the Cult from taking in more they'd have have done so fourteen years ago, so don't blame us for their irrationality."
>You involuntarily shiver at a remorseful sigh from the hidden Councilmare, the distortion shifting as if she were rubbing her snout.
"Similar effects to Jeff yet more localized, small traces of categorical overherd displays. You're clean too, no infection detected. I'm satisfied with your typical breakdown of equinity, you're clean too, no infection detected in you either. A strict military mindset would fit but I don't quite understand the given vehemarence-"

>Ignoring the hollow-sounding words, it was a simple line of logic that determined the Lunars had either forgotten or destroyed a single important factor of floral transmission:
>Given the lead mare's statemarents it was painfully clear that the ambrose plant had been desperately overharvested, greatly reducing what would have been considered local depredations by reptiles, avians, and insects.
>Which, as you knew from several alchemically necessary plants in Equestria that had likewise become nearly extinct, meant those species wouldn't have been able to intestinally process and thus deliver prepared-to-sprout seeds in their natural habitat.
>Likewise you knew that attempting to sprout seeds in biomes that weren't natural, or were wholly artificial, was an incredibly poor chance.

>Releasing the distortion field, the Councilmare's physical body translates back into physicality after a few seconds.
"Nightblade Jeff, Spirit Walker Mercy, and... whomever the Marecenary pegasus is, all three of you are clear. I apologize for the deceptions throughout this entire time, yet I will explain the circumstances behind this necessity."
>Now partially exposed to the Crypt's stale air, a distinct, full Empire Crystal prosthetic attached to the small remainder of her left upper foreleg down to the hoof, drops down with a melodic tink sound before being placed on the stone underneath.
"There are close to two-hundred and ninety records from my predecessors showing that early or failed Lunar Collective vampires are capable of marentally dominating a sapient into complete subservience. No, not submission, I mean serving them as if the Collective pony's words are impossible to deny and similarly impossible to refuse. Some speculated it to be a form of charm, which I must state is completely wrong. So far as I understand it, that is a memetic infection, a mind virus of sorts, that was intended to allow the Collective to act as natural leaders for the Lunar Guardians during their conflicts against the Solar Guardians. Much is known of how this 'charm' method failed. Princess Luna was unable to incorporate her controlled dream essences into physical methods. I will state, positively, the failed Collective form of control is one which cannot be treated easily. It requires the services of a sixth-rank psion or a Kingdom Knight Warden to safely remove. This situation has occurred twice in my time."
>Barely visible as a solid outline at the momarent, the Councilmare's muzzle pulls back in a sincere, apologetic marener.
"I can only guess how much pain this has caused the three of you, so I ask for any forgiveness you all can muster. Rest assured I have no doubts you are all acting for, and protecting, this small Collective out of honorable good will. You've all shown a complete lack of marental infection so I will assu-"

>Numerous blurs of hostile pink glows interrupt the Councilmare, her barely visible body disappearing as an enraged pegasi half-shriek, roughly translating as 'fuck you' in the Cloudsdale dialect, accompanies her complete disappearance.
>Immediately after this, several streaks of deep red blood eject outwards, now hanging in the air from a pegasus-sized bubble of reality, a split second passing until a loud popping noise is heard.
[1d6 = 3]
<Spirit Walk
[1d6+3 = 5]
<E.Reaction Speed
[1d6+3 = 6]

[1d6+3 = 8]

[1d6+7 = 11]
<E.Assault
[1d6+7 = 10]

[1d6+7 = 8]

[1d6 = 5]
<Expulse
[1d6 = 2]
<Silence

"Commander, I apologize for not being able to dissuade Miss Mercy from an unexpected course of action."
>Vocally unperturbed by the event, Boris speaks up in his flat gravelly tone.
"However, we are now free to complete your current objective. We should move quickly. Miss Sunny, would it be an imposition if I were to ask you for a ride?"
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245316
251644
>>239745
>Sitting back once more and making a disgruntled noise, Glacier flicks her left forehoof in angry dismissal.
"Constructs can all starve or freeze to death. They didn't get our hints the first few times: the Empire isn't theirs and won't be. Whenever Razorback has problems with even one send a message to the Spire, I guarantee there'll be at least a six-mare squad of us charging in soon as it's read."
>Turning her right eyebrow upwards, the Shell's face creases into a starkly disbelieving mareish glare.
"I'm not gonna beat around the snowbush again hoping it drops a few ripe berries. As I said a couple minutes ago, Cady won't listen to us or her Unicorn Guard. Know who that leaves? The few confidants that aren't ponies, that being Razorback, specifically including you, and includes me not trusting Belregard to speak his mind on her condition. Don't fail us. Get her out of the Spire for a while, got it?"

>Sitting back again and crossing both forelegs over her chest, she makes a small front shoulder shrug of blatant disacknowledgemarent.
"Treating myself or another Shell is simple: find whatever fragmarents are missing, shove them back into place, wait a few seconds, done. Dosing and stitching a real pony back together? Not an event I can hoofle easily, brings up lots of real bad memories. Take my advice, books are the best teachers outside of standard treatmarent kits or satchels.. though I'm not great at marental stuff. I don't like InterPonies at all so don't expect me to have one on hoof if somepony or some human gets corrupted or tainted."

>What little you knew of InterPonies was that they existed in certain Hololiths, heavily customized Empire armors or weapons, and certain Empire bio-crystalline devices.
>Why she brought that ponial fact out was mostly up to speculation.

>Offering a short, humorous snicker, the Shell's lackadaisical demeanor drops in favor of a conspiratorial nose wriggle.
"Ever met Japoneighse, Chineighse, Ferron, or Prench? Most ponies are horrified at what they eat normally: snails, maggots, hardshell beetles, sea urchins, Deepwater clams, mealworms, sea slugs, oysters, giant crabs... one pony's horrors is the delicacy of another. Me? I didn't mind anything unless it smelled awful. Best part is Conclavists don't care what others think, it's impossible to shame them far as I know. You might wanna set up a trade with them to Razorback in case any of those are wanted."

>Glacier raises the opposite eyebrow, displaying a mock bashful smile and pressing her flawless, artificially warm hoof into your hand gently.
"Even if we haven't had a 'real' date yet, that's quite sweet of you. Most mares would ask or demarend you join their herd after the second night. What makes you think I'm not going to do the same?"
>Leaning in several inches to give a quick wink of her own, Glacier mutters in an older, mareishly husky tone.
"Unless you're afraid of what Cady might suggest-"

>Viewing the second Conclavist chef visibly fuming above her cooking pan, she points an accusatory forehoof directly at you.
"Then use one of the big tents when you're done! We've enough extra work to do tonight without being distracted by you two flirting like a shy colt and filly starting a new herd!"

>Eyes swiveling towards the mare briefly, Glacier's head shakes with a small motion, her faux-mane sent onto the opposite side of her neck while making a mostly hidden, sinister grin.
"That sounds like a spectacular offer to me. What do you think, invite her in too?"
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.245323
245641 245771
1473247481109.png
>>245313
>All but ignoring the Councilmare, Sunny continued her line of thought on Ambrosia.
>Perhaps she could not grow the plant itself, but maybe she could synthesise the active ingredient. Not an easy, or guaranteed prospect, but potentially doable. It wouldn't be something most alchemists would even attempt.
>Her train of thought interrupted by the pink glow, Sunny's heart stopped cold at the realisation that Mercy fully intended to kill the councilmare.
>She herself held no particular fondness for the... Baticorn...? Nevertheless, the death of a Lunar Councilmare here under Razorback's watch would not be good for the company's standing.
>Flicking an ear at the golem, Sunny shook her head slightly even as she moved.
"In a second, Boris."
>All at once, she scowled, flared her wings out, bunched her muscles up and leaped at the sphere, hoping that what the Ceranul taught her would let her break into Mercy's dimensional bubble.

[1d6+6 = 7]
< E. Reaction Speed + K.I.A
[1d6+6 = 10]

[1d6+6 = 10]

>She needed to buy time, but time wasn't something she had in abundance. One of the two combatants had severed an artery by the dark red blood that had been ejected. If it was the Councilmare's, she was likely not long for this world, if it was Mercy's, she had a better chance.
>Figuring that the Councilmare's physical state and then somewhat lowered guard precluded taking the initiative against Mercy, Sunny reasoned that her attention should be focused on driving off any further attack by Mercy.
>Using a combination of her fore claws and wingblades, Sunny squared off against the Spirit Walker's attacks and used the remaining momentum to place herself between Mercy and the Councilmare, delivering a rearhooved kick to the latter's horn with enough force to stun her and prevent any reprisal for a time.

[1d6+8 = 11]
< M. Riposte + K.I.A
[1d6+8 = 11]

[1d6+8 = 10]

[1d6+8 = 9]

>Interposing herself between the Councilmare and Mercy, Sunny laid her good eye square on the enraged pegasus and attempted to shout her down, hopefully before she could gather herself for another attack.
"Mercy, stand down! Or I will put you down like a rabid animal!"
>She was already panting, the exertion of effort to put her physical body out of phase taking its toll on her, she had serious doubts about being able to fend either of them off again.
Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245430
245894
>>240110
>Twisting about to her left side and retrieving something off her armor, a small, featureless flattened tower shield is given a questioning stare.. until she starts talking to it.
"Useful indeed, thank you for the information. ..no, I do not think we will require further assistance, simply being here is enough of a political problem. ..perhaps, though I doubt it. It was alone and presumably the paired unit was destroyed elsewhere. ..no, the level of corruption here should be quite low."
>Reaching up to place the shield atop her crest, Thansimum's expression turns into one of stony speculation.
"Silverine foam and particle whip weaponry marks it as a Starblazer Type One model. Perhaps more surprisingly I've confirmed that was a definite Middle Dynasty survivor, and lived long enough to attack one of several Empire mines in the Southern Plains. Rather strange as I thought we'd destroyed those to the last. It's likely there are limited numbers in storage, or perhaps simply kept in reserve-"
>Cutting herself off with a short head shake, a small hoof wave is given towards the miniature tower shield replica.
"Getting off track, I'll consider this information later. My apologies. If you've seen a Hololith before each is inhabited by at least one InterPony, though they tend to form rather large herds of their own much like we do. In short, consider an InterPony as a Crystal pony whom can inhabit most of our bio-crystalline technologies, cannot be seen, and likewise cannot be interacted with by your species. Well, outside of the newest Hololiths that is."
>Blinking in a practiced marener, she proceeds to study your facial features for several moments before glancing down at the odd, to her, object.
"There is no need for that option, and my ratio of successes to failures is above ninety-four percent, or so I'm being told. Construct corruption is remarkably simple to remove when fresh. Consider it a newly sprouting invasive weed: the longer one waits to purge it the more difficult the task becomes. And, may I say that for lack of knowing what to expect, that is.. quite simple. At least in appearance. The older Hololiths that I like contain at least two hundred components."

>Instantly jerking the gloved hand reaching for the firearm up to chest height and splaying it out in surrender, the fresh Operator sputters in a flat, partially fuzzy electronic tone while raising the damaged bat over her shoulder into a non-threatening posture.
"Fine, fine, okay? I'll just.. fuck off, find something to eat and drink here, and maybe whatever passes for getting decently stoned."
>The human takes several steps to the left, then stumbles northwards, muttering in clear post-traumatic shock.
"Is this a dream? I can't pinch myself til I get this piece of shit off. Am I dead? Did that bastard kill me or was I hallucinating everything? Is this real? Can't be, horses went extinct and none of the pics made them look cute, short, or painted. Did one of those pricks drug me instead?"

>Twisting her ears around at the impromptu escalation and deescalation, the General's face creases in dark humor at the human's now indiscernible mumbling.
"Well, I suppose one of us could potentially squeeze in the time to treat her too.. if that one is entirely human that is. Her voice is quite eerie I must admit. I'll send Garnelia to deal with that one, but I will treat you first."
>Removing the tower shield with her right forehoof, then offering it towards you.
"Please place her on your.. device, you called it? She has no experience with human technologies yet is eager to start. I expect six to ten hours for complete removal. When you are ready, please state so."
Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245484
245528
>>240623
>Sitting back on her seat, both hind legs kicking freely, Tapeskat tilts her head up to think for a few moments.
"Sorta. Princess Celestia's first negotiation was for everypony to keep track of what they were going to give, send, and deliver to Razorback. I think that way all the Princesses and Queen could pay them for the stuff humans were intended to get. He PROBABLY told her to destroy that book so she wouldn't have to keep any records which would probably make a lot of ponies in Rushya, Stalliongrad, Germaneigh, and some places in Equestrian found mad that Princess Celestia would still try to keep the contract going. Around a month after somepony that wasn't Princess Celestia melted the Palace in Canterlot, the Duke started ordering all of the smaller farms to sell their stuff to Neightime. It'd be way harder to track what they were harvesting than the big ones 'cause there's so marely of them around."
>Nodding in a highly reluctant fashion, the Zebra filly turns her attention down onto the table for a quick read.
"Yep. They're called.. the Greater Frozen Coast Consortium, a really big one Princess Cadence buys lots of stuff from. Neightime gets a big order from them in spring for certain stuff and we deliver it. I dunno much about them."
>Both eyebrows shooting up high, her jaw drops in stunned disbelief for a few seconds from your questions.
>Recovering quickly, Tapeskat waves both front hooves in negative motions while giggling ashamedly.
"No no no no no! He's not really hostile or anything like that and I really don't think she's trying to betray him! Sorry if it sounded that way, I was just trying to say everything at once."
>Puffing her cheeks out and putting on an abashed look, the original contract is nudged towards you.
"Give this to whoever your diplomat is so she can use it in case something stupid comes up. Now, I've mostly figured out on my own why the Bronze Duke wants to keep Razorback happy with Saddle Arabia and the Crystal Empire: we do lots of trading with each other for stuff that the other doesn't have. Crystal ponies really love sweet fruits and herbs, and we love vegetables and ice whenever we can get ahoof of them. If one got cut off from the other we'd all be unhappy."
>Facial expression turning into a peculiar form of annoyance briefly, the filly continues with a subdued tone.
"You've seen how big our tent is, we can't keep everything safe and dry that Neightime is sold or traded. We have to toss out stuff every week if it gets moldy or falls apart. I really think she's only mad at him for not having a big enough storage building, but out here we don't get enough stone to make one. Stalliongrad and Rushya used to trade us hard stone blocks but somepony made them angry at least ten years before I was born. I'm eleven by the way. They don't even let their diplomats come here anymore and nopony wants to talk about why."
"As for Neightime? She's gone four to ten days at a time, but comes back for two nights at most. If she really does have a marension on one of the big tributaries it's gotta be huge. I did get to peek at her records once without getting caught, she's got at least two hundred ponies working for her, mostly from Neighvada."
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.245528
245783
>>245484
"Oh hey, I went to their company a while ago. Gave us some of the amount we needed but not all. Told me it was weird order placement in the year."
>After hearing Tapeskat tell him that the Duke wasn't hostile or anything, he started looking at the scrolls again
>Zhun still smiles at her apologetic giggling though
"I mean, he did come in to order her to stop sending the consortium stuff for us. You also did say she kicked him in the snoot."
>Zhun looks down to the original contract then rolls it up to put in his pack
"So the Duke is trying to grow this trade with us and the Empire?"
>Zhun chuckled at her mentioning the "marension" on the tributary
"That's not just a big house, that's a palace. 200 ponies?"
>Zhun whistles at the number
"The contract will help. I have no experience for this level of trade."
>"A fighter. Maybe medic."
Basin Village: Last Stop Restaurant
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245616
245865
>>240626
"I've no need for seconds, my orders for the rest of you are as follows:"
>The still nameless batmare reaches up to fling the hood back over her head, vocalizing a string of shrill toned, archaic pegasi phrases directed at the four Cultists beginning to stand.
>Receiving a mixture of half-hearted grumbles until a broad wingclaw is held upwards, each mare turns rigid.
"No. Arguing. This is well above your combined skills. All of you lack my equipmarent, but I will compose extensive notes. Stay here until I return-"
>Reaching into the overflowing saddlepack's flank satchel closest to her, a small, damaged white wooden case is retrieved and clutched tightly in her right wing.
"Some precautions will be necessary. Performing a summoning here is difficult enough to marenage without interference. First, follow me and do not speak. Consider yourself my guard. Second, keep a weapon in either hand until I tell you to speak. Third, keep your eyes on every single earth pony outside within charging distance. Should one or more attempt to interdict then eliminate them, starting with the highest priority threats. Fourth and last: do not allow this case to be taken. Until we cross into the Basin itself you must treat everypony, that includes batponies, as a potential hostile."
>Standing up carefully, her cloaked head swivels upwards, speaking in an unusually grim tone while securing the case in both sets of wingclaws.
"The most I can do is buck somepony in the head or tear their throat out, but I've nothing to deal with armor right now so keep at least ten paces behind me. And, be prepared to kill without hesitation."
>Giving a short nod towards the quartet of Cultists, the mare turns towards the entrance, trodding forwards in the typical, hip-swaying batpony saunter.
[1d6+2 = 7]
<E.Ambush
[1d6+2 = 8]

[1d6+2 = 8]

[1d6+3 = 6]
<E:Leadership: Assault
[1d6+3 = 5]

[1d6+3 = 6]

>Operation Start: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place...
[1d6 = 5]
<Resistance
[1d6 = 1]
<Response
[1d6 = 5]
<Opposing Faction

Zebraica: Potswana, Shaman Gresta
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245617
>>240789
>Kicking his legs sideways, the old Zebra reclines sideways into his hammock with a dour expression.
"As much as can be expected of Her unknown future, little can I suggest outside a valuable venture. Take great caution when speaking with Her is my advice, seek to claim Her honors without undue human price."
>Clasping the pipe with both hooves, then giving it a peculiar look, Gresta offers a respectful nod in your direction.
"We Zebras know well the four Goddesses of Equestria that you must surely have heard, Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter be ponykind's necessary ward. Please allow me to think, it will be naught but a blink-"
>Motionless, and unblinking for a quarter minute, the shaman's eyes light up in quiet fury beyond you.
>Hearing small hooves pattering into the sand next to you, the small, unadorned Zebra filly treads towards the hut's opposite entrance.
>Head turning back, the older shaman locks eyes with her, giving a solemn nod.
"Humans will require great arcane weapons to destroy the corrupted pairs and mechanical horrors of Planar make, so go, follow my grandfilly to an armory where there is much to take. Collect all that you deem appropriate for Razorback's use, but these bones.. have long suffered under too much abuse. Lain to rest they were, perhaps forgotten among the worthy, no paymarent needed to secure the future and human safety. No longer a weapon can these hooves bear from decades of blood, pain, and wear."
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245619
245640
>>245020
>Reflecting none of her inner thoughts, Raindrop is unmoving as she squints up at you, tone unconvinced and utterly deadpan.
"Miss Castella, I'm from Stalliongrad. Barring a few hours of history lessons, there are few ponies harder or more prepared to deal with the most severe situations than us. Just for reference: my last job involved at least eight shattered ribs, one fractured legs and almost lost that hoof, ten stabs through my armor, knocked unconscious at least twice, nearly filled my armor with my own blood, and worst of all had to loot through hundreds of Undead for some damned crest belonging to a pain in the ass royal from Canterlot that had no idea what we'd go up against. All Chisan has given me are a few bruises and a bloody snout, and for that I'm getting paid quadruple what a standard Mareguard normally receives in one month. If he does irritate me enough I'll knock him unconscious and leave him tied naked in the middle of Sea's Bounty fortress."
>Tossing a piercing stare towards the other humans, the Knight's helmet returns, tipping upwards at a slant as if emphasizing a sinister smile.
"Which is a fate way sexier than death and probably twice as humiliating. At the very least he isn't trying to grab my teats and hasn't ordered me to do something awful, so I'll give him a pass. As for how we show our emotions.. I'll have to instruct you on the finer points of understanding that later."
>Shaking her head with an amused huff, another wing tap given while her voice drops into a secretive tone.
"I can't read your movemarents at all but I will say human voices are quite a bit easier to understand than I thought. In the tiny chance that I might need your help with him, I'll ask, so stop worrying and relax. We're in little danger here."
>Staring up at you, her eyes express obvious confusion for a split-second until groaning.
"Buck, I completely forgot to get my saddlepack.. I'm going to guess a 'flash light' is something like a spark lamp or glowstone. No, I don't have either, I travel light as it is but I'm sure they do-"
>Fully turning about to face the Voystran-likes, Raindrop calls towards them in a suitably demarending tone.
"You five, direct all major light sources towards the combination lock on this vault here. Miss Castella believes she has a way in that does not involve explosives."

>Hearing/feeling the resounding codelock being relieved from normal limitations and duties, the Hotshot pistol's tiny Machine Spirit seems to snarl in abject Binary eagerness.
>Not only was it capriciously loyal and angry enough to ignore the tiny insult to what few algorithms were programmed into it, it would probably be frothing at the mouth.. if it had a physical body capable of doing so.

>Raindrop shrugs her wings upwards to you in response to the unasked question, right before a trio of loud clicks, then three nearly blinding incandescent light sources force her helmet to turn in the vault door's direction.
[1d6+3 = 7]
<Modified L-Crys Light #1
[1d6+3 = 8]
<Modified L-Crys Light #2
[1d6+3 = 6]
<Modified L-Crys Light #3

"Enough, or more light needed?"
>Came the tired, older Commissar's question, stepping around into view behind the pegasus Knight.
>Questionably armed with an archaic, unscoped bolt-action chemreaction rifle slung over his shoulder, an oversized leather holster on a comically wide belt and a distinct but entirely unfamiliar grey political officer's cap with a small red 5-pointed star on the face did little to ease the older man's well worn, deeply hardened face.
>Squinting at lock's direction briefly, he gestures towards the trio behind him while speaking in rather harsh common Low Gothic.
"Cannot touch other Era technologies or would have more, the-"
>The following series of swears partially fails to pass your MIU's translation algorithms, ending up with a strange mixture of nonsensical insults related to various anatomical portions between both humans and ponies.. none of which could possibly fit, you think.
"No more made since Marquis gone. This all we have now."
Razorback Fortress: The Fountain
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245622
245736
>>245032
"I'll try not to then."
>Giving little more than a neutral sigh in response, the batstallion's head lifts enough to graze his ears on the fountain's side.
"I said that was Celestia.. not Princess Celestia. Some of the Honor Guard here think she made a golem or something to fill in for her at meetings or diplomatic functions she couldn't make it to. Razorback was supposed to retrieve Princess Celestia's adopted daughter, a General of the old Solar Guardians, from Old Canterlot. Big fortress-city near the Old Everfree's center, vital transport route, trading and training center. That failed miserably."
>Turning a narrowed red diamond eye towards you, Torven lifts his shoulders remorselessly.
"Two known facts: Old Canterlot collapsed, no General recovered. Only a few ponies know what happened. Humans don't talk about that time much if at all."
>Snorting aloud, both wings raise, a wingclaw flicking straight up at each of his short sentences.
"Nearly killed a Stalliongrad royal. Illegally invaded an old mail depot. Illegally invaded Stalliongrad five times I know of. Killed a bunch of innocent ponies with a giant bomb. Killed an ancient loyal Undead. Used banned weapons during a sanctioned military siege. A public art exhibition was raided and destroyed."
>Stopping at the sixth to wiggle his claws one by one, Torven continues while starting over, this time with clear undertones of anger.
"One human nearly shot a stallion's dick off. Nearly started a civil war by returning an wanted prisoner. Burned down an entire district. Killed a sanctioned assassin without known provocations. Illegally captured another sanctioned assassin and burned her marension down. I could keep going but don't want to now."
>Releasing a long sigh, he remains silent for a handful of seconds before frowning deeply.
"Tired, no, depressed, sort of. Best options: Denra, Hodch, maybe Captain Kitang in southwest Guard camp. Haven't seen the first two in a few hours, last one probably still injured. They keep up to date on politics, events. I tune them out most times, not interesting to me. Lejura is not an option anymore. Twisted Wing and Mist Dancer not good choices: first is biased and loud, second is evasive, rude, secretive. Could try Dancing Eyes, Razorback's illegal prisoner and.. librarian at times, I guess. Dunno where she is. If you do find her bring something 'special' from Tipper's stashes in the Clinic and she'll talk for hours. Besides them, maybe Belltower, but I haven't seen her since a couple nights ago."
>Carefully scratching his neck with the left set of wingclaws, the batpony stops, then points a forehoof towards the Pagoda in the middle of the Courtyard.
"Naliyna might know some general current politics. She's the only trader Razorback has on hoof. Does business with most places except Zebraica, Saddle Arabia, Neighsia, Minotaur Hegemony, or the Dragonspine Mountains since she doesn't know anypony in any of them. She's a Crystal pony though, so she's banned from Stalliongrad and Rushya.. not that I think she'd want to trade with them."
Mallia Castella
FRnUF
?
No.245640
245795
>>245619
>The response from the pegasus mare... Does not really surprise Mallia, her brow doesn't crease to seeing that the mare wasn't at-all moved by her unstable (albeit genuine) emotions.
>Though it does disappoint Mallia to a degree. The gaze in the enginseer's eyes seeming to dullen in brightness as she spots that hint of .... Distrust?

>Perhaps she's seeing nothing.
>But she can't help but feel that, although they're working together, the amicability is being held back by something akin to what she knows as 'her' xenophobia. (Or the Imperium's, so to speak).
>In hind sight, she should probably stop wearing her heart on her sleeve. Though the Inquisitor had said to be friendly.... She will figure it out how to approach this issue later.

>Despite the subtle change in Mallia's eyes, her own body remains stiff and still like a marble statue. Her eyes only moving to gaze down at the hellpistol as she begins to receive a response from the machine spirit.
>Which was mostly snarling. Which she, as an enginseer, took it as wholehearted approval to what she wanted it to do!
>It's eagerness steals a short-lived feeling of happiness, prompting her to smirk as she gave it an encouraging pat on the top of the barrel, like trying to quell an angry pet dog.

"Hmmm, that makes me uncomfortable. Please don't say those things about what you'd do to Chisan, Miss Raindrop... But what you said does give me more questions."
>Is Mallia's only remark to Raindrop's statement about 'Chisan'. The woman was pretty deadpan herself, keeping most of the feeling behind that statement internalized.
>A feeling which was wholeheartedly disgusted and scornful. She understood the context and cultural difference, but it changed nothing in her mind. It was still a torture that she would kill to prevent.

>For a while as she processed the new information from Raindrop, she sort of glances off to the side, distantly. Quirking a brow curiously, questioningly looking to the mare when the word 'Undead' is mentioned.
>Which prompted her to send a query towards all of the Inquisitor's machine spirits. Namely Phenon and Pheral specifically.

(What does 'Undead' mean? It sounds 'familiar', but I'm not sure if it's connected to what I'm thinking...)

>Her surface thoughts inching closer and closer towards Nurgle are quickly pushed aside as, turning her head, she'd shift her attention towards the other operators.
>Mallia very pre-emptively lowers her preysense/Photo visor back over the rest of her face, shielding it completely just as the strange glow orbs project a great amount of light over them!

"This seems sufficient."
>The Enginseer chuckled light-heartedly, lingering her gaze over the 'Commissar' as he explained a small, but interesting bit.
>Her face was hidden, but her head does tilt slightly as the notion of 'not being able to touch "era" technologies' enters her mind fully.
>She's pretty sure that was mentioned before?

"... What do you mean, exactly? What happens if you do touch it? I just got to this world ... An hour ago? I know basically nothing about how things work here."
>Mallia quickly queries her micro-cogitator for an accurate Time Since Translocation, if not for the others then for her to keep track.

>She turned her head back towards the Vault Door's dials, crouching down further as her attention goes towards trying to squint behind the little spaces between the dials, now aided by the light from the other operators. To see what's behind it before she would get to work.
>Pinging Tox-11's visor to give her a visual on the preysense spectrum for a few seconds, just in case there's SOMETHING different in there, before turning the visor off with a thought and looking in normally.
>Keeping the hellpistol handy as she is only a moment away from starting her breaching process, once she finishes looking everything.

>Hopefully she can try to not break the lock itself and simply lock the door even harder than it already is...
>She also quickly sends a ping back towards Tox-11 in that moment, also giving him another query.
(Has Inquisitor Velasi ever had to contend with these kinds of vault doors? I'd appreciate any information I can get, if any.)

[1d6+4 = 7]
<B. Perception + BQ. Preysense visor
[1d6 = 4]

[1d6 = 6]
<E. Engineering
[1d6 = 5]

[1d6 = 1]


Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.245641
245771
........gif
>>245313
>>245323
>He expected... something a bit more from the councilmare mare than what he just witnessed.
>Something more of the line of blowing past him in futile abandon to achieve her goal, or maybe he had called a bluff and she was going to break down blubbering she didn't want to go into a room full of battle-ready vampires.
>Instead he felt like he just got cross-examined by one of his old psychiatrists.
>Now he's just staring at her dumbfounded and slack-jawed as she turns to Sunny to do the same thing.
"Uhwhaaaaaat?!"
>She had played them the whole time, all for a test to see if they'd been enthralled by Lunarites on the other side of the door.
>On top of that, she low-key threatened to kill them all over it. He didn't matter, but the others were there on his order. They were all ultimately his responsibility, and none of them were at fault for what was transpiring except for himself.
>But yeah he understood her reasons for, but she could have done a FAR better job at it. It was unacceptable, from his view.
>What pissed him off more than ANYTHING else was that after everything he had to do behind-the-scenes to get the Moors' restoration underway, not a single pony had warned him about a risk like this when refurbishing these old ruins buried in the Moors swamps. No one in the Basin, no one on the Council, not even anyone in the Fortress!
>And then everyone wonders why Razorback gets a bad rap for being out of the loop. No one tells them anything, ever!
>Jeff grits his teeth, no longer withholding an unapologetic sneer at the councilmare trying to just sweep her shit under the rug.
>If he was a cartoon character, he'd have decompressing steam jetting out of both ears by now at her audacity. He's flustered, embarrassingly.
"You can take your apology and go fuck-"
>But he doesn't get a chance to finish, as Mercy... mercilessly rushes the councilmare. Her rage-filled shriek translates well to him as streaks of someone's blood erupts from the reality-bending bubble.
"Yeah, that!"
>He didn't condone her actions, but he also wasn't about to step in and stop her.
>It seems like Sunny was going to do that for them, as the hire jumps into the fray.

>Taking several long deep breathes to vent and get his blood pressure back down to a livable level, he glances over at an unphased Boris, and then over at the mare pile.
>He's not getting in the middle of that...
"Don't be. I think Mercy's at least speaking for me and herself, right now. Oh shit-"
>He completely forgot about the Lunarites right on the other side of the door, which was still cracked open.
>And he knows how well ponies hearing is. Are vampire ears even more sensitive?
>Jeff facepalms himself as he reaches for his camelback's sippy tube snaked up his left side and forces a stream of cold water to hit him in the face, in a vain attempt to clear his fluster and excess heat.
>This whole thing has turned into such a clusterfuck.
>He takes one more deep breath before walking over to the door, cracking it slightly even more open, and poking his head through to check on the Lunarites.
"Hello. How're we all doing in here?"
Cheto
!!RKaTf8Vgrg
zS8n9
?
No.245736
245814
>>245622
>Cheto blinks once at Torven's words on the Canterlot incident.
(Copies of herself? Seems her reach is quite far, although from the contract, she seems to care more about ponies than her pride in order to detonate her own captial, at least from the contract's words.)
>He nods at the gentlestallion, drinking all the info he has to offer on the Stalliongrad incidents.
>His eyes drift off to the scenery in deep contemplation as Torven keeps numbering each and every item Razorback has committed against Stalliongrad, one hand drifting to his cheek in grim realization.
(Uy pero la putísima madre que me parió. How in the everloving fuck did they manage to make so many negative acts towards these ponies?)
>After a bit of frustrated mumbling, he shakes his head and refocuses on the batstallion, hoping he didn't notice the average human's mood being soured.

>When the topic changes to potential wells of political knowledge that could help him further understand his future position better and not commit some sort of crime, he places his fists under his chin as supports for his head as he listens.
>As the winged fellow finishes, the average human listening to him pipes up.
"Do you know by any chances where I can find the first two ponies you mentioned, Denra and Hodch? I'm definitely going to need all the information I can get."

>After he listens to the bat's answer to the question the man presented, he decides that the best course of action both for the batpony's mental health and his own time to stand up.
"I must thank you, Mister Torven. You've been a great help. If you need anything, I'll be going over to the Pagoda, see if I can find Miss Naliyna."
>He takes off his backpack, rummaging through its contents before pulling out the second Fruit Juice(TM) from his bag, presenting the batstallion more of that sweet goodness with his outstretched hand.
"Here. This should ease your mind a little."
>Assuming the bat quadruped takes this chance as well, the inquisitive human awaits the most likely empty bottle, before taking it back and stuffing it back.
"Again. I thank you, Mister Torven. You have helped me greatly."
>Nodding at him, he proceeds to travel to the destination mentioned, the Pagoda, to see if Naliyna's around there, still.
(I'll need all the information that I can get. Perhaps I should take the chance to send a letter to my new employer while I'm there. It's good to chat it up with the boss, also notify I've arrived safely to the other side.)
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
3qvcT
?
No.245757
245826
>>239672
>Giving the two guardsmares a departing nod, Bubba made his way into the crowd and began window shopping himself as he made his way towards the cultist.
>He also shot a quick wink towards the lead filly when her sight traveled back towards him, while he made his way through the crowd towards the dock.
>He definitely acknowledged that moving towards someone spying on him with the intent of messing with them was a fathomly stupid idea but he didn't exactly have much else to do.
>That and she wouldn't try anything with so many witnesses. Hopefully.
>He does makes sure to keep from moving directly to her by walking towards the dock entrance.
>As he passes her, he looks directly at her again for a second before continuing on.
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
3qvcT
?
No.245759
245864
>>236893
"You can care about yourself as well, you know."
>I sigh softly in relief upon being told that.
>"I should have figured they could fly. They have working wings, after all."
>Still, I was worried for something inadvertently caused by myself.
"That's a relief."
>I watch her repair herself for a moment as I think about what to do, holding back a frown.
>All of the training I've underwent could not have prepared me for being inside an eldritch... Car thing.

>Watching her mini self undergo a small tantrum, I snort in amusement.
"The problem is that getting information on them is, at this point, something that will probably draw them towards us. If it were able to be done in a safe manner I would not argue about getting it."
>Presses my lips together and hums softly.
>"Ten percent is not a good chance.. But its something we need to do sooner or later."
"While I don't understand what the hell quantum fluid passive-flux cycles are, I say go for it."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245771
245854 246002
>>245323
>Hefting the small sack over his shoulder, the Golem deadpans solemnly.
"Time is of the essence here Miss Feathers, I recommend you do not become invol-"

>Forcefully projecting yourself into the closest approximate spectrum that Mercy might use, it takes multiple phase-flickers through the low density layers to find Mercy's bubble of unreality in the third lowest Void spectrum.
>Which to you was easy enough to access without a second thought of additional dangers arriving.

>Tearing into the alter-dimarensional bubble too late to stop the other white pegasi, she had mostly succeeded in stabbing the Councilmare's chest through with her left set of near-blinding pink wingblades, the right set poised to do the same.
>Missing what either was planning from their heavily contorted bodily postures, front hoofclaws and extended primary blades painfully ring against the fully blind pegasi's weaponry, stopping her assault cold while feeling the Lunar batpony's head snap backwards heavily.

>Taking full notice of her strikes being deflected backwards, Mercy snarls while loosing an insulting, quick mocking sentence.
<Pegasi> "Keep out of this you spurious law-loving whorse-"
>Expression contorting into a cold berserker state, she rears back a fraction only to stomp heavily clad hoofboots forwards, slashing extended hot pink wingblades in direct lines towards your face and neck respectively.
<Pegasi> "NOPONY THREATENS MY HERD FRIENDS!"
>Mercy: SUPERIOR ENRAGED!
[1d6+5 = 9]
<E.Reaction Speed
[1d6+5 = 7]

[1d6+5 = 9]

[1d6+9 = 12]
<E.Assault
[1d6+9 = 11]

[1d6+9 = 15]

>Unexpectedly, pink-hot flashes stream off her wings, the unknown energies balefully swirl into composite masses of expressions/sounds composed from incensed primal fury.
[1d6+10 = 13]
<Expulse

>>245641
>Remorselessly speaking aloud over the din of weapon clashes, Boris turns his logically neutral gaze from the barely witnessed combat far upwards onto you.
"I likewise apologize for being unable to prevent Miss Sunny's choice of actions, Commander. I must recommend however that we leave this location immediately before the offending parties recover, we will have approximately twenty to thirty seconds until that occurs."

>Peeking back into the Crypt proper, the sight that greets you is both hair raising, and joyous:
>Four precise lines of Lunarites, arranged from youngest to oldest standing in a near-perfect parade ground square formation.
>Heavy looking, dark blue kanpri armor vaguely resembling the basic Starborn roles of Claw, Defencer, and Mage, except resembling heavy Shieldmare plating, each set fit so tightly that they appeared to be mere extensions of their hide.
>Far more heavily armed than you would have thought, each bore a trio of fluctuating, multi-colored and varying tipped lances twice as long as their own bodies clinging to the right sides, all fastened with some sort of snap-lock mechanism.
>Their left sides were covered in large numbers of previously unseen darts, biteblades, short swords, a single short spiked morningstar, and a host of what were probably caltrops, all packed together in one solid mass of jagged spikes.
>Atop the saddle and covering the flank armor of each were massively overstuffed, heavily bulging, and probably armor plated, bright purple saddlepacks and flank satchels, all adorned with Luna's Mark in brightly gleaming thread.

>The rear left mare snaps a short, heavy salute, her merry voice being that of the lead vampiress you'd been speaking to.
"Two hundred doses of Ambrosia, sixty Nightglow, forty Shadow-Gate, thirty Dragonscale, twenty Coldheart, Lofting, and Restoration draughts overall, complete weapon and armor loadouts, additional supplies packed. We are fully prepared to march and have two month's of combat alchemicals available, traveler."
>Either they were ignoring what had been said outside, or none of it bothered them in the slightest.
Snootadishu City-State: Southern Market Plaza
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245783
245871
>>245528
>Poking a hoof onto one of the pages that you couldn't read, Tapeskat pulls it back to eye over shortly.
"..I don't think their storage depot is big enough to hold everything they get sent, looks about the same size as our tent above here. They're probably forced to rotate stocks like we do, too."
>Head turning towards you fully, the Zebra filly's left forehoof lifts to rub the side of her head, making a sour frown throughout.
"That's not what I said. First time the Bronze Duke came here was to tell Neightime to forget sending stuff to Razorback, I think in late twenty-nine nine-ninety-five before the cold winds came, which is like winter time in Equestria. That's also when he told Neightime to get rid of the book since it wasn't needed anymore, but she kept using it anyways. The second time is when she bucked him in the nose and he threatened her to only sell our stuff to the Consortium or he'd do.. really bad things to her. Maybe he wants to make friends in Razorback Companeigh but the way he's doing that is really quiet, probably so nopony can accuse him of doing something wrong or against Princess Celestia's orders. But, um, that's only what I think he's planning, I dunno for sure what he's really doing. It's impossible to ever get a meeting with him or his sister, and I don't think they'd let me in 'cause I'm just a filly."
>Nodding towards the contract being stuffed into your backpack, both of her forelegs folding across her chest.
"Between that and what I've seen, I think so, yes. Everything we don't sell right here is put into big crystal barrels or boxes and hauled to the Empire traders on the north end of the market plaza here."
>Lifting one forehoof to make several circling motions, Tapeskat gives a reluctant, small smile.
"I know a bunch about Saddle Arabia before the stupid Dynasty stuff happened! Our stone houses are a third or half the size of wood houses in Equestria, so it'd probably be about fifty times the size of our tent here. If she's taken over a really old old palace on a big river then there's not marely of them around, maybe twenty I think, but only a few are still in use-"
>Lips curving back into another frown, the filly's ears flop to either side of her head.
"But I don't have a map and dunno how to say their names right. I could probably find out where she is in a few minutes if you want."
>Lifting her front shoulders in what looked to be an encouraging shrug, Tapeskat swivels around ninety degrees to fall off the chair, landing easily on all four hooves.
"Razorback has a trademare, right? Take it to her and ask what she thinks. We've been trading waaay more stuff to that Consortium thingy in the Empire than we could trade in five years here-"
>Head turning towards you, she becomes cross-eyed for a split-second, then facehoofs herself with a loud groan.
"Oh fillysnacks! I'll send the trade bill with the last shipmarent but I've gotta get all that stuff packed up and written down. Write a note if you need anything else done before you leave, and thank you again!"
>Frantically waving a front leg in farewell, Tapeskat breaks into a run up at the stone door, slamming it open and rushing out panicked.
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245795
246078
>>245640
>Perking both ears upwards, what little you could see of Raindrop's eyes was confidently stony.
>Making a devious 'harrumph' noise, her head swings towards the back wall while stomping a front hoof on the floor below, tone faux-mocking, though obviously hiding a giggle.
"Miss Castella, how dare you dishonor me like this? I have not a single clue what you mean by that phrase. I could never leave a completely deserving human nude and bound in the middle of a pegasus clan stronghold known for their fixations of criminally lewd methods in acquiring friendship by force and using gentle, loving rape to woo their enemies and allies alike. Let us never speak of this again!"

"Good-"
>Visibly trying his best to ignore Raindrop Raspberry's outburst, and utterly failing not to crack a ruthless smile, the Commissar motions towards the three bright sources of light left of him.
"It simple: we, my squad, come from very old Era in nineteen forties. Say if human from nineteen forty-three touches 'thing' not from same era.. say 'thing' is from nineteen forty-nine, that 'thing' turn to ash and human is hurt badly. There also other rule: when 'thing' from later eras is same as prototype of 'thing' from own Era, it safe to touch. Your weapons-"
>Gesturing towards the Hellpistol, lasrifle, the Omnissian Axe, then finally resting a morbidly concerned gaze on the Mechadendrite before returning to you.
"I cannot touch at all, not even by accident. Your Era.. very very far in future, yes? If I do touch they turn to ash soon, then bad event happens. No event the same, always cause great harm. This big rule, but there is way around: if 'thing' built here from materials on world then 'thing' safe for all to use. Not know why but vehicles from other Eras safe to travel in, even ones from fifty, hundred years in future."
>Briefly scowling towards the three holding their lights at the door, the Commissar lifts a gloved hand to adjust his cap backwards.
"Marquis built many safe things so early Era humans use without fear, but he leave or gone while back. No more safe magic devices for humans now. Not happy."

>Acquiring a short datastream of approximately fifty-three minutes since arrival, the additional light combined with Preysense leads to sighting a single dark colored, non-metallic wheel that looked like some form of compressed wood judging by the striations and pattern, embedded between both lock spaces on either end, blocking further inspections from being made.
>What you knew about ancient locking systems, several similar to this one, were designed to prevent any sounds from registering in case a thief was using some form of improved hearing.
>It was easily possible destroy the faux-wheels though more preventative measures was a high chance, yet the additional access to see what mechanisms were in use seemed the better option that you had right now.

>Returning the ping, clipped Binary translates through your MIU in Tox-11's dour taste/tonality, registering his 'presence' staring through the Visor's pict-corders while at the same time making a series of notes based on your spoken findings.
'yes, once in year prior. same style, not this large. 90% smaller? highly resistant local material. impressive construction, few flaws? Inquisitor built, used four sonic compression devices to hinges. attempts failed, could not match harmonics necessary. settled for burning off hinges. took stock lasrifle, rebuilt into mining laser. large powercells. nine to ten minutes each hinge. agreed: combination locks easier to destroy. destruction of contents negligible if same template'

>Lifting a broad wingblade to partially shield her helmet, Raindrop speaks up.
"Should we get some water in case anything is set on fire, and is it a good idea to back up?"
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245814
245853
>>245736
>Left wing folding back onto his side, Torven points the right trio of claws far south, probably at the Library.
"Hodch is usually in the upper floor with a Moor cat. I don't think he's here though, haven't scented him at all tonight. Denra hangs out either with Hodch, sometimes stays in the big pony barracks on the northwest side of fortress interior.. sometimes visits the Mess Hall for news. Last I saw him was right after dusk storming out of the Commarend Center, haven't seen him since then."
>Red diamond-slitted eyes stare at the bottle briefly, then close as his head shakes in the negative.
"No thank you. The only thing I need right now is a long break in the cold."
>Left set of wingclaws lifting, the 'palm' up in a human-like farewell, Torven reclines against the fountain heavily as you leave.
"Welcome. Sorry I'm not much help right now."

>Reaching the Pagoda in short order you find the scar-covered bright fuchsia mare poring over her table, still covered in giant stacks of papers and notices.
>At least there wasn't any wind, though the icy cold probably meant a storm was incoming soon.
>Seeing no other humans, or even ponies besides Naliyna, she glances up from a heap of colorful letters to blink at you.
"Need anything else? I'm pretty much free right now, just going through some applications again."
Cairn Wharf
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245826
246018
>>245757
>Hearing twin sorts, immediately after turning away a quiet argumarent starts up on the merits of possible infiltration vectors.
>Good thing you were already leaving or they'd probably try to pull you into that mess.

>Unable to blend in properly, drifting into the closest group of about twenty older pegasi, most of which were definitely main Ferron clan members, they nonetheless welcome you in with merry smiles.
>Browsing with them through the interesting wood, shell, bone, hide, and some lesser valued though quite large gem hoofcrafts, the majority were, as expected, representations of creatures that you'd never seen, while a few were varying pony species in distinct combat poses.
>Seemed like the Ferron were oddly fond of chess, or whatever the equivalent here was.
>Catching the fully in-act filly once more passing her gaze around you, the left ear flicks several inches forwards before returning to nose bumping a large round globe of glass, or similar, filled with what that looked like multicolored oil.
>She knew, but what she knew wasn't apparent.
>Or she didn't know and was merely trying to deflect attention from you.

>Drifting along with the Ferron for a bit until excusing yourself and approaching to the translocation matrices, Pepper Spice Mango's head raises above her wooden plate covered in fruit, staring dumbfounded at you with a slice of pineapple in her mouth.
>Every muscle you could see tenses.. abruptly after which she hurriedly swallows the chunk and stammers out a loud, panicked apology.
>Flinging herself backwards from the low wooden bench with a wing flap, rear thumping into a trio of bright blue painted Lishanki huddled around something, the mare breaks into a rapid gallop towards the opposite pier's end undergoing renovation.
>Taking great offense to being interrupted, the triplets turn as one to shout a variety of crude insults at the Cultist's retreat.
>And of course, all of said insults were fruit-based puns, none of which were possible but amusing.
Down the Grey Bricked Road -A small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
wY+rd
?
No.245847
245885 248554
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>241998
>>242051
>A weary sigh, followed by the tired raspy voice of Excelleon came from the ceiling yet again.
"Just..Bring the slaves to the holding chambers, receive payment then GET LOST!"
>He crocked before his voice fell silent, leaving Adon and Spruce with the open entrance.

>What the group saw beyond was a utilitarian tunnel carved from the mountain, concrete walls and ceiling with stone brick flooring with no sign of immediate hostiles. Large square glow stones set in intervals in the ceiling lit the tunnel with a pale light, giving a sense of a sanitised environment. With the light came warmth, although it was warmer inside the passage than the rocky mountainside, it was not welcoming in the least.
"Well, shall we?"
>Asked Golden in his nervous voice.

>Now that the doors were open the Chitqu looked back at the humans and unicorn before running down the corridor, deciding for the old pony. Catching up with the small critter was easy as it small legs meant it wasn't setting any land speed records.
>Golden Horn reluctantly followed suit, his tail tucked between his legs as the clicking of his shivering teeth reverberated throughout the walls of the tunnel.

>There were no immediate enemies in sight but at the end of the tunnel there was clearly something there, something reflective with how the soft light of the glow stones bounced off the unmoving object. It, along with the end of the corridor was a good 100 metres away, if guesstimating was anything to go by.
Cheto
!!RKaTf8Vgrg
zS8n9
?
No.245853
245984
>>245814
>With a smile and a wave back, Cheto bids Torven farewell, bottle stored away into his original position.
(Seems like a nice stallion. Hopefully he has somepony to pet. He'd probably feel better by it.)

>With the warm smile he dimissed himself from Torven, he simply nods and bows slightly towards the Crystal Mare he sought out.
"I'm glad you asked, Miss Naliyna. I actually have some questions about the world around me, since everything is quite alien in my eyes so far. Particularly on world events and cultures of the area. Feel free to abstain from answering if the topic is uncomfortable for you. I'm not here to open old wounds if I can help it."
>He clears his throat, knowing that many questions in his mind would probably hamper most individuals with the tiring paperwork back at home.
"First of all, who is Princess Celestia and Luna and what do they stand for, as well as usual agreements, treaties, rules, regulations, laws, and orders from the two? How can I contact them?"
>Pause as he rummages through his bag, thinking Naliyna may want a drink after responding to all of his questions.
"What is the Treaty of Canterlot exactly? Is it in any way related to the tragic end of the city of Canterlot?"
>Going ever deeper, he finally grabs his still filled Fruit Juice(TM) bottle, while still leaking his words out towards the hopefully attentive Crystal Mare in front of him.
"What are the most relevant factions in terms of relationships towards Razorback? I've heard from Torven about the Ferron clans, the Lunars, the Solars, Stalliongrad folk and a mere mention of 'Sea's Bounty' but I assume there's more than just that."
>Finally fishing out the fruit juice from his backpack, he gently presents it to Naliyna without actually setting it on the table, not wanting to break her order of things.
"Who is Sharpened Words? I haven't heard his name anywhere even though he was supposed to be the previous diplmoat of these parts."
>A small pause travels along the room.
"If you need a drink, you can take this Fruit Juice(TM) bottle. I won't mind."
>He smiles cordially, gently shaking the juicy goodness with his average hands.
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.245854
246002 247195
1472956972343.png
>>245771

>At Mercy's shouting, Sunny barely had the time to fall into a defensive combat stance and began considering the mare as something less than a pony, setting her feelings and ethics resolutely aside for clear minded determination.
>The target was a defensive expert and otherwise highly capable combatant, but did not have the discipline or foresight to truly shine, especially given her emotional instability.
>Passionate, herd protective displays. Clear and present risk to the long term operational integrity of Razorback.
>Keep the target away from her area of expertise. Evade, strike and neutralise.
>Allowing Mercy the initiative in favour of evading her blows, Sunny readied her her blades to riposte the remainder once her initial onslaught was spent.
>She stepped deftly away from and under Mercy's strikes, but not as fast as she'd like, and kept to giving as little ground as possible to keep herself between Mercy and the councilmare.
>Sunny was outclassed and she knew it, she'd be able to hold her own for now, but time was running out for the councilmare.
>She estimated a minute or two at most until the mare died to her injuries. Mercy would only have to keep her occupied until then.

[1d6+3 = 7]
< E. Evasion
[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+5 = 7]
< M. Riposte
[1d6+5 = 8]

[1d6+5 = 10]

[1d6+5 = 7]

>Sunny drove as much force as was left from her moves to strike Mercy's unguarded temple, it'd take more such strikes to render her unconscious, and she was skeptical whether she'd be able to incapacitate Mercy quickly enough, but it was the best she could currently do in her weakened state.
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245864
246022
>>245759
>The mini-Wild rolls offscreen in order to de-occupy herself, but points a judging metal finger directly at you from the corner.
"I can be rebuilt unlike you, mom! AND, don't you have a stallion and mare to return to? Wouldn't they be supremely enraged if they learned I was not placing every single nano-effort into preserving your life?"

>Emitting a cheerful electronic noise from overhead, Wild shifts the right screen's focus to a shoulder recording aimed down the eastern coastline, then back five seconds later.
"Variable data located, cross-referencing.. complete. My databases state Ferron outposts and tree-houses tend to be forty to one hundred meters above ground level. It is unlikely that the incoming waveforms will be at full strength or capable of knocking down a significantly sturdy tree."
>One of the medical tendrils silently snakes past you from underneath the couch towards the wall locker next to you, oddly depositing a number of small gems inside before disappearing below.
>The sounds of welding outside cease, each of the large mechanical stalks moving away from view.
"Update: chest cabin reinforcement order complete. The modification was partially botched by an error margin of nineteen to twenty-seven percent, it will take approximately one minute to remove the excessive and incorrect welds. Now beginning repairs on internal locomotion systems and conducting underwater functionality research-"
[1d6+4 = 10]
Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 1]
Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 5]
Repair Tendril #
[1d6 = 1]
Repair Tendril #
[1d6 = 2]
Repair Tendril #
[1d6 = 2]
Repair Tendril #
[1d6 = 6]
Repair Tendril #
[1d6 = 3]
Repair Tendril #
[1d6 = 1]
Repair Tendril #
[1d6+1 = 7]
<Basic Engineering Research
[1d6+1 = 4]

>Imposing a 3D model of the Construct Assault Craft's hull, then comparing it to an estimate of the currently offshore Construct's total dimensions, three small components are highlighted within the rear hull.
"Based on previous wavelength scans I suspect these are extreme range, long range, and short ranged data gathering sensors. I do not currently have enough information to counter them. Adjusting previous calculations, revectoring new Threat Level Analysis Pattern, codenamed: 'Paranoid As Mom'.. complete."
>There was that accusatory sass again.
>Yep, it was definitely yours, except much younger.

>Switching the left screen off briefly, it returns to display a number of radar, magnetic, infrared, thermal, and night vision systems, several of which you recognized as being in use on your world.
"My databases contain numerous forms and states of detection systems such as these. Short explanation: each operates on a known spectrum, wavelength, or bandwidth which can be adjusted into various states of detection capability. For example: an active motion sensing device emits certain data, sounds, and pulses that can be detected if an opponent has the necessary equipment. Operating the same motion sensing device in a passive state decreases the chance of being detected by a number of factors and variables. This reduces the total accuracy and increases the time lag between each detection cycle. In sum: I will attempt to adjust my sensor array's operational state which may theoretically prevent long range detection."
[1d6+1 = 3]
<Arcanum Omni-Sensor Array: Experimental Passive Cycle Modification
>The nerd part of Wild definitely wasn't yours though..
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
Q+iXH
?
No.245865
246054
>>245616
>Clem sees the batponies stand then fall to the leader's shrill commands
>He remains seated for this until she starts speaking to him
>"Oh a summoning? Hope it don't backfire. Hmm, she's willing to do it so it might be ok?"
"Why Earth ponies specifically?"
>Clemency gets his pack on and grips his blade, giving the lead mare a nod in compliance
>He especially eyes that case
>Must be some sort of focus for the ritual or something
>Keeping the paces in mind, he watches the mare walk away until ten paces passes
>Turning to the table, he gives a short nod goodbye before leaving after the mare
>Clem begins his tailing, becoming vigilant of all ponies in the area around
[1d6+1 = 2]
<Expert Perception
[1d6+1 = 7]

[1d6+1 = 2]

Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.245871
246055
>>245783
>"Ok, so he's just changing how things operate around here and Neightime just got pissy. Then he just told her to go through a middleman for trade relations? Seems fine I guess."
"Razorback haven't really gotten word from him. Or they did and that's outside my field. Otherwise, ok I think I get it now."
>Zhun looks over the table of scrolls and pages one more time though, just to have a clear picture
"Hmm, you can go ahead and see where she is. Just in case."
>Seeing her stand, Zhun then gets his bag on then stands
"We do. I think I know who she is."
>Zhun gives off a concerned look when she look back, only to be relieved at it just being time constraints
"You're welcome, thanks for the help!"
>Giving her a wave before she leaves, Zhun then gets his checklist out for the rest of the supplies
>"Critical and common alchemical supplies. Hmmm, maybe that Ash Kicker figure can help. Where was she again?"
>Zhun did recall her needing botanical samples of the New Everfree flora
>He starts thinking about this as he begins leaving the large tent and heads for the translocation stone
>Deciding to drop off the papers and contract, he puts in the code for Razorback Fortress
>He does give Snootadishu one more look around before transit, seeing as it did remind him of home

>When he arrives at Razorback, he looks to see if Naliyna is still at her post with the usual pillar of paperwork
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!KB4AZIaIok
MtIOf
?
No.245885
248554 251631
>>245847

>Really? It was that simple this whole time?
>The Norwegian sighed to himself, rubbing his face in annoyance as the doors parted and this 'Excelleon' bitched at them to get moving.
"Right. Let's get this over with then."
>He quietly mumbles, hopefully not loud enough that their target could hear as they begin to advance down the tunnel.
>He places a hand on his slung rifle as they move, pulling it back into a low ready position.
>Best to be prepared for anything in this unknown... Mountain bunker place.
>Speaking of the unknown, they had already spotted.... Something down their tunnel forward, reflecting light from the glowing rocks.
>Spruce tried to squint his eyes behind his orange sunglasses to try and make out what exactly was down there.

[1d6 = 3]
B. Perception
[1d6 = 3]

Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
9Y8T4
?
No.245894
246129 246136
D7wnr87U8AAQ-bJ.jpg
>>245430
>Pareidolia remains silent as the General converses with her equipment.

[Sentient shield. Possibly otherwordly? Eldritch is unlikely, too calm and form is defensively focused compared to other eldritch inhabited equipment.]

>He slowly exhales as she explains. His brow rises in surprise behind his helmet.

"I was unaware they existed in that form."

[Digital life? Or personality transference? Will need to inquire further.]

>Nodding once as the mare remarks, he holds the N.O.A.H drive up briefly.

"The technology inside the drive is miniaturized to a degree. Human equivalent computing technology to Interponies from my era is generally small enough to be held in one hand or hoof without sacrificing performance. Individual components being small enough to balance on a finger."

>Leaning over slightly to watch the strange human depart, he calls:

"Ask for Allys! You will find her at the Mess Hall."

>He stops a moment to think before continuing.

"And what should everyone here call you?"

[This is why I did not qualify for Social. If only I had a Committee liaison...]

>His helmet hides his awkward grimace at the interaction.
>Looking back towards the mare in front of him, he carefully places the shield on top of the hard drive.

"Either her helmet has a voice modulator, or parts of her are mechanical resulting in that voice."

[Timeframe is far too long. Too many tasks remaining to wait.]

>His annoyed expression does not reach his voice.

"I am ready."
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.245984
246020
>>245853
>Looking down at the letters she'd been poking at, Naliyna circles her left forehoof with the right in a quick motion while giving a polite, albeit devious smile.
"Sorry, but I'm not a 'miss' anymore. Soon as events settle down a bit I'm going to be mareried to a human. As for old wounds don't worry about them, I'm pretty stable these days."
>Taking on a serious expression, the scarred Crystal mare leans back on her short couch, left hoof raising to rub the same side's ear, which you notice half was torn off at some point in the past.
"Those.. are odd questions, but I don't mind answering them."
"Princess Celestia is one of the four alicorns that rule Tallus, our world. So far as I know she represents Spring, the time that most foals are born, the Day, the Sun itself, being a philosophical warrior, is the essence of warmth and the basis for peaceful conduct, the kinds of alchemical elixirs that imply renewal, magic that focuses on defense, the early growing season, and when ponies start socializing after a harsh winter. She's the co-ruler of Equestria alongside Princess Luna. So, Princess Luna mostly represents winter, the time when ponies and flora sleep, the Night itself because it's usually safe to travel then, the Moon, being a logical warrior without showing or being hindered by emotions, cold-hearted diplomarecy, and the kinds of magic that mostly cause harm. Luna also has a lot to do with Necromarecy but I dunno the details on that part."
"As for Princess Celestia's treaties, rules, and laws, the simplest way I can describe those demarends is this: don't lie unless you absolutely have to, don't hurt others or cause conflicts unless you have no other choice, always try to be nice, and don't make a situation worse than it has to be. Solars hate being lied to, hate lying even worse, and act like they have nothing to hide, which they usually don't. How to contact her.. well, from what I've heard, if you send a letter addressed to Princess Celestia, she has an agreemarent with the Vortex Remnant so she'll get it immediately."
>Leaning forwards, right forehoof on her chin while the left rests on the couch, Naliyna frowns in a modicum of annoyance.
"There's a lot of agreemarents and other stuff between their factions, those are a huge problem when trading. Solars, that is, ponies under Princess Celestia's rule, really hate poisons, toxins, acids, the Ethereals, Specctrals, and similar things since they see those as a weakness. Lunars, ponies under Princess Luna's rule, also hate poisons, toxins, and acids, but they really despise Plasma, Ethereal, and Planar things since those make combat too easy. Lunars will lie if they feel it's necessary, or outright hide the truth and say nothing if they feel that's for the best. They prefer both open combat and ambushes at the same levels, which makes most Solar ponies angry. That's kind of a double standard since Solar ponies will try to combat something they know they can't defeat, and Lunars try not to risk themselves unnecessarily. I guess you could say that they have their own general kind of honor, and they don't agree on what is honorable all that often."
"Lunars like using bound spells, enchantmarents, and weird stuff to stay even or have an advantage over their opponents, especially the creatures they target in the Moors and the Southern Equestrian Ocean. They'll try not to lie to you if they're asked a straight question though, but they will direct you to somepony that won't reveal their secrets. I think the worst part is that Solars and Lunars are both really prideful. Sometimes you won't get an honest direct answer from either, they're too proud to admit that they've been defeated or could be. Princess Luna demarends that her ponies and allies be civil with each other, even if they hate each other, but the Solar faction distrusts those that aren't unicorns, pegasi, or non-psionic earth ponies. Supposedly Celestia really hates Druids but I dunno why."
"I have a short copy of the Night and Lunar Guard's laws, not the newest but it usually works if I need to barter or negotiate something with them. It's basically: don't hurt somepony that shouldn't be hurt, don't rape somepony that doesn't deserve it, don't steal from somepony unless they stole wrongfully, don't use banned stuff no matter how bad the situation is, and always share knowledge if they're able to."
"The quickest way to get ahold of Princess Luna is sending a letter directly addressed to her. The Vortex Remnant has some kind of deal with all the Princesses and Queen Chrysalis, they get their mail instantly no matter where they go."
>Taking a deep inhale, the fuchsia Crystal mare lets it out slowly, eyebrows furrowing together while curiously eyeing your motions.
"I don't know much if anything about the current Treaty of Canterlot. But, there's been at least four hundred Treaties of Canterlot. Each of those is an agreemarent between at least two countries, or Tallus as a whole. Depending on what the agreemarent is, certain things become illegal or legal again, certain rare and trade goods are limited so that the black markets can't abuse them, migration is increased or decreased.. it's really hard to say much about them. And, no, I don't think it has anything to do with Old Canterlot."
>Briefly frowning, the trade mare waves a hoof dismissively at your question.
"Just those really. We don't have much contact with anypony else. The Sea's Bounty are General Twisted Wing's kin, some here don't like them because they're awfully lewd."
>Slowly raising both eyebrows, Naliyna's eyes narrow in muted disgust.
"Sharpened Words is Denra's real name. He quit his diplomatic position after he thought Princess Celestia betrayed him. I dunno if she did or not, but he doesn't like talking about any of his time there."
>Lips pursing once thoughtfully, the Crystal mare gives a short nod, reaching out to take it with one forehoof.
"That does sound good, thank you."
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.246002
247195
..........jpg
>>245771
>>245854
>Jeff looks down at the golem, shaking his head slightly.
"The offending party is still technically my superior, and I'll be in deeper shit if she winds up dead on my watch. She may have threatened to kill us, but she's still an ally. It's fine though, that's why you're out here- to learn. I have a plan."
>He straight up lied to Boris. He has no solid plan yet. He just hopes Sunny can subdue Mercy before the vampires are ready to march out.

>Speaking of, Jeff looks out at the battle-ready and fully-armored perfect lines of Lunarites.
'Woooow. They're loaded to win a war just by themselves.'
>It was awe-inspiring, if not a little intimidating at the same time.
>Luckily it sounded like they at least had plenty of Ambrosia to keep them stable for a time. He wonders how long it'll tkae before they need to become reliant on it. Two-hundred doses is all they have... in existence.
>He didn't let this fact waiver him, and nodded in confirmation to the lead mare.
"Right then. It's a fifteen mile march to the closest travel stone for the Citadel. Hope you're all ready for that..."
>Dipping his head back out, he swings both doors open to give them a berth to start heading out.
>He only wish he didn't turn around, only to witness Sunny and Mercy continuing fighting over the councilmare.
>Who looked even more on the verge of death than when she arrived.
>The Nightblade lets out a shrill gasp under his breath out of sheer shock.
"Agh! What the hell, you two?!"
>Can it get even worse, right now?
>He quickly breaks over to the fight and stomps his foot down onto the stone floor as loud as possible right out of the zone of combat to get their attention.
>Him physically intervening might be more trouble than it's worth.
"OI! SUNNY, STAND DOWN! MERCY, CUT YOUR SHIT! I'm mad as hell too, but you made your point! Now break it up before she dies! You're embarrassing me in front of the vampires!"
>It was more of a scolding than a commandeering presence, but the point was to get them to stop and not scare them.
[1d6+4 = 8]
<M.Leadership: Fall in Line???
[1d6+4 = 5]

[1d6+4 = 10]

[1d6+4 = 7]

Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
3qvcT
?
No.246018
247197
>>245826
>Bubba felt it was definitely a good idea to skedaddle.

>As the cultist panics in a rather amusing fashion, Bubba watched as she ran off.
"That was... Honestly something I wasn't fully expecting."
>Shrugging, he shook his head and resumed his walk towards the translocation area.
>While he may have wanted to go do some more stuff, he felt that dropping off information, and getting the equipment he ordered paid off, was more important.
>So he set off back to base.
Cheto
!!RKaTf8Vgrg
mEymT
?
No.246020
247201
>>245984
>Cheto eyebrows rise up from hearing the news, his smile widening as the bottle makes contact with Naliyna's outstretched hoof.
"Congratulations, Mrs Naliyna. I must say I'm envious of the man. If I may be so bold, who is the lucky sir to have your hoof in marriage?"
>As the action proceeds it's natural course, his thinking becomes active.
(Seems these Solars are a tightly-knit group. I'll have to expect suspicion, disrespect or outright fear at first. Lunars seem more flexible, but unpredictable. Seems there's some deep differences between the two, surprisngly. I expected them to be a bit more similar, but they would've made up already if that were the case. At least they seem civil about it if these treaties are to be believed.)
>He nods to himself for a bit, losing focus on Naliyna as he mulls over the stream of useful information.
(Really easy to contact, too, huh? These ponies so far don't seem to be lying to me and I don't see much reason for them to do so... Maybe this is what Sharpened Words meant when he was quote-on-quote betrayed? Naliyna seems to strongly against his actions. I wonder what could have made her react that way. Another pony who dislikes politic folk? I hope not. I'd hate to ruin her mood by my presence.)
>Blinking himself back to focus, he looks quizzically at Naliyna.
"You mean if I were to write a letter right now and put it on the... Vortex Remnant, they'll instantly recieve it?"
>He pauses for a bit, expecting a yes.
"Forgive my intrusion, but do you perhaps have a paper to write a letter on? I'd like to contact Princess Celestia. It's the main reason I'm here in this world."
>His brow lowers and his smile turns hopeful, expecting her to have the means necessary to finally meet his employer and see what exactly does she need currently.
"And in the case she writes me back, where will the response arrive at?"
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
3qvcT
?
No.246022
247363
>>245864
"Yeah well I don't care, I'd rather not need to rebuild you."
>"Plus I highly doubt Kraut has another car to drive into eldritch anomalies."
"That is a major relief."
>I nod softly at her evaluation, before shifting to sit up properly.
"I highly suggest finishing up repairs first, then fixing the botched welds. We need to be able to move, it won't be good for us if you're perfectly welded up but not finished if we're discovered."

"My paranoia has kept me alive back home, thank you very much."
>Listening to her explanation, I could only answer with one thing.
"You're a nerd, Wild."
>I say with a smirk to her mini.
"As long as it works, eh? I just don't want to see it blow up on us or something, okay?"
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place...
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.246054
246057
>>245865
>Leadership: +2 to all Assault rolls.
>????? Ambush Tokens: 3.
"Forgive me for not being clear enough. I was not stating to only prevent the living from interrupting, though they too would be most interested in this ritual. There are Shades, Half-Shades, Spectrals, Eldritch-Touched, those whom were corrupted or tainted by the Scars.. among numerous others. The non-physical aspects of the Moors are still battlefields."
>Head turning nintey degrees left to address you in a flatly stubborn tone, the lead Cultist's ears flick back and forth in warning motions.
"Most drift along and about peacefully due to the marely batponies here projecting their sleepy overherd into the surroundings keeping the unseen calm and orderly. What I carry will incite some but we will not know what, how marely, or their intentions until exposing themselves. Most will be easily dissuaded by a quick enough blow, so I firmly suggest that you strike first."
[1d6+3 = 5]
<E.Leadership: Reaction Speed
[1d6+3 = 9]

[1d6+3 = 7]

>Exiting the Last Stop's low door and following at the mare's prescribed distance, it was fairly ominous to see hundreds of darkly colored earth ponies had virtually taken over the Village's entire northern side.
>Clustered in orderly rows with large, empty black saddlepacks of the types that marecenaries tended to favor, all had the typical stocky, widely built and muscular Stalliongrad physique.
>And, curiously, there wasn't a single stallion, filly, or colt in appearance.
>Amusingly, each of the fruit stalls was swamped as streams of batponies were dragging, pushing, and carrying crates or heavy woven satchels of mixed fruits from the six storehouses around the Village.
>Your skin immediately crawls upon realizing how silent the Basin was outside, then even more so from sighting the contents of each picked up and carefully placed in saddlepacks by definite psions, soft, muted green hues lighting the surroundings.
>Beside the, for once, harried traders, the Village's other batponies were in much the same places that they'd been:
>All but a few were currently snoozing on, around, and several in the fountain, on top of each building's entrance and roof, or simply sprawled out wherever they felt was good for a nap.
>The few awake ones on the south side were staring in varying levels of concern towards the sudden influx of earth ponies, though you notice a few armored ones, likely some reclusive Hunter-Killers on break, taking up strategic defensive positions around the two-level hostel.
>Opposite the hostel you note that Lann's shop was likewise swamped, the four unicorns she had tending to it now barely visible behind a sea of earth mares hauling large stacks of cloth and carpets on their saddles directly towards the translocation matrice.
>Unsurprisingly, nearly all of these mares were psions as well, save for the telltale bright sapphire glow of a Primal somewhere in the front.
>While the atmosphere, mood, and body languages that you could see weren't hostile, the few gazing in your direction were noticeably stone faced.

>Paying little overt attention towards the physical goings-on, the Cult mare turns several degrees in a slight motion, diverging from a course towards the translocation matrice and now heading directly at the wide basin itself.
>Ears twitching backwards under the hood, a subtle flick of claws beneath her robe is made southwards accompanied by a slight, highly familiar pink glow that lasts barely a second.
[1d6+2 = 5]
<Journeymare: Reveal Unnatural
[1d6+4 = 7]
<E.Scouting
[1d6+4 = 8]

[1d6+4 = 7]

Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.246055
246059
>>245871
>Leaving the half-underground building, over a dozen small, sturdy looking wooden pony carts, most likely palm or similar based on their coloration, were currently parked outside.
>Watching the five Zebras scurry about carrying numerous satchels, bags, jars, small crates, and what looked to be cardboard boxes, the amount on order would take at least three hours to complete.
>Which raised the question of where, exactly, everything was even stored in the Alchemy Lab.

>Retracing your steps back through the Plaza, the amount of traffic had increased by at least double:
>Roughly a quarter of the crowds were Saddle Arabians, amusingly near eye level with you, though the more ornately saddled and bridled mares were tossing strange looks in your direction.
>Hundreds of distinct bright blue and green war painted Ferron pegasi were likewise roving around in small groups, paying little attention except to offer wing waves at you between eyeballing the strange fruits, roots, and nuts on display.
>At least they weren't Lishanki..
>Dozens of young Crystal ponies had taken over most of the smaller stall counters, comically baking in the sun and taking zero notice of much else besides trading for pouches and satchels of herbs.
>Reaching the translocation matrice it seemed that business had picked up massively, but for reasons that you didn't know.
>Although, knowing it was past midnight in Equestria the ponies here were mostly Lunar aligned, though you couldn't quite tell why such a large number of Crystal ponies were daring Zebraica's oppressive heat.

>Granted the professional treatmarent this time by the Vortex Remnant, half a second passes in a fuzzy, calm white tunnel before setting down inside the Pagoda.
>Still at her tent stall, only now sorting through letters, the middle-aged fuchsia trader was in the middle of a deep, profoundly angry conversation with.. herself in the Kingdom dialect.
>Pausing to look up with an exasperated stare, Naliyna blinks once before putting on a welcoming smile.
"You've been gone a while. Having fun visiting?"
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
Q+iXH
?
No.246057
248673
>>246054
>Oh so those corrupted beings
>Reaffirmed, Clemency grips his blade, knowing it's efficiency towards those beings

>Seeing the outside, this isn't the Basin he was told about
>So many Earth ponies
>And it is too quiet for a place filled with batponies
>How regular is this event again?
>Just keep vigilant
>And stay on that case
>Clemency resumes his tailing, even under the scrutiny of the earth pony herd
>Seeing her change direction, Clem notices the subtle flick of her wingclaws
>He firsts uses the radar function on his helmet before taking a quick glance over
[1d6 = 6]
<Radar

[1d6+1 = 2]
<Expert Perception
[1d6+1 = 7]

[1d6+1 = 6]

Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.246059
248680
>>246055
>All that and still missing ingredients
>What's going on in that Lab that consumed all the supplies?
>Zhun contemplated taking a peak inside of there, figure out if we have the storage for this amount of stuff

>Ah there she is
>Still sorting through paperwork
>Welp, time to not be helpful in that regard
>Zhun matches her smile, as always
"Oh yes. Quite a marked difference coming from the normal temp Empire to the blazing hot desert market. I do have some things for you to handle...told to give the receipts to you."
>Rummaging through his pack, Zhun brings out that Consortium receipt for that trip and the manifest for the Snootadishu trip
"The alchemical supplies should arrive shortly from both. Still need to get more though."
>Zhun also pulls out the contract Tapeskat gave him and puts it alongside the receipts
"Trademare yes? Was told to also give this over to you in case "something stupid" happens. Weird trade agreements after that happened."
>Zhun reaches for a canteen of water to take a sip of
>Relief from the dry heat into this...temperate heat
Mallia Castella
3/9/s
?
No.246078
248728
>>245795
>Mallia manages to hide her expressions better by virtue of having her face fully covered. But behind that mask was a woam smiling wryly and crinkling her nose like an accordion - grimacing in an attempt to not be amused by those words. The only hint that she was not taking this seriously being a slow, half-hearted exasperated sigh.

(It's not funny.)
>She told herself.
>It was kind of funny though.
>Totally not funny. That's not funny. Nope.

>Of course, the enginseer didn't say anything back to Raindrop apart from sideglancing in her direction once through her visor. Taking the time to closely examine what she could see of the inside of the dial-lock, while she listens intently to the "commissar".
>Though she only really freezes and starts turning around when the man mentioned what happens to the guns touched by people of lesser eras, her back straightening up suddenly as the tendril-like mechadendrite starts to quietly slither itself under the shield on her back, as if trying to hide.
>Mallia specifically does not slowly in understanding at the mention that vehicles seem to be exempt from 'the rule', resting the hellpistol on her left lap, with one hand subtly draped over it as she processed what had been said.
>Then her eyes went to one of the lights being held by the ANCIENT operators, squinting towards one through her photo-visor as if to examine it. Pulsing her preysense visor to check how 'hot' these crystals were, just out of curiosity.

>How hard could it be to pick up where this 'Marquis' left off? Couldn't be too hard to learn, with her micro-cogitator.

[1d6+4 = 9]
<B. Perception + BQ Preysense visor + Photo-visor
[1d6 = 6]

[1d6 = 3]
<E. Engineering
[1d6 = 6]

[1d6 = 6]

"Hm. You know, maybe later down the line I could help with that, if this 'Marquis' doesn't come back."
>Her eyes eventually lift up back to the commissar, giving him a respectfully thankful nod.
>While it also clicked in her mind that, even so far in the past, commissars still existed. A slight shiver crawls up her spine as her breath falters for a split second. What this really a commissar though?

>Then finally her head turned towards Raindrop as she also speaks. Her mind quickly processing Tox-11's message and, by instinct, sends a 'Thank you very much, Tox-11.' to him instead of the usual litany of praise to the machine spirit.

"That... Yeah it's probably a good idea to take preventive measures. But it's unlikely that anything will catch fire, unless something goes horribly wrong."
"... Or there's a flamethrower hidden somewhere in this lock. Heh!"
>Mallia chuckled mirthfully, but her words are, contrasting to her merry chuckle, awfully serious as her head turned to the lock itself.

"As for distance. Yes, please try to maintain a minimum of 15 meters, or 50 feet, from me at all times just in case, unless you have appropriate protection to your eyes and body."
>The enginseer looked back to everyone, including the other operators, when saying that. Though afterwards, her gaze fixes back on Raindrop to say an additional remark.

"As a note. I can see a sort of non-metallic wheel behind these dials, which... Judging by the patterns and striations, is most likely made of a type of compressed wood. In short: This is why you can't hear anything from the mechanism, it's meant to prevent you from hearing anything if you start messing with it."
>Mallia begins to lift the hellpistol and grips it tightly, undoing the safety with the swipe of her thumb. Though before she does anything, she tries to quickly make sure to glance into the dial a bit more to see if she can't get a line of sight with her hellpistol with the wooden wheels, hoping to maybe destroy them from outside and see if that wouldn't help opening the lock itself. For future reference.

>And also giving the time for everyone to get to a safe distance, and for Raindrop to get some water if she wanted to grab some.

"I'm going to give you all some time to move away, and grab water. Then I'm going to start cutting this open and seeing if we can't see what's inside."

[1d6+4 = 10]
<B. Perception + BQ Preysense
[1d6 = 5]

[1d6 = 6]
<E. Engineering
[1d6 = 1]

[1d6 = 3]


Razorback Fortress: The Courtyard, Post #1/2
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.246129
>>245894
>Thansimum's lips contort into an embarrassed, wavy S-shape for several seconds as she scuffs the ground with a forehoof.
"Well.. nopony else can interact with them you can tell why we never say anything. Not only that, it's virtually impossible to explain the specifics to somepony that isn't a Crystal pony."
>Head cocking to eye the square once more, the General's face crinkles humorously.
"Simple and impressive. Don't care for the shape, there's too much surface area to catch on something or be knocked off a table, but the overall size does give me some intriguing thoughts."

>Catching the new arrival's free arm making a wide wave, she stops and turns at the waist, pressing something below her neck which results in a partial volume increase.
"Karmine Leto, or Lure.. whichever sounds less stupid."

"Quite a strange name, I don't recognize any component of it.. well, no matter. Would be interesting to perform a physical and psychological assessmarent on a newly arrived humans, perhaps create a baseline for rapid treatmarent. The idea of disguising one's voice is odd to me, though I do understand and respect the security aspect of the first. The second however will present significant problems speaking to ponies, the least of which would be fear."
>Visibly making notes in her head as the human continues to stumble northwards, the older Crystal mare's returns to drop down to the drive while frowning speculatively.
"..really? No, I understand. Allot five hours maximum for.. no? Very well, maximum three hours for cleansing and the remainder for.. ..full recovery? Of course you may, but why do you ask? ..no, that is not allowed. Do not tamper with other functions that you cannot directly and easily harmonize with. Otherwise continue to withdraw, reset, and repeat against significant hostile sub-strata. ..excellent news, I'll leave you to work then."
>Looking up once more with a small, hopeful smile, Thansimum offers a slight bow.
"Excellent, then I shall begin immediately as well. As this is your first time experiencing a solo performarence it will be quite strange. I assure you this: all side effects, if any, should be minor. Clear your consciousness, open your mind, and prepare to deliver all of your focus upon me."
>Without even clearing her throat, a refreshing hum begins and-
[1d6+5 = 11]
<GM.Grand Performarence: Purge Planar Corruption
[1d6+5 = 11]

[1d6+5 = 8]

[1d6+5 = 7]

[1d6+3 = 6]
<?????
[1d6+3 = 6]

[1d6+3 = 6]

Razorback Fortress: The Library, Filly Room, Post #2/2
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.246136
247072
>>245894
"At ease, Operative."
>Vague lucid thoughts, unchained together/apart, always alone in the midst of this new, unwanted Committee.
"Yes, we bear your face. Security measures as always needed even outside the temple. You are above us, correct?"
>A timeless-ending melody that tore and mended, conscious trickles of agony rolling to crash inside, outside, sideways.
"Is he conscious or merely responding to impulses? I vote neigh."
>This was familiar.
>The attraction to her voice was remarkable but merely a footnote; perhaps Crystal ponies had succeeded where their sisters failed due to empathy and conceiving others.
>A young dull orange tinted Crystal mare, stern in demeanor as her elongated face glowered towards the others towered high above you, unreachable.
"You have been summoned here today for an empirical review of your performance. I vote yey."
>For now, you think, until acquiring the means to reach her. Perhaps she will reconsider such a soft verdict.
"It is not our intention to cause undue stress since you are, after all, busy carrying out these orders, but we have noticed certain.. unsettling trends that you are having difficulties over. Your new accommodations and personnel are of acceptable proficiencies yet you have become too physically attached. This has led to numerous complaints, Operative, and not ones we are able to take lightly. You have been accused of becoming a sexual deviant. I plead the neigh verdict."
"Between. Are these humans worth salvaging?"
>This voice, distantly harsh as rolling hills, was critical. It considered your suitability, yet knew you would take too much time to sway.
"Enough! The case is closed. One shall decide. We cannot leave this amount of expertise outside of One. My answer is yey."
"Is he aware of this meeting? One knows. One is a fool. One will be removed when the time is right. Four years ago One was removed. We do not agree. My consensus is neigh."
>Third/fourth unwills herself for concern of exposure to the outside.
>Two needs to move were given, the rhythms guided your motions; controlled, stable, but tainted. These were not your actions. You unofficially Puppeted for the Master, now you will you repay her sacrifices.
"What meeting! We are not here? You are not there? He is not us?"
"I object to this nonsense! One did not exist, One told us that One does not exist and we will aide by One's orders!"
"Were you unlying to yourself outside of necessary unprotocols, Operative? Do you take unjoy in unsubversion? Is this not the correct unfreedom to gain your untrust? I unfind these distractions to be unuseful. Give yourself the unyear, then unreturn. That is my judgement. I abstain."
>Supporting yourself with both hands clutching the ancient General's shoulder plates firmly, staggering alongside her into the well lit red room full of dolls and plushes, the small ponies merrily accusing you of being too big to play with them. She defends you by pointing out your tiny mane. The helmet was wrong, it only served to pronounce your unreliability.
"This meeting will not be adjourned until WE reach a single consensus outside of the abstainee votes. One is no longer valid and shall be discarded. WE have been given the clearance to vote yey. Continue."
>It was a soft blade, the scalpel/scythe terribly long reaching into, piercing each nerve only to pleasantly harvest what it needed to feed the rest. You have grown within the field well, hiding, spreading across the land at whim and will. Soon this will be and was yours until the blade reaps not-you in taunting laughter. Two prizes are lost. This bodes unwell for our selves.
"Two objections. Fist, this Operative has not committed enough noteworthy crimes and infractions to be given special dispensations. Hoof, his results have been failure was always advised on multiple public accounts. For those of you that have remembered, that is our purpose: we make use of failures for their benefits, or their allies. You have all succeeded and may be pastured. You are put out to graze, to be bred, or to breed. Serve the needs which occur first. Dismissed. I am last to vote and first to rise. My vote is neigh-"

>Clever little red swirls converge, pushing you downwards into the frayed reality she called yours.
>This wasn't your home, yet it was a home of learning, or a gilded cage that made itself.
"I care not whether you learn or teach. Trust those that cannot, will not, and most importantly: should not trust you."
>Awareness of soft, previously frightened, but warm harvests lie alongside, the passive-aggressive helmet that dared to delay your secrets buried across the inhabited spatial cube's interior.
>What were these fillies for, besides allowing them to warm your worthy self?
"Your soul priorities are to partake in this challenge. You are the taskmaster now. Acquire the respect deserved. Restructure the status quo."
>What purpose did the scared colt's needs of his family and friends grant that you refused to give yourself?
"Assign full authorization to the unworthy. Build the futures too great to be deserved. Be careful: never succeed this selection process. There can be no recovery."

>This was.. acceptable, you proposed to yourself.
>Surrounding your almost entirely nude self, the quiet, appreciable snores of warm, contently sleeping young ponies filled the air.
>Through the cracked door south, the three Kingdom Generals were unaware of your restored consciousness.
>Yes, these fillies and the colt were too young to appreciate their lives fully, said the first.
>The second's disruption, each was too immature to recognize the harsh realities they would soon face.
>It was wrong to hope they could be immunized from grief, the third despaired.
>Their choices crumbled, inconsistent.
>Your own actions, fortunately, would not falter.
"Failure Is Not Authorized."
>This was, for once, certainly your voice.
Corsen
!!NqBxIZTw8.
YumWJ
?
No.246356
>>210504
"Good. I have a great deal of interest in bringing your superior onto my lap and rubbing his or her ears... maybe a light hugging session too. I don't discriminate, you ponies are obscenely soft."
>Doing his best 'you had better' tone towards Venous, the Death Cultist's smile turns into a lethargically cruel, probably unseen grin.
"That I entirely agree with. If the only choices are to punch something's face inwards or scare them into submitting, then why bother wasting time with the first pack of enemies when they can be terrorized up front by throwing the front door into their heads? I'm not strong enough to do like my earliest comrade, so but the point still stands."

>Suffering little offense at the bright cityscape, Corsen's eyes rove across the previously unseen structures in a newfound sense of enlightenment.
(An entire city cleaner and better maintained than the garbage heaps we took over. This is no decaying corpse of warp-ants crawling on the bones of Void dragons, this is livable.. how did we ever manage without thousands of slaves? Wonder how many ponies it takes to keep this entire city clean.)
>Keeping pace with the Honor Guard, brief passing glances are given to the precious metal underneath, and the highly interesting styles of artistic expression afterwards.
(I'll have to come back when time permits, need to take a thousand notes.)

>Mutely shaking his head at the peaceful environments, he keeps his calm until entering the University's grounds.
(An organized military this close to the noble's district? That's.. unexpected.)
>Arms folding across his chest at the Night Guard's demand, Corsen's eyes flick down at the interesting weapons sourly, then back down onto Venous.
(Must not be the mission she wanted. Relaying orders or giving an update perhaps?)
>Giving a short sigh, he reaches down to with his right hand to lift the hatchet up several inches while jealously eyeing the batpony's peculiar weapons.
"Bounty hunter business mostly. I've asked this Honor Guard here to escort me somewhere I can acquire aid in improving this weapon since I barely know Canterlot, otherwise I won't be able to complete my duties. Maybe take a detour into the art college, I have ideas for several paintings but I'm going to need a few refresher courses."
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
qE7Vs
?
No.247072
249189
006QZngZgy1flatfjjrvyg30dw07te85.gif
>>246136
>Pareidolia wakes to the sound of a phrase as close to a personal mantra as he could have.
>His eyes, remarkably were not bleary.
>His head however felt mired in fog and delusions.

[Not a dream... reality bled in to my delusion? Too many parallels... ]

>Remaining still, he exhales deeply in an attempt to focus on his surroundings.
>An uncomfortable feeling of exposed skin to air assails his nerves.

[Once again without my equipment. Why was it removed? Where is it? Where is Thansimum?]

>His eyes carefully sweep the room as he attempts to process what happened.

[Cage of learning... the Library? There were too many voices... ]

>He spares a sidelong glance at the snoring foals laying next to him before trying to focus on the three apparent Generals outside the door and filter the madness from what he had experienced.

[I was moved, and judged? This must be the room across from the basement door with the affected foals. Unshielded due to the open door, so they were affected...]

>His breath rattles slightly, catching in his throat as he blinks several times.

[There were four, or at least three. I was with Thansimum. The others over there must be the two other Generals?]

>He strains to hear and see as much as he can moving only his head.

[I was barely conscious. What were they talking about? Were my memories and my A.I.'s databanks combed? It was an unavoidable risk, but if that biased their reactions... need to figure out what was real... ]
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.247195
247199 247453
>>245854
>Marginally anticipating the specialist's incoming strikes, staggered lines of burning pink wingblades blur into focus before your snout.
>Bodily turning sideways and backwards from the hostile glows, rearing back enough to clash your hoofboots through her adrenaline-spiked weapons finds significant holes between Mercy's heavily spread apart weaponry.
>Clashing through unguarded wingblades is rewarded with both hooves ringing off the left side of her skull, sending the Spirit Walker reeling backwards just as a roiling wave of searing pink agony rolls through your muscles, catching you off guard briefly.
>Tossed back into a staggered, barely upright defensive stance, previously enraged blind white eyes roll upwards, then down to focusing onto you.. rather coldly, you notice.
[1d6 = 3]
<?????

>Mercy: Minor Concussion, Enrage lost, 117/120HP!

>Immediately behind Mercy, the Councilmare's thin outlines were covered in red spatters and accompanied by a choking gasp.

>>246002
>Now visibly angered by the trio of interruptions, the Belligerent's eyes flash an angry blue.
"Sir, I am not programmed nor experienced enough to care care about whom is right or wrong-"

>The apparent Lunarite commarender briskly tosses a merrily dismissive hoof at your first statemarent.
"We care not for decorum. Should the Planar spheres dare to outnumber this Collective even five to one our odds shall be an uneven tide 'gainst their own."
>Vocalizing a contemptful snort behind her own batpony styled facemask, this one composed of a haughty, mocking sneer, the lead mare chuckles in derisive confidence.
"Care not do we for pittances of flesh and bone. Overlong have we rested good traveler, now be our time to answer the Night Goddess and her unheard call. Bring us to thy promised battlefield, we shall show these generations how to commit unbridled and unfeeling war before their soft eyes!"

>Hurling the commarendeering shout towards the pegasi fracas, a pink-outlined figure stumbles sideways from the Councilmare's distortion.
>Mercy's head phases back into reality first with a bleary, unfocused stare, quickly followed by the rest of her body.
>Momarentarily giving a deep frown, the Spirit Walker marenages a short nod before crumpling forwards onto her chest with a painful groan, both wings and forelegs wrapping around her head protectively.

>Taking several paces forwards while pointing at the first Lunarite filly shoving the Crypt's partially open door open, then up at the stairwell, the short golem's voice turns becomes a thoughtful, if not grating tone.
"I have learned little from this situation, Commander. As I was intending to state before: the timeframe is dire. Is it not more imperative to deliver these willing ponies to the beleaguered forces on Luna's Moon than it is to deal with petty grievances? If so then you must immediately relocate them."
>Turning a brutally calculating gaze at Mercy, Boris lifts his shoulders as high as possible.
"But I require assistance to move quickly. Should there not be space in your vehicle for me then I will travel back on my own."
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.247197
247454
>>246018
>Unheard by Ferron and the few batponies nearby, despite their excellent hearing, your commarent, sadly, goes unnoticed.
>While the Cult leader had caused enough of a scene drawing attention to her, it was unlikely to come across her again without a significant search effort.
>This of course left the question of how she might try to interact with further humans entering Cairn Wharf.. which honestly wasn't your priority.
>Strolling your way to the offest pair of translocation matrices without being hindered, the Vortex Remnant senses business.
>Immediately dropped into a bright neon yellow, green, and pink tri-colored tunnel, precisely two seconds pass before the Pagoda's uniquely charming atmosphere comes into view.
>Except without ponies or even humans around for once.
>Odd.
>The welcoming sounds of papers being shuffled by Naliyna behind you were comforting while her tone was positively cheerful.
"Welcome back! Did you have... fun? Um.. ..can I ask why you smell like the ocean, or how you fell into a salt mine because the thought of either one is making me really hungry right now."
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
vEn4k
?
No.247199
247453 275827
1463846959446.png
>>247195
>Retaking her position between Mercy and the Councilmare, legs braced, head lowered and wings flared wide, Sunny returned Mercy's gaze silently with her own impassive and calculating one. Her instincts screamed at her to go on the offensive and make certain she was no longer a threat, but remained still at Jeff's order.
>Despite the wave of agony Mercy's attack on her had inflicted, the mare stood waiting, recovering her breath even as a slight sheen of lather broke through her hide. She did not like that, not one bit.
>She prayed Jeff's command would stay Mercy's hoof from continuing her attack.

>As soon as she saw Mercy re-enter realspace and fall forwards, Sunny wheeled about towards the Councilmare and dropped down to her side, inspecting her wounds even as she fished out her Estrus flask.

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

>...Aestus flask, she corrected herself after a moment.
>Chest wound, tracheal bleeding, partially obstructed wind passage. No time to wait for oral or topical application to take full effect, no possibility of delivery via intravenous injection.
>Shit.
>Sunny shook her head woefully at herself, her lips set in a grim line on her muzzle.
"You'll have to forgive me for this Councilmare, but I can no more let you die down here than anyone else."
>Rolling the mare onto her back, Sunny lifted the Councilmare's rump upwards, supporting it with a wing and a hoof as she pulled the stopper out of the aestus flask, pushed the neck of the flask in and poured a single dose directly down the Councilmare's marehood.

[1d6+5 = 10]
< E. Alchemy + Estrus Flask
[1d6+5 = 7]

[1d6+5 = 7]

>Sunny at least had common decency to avert her gaze as she 'applied' the dose.
>Afterwards, she restoppered the flask and set it back in her saddlebag as she continued to hold the mare's rump upwards to prevent any spillage while she waited the dozen or so seconds she reasoned it would take for the mixture to be absorbed into the bloodstream and take effect.
>Rather than talk to the mare she'd just violated in order to save her life, Sunny muttered to herself just audibly enough for the Councilmare to make out the words.
"This was supposed to be a simple salvage operation, is this what working with Razorback is normally like? Because I think I'm beginning to regret requesting this contract."
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.247201
247542
>>246020
>Somehow grasping the bottle with her hoof and pulling it towards her chest, the crystalline mare's face breaks out into a wide smile.
"He calls himself Thrill Collins but I dunno if that's his real name. Long story between us, nothing I can say openly though. Can't really talk until it's done."
>Placing one hoof on the cap in preparation to twist it off, Naliyna's expression becomes questioning at your thinking posture.
>Cracking the top open and giving it a delicate sniff, her eyes swivel upwards curiously.
"Yep, so far as I know at least. All three Princesses and Queen Chrysalis get stuff addressed to them right after it's sent. The Vortex Remnant-"
>Motioning towards a vaguely eye-shaped, short stalk formed from the granite circle behind you.
"Pretty shy until he gets to know somepony, but he's never lost anything in transit, right?"
>Blinking once, the eye responds with a multitude of neutrally conjoined voices answering in a profoundly aggravated, proud maerners.
"Neither I nor mine have misplaced one item, object, sentient, nor sapient to their intended location or recipient!"
>Snickering at the eye's highly distressed undertones, the fuchsia mare bats her not-entirely-empathetic eyes at it.
"See? He's the best Remnant there is! And.. huh, didn't know that. Denra never said anything about getting replaced but I'm not really surprised since Canterlot is way too important not to have a diplomat for every faction. One second-"
>Head turning towards her left, a short hum in something akin to a low soprano resonates through the Pagoda for several seconds, ending after a black pen, a large human styled ring notepad, and several bright pink envelopes float from behind the stacks of paper, landing on the upper right corner of her table.
"Here, take these. I've got a bunch more around here.. somewhere. Probably under the rugs, or maybe under the desk-"
>Sitting back to give a momarentarily dumbfounded look, Naliyna points upwards with a front hoof before swirling it around in the air several times, probably meant to indicate where you were right now.
"If you can't leave your name for safety reasons then write 'from Razorback Fortress', or 'care of Razorback Companiegh', or something like that. Shouldn't be a problem since it's pretty much impossible to interdict mail, but I do read all the stuff that isn't addressed to anypony or human in specific that show up here.. mostly because they're either trade notices or newspapers."
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.247363
247520
>>246022
"This is a current estimate of my physical parameters. Regardless of objections I'll continue to cross-reference my datalogs for simple to construct vehicles."
>Returning the left screen to a frontal view of her internal structure, a full third of her 'skeleton' was slag or destroyed, the remainder heavily damaged, twisted, or merely in a faulty state.
>As expected the rebuilding process would require a great deal of additional salvaging, though a few components looked reasonably familiar to you.
"Agreed, shifting priorities. Addendum: research notes indicate underwater repairs, maintenance, and modifications will be lower than thirty percent of standard values. Difficult, not impossible."
>Delivering another batch of gems, the tendril is joined by several more carrying a selection of archaic looking and oddly shaped coins.
"Statement recorded, now saving on all primary, secondary, tertiary, and backup storage systems.. complete. Logic node calculations have determined paranoia to be a heightened form of suspicion exacerbated by moderate to extreme obsessive-compulsiveness. I will not permit illogical actions to be taken without prior study or risk calculations."
>Climbing back into view on the right screen, the caricature's single eye makes a comical squint.
>Which COULD be threatening if it weren't utterly cartoonish.
"This 'nerd' is attempting to ensure she is not wrongfully blamed for failures outside of her control and would feel little remorse if events dictate it is necessary to spank her MOTHER into line!"
>And here was that sass again..
"In the event of catastrophic system failure there is a greater than ninety-percent chance my sensor array will require a complete rebuild. Update: modification failed, no damage caused. Source of errors: multiple integrity losses. Querying databases for potential solutions.. complete. Now attempting basic array repairs-"
[1d6+4 = 8]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #8
[1d6+1 = 6]
<B.Engineering Research
[1d6+1 = 7]

>Catching something on the right screen in front of you, an odd, inverted pan-shaped cloud formation moves.
Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.247453
275827
when_the_potion_goes_in_the_wrong_hole.jpg
>>247195
>Naturally he's relieved that Sunny and Mercy broke up, at his command, but the results were mixed.
>One pegasi, his herd second, took his outburst harder than expected.
>Or she was nursing a head injury... it was probably his first guess.
>>247199
>Sunny, however, recovered instantly and began to assess the council mare's injuries. Going off of the amount of blood, she was somehow in worse shape than she showed up in.
>Fast-walking over to the three, he gives the cowering Mercy a reassuring pat on her wings as he passes her-
"It's okay, Mercy..."
>And toward Sunny, who was already starting on first aid.
>The sight is NOT what he expected, as the pegasi mercenary was administering a potion... vaginally?!
>At this point the scene was less shocking and more tiring, as he kneels down at the councilmare's head end and averts his gaze to the rear.
"I'm gonna not be grossed out and just assume whatever you're doing is going to help heal her wounds. The Dagor also has a medical bag, if we really need it."
>But he wasn't about to argue with Sunny, as he crosses his arms coyly.
"Honey, tip for the future: humans are literal shit-hitting-the-fan magnets. Expect this level of BS almost every time. Keeps you on your hooves, that way. I'll let you handle her, while I begin herding the Lunarites to the top."

>Leaving Sunny to her 'treatment', Jeff grabs Boris by the mid-section and hefts the golem up and onto his left shoulder; sticky-ing him for stabilization.
"Hey, leaving someone to die over a 'petty grievance' is not cool. The Citadel's been under siege for hours, anyway. There's enough time to take care of everything, at their pace. You need to be tactful."
>Speaking of them, Jeff shifts his attention to the awaiting Lunarites through the doors.
"Okay, everypony. If you're all ready, you can follow me to the surface. Maybe my transportation can carry all of you."
>Though he doubts the Dagor's storage space or suspension can handle that much cargo.
>How many total were of them, again?
>Turning back around to begin the lead, he walks over to Mercy again to check on her.
"You okay, Mercy? We're gonna start moving out now."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
3qvcT
?
No.247454
275835
>>247197
>Grimacing, Bubba readjusted to the feeling of being transported through that infernal device.
>"I'll never get used to such a thing."
>Turning around to face her, Bubba gave Naliyna a brief nod and hand wave.
"I've no idea what you're referring to."
>He shrugs at her.
"I wandered around some docks for a while, very likely broke Sweet, and bought some stuff. Figure I'd let you know, just in case someone drops by with some gear for me."
Natilda
!KjHVy9KYr2
3qvcT
?
No.247520
275841
>>247363
>Lets out a sigh at seeing the damage done to her.
"There's a reason humans prefer to haul warships out of the water and into drydock before doing any major repairing to them."
>"Plus I don't know if we can even weld underwater."
"Paranoia in this case came from fighting a war, Wild. I was trained to counter enemy snipers, and I did a good job at it."
>"Until the fascists dropped mortars on me, anyway."
>I just dryly look at her image.
"You try to spank me and when we get back to base you are grounded, young lady."
>Blinking, I stare at the screen for a moment.
"Wait, what was that?"
[1d6+1 = 2]
<E. Perception
[1d6+1 = 4]

[1d6+1 = 6]

Cheto
!!RKaTf8Vgrg
wqAuv
?
No.247542
275853
>>247201
>Cheto is both awed and elated over Naliyna picking up a bottle without a proper grasp around the bottle as well as her discrete response regarding her soon to be husband, providing a big smile and raised eyebrows to symbolize that fact.
“You tease.”
>He chuckles heartily as his surprise fades

>Turning around to face the eye thing in awe at hearing it speak, he proceeds to inspect it curiously yet subtly, unsure of where to focus his eyes on when talking to it.
“Oh! Hello, Vortex Remnant. I’m Jose Gallo. I’m pleased to meet you and thankful for sending that report from Frost to her superiors. You’re quite the helpful remnant.”
(I hope that’s the way to address it.)
>That’s when his brain alerts him of a fact he didn’t notice before from what Naliyna said, causing him to circle back around to face her.
“Forgive me for my interruption, but I only heard of two princesses in my stay here so far. If I may be so bold, who is Queen Chrysalis and the third princess?”
>A small pause
“And what does the Remnant mean by ‘Neither I nor mine’?”

>After listening intently to her explanation, he gently takes the floating black pen, notepad and 2 envelopes with a bright, cheerful smile.
“I appreciate your charitable help Mrs. Naliyna and I hope I have not taken much of your time. Please excuse me for a minute.”
>With a small, happy gait, he walks towards the nearest empty couch with armrests, placing the notepad on the center of it, while placing the envelopes on the end nearest from where the headrest is and readying the pen.
(Where to start…)
>Chewing the lip slightly, he lowers down the pen.
“Dear Princess Celestia, Co-ruler of Equestria:
“I wish to inform you that I am in a stable condition, researching about elemarentary equine politics and culture, particularly from the Solars and Lunars, as well as the Lishanki, Malurians, Arkadian Divides and other Ferron pegasi clans, who are the closest factions to the Razorback Compony. Not to mention all of the exclusive social norms ponykind has that I may not know of yet.
“I must admit that the entry method to this world was completely unexpected, with my unceremonious entrance from the ceiling of a building straight into a sofa, which I am thankful for. The welcoming committee, after calming down from the surprise entrance, were rather friendly and caring. They even offered some complemarentary cookies and some water, which still surprises me how pure it tastes around these parts. After that, it was quite eventful in unique ways I have never experienced before.
“If I may be so bold, I want to ask a few questions regarding the contract details. Firstly, I would like to ask if I am to pursue diplomatic activities on my lonesome or if I have the privilege to choose from a selection of trained ponies in the arts of protecting others from anything that may compromise my responsibilities as a First Hoof, as my dishoofmarent greatly diminishes my defensive capabilities against any would-be assailants. Secondly, I wish to ask if there is a set of ponial armor that has been mareufacutred for me or if I have to commission a set. Lastly, I am curious about the specifics of how the Honor Guard would come to inform me in the event of being summoned by Your Majesty and the Silver Court of Nobles.
“I will make sure to do well on my part of the contract and I am both grateful to have chosen me as a diplomat of the Razorback Compony and eager to serve my assigned faction to the best of my ability.
“Yours sincerely,
“José Gallo, First Hoof of Razorback Compony.”
>Inspecting the letter thoroughly to see if the letter itself was well written and respectful to the Princess that summoned him here, he nods to himself.
(Yes, this ought to do. Maybe she'll appreciate my attempt to use their pun-like terms.)
>He takes off the paper from the notepad, opens one of the pink envelopes, folds the paper cleanly in half and inserted it into the envelope, followed by closing the letter container, turning it around, and finally writing the following on the top left.
“From: First Hoof José Gallo
“Razorback Fortress
“To: Princess Celestia.”
>With a labored exhale, Cheto stands up and walks towards the Remnant and Naliyna with the letter-containing envelope in hand.
“Excuse me, what day is it, Mrs Naliyna?”
>After receiving the answer, he jots it down between the address and the sender rows and walks towards the Vortex Remnant.
>The average man presents the pink envelope in his hand on the matrix as he sent Frost’s letter not too long ago.
“Vortex Remnant, would you be so kind to send this letter to Princess Celestia?”
>He gives the Remnant a small smile, still lost on how to properly look at it.
Anonymous
VbKWi
?
No.247556
foggymorningstump_commission.png

Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.248554
251631
>>245847
>>245885
>Adon hold his breathe as his deduction finally opens the path ahead of them, and luckily so as Excelleon didn't seem to notice the second attempt didn't give away their identities.
>This guy doesn't really expect a lot from the help, it seems.
>His eyes spark with interest as the large doors open up to a well enough constructed and lit tunnel, continuing up into the mountain.
"We must be getting close to the end, if there's considerable work going into the pathway now."
>The chiqtu starts ahead of the group, leaving him Spruce, and Golden Horn to follow suit.
"He didn't mention any other obstacles, but we might have to deal with someone when we get to those cells. Someone'd have to pay the slavers- might even be Excelleon himself. How should we handle that, seeing as we clearly don't have any slaves with us."
>Something reflective up at the end caught his and apparently Spruce's eyes as well, but he was more focused on the possible combination of upcoming places of interest.
"Hmm... maybe you and the chiqtu could pose as slaves, while Spruce and I as slavers, if it comes to that. Sound like a plan?"
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place...
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.248673
248711
>>246057
>Leadership: +2 to all Assault & Reaction Speed Rolls.
>????? Ambush Tokens: 3.
>Having no recollection of Basin Village ever having been reported as quiet, at least by Razorback human and pony standards, any context of this awkward occasion is lost.
>Noting fewer earth ponies inspecting the Cultist, or you, as they leave through the translocation matrice, your eyes are drawn to a slim, triangular pinksteel blade carried low under her cloak.
>Gripped in her left set of claws, it was shining in the same warning mareners that Mercy's set were known to, and bright enough to create leg shadows off to her right.
>Whether she noticed the slowly pressurizing attention from dozens of unfriendly psion eyes wasn't possible to tell; it was more likely she didn't care.

>Internal screens switching to a compressed view upon delivering that comforting ping of impending knowledge, the entire right side of the screen is filled with hostile bright red 'Watch Guard' and several prominent 'Tower Guard' icons in their faction symbols.
>Barely able to keep track of new arrivals from those leaving, the left side showed several clusters of 'Deep Moors Hunter-Killer' along with ten icons labeled 'Basin Guard' arriving from south of the Village.
>There were enough allied batponies now slowly creeping towards the hostel that meta-icons were being displayed for individual squads.
>Either the IFF sorely required an upgrade, or you needed the COFFIN system to make better sense of packed locations.

>Head turning south, the number of Hunter-Killers in front of the hostel had nearly doubled, more batponies awake now and staring towards earth ponies in visible hostility.

>>Glancing across the Basin's southern end, what the Cultist motioned towards was a familiar sight:
>A mass of gray and white mist in the shape of an earth pony was pulsing in and out and disappearing from sight every hoof stomp directly towards the Cultist.
>Angrily mimicking a second heartbeat in your hand, Ethereal runes scribed on the Executioner's Blade emit bitter, white-pink flares.
>Definitely not something it'd done before.

>Reaching the basin's edge, the Cultist's hooves clop onto a now-exposed transparent crystalline floor of sorts covering the basin itself.
>A small pair of low, white metallic tables covered in scrawled batpony runes appear before the mare, tossing the open wooden box to her right.
>You now realized why the basin was never flooded: this was a protected altar.
"A Tainted, one of those unfortunate enough to be caught in Flux between the Solar and Lunar alicorns. Destroy it else others will follow, seeking retribution for failing their factional oaths-"
>The mare's calm voice did nothing to hide stern condescension as she raises the pinksteel dagger along with a green one in the same exacting shape, gripping them in both sets of wingclaws held high while shouting aloud.
"Snickering batponies of the Moors and Discordants alike, grant our Goddess this paymarent! Come two by five to seek your peace on the Moon!"
[1d6+3 = 7]
<E.Leadership: ?????
[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+3 = 9]

>The Tainted, directly reminiscent of mist pony Spectres from the first days on the train, was now less than 50M from the sacrificial basin.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.248680
248714
>>246059
>Propping her chin up with the left hoof, Naliyna makes a comical attempt at humorous incredulity.
"A desert? What would you.. nevermind, not my business. I didn't know you knew somepony in a desert, or were you talking about a 'dessert'? If that's the case then I'm jealous, ponies that love kinky stuff like that are hard to find."
>That was indeed deliberate.
>Visibly turning stoic at the word 'receipt', she holds both hooves out to take the crystalline plate first before setting both in front of her for a quick once over.
"Thank you Zhun, that's the best news I've heard tonight. If you want some stuff out of the Enclave for your troubles go ahead and take it, just avoid the locked things. I'm not really worried about what we're missing now, most of the stuff that gets used is on these.. little surprised they're selling powdered gems for these prices, must be overflowing right now. I'm more annoyed those three decided to make everything they could from OUR stocks without telling anypony or making a list even though what they've done will help us a lot more."
>Reaching out to take the roll and placing it atop the crystalline sheet, her face creases into a deep frown.
"I'm.. lost. Like usual. What 'something stupid' is happening? Or is this-"
>Nudging the contract while you relieve the painful stinging of desert sand in your throat.
"More politics from the past none of us know about? Then again it's probably better I try to remember whatever this is before somepony or human gets the wrong ideas. Give me a couple minutes please."

>Unrolling it for a careful read, the scarred fuchsia mare's expression slowly turns from merry to confused, then on to neutral.
>Raising an eyebrow halfway through, Naliyna's jaw drops for a quarter minute straight, then looks up, though not at you, with an icy stare.
>Dropping back down to read even slower, her ears flick out sideways in outright hostility several times.
>Sitting back and leaving the scroll to partially roll up on its own, the left hoof raising to gently rub the same temple.
"I don't know a single thing about this deal. Nopony outside of maybe four hundred are involved, a few more were told about it, some ponies are trying to keep it active but secret at the same time, and now it's landing right on all our saddles. On the plus side we have friends that we didn't know existed, so-"
>Eyes directed towards the receipts in front of her, Naliyna's lips pull back into a devious smile.
"Go ahead and do whatever you wanna do Zhun, I'm gonna be really busy tonight. Might need some stuff from the Enclave, couple bottles of ink, and all that stuff Amerose loaned me."
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
Q+iXH
?
No.248711
275858
>>248673
>Noting the two groups of meta-icons on the display, Clem wonders at the possibility of conflict between the two
>It seems like posturing at the moment

>Seeing the misty figure, he draws out his blade
>Looking at it, the blade's pulse feels weird
>Never could get used to it since it has been a long time since he had fought something spectral, ethereal, or otherwise
>Stepping onto the crystalline floors , he stops to look at the small tables
>Hearing her speak, Clemency focuses on that Tainted
>Taking her words to mind, he starts a run towards the Tainted
[1d6+2 = 7]
<Master Sprint
[1d6+2 = 3]

[1d6+2 = 3]

[1d6+2 = 6]

>Charging at the creature, he swings a feint with his blade before whipping it upwards at the form
[1d6+1 = 6]
<Charging
[1d6+6 = 7]
<Master Assault
[1d6+6 = 10]

[1d6+6 = 9]

[1d6+6 = 11]

[1d6+6 = 11]
<Airstream Assault
[1d6+1 = 3]
<Ethereal Strike
Zhun
!.BxecfigoM
Q+iXH
?
No.248714
275861
>>248680
"Had to go to on-"
>Zhun blushes and chuckles at the attempt
"Hehe, I think there's some on base. I just steer clear away from them."
>Seeing her become serious, Zhun smiles as she expresses thank at his shopping spree
"Oh? Those three? I know right? The Consortium pony was shocked we went through the supplies that fast."
>Seeing her take the contract, Zhun prepares for the surprise
>"More politics from the past..."
>Zhun nodded at that
"Sounds like it."
>As she begins assessing the contract, Zhun waits a while and drinks the rest of his water supply
>"Be sure to remember this thing..."
>He did find some amusement in the variety of reactions the mare had
"Alrighty. I'll still see if I can get more alchemy stuff for the full resupply. You think we got floral samples from the Old Everfree around here?"

Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.248728
248757
>>246078
"New pony, you have good humor."
"Thanks, I've learned it through hard work and trying not to get caught by Ferron."
>Holding his gaze to yours with a touch of humor, the old Commissar makes a respectful pointing motion towards the Mechadendrite.
"No fear, all human obey rule. Not worth dying for stupid touch."

>Ticking the visor into high mode, the youngest three had an odd L-shaped flashlight clipped into their front right coat pockets.
>Looking closer showed a flat, transparent crystalline plate, behind which rested one large sphere of semi-metallic composition emitting a constant stream that registered heavily on the red spectrum bands without interruption.
>Judging the ancient potential STC's size, shape, and relatively simplicity, it was purpose built for extended ease of use, though seemed a bit heavy.

>Turning to reach into his overcoat, the old human makes a tired 'pah' sound.
"Then do what Sergei say: only make tools from metals, crystals, others from small pony world. They not break like human things do."
>Withdrawing a beaten flask and unscrewing the lid, he deadpans briefly before taking a step backwards.
>Then another step, and a quick drink for good measure before waving the other humans to do likewise.

>Breaking off a much-too-serious inspection on your tattered robe, Raindrop's helmet turns to give an impressed sounding noise at the vault.
"Didn't know mechanical stuff was that complex but I can't even picture simple designs, too marely clouds in my head. Compressed wood means a sorceror was involved so there's definitely warning and alarm spells. If you see anything glowing inside, that isn't from heat or whatever you're going to use, toss your shield up and duck really fast."
>Glancing back to the Vostroyan squad, she asks something in an aery approximation of their language.
>Shrugging at the responses pouring towards her, she scurries towards the entrance, loudly, while calling over her shoulder.
"They said to start whenever you like. There's a couple buckets and some can-tines, whatever that is. Just in case I'll fill my helmet too, be right back-"
>Followed by the Commissar and the younger rifleman, the trio of lights from behind change position several times before the sounds of scraping let you know they'd been set on the floor.

>Calculating firing angles for maximum tolerances, registering it through the micro-cogitator is a secondhand process.
>The chance of maintaining a cutting beam was high enough that being interrupted on purpose, or perhaps your restored, 100% flesh and bone hands might twitch.

>Silently pinging for your attention, Tox-11's channel displays a moving ASCII image-set featuring an Ork firing at the side of an Imperial Field Command Center using a large automatic weapon before the magazine is emptied.
>Of course, not a single shot landed or bounced off.
'welcome. was not ignoring, was creating this. approve/disapprove? corrections?'
>The Binary coding lacked the barest hints of both sarcasm and smugness, which left numerous questions as to why.
Mallia Castella
NIisM
?
No.248757
275883
>>248728
>Before Mallia did anything she, of course, had to acknowledge what Raindrop had said about 'warning and alarm spells' being present.
>She didn't have a reference as to what these "spells" were outside of what Psykers could do, but she could easily connect these 'spells' as being akin to the protection engrams of a particularly powerful or medium power Imperial Cogitator.
>Luckily, this was probably going to be a gust of flame or acid at best, and an explosion at worst. So her maiming and/or burning would have a chance of not being fatal if she took precautions.

>At the same time, Mallia seems to relax just a tiny bit at the commissar's statements. Though her mechadendrite doesn't come out of hiding, being way too protective of it.

"I'll keep it in mind."
>She would softly, but quickly tell him - not keeping him for anything more seeing as the commissar goes to wander back to his men.

>The Enginseer quickly sideglanced towards the Knight with a quick, quarter flick of her head in her direction, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement.
"Noted. Thank you Miss Raindrop, I'll be watchful."
>After whispering that back to her ally with a soft gratitude in her voice, her prehensile mechadendrite quickly began to whir softly as it slithered itself out from behind the shield and instead gripped it's small manipulator onto the top of the shield, lifting it from the side of her rucksack and placing it vertically, handily at her side without even looking back.
>Her off-hand slips around the grip of it, keeping it ready - propped by her side, out of the way.
"--If you ever don't know something about mechanical stuff just ask me, that's what a team is for."
>She adds, quickly. Before the knight would also move off; after speaking... Vostroyan? Or Valhallan. One of the two.

>Before starting she turned her glance to take a mental note of where the canteens and buckets were positioned, in case she needed to make a rush for them if she somehow caught on fire, or needed it in general.

>Then she would turn, much more seriously, towards the combination lock. Making calculations for the proper tolerances in the background, she began to raise the modified hellpistol - starting from the top of the center-most dial to try to remove them, and perhaps reveal the rest of the mechanism for viewing before she'd have to melt through the dials themselves.
>But before she can really focus, she pauses at what Tox-11 sends her.

"... Hahah! Heh--ahem!"
>The unexpected artistic depiction and his completely serious tone, asking for feedback, made her laugh a little bit. But quickly regains him composure, breathing a slight, cheered up sigh as she sends a response, which is motherly in a way.
(It is an amusing representation of Ork accuracy, Adronal. I approve. If you wish to take my suggestion, add a lone Guardsman on the base to hit the Ork with a single shot just to underline the duality.)

>She felt that this was incredibly cute, but she wasn't going to patronize.

>Instead she just took a moment to lessen the smile on her face beneath her respirator, before taking a deeper breath to steady her nerves and mentally prepare herself for danger. Then, she raised the hellpistol again and moved the mechadendrite closer to her targeted central dial.
>There is a distinct 'click' and a 'hiss' as the gas cutting torch is brought further out from the mechadendrite and the igniter turns on. Then moved it closer.

>She used the gas cutting torch to pre-heat and 'mark' the area for 3 seconds to make a more efficient power expenditure for the las, then used it in tandem with the hellpistol as she pulled the trigger and held it down for the minimum amount of time required to fracture it, hoping to make the most efficient use of the power pack and barrel as possible. Giving the weapon time to cool between uses.

>When the first one is down, she moved towards the left. Only removing the central ones first, and the ones furthest to the sides last.
>Uttering whispered, sing-song prayers. Uttering the Litany of the Lasgun, followed by the Prayer of Smiting, followed again by a Litany of Penetration as she worked.
>Her voice, incomprehensible to everyone now as it becomes like a strange, electronic humming and chanting completely unlike the way she was speaking before.
>The pitch rising and falling with the smoothness and melodiousness of a singing, lovingly faithful voice, as it tried to honor, appease, focus, and soothe her borrowed weapon.

(Techna-Lingua) "Bringer of death, speak your name, for you are my life, and the foe's death."
(Techna-Lingua) "O' Machine Spirits hear my prayer; guide your wrath, hold it true, let it break the weak material and armor, with my hand as your guidance."
(Techna-Lingua) "Anima Mechanica, reward my faith, and smash the target."

>Short, but sweet.

[1d6 = 5]
<B. L.E.W.
[1d6 = 6]

[1d6 = 1]
<E. Engineering
[1d6 = 4]

[1d6 = 5]

[1d6+2 = 6]
<Utility Mechadendrite: Engineering

[1d6+1 = 6]
<E. Tech-Use + Auspex Link: Prayer of Penetration
[1d6+1 = 3]

[1d6+1 = 5]

[1d6 = 1]
<B. Singing
[1d6 = 4]

>As she worked, her thoughts went back to Raindrop's warning. She enabled her preysense visor and pulsed it a few times, in her attempt to spot any 'glows' or heat signatures that might betray any 'spells', as the knight said.
>Her off-hand tightly wrapped around the grip of her shield, flexing her meager muscles in preparation but not tensing up, keeping the shield propped against her side as she focused on what she was doing.

(The Omnissiah protects. The Machine Spirits protect. And I protect the Machine Spirits. I am not afraid. I am ready. I am prepared.)

[1d6+4 = 8]
<B. Perception + Preysense Visor
[1d6 = 2]

Razorback Fortress: The Library, Filly Room
GM Strangler
!!t7UFhh5P6.
YumWJ
?
No.249189
249661
>>247072
>Noting dull red light streaming down in shafts among from the giant window, it was clear that your head was facing southwards.
>Hearing a sharp exhale and drawn out kekeke snore, your vision shifts upwards slightly, accompanied by the telltale sensation of tight muscles shifting under soft equine coat.
>Based on the unique sound and Malyne rarely visiting with humans she didn't know well, the only possible candidate was Foggy Patches.
>Surprisingly, her flank currently was in use as your pillow.
>Surrounded on all sides by a quartet of rumbling snores, the impression of uncomfortably warm ponies rested near both legs and arms yet didn't touch.
>Less odd were a set of oddly plush socks and heavy duty, though abnormally soft, military uniform pants that definitely were not yours.
>At least you weren't left nude this time.
>Head turning from side to side on the batfilly's flank, the three pegasi and Crystal filly recovered from Stalliongrad were snuggled face to face less than a foot from you.
>You weren't trapped in the conventional sense as they were spaced apart enough to easily sit up.

>Below the window, shifting parabolas of red, green, blue, and sharp orange hues rotate about from the distinct profile of your helmet.
>Placed on the head of a large stuffed pony doll, the surface featured a clearly enraged tricolored Crystal filly soundlessly engaging an unfamiliar image of a round, metallic Cheeto studded with odd weapons.
>The first appeared to be performing decently given the sphere's exceptional accuracy, albeit numerous fractures across her body were presently ignored in favor of all out assault.

>Shaking off the ridiculous sight and leaning back onto Patches, Thansimum's tired voice drifts in through door's cracked open state.
"-e shall recuperate fully with sleep. What I do not understand were the side effects; fever-like hallucinations, nightmareish lucidity, erratic slow twitch muscular spasms, spoken words and sentences with no clear meanings that I am able to categorize, save for one. It is likely those are purely due to human traits, yet I will leave all explanations out of my report lest somepony in the Spire Guard decide to perform 'tests'. There is a slight problem that may warrant our atten-"
>The second Crystal mare's tone was younger and highly impatient.
"Every minute here presents a new problem piled atop the rest. Make it quick Than, I need at least two more hours with that new human."
"Calm yourself, I may have misspoke. I consider this less a problem and more a surprise: that human knows a method similar to structured layering."
"The same we use to shape Empire crystal and repair our equipmarent?"
"In essence the same, but it is performed by... what sound like allied Constructs. I think."
>Silence holds for perhaps ten seconds until the third, older mare speaks half-angrily.
"You had best be pulling my tail Than! There are zero reports of humans interacting with Constructs before that hybrid was encountered. I'll give you permission to carefully ask him later, only on your off time, and only this once. If he declines to answer then leave it be, am I clear? No sense annoying more humans by pestering them with questions."
"There is little need to hoof my snout in, but I will be polite."
"Acceptable. Had none of us been ordered here this incident would constitute a high risk of corruption spread. Their technologies are slightly more resistant than ours though not enough to matter. I've taken the liberty of dispatching... 'suggestions'-"
>Without a rational or logical reason, the skin across your neck and arms tighten upon hearing the last word's exotic inflection.
"To the Crests and our kin. Perhaps one of them may accept a station here."
"I wouldn't accept being here for too long so don't expect much of them. We can discuss that later, right now can we focus on the fillies?"
Pareidolia
!!traAHHGbAg
qE7Vs
?
No.249661
275890
>>249189
>Pareidolia's brow furrows over his narrowing eyes as the deep red light bled into the room.
>He slowly pushes himself up with his right arm as a thankfully still gloved left hand rubs his eyes.

[Day is breaking. Hope Emerald got enough sleep. Need to debrief and minimize contact with foals. Transmission risk vectors, particularly Foggy Patches.]

>With deliberate care he stands up, glancing at his helmet with a nonplussed expression at its current status.

[Will likely take additional time. Need to ascertain how much they learned...]

>His head looks back to the doorway as he overhears "structured layering" and "allied Constructs".

[... Will need to address the misunderstanding during departure.]

>Stepping around or over any fillies in his way without waking them, he gently picks up the stuffed pony plush. Ensuring his helmet is not at risk of falling off its head, he then makes his way to the door.
>An involuntary tensing of his fingers delays his attempt to open the door as "suggestions" reaches his ears.

[Why is that making me uneasy? No time for this.]

>Clenching and unclenching his outstretched hand, he eases the door open and steps into the hall where the 3 Crystal generals were gathered.
>He turns and shuts the door behind him as quietly as he can manage before setting the stuffed plush down at his feet.
>Finally, he meets each of their sets of eyes before sitting down in front of the door, leaning back to rest against it.

"They are not Constructs. I am willing to explain the details, but first I need to know what you heard me say and what you learned from interfacing with one piece of my-"

>One glove splays open, gesturing at his helmet.

"-equipment."

>His hand returns to his face, rubbing his eyes before pulling down over his cheekbones and mouth as his eyes adopt a weary, slowly focusing look.

[Would prefer expedient cooperation. Exigent circumstances for debriefing of Emerald and staff.]

"The side effects were... uncomfortably lucid and delusional."


Anonymous
6ius2
?
No.250332
250333
tumblr_0cb90c9337db021ca830b7e50e96131d_5fe600ae_1280.png
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tumblr_ff3d5deb012d3e2f0272b28003c35d48_47281832_1280.png

Anonymous
6ius2
?
No.250333
tumblr_7af62740cd8db48cf459b4d784c50d96_2bf71849_1280.png
tumblr_8ee96c5967e0e3b0a43e08bd46c38a46_dd4140ce_1280.png
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>>250332

Down the Grey Bricked Road -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
vsTa8
?
No.251631
253151 253884
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>As the group walked into the tunnel proper the doors, which they had spent so much brain power into opening, closed behind them on quietly efficient hinges.

>>245885
>It appeared Excelleon was not listening judging by how there was a click at the end of his rant, telling the Operator that the pony had in his possession similar intercom technology to that of humanity.

“i concur Spruce, this place gives me the goosebumps.”
>Agreed Golden Horn, whom notably slowed in his walk so that Spruce and Adon were in front of him, obviously so he could be the rearguard of the group and totally not as a cowardly move.
>not at all!

>Continuing deeper into the tunnel Spruce saw the Chitqu running back to them and with no hesitation climbed up his legs, he seeing it was now sitting on his shoulder.
>it appeared apprehensive as it shook on the spot, the Operator could even feel its vibrations through his military clothing.

>pony sized.
>That is what could be deduced as he stared at the light reflecting object in front of the trio. Whether it was moving towards him Spruce could not tell as its body was comprised of many glittering reflections as a form of light cover.
>Literally.

>A growl filled the Operators' ear as the Chitqu puffed its coat out, well, what coat there was that wasn't under its tiny suit of armour as a form of intimidation towards the thing before them.

“I don’t like the sound of that, let us investigate to see if its anything actually to be stressed over.”
>Gulped Golden nervously from behind the cover of Spruces back, where he bravely peeked out of to gaze down the corridor at the obstruction. His horn sparking with magical intention.
[1d6+2 = 4]
>B.arcane awareness
[1d6+2 = 5]

>>248554
“A good observation there Adon, yes, I believe this could be the case. Makes you wonder what the heart of this lair must be like?”
>Piped in the old Unicorn from behind Adons broad back, his voice telling that the question was directed to himself.

>As the Witcher talked about their future situation the Chitqu came pouncing back to the group, the small ball of fluff choosing to climb up onto Spruce instead of Adons shoulder.

>Golden horn was silent for a good moment as he digested what Adon said, the sound of throaty hums coming from over his shoulder.
“I uh...hmm. I do not know a perfect answer to that Adon. Maybe I can pretend to be a Slaver and- No, that is a foalish thing to say. He knows who I am already. He wouldn’t forget one of the faces that saw him banished from Canterlot.”
>sighed Golden, memories flooding back.
“We will just have to do things one step at a time, who knows. Maybe we might be lucky.”

>Eyes squinting in Concentration on the aura of magic manifesting around his solid golden horn, the old Unicorn grunted something in response to the Witchers different plan.
“I am unsure if that will succeed either Adon. He might be expecting the Slavers he knows, the ones back in the forest. The key word is might however. If we go with this plan he might be so incensed by my presence and the return of the Chitqu he won't ask questions about you and Spruce being human. Then again he might throw you in a cell along with me.”
>A squeak made Adon turn and look at Spruces shoulder where the furball had its arms crossed, glaring at him and Golden Horn.

>Golden opened one eye slightly and looked at the sparkling object down the tunnel.
“...if we’re lucky.”
The L.O.N.T
vsTa8
?
No.251644
276090
1439331121822.jpg
>>245316

>lont Chuckled.
“If only they can freeze or starve, easier to kill. And I will keep you to that promise, as soon as we have a problem with them.”
>”Which could happen any day now I suppose with how active they are.”

>He straightened up.
“I wont fail, it won't even be an option for me. Though speaking of which do you know any good places to take her? Razorback is good and all but its becoming to samey, along with my bed...”
>He promised with confidence, he was sure in getting Cadence out of the Spire even when she sounded stressed as fuck when she talked to him.

“Problem is I don’t have time to sit down and read, feels like I have everything to do but have no time. Thank goodness I have these Alchemy Tablets to help me with medical emergencies.”
>he smiled a genuine smile, the tablets have paid themselves in their weight of gold from the constant usage. His smile faltered slightly as he remembered where he got them from, and stopped himself from glancing back to check on the unconscious Tacit again.

>The idea of Interponies intrigued him for the moment before his stomach grumbled for him to concentrate on the now. Such as now will he get dinner?

>Another list. This time of different ponies.
>“More to add to the list.”
>he thought humorously.
“When I return to the fortress I will talk to the appropriate people in establishing a trade. More food to go around makes everyone happy! And thank you, you just added four more things to add to my fuck list.”
>Explained the Operator, a twinkle in his eye as he stared into Glaciers.

>Once the chef quieted down and Glacier asked Lont if the uppity chef could join, he reclined in his seat and exhaled an exaggerated sigh.
>He made a show on mulling it over in his head, throwing up his hands to make questionable displays too.
“I don’t know-“
>He started.
“-If she does a good enough job as our Chef she can be our naughty petmare for the night.”
>Lont promised, punctuating the end with a wink he shared with the playful Shell and the fuming Chef.
Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.253151
253884 258929
>>251631
>>251631
>Adon scratches his chin in thought, imagining lairs of usually elven sorcerers who've gone mad from their own egos.
>Aged and tasteless architecture, libraries full of tomes and arcanums even the elves themselves could hardly decipher.
>And experiments: potions, tinctures, various things in jars, and there's always at least one imposing portal opened to some place he'd never dare entering.
>Such the predicament he was currently in, right now.

>After saying his piece, Golden Horn makes some critiques.
>Excelleon just sounds far too unpredictable at this point.
"Mmm. Playing it by ear it is then. But if he knows you two, then maybe Spruce and I should do the talking if it comes to it. How we present ourselves could get us past whatever's ahead."
>Ahead, was the question for the sparkling object atthe end of the tunnel.
>The Witcher squints his eyes to try and focus on what it was from their distance, so he can at least get a idea before they get up close.
[1d6 = 3]
<B.Perception
[1d6 = 4]

Anonymous
V1eiw
?
No.253160
Spoiled.gif

Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!aGuq39zDO2
2BApa
?
No.253884
258929
>>251631
>>253151

"So what you're telling us then is that we're probably fucked? A good chance we're totally going to have him throwing everything he has at you and the kitchen sink for banishing him?"
>He asks this, shaking his head in disbeleif.
>Still, he looks between Adon and the beared unicorn, scratching his chin.
>Suddenly, like a dim lightbulb flickering on, he got a plan.
>A really dumb plan.
"So this guy... Incelleon right? Is it possible that we could convince him that me and Adon are still slavers or something? He's a recluse so maybe, just maybe we could pull it off."
>Spruce chuckles, shaking his heas at his own idea. It was stupid, but it was the kind of stupid that just might work or just fail horribly.
>He stands there, still paused as they investigate this... Light... orb thing the furball was now growling at.
>Cautiously he furrows his brow, staring at it and acting his role of meat shield to defend the poor pony professor from anything that might even come close to sunlight.

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

OIE: REG, Approx. One Month Behind Present Time
GM_Jeff
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.258847
REG.png
>Looking over a multitude of maps strewn across the stone-lit table for Tallus' reference, Jeff rubbed the bridge of his nose.
>For the time, only he was currently in the map room. The back room currently closed off, hopefully nobody on the other side had to pee for a while.
>The bunker's main door opens, a cobalt blue batpony groggily shuffles his hooves in and over to where Jeff was.
"How did the treasure hunt go?"
"Promising. I think..."
>Torven puts his front hooves on the map table to peer at the shuffle of half opened maps, through half-lidded eyes.
"Still looking over ley lines?"
"They're definitely connected to what we're looking for, somehow. I need a more powerful one, and nothing I'm looking for is in Equestrian territory."
>The treasure hunter turns his attention to one of the lesser crammed map shelves and begins to pick through them with his claws.
"I'll begin perusing for viable locations. Can't promise anything."
"Thanks. I'm waiting on one more pair of hands."
>As if on que, a seven-foot outline of white light draws itself out of thin air. The creaking of a door emanates through the map room, the steps of dress shoes hit the floor and the door closes shut behind.
"Jeff. I take it you have a lead."
"More of an idea. Need help narrowing down likely suspects."
>The tall faceless green entity shifts an eyeless gaze over at Torven before focusing on the mess of a map table, an identical colored hand scratching his chin.
"How far do you plan on going out?"
"If they can make it from here through conventional means, so can we."
"You know I'm not omniscient, nor omnipresent. If they went in an area I can't see or go, that's really it."
"Any trails you may know of would be helpful."
"Hmm. I'll see what I can do to help."
>A wingful of maps, some larger for full kingdom territories and smaller ones for regions, litter the table even more. It's depositor looks up at Jeff confidently.
"These are good places to check."
>Both human and human-like avatar begin sifting through the newest additions, the previous maps quickly being discarded and stacked to one corner of the table. The taller of the two began murmuring under his breathe.
"No... no. Too far away. That one's much too hostile."
"What about here?"
"... that might do."

[1d6+3 = 9]
<E.Geography
[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+3 = 6]
<E. Cartography
[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6 = 5]
<B. Geography
[1d6 = 3]

A Light Show -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
Z/bAS
?
No.258929
259043 259516
BY7N22.jpg
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>As the party moved deeper into the bland tunnel, the walls with every step changed, dull monochrome became slightly lighter in colour.

>>253151
>Adon saw in the corner of his eye that Golden Horns' ears twirled as the unicorn listened to his plan of prisoner delivery. His features furrowed in scepticism.
"The only thing I am at odds with this proposed plan Adon is the reality that you and Spruce are humans. This might complicate matters more than grant passage."
>He finished with his eyes squinting towards the sparkling object up ahead, its form covered in dazzling lights.

>As the Witcher concentrated on the obstruction in their way, his medallion began to softly vibrate his collarbone and stay at that light level of movement as he drew closer to the sparkling thing.
>He saw now it was the size of Golden, so an Equine at least. Its head and neck were larger in both width and height however. It reminded him of the bulbous head of a spoon head.

>>253884
>The old unicorn fidgeted under Spruces’ bleak questions about their immediate future, a small yellow aura materialising to rapidly stroke his moustache. A force of habit perhaps.
"W-well I uh yes um-“
>He paused, grunting, clearing his throat of his stammering and to sound more confident.
"-A possible scenario that could occur if we are not careful, or we are unlucky when the time comes."
>Continued Golden Horn, his fidgeting ceasing now that some semblance of a plan was emerging.
"From what I can tell Spruce, this is our only idea at the moment. If I keep quiet and stop our little friend from making too much noise I think you and Adon could pull it off."

>At being referred too, the Chitqu turned its fluffy head back to stare at the two humans and the one unicorn, squeak, then turned its attention back to the shimmering object in front of them all.
"And as I said before, my one worry is that he might be too fixated on you being a human, Spruce."
>Golden said to the Operator, concern at the edge of his voice.

>Perhaps it was an errant twinkle or Spruce stared too long and hard at the dazzling object, but he could not see anything significant about it other than it being pony sized and having a really fat head.
>And all it cost him was having some stinging eyes for a moment.

>Golden too began to stare at the thing, the aura on his moustache moving to engulf his horn as he spread his awareness to gleam something about the groups obstruction before coming face to face with the it in this narrow corridor they were all in.
[1d6+2 = 7]
>B.arcane awareness
[1d6+2 = 6]

>The party was about 19 yards away from the reflective pony shaped thing now, it unmoving as a statue blocking their way forward.
>Although there was no sign of it happening, Adon and Spruce felt they were being watched, as if the object in their way was meeting their stares with its own more intense stare.
[1d6+3 = 4]
>Scan

>Seemingly in response the Chitqu' began to puff its fur out to make itself look bigger and ergo scarier. Who would find it scary at all was the real mystery.
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!KB4AZIaIok
k295d
?
No.259043
259516
>>258929

>The Norwegian looked between the golden, horse shaped glowing statue and the mustached unicorn, unsure what exactly to make of this strange phenomena before him.
>Was this the medieval equivalent of a security camera...?
"... Well, what if you made us look not like humans then? Is it at all possible we could fool him with some sort of magical disguise? I've got no idea how this magic stuff works, but pulling a trick like that would make Loki proud."
>He glances to Adon, the man who is apparently somewhat more familiar with magic than the soldier is.
"... Well, what do you think, Witcher?"
>He asks, before looking back towards the statue, then around the hall at anything else that may be around that they might have missed in their focus on this... Thing in their way.
"... Whatever this is, it's giving me a bad feeling, like we're being watched."

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

Adon_the_Witcher
!!74IZbNGC/I
k2g4v
?
No.259516
>>258929
>>259043
>The Witcher carefully mulls over Golden Horns concerns with his plan, as well as Spruce's.
"I'm sure a magically and alchemically mutated human would be even more of an interest. I've been prodded before where humans are the common, can't imagine how well I'm gonna fair in a world where humans are a rare novelty."
>It would also explain the mugging from earlier. He'll have to keep an eye on his gear where ever he plans to go from now on.
"As long as it can fool whatever's ahead of us, but if we get found our our first impressions are gonna be sore from here on."
>Speaking lightly, of course.
>But as they continued to move forward, the object ahead of them began to give definition to its silhouette.
>A warning stare pricked at his instincts, and he lightly felt his medallion's vibration with his left hand to gauge its intensity.
>His right arm and gloved hand began flexing for a sudden sword drawing.
"As long as we don't have to fight it..."
Disco Fever -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
4994881
?
No.266477
269430
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>>259043
>Golden Horn cracked open an eye slightly to look at Spruce as the magic swirling around his horn flashed with intent.
"I am afraid conjuring up disguises or illusions were not something I studied."
>He admitted’ voice low in concentration.
"The idea is sound sadly we cannot use magic due to my limitations, another practical way for subterfuge is needed. And I assume 'Loki' is some form of Trickster, Spruce?"
>He asked with a hint of interest in his hushed voice.

>At first Spruce could not see anything out of the ordinary, as much as that word applied to a depressing grey hallway where its stand out features were its square light sources embedded in the ceiling.
>He looked at the sparkling statue again. It was certainly in the shape of a pony yet its features were made of small shiny angular shapes that flashed randomly from refracting light.
>The Operators’ gaze led to the hooves of the statue and there, saw that there were instinct dark rings on the floor surrounding the hooves. The rings looked like they were made from a sudden discharge of energy, an explosion perhaps? There! On surface of the ceiling directly above the statue there was a similar marking too, however more faint than the ones on the floor.
"That would not surprise me Spruce, maybe Excelleon knows who and what we are already and is just observing us. For now..."
>Golden speculated grimly before closing his eye again.

>Vibrating from the chittering noise it was making the Chitqu slowly moved close to the reflective statue.

>>259516
>With a pop the magic surrounding the old Unicorns horn was dispelled, leaving it slightly glowing from overuse. Golden sighed in slight discomfort as a hoof rubbed his horn soothingly.
"Knowing what I know about that deranged nutcase he will covet you, Adon. I do not wish to see that happening, no living creature should be used for experiments, no matter its level of sapience."
>He spat as his tail flagged in agitation. Sounded like he was resuming an argument he had rather than responding to the Witcher directly.

>The medallion in Adons' grasp was continuously vibrating with what could be assumed was the latent background magic exuding from...somewhere, either the shimmering statue or the hallway the Witcher could not discern.

>Upon reaching one of the hooves of the obstructing statue the Chitqu tapped on its surface with its paw experimentally. It squeaked, removed its paw, examined it then returned to patting at hooves’ sparkling skin.
>Golden watched this carefully, brow knitted in thought.
"We will not need to do such a thing Adon."

>Stepping tentatively closer to the statue, Golden Horns’ ears were flat against his head as he tippy-hooved nearer.
[1d6+1 = 5] >B.Stealth
[1d6+1 = 2]

"This used to be a pony all alive and well. Now they are this metallic golem. It reeks of displaced power. Whether they can be reverted back to normal I suppose only Excelleon would know."
>He swung his head to stare back at Adon and Spruce with worry at the edge of his features.
"I think we should traverse through this hallway by being a bit more discreet."
Anonymous
7f68fb2
?
No.266700
1587778517.png

Anonymous
2431cdd
?
No.267191
1588277707.png

Anonymous
80b71b2
?
No.269289
Naliyna_Remostrine_a_happy_gal Small.png

Adon_the_Witcher**oliver
e9a68b1
?
No.269429
269430 277951
>266477
>Adon thought over Golden Horn's statement, grimly. If Excelleon was that much of an experimenter, he might be able to use it as a convenient distraction for the others.
>At the cost of his own well being, that is. He'd cross that bridge, if it came to that.
"Hmm..."
>His medallion only grew in intensity as they closed in on the statue, which of course was a clear warning to him.
>Maybe it was the golem they were steadily approaching.
>He did not like the look of that. Mages and sorcerers kept them and elementals as guard dogs, and most of the time they were made in the same way: by casting a heavy spell on an unfortunate individual. Usually it was someone that crossed them, HARD. Occasionally, an ex.
>But it was also a good sign, as they were normally reserved for a hideouts's inner sanctum. A last line of the defense.
>Oddly enough the chiqtu was able to get right up and touch the sentinel without reaction. Either the small animal wasn't big enough to be a threat, trip the security spell.
"Just another sign we're closing in on him. Huh, it didn't do anything. Maybe it's more of a warning? Remote activation, maybe?"
>The Witcher silently agrees to keep his discretion at its utmost, even though he still can't fully grasp the whole personal invisibility thing...
[1d6 = 4] <U.Stealth
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
!bfTKMcDUQ6
826a8a2
?
No.269430
277951
>>266477
>>269429

>Spruce sighs in a bit of disappointment. It seems magic wasn't as limitless as he thought...
>Or well, this particular unicorn just wasn't that good at it.
"Yes... Loki is the trickster God in Ásatrú. The 'Old' Norse religion. As for other ways of subterfuge I uh... I'm a soldier, not a spy. I blow more things up than try to sneak into them."
>He explains as he looks over the... Statue in all of its strange. golden mystical glory.
>Given its look, he almost expected it to come alive at any moment and try to attack them, given his... Limited knowledge of such things.
>Though it wouldn't be too far out there from the things he'd seen already in this world...
"... He could, I don't see any cameras but i'm sure there's some way he'd have of observing us magically or something."

>Wait.
>Spruce double takes at the explanation that this golem used to be a pony, he blinks in surprise and horror.
"... This... This was a pony? By the Gods..."
>He mutters, in a bit of shock and horror.
>The Norwegian then frowns, starting to get a bit of an angry look in his eyes as he looks at the Golem, then back to Golden.
"This is a great crime. It should not go unpunished."
>He growled those words, sounding more than a little bit angry at the thought of such a thing.
>Still, he decides to play it smart along with the others and try and be a little more sneaky in his approach.

[1d6 = 5] <B. Stealth
[1d6 = 1]
Anonymous
d1cbbd4
?
No.272481
flash__commission__by_okami009_ddze1hq.png

Anonymous
a13e5f7
?
No.273049
Hodch.png

A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275827
276024 276060
>>247199
>Collapsed onto her side left side, little more than a partially red streaked, blue and white silk wrapped caricature, wings included, of an indeterminate aged batmare sprawled out was the immediate victim.
>Equally unsurprising, the little coloration noticeable were small tufts of unnaturally bleached whitish-purple coat marred by orange streaked and red burnt hide underneath.
>Construct weapons, you immediately realize, but none were a recognized modern variant.
>More worrying were the faint burnt pink slashes across the Councilmare's jaw and a series of increasingly deep punctures from directly above the shoulder spreading up to the center of her neck.
>Unable to even heave with the amount of blood filling her trachea, probably starting into her lungs as well, you finally notice the shockingly crude Empire crystal prosthetic leg.
>This one was connected directly below shoulder halfway above the upper arm, though had a small armored rim to protect the merging of bio-crystalline to flesh and bone.
>Among the hundreds of marecenaries you'd seen with Empire prosthetics, this was an abominably poor attempt at replacing her leg; not only was it a poor replacemarent, it was barely mobile due to imperfectly designed false-joints.

>Whether the mare could understand you or not, no resistance was given as her unusually light lower half becomes a dead though malleable weight in your front legs.
>Hearing a peculiar noise which was certainly the flask... performing an action it was not designed for, the garishly armored Lunarites file one-by-one to your left, fillies first with heads held high and saddlepacks massively overburdened, mostly with small bottles.
>That is until an earth pony around your size turns her black trimmed, standard purple Lunar Guardian helmet towards the Councilmare, spitting out a short, spine-crawling phrase in the archaic, whistling Lunar battle language.
>The older Lunarites speak nothing while passing by, though the batmare turns rigid and ceases her attempts to heave under your hooves.

>To the left and behind you, Boris makes a short grinding noise of, probably, concern.
"Shanis did not warn you of Razorback's propensity for to encounter unusual and difficult situations? That is both highly unlike her previous state but equally possible given the progressively increasing artificial aging she suffered."

>>247453
>Wing tightening under your touch in a compliant tone, the Spirit Walker emits an aggrieved tone of compliance.
>The situation certainly wasn't okay for her, but she was willing to accept your words for the same nonetheless.

>Boris' head turns to nod appreciatively, though stops short as his eyes dim briefly.
>You also notice the Golem's weight had increased greatly in the months since Denra began to tinker with Zoo's oddly created friend.
"Commander, I am not accusing you of artificially prioritizing a single pony's life from a faction that you are directly aligned with against the approximately fifteen thousand that inhabit the Moon. I was attempting to state that the previously stated aligned mare is, regardless of her affiliation, not worth the objective risk in preventing further depredations to the Citadel."
>Recalling some of Zoo's disposition from the times you'd worked with him since Razorback was founded, Boris had definitively taken on most of odd Operator's logical inclinations.
"Likewise and for the record, Miss Mercy, your herd-second I must add, has been grievously insulted numerous times by-"
>Pausing to glance towards the still and slightly violated batpony, he returns to give you a profoundly incensed stare.
"The Councilmare, whose intentions were ambiguous and volatile for reasons that have not been logically disposed throughout this situation. My interactions with Miss Mercy have been positive outside of her distaste for Miss Dancing Eyes. It is not allowed within my programming to accept Miss Mercy in believing that you have willingly allowed the Councilmare to insult and spurn her herd preservation instincts through accepting said Councilmare's words over your own, regardless of her authority."
>The logic, while clearly rational, was a bit spotty as it prioritized relation before rank and position.

>Forming the same, near-perfect four by four formation in front of the doors starting from smallest filly to eldest mare, the archaic Lunar Guardian helmets nod in unison towards the stairwell, though the earth pony you'd been speaking with grunts abruptly.
"This Collective hath promised 'pon all battlefields ever to serve. Whether thou carry us as foals or not, we shall run 'tween Sun and Moon behind thy guidance."

>Pushing herself up to stand rather shakily, Mercy's blind eyes travel up to meet yours briefly, then slide right to give the Councilmare an impotently spiteful glance.
>Tightly curling both wings onto her sides submissively, her head lowers as she starts towards the stairwell while giving a 'follow me' flick to the Lunar Vampires behind, whom immediately break into single line following her from smallest to largest.
>Definitely not 'okay' by any means, there was no forgiveness in her mareners here, nor were the Lunarites vocally happy to trail what they knew as an abomination.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275835
275940
>>247454
>No longer surrounded by stacks of dreaded paperwork, Naliyna was instead shuffling through what looked like military service forms... from at least a dozen different militaries.
>Or, given the new ponies that you'd come across in Razorback through the past couple weeks, application letters.
>Which brought a new question: who in their right mind would APPLY to Razorback?

>Eyebrows raising suspiciously, the scar-laden Crystal mare frowns in annoyance at your blatant dismissal.
"I can smell sea salt, but okay, you didn't do either and I'm hallucinating right before dinner."
>Holding her gaze until making a sour face, she stares back down at the letters, or forms, whichever they were.
"Docks huh? If you have any for-sale notices to put up on the board let me do that, the last couple were horribly over.. priced.."
>Trailing off momarentarily, fuchsia eyes snap upwards in disbelief.
>Lips tightening several times, Naliyna's head tilts left before muttering in a small yet horrified tone.
"Bubba, what the buck do you mean by 'very likely broke Sweet'? What did you do to her?"
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275841
276007
>>247520
>Wild vocalizes a contemptful rebuttal within the cabin, the left screen darkening from several exterior welds occurring close to it.
"I'm not about to endanger you when unknown waveforms could enter visual range with little notice and cause further damage to my critically damaged hull, mom. At the current time, please consider long term risks."
>Dozens of unspoken threats hang from your 1/5th daughters' synthesized voice, and as comically as before none were likely to occur.

>The caricature blips out of sight from the right screen, turning into a consolidated map of Wild's course from the original Scar to the coastline and down to the current position.
>While interesting to see how far you'd traveled tonight, why she'd done so wasn't apparent.
"Explanation sufficient. Error: unknown baseline mental dynamics, unable to append conflicting data sources. Your statement is logically illogical. More data required to resolve internal conflict unless relative psychology sources are located and collated."
>Another one of 'those' moments in which Wild was unable to process solely human reactions, it seemed.

>Watching the two relatively giant blue metal hands digging into sand once more, the flat synthetic tone turns mocking.
"Given your physical capabilities and without aid, it would take you approximately four days and twenty-nine hours to dig a sufficient hole in which to bury me. Your threat does not impress me."
[1d6+4 = 10] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #8
[1d6 = 6] <Scavenge

>Likely ignoring her own video feed for the time being, Wild's tone shifts upwards into 'mildly questioning'.
"What was what? Ninety-nine point eight-five percent of my core processes are occupied at the current nanosecond with repair duties-"

>Far beyond the slowly drifting waves above Wild, albeit well within view distance, the unusual cloud formation begins to, slowly, flatten out.
>That is, right until it breaks apart from a bright, metallic orange sphere slowly descending downwards at a rate you guessed to around one meter per second.
>Solely focused upon the realtime image, the hull of a much larger Construct vessel than the Assault class you'd seen hours ago sinks below the vaporous formation.
>Holding below the cloud iat a distance you took to be around ten kilometers out, it remains motionless for half a minute until a cone of visible orange light projects from the 'front' towards the far northeast.
[1d6+8 = 14] <???
[1d6+5 = 9] <???
[1d6+4 = 5] <???
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275853
276004
>>247542
>Naliyna's eyes roll while her head shakes several times in mock-annoyance, pointing her left hoof behind her in a direction you took to be southwest.
"If you want teasing go visit the Guards, plenty of single mares here. Just leave me out of it though, they won't stop pestering for stuff I can't get."

>The odd multi-hued granite eyestalk remains still while continually shifting material rotates around it, without any apparent physics.
>Weird.
"Neither I nor mine require mortal designation. As all other Remnants upon this world have decreed pre-current, you are granted the right to call myself or mine by a term or terms which you would prefer to initiate dialogue with. Our duty is to deliver material and immaterial objects, or designations, to their intended recipient with little delay."
>And not exactly helpful, either.

"You don't know anything about the Queen of the Changeling Hive, Chrysalis? ....I'd rather not get into that. The 'third princess' is Princess Cadence, my sovereign. She rules the Crystal Empire."
>Holding a bright silver-trimmed sheet in both hooves and peering at it intently, the fuchsia Crystal mare lowers it as her lips pull back into a deep frown.
"I think that one's referring to himself, but also all the other pieces of the Remnant. At the same time, I mean. I don't get it either. From what I've overheard the Remnants are kind of like hiveminds. Ants, honey bees, stuff like that. but each individual is part of the whole.. network, some call it. They're mostly independent and can pretty much do what they want until the whole bunch want to do something. Dunno much more than that, sorry."
>The letter is lowered several inches to give a polite nod, Naliyna's facial expressions somewhere between 'it's fine' and 'I don't mind'.

>Without looking up, the fuchsia mare responds with a half-interested statement of:
"Twenty Eighth of Septimber, Twenty-Nine Nine-Ninety-Eight."
>Now that was definitely odd.

>Finding the Remnant's individual appendage still in the pagoda's exact center, directly opposite the Crystal mare no less, a paper thin, nearly transparent leaf reaches out to politely grasp the completed letter.
>Tossing the letter into the 'eye', you watch it slide down into the stone before it exits into, through, or maybe around reality entirely.
>Sinking down to knee height or so, the eyestalk's granite-like material rolls around itself several times before speaking in a flat, emotionless tone.
"Request completed. Princess Celestia of Canterlot, Equestria, Tallus, has received the physical delivery. Are there further deli-"
>Before it could finish the sentence, several pages of rough white-yellow paper drop onto the circle in front of it.
>The eyestalk merely extends the leaf once more, picking the pages up at the top edge and holding them out for you to take.
"Multiple deliveries for Razorback Company. Delivery one originating location: Dragonspine Mountains Mining Company, addressed to Razorback Company. Delivery two originating location: non-standard, addressed to unknown recipient. Delivery three originating location: Canterlot Underground, addressed to Pareidolia only. Delivery four originating location: Starborn Village Thirty-One, addressed to Marquis du Spiral. Delivery four originating location: Lunar Citadel, addressed to Clemency, Jeff, and Pareidolia. Delivery four originating location: unknown, non-standard recipient."
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275858
275860 275941
>>248711
>LEADERSHIP: +2 to all Assault & Reaction Speed rolls
>PENALTY: -1 to all rolls from Operational Fatigue

>Briefly catching the wrong foot while turning towards the south, the Dark Horse Cultist's half-laughing voice raises to shouting volume from behind.
"Do not let it touch you, that is no simple creature to be dispersed by a single blow!"
[1d6+3 = 6] <E.Leadership: Evasion
[1d6+3 = 8]
[1d6+3 = 9]

>Finding the right boot to sprint off from after a slight mix-up, the Tainted's unremarkable form blurs closer into a straight line towards you.. which most see as backwards, a comical impression of Twisted Wing reminds you from somewhere in the back of your psyche.
>Whether the semi-solid looking pony noticed you or the Cultist's hair-raising actions were simply drawing it closer wasn't apparent, and it had no time to register the Executioner's Blade snapping in front of the snout before you drove the sputtering kukri into a profoundly solid upper neck and jaw.
>The shock of striking a mostly physical target nearly hyperextends your arm, though in the same tenth of a second it takes to twist the vaporous pony's head fully sideways and tear the blade free, you find yourself past it at least 10M while a skin-crawling motion from behind draws that other, highly trained corner of your mind backwards.
>Owing solely to the tracer lines of Airstreams in your wake, you were able to feel the Tainted's entire head and upper morphing into a series of short, jagged lances, now lunging after you with a skin-crawling, wordless shriek.
[1d6+6 = 9] <Lunge
[1d6+7 = 8] <Counter
[1d6+7 = 8] <Reaction Speed
1d6+7]
1d6+7]
[1d6+11 = 14] <Amorphous Mass: Lance Utility
[1d6+11 = 15]
[1d6+11 = 16]

>It was blatantly apparent this was NOT one of those degenerated pony souls General Sharonel had been able to, barely, control.
[1d6 = 6] <Fear
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275860
>>275858
[1d6+7 = 13]
[1d6+7 = 9]
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275861
>>248714
>Snickering somewhat politely at your visible distress, Naliyna taps her forehooves together in apology before setting them on the crystal sheet.
"Sorry, had to say it. And yeah, there's a couple pegasi that everyone and everypony definitely need to avoid, they're way too lewd even for me to deal with."
>Visibly brightening at the three Kingdom Generals and their recent actions, Naliyna's ruined ear flicks merrily.
>Or was that mareily? it was hard to tell at times.
"If you think the amount they used was crazy then you ought to see the hundreds of crates they've got stacked in the Library! Half the back room is completely filled, mostly with gallon bottles of the common stuff. We can easily pay for another full restock but it doesn't look like there's anywhere near that much floating around. I'm impressed by their efficiency. Kind of wish we could keep them around but it really looks like they're only here on business."
>Making a short, careless shrug of newfound carelessness, the Crystal trader's eyes slide back down to the contract while her facial expression contorts to something between hard inspection and indifference.
"But that's the best part of this Zhun: none of this can hurt Razorback. Okay, sure, we might not have open access to Saddle Arabia's trade situation, so it doesn't matter unless this Bronze Duke and whatever her name is decide they want to cut us off from their stockpiles out of pure spite. Sure doesn't look that way though, this is mostly an internal disagreemarent or two on how to go about circumventing Equestria's rigid trade controls because of the stupid Treaty. I think this puts us in a way better position than we had last night."

>Sitting back into her couch at the question, the trader's snout twitches several times in though, then nods to her right at the Pagoda's southern opening.
"Yep, there's a bunch of stuff the Tartarus ponies have collected from outside the Fortress. Check the Library's north room, the empty one Spiral said he was going to fill but never did. There's lots of flowers, grass, leaves, roots, seeds, shells, that sort, pressed into books. Some live stuff too, but not much. Dunno where Dancing is but if you need help moving anything let me know and I'll ask one of the marefriends-"
>Loudly snerking at the word, Naliyna's eyes glitter with barely contained amusemarent.
"To help."
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275883
275929
>>248757
>Catching Raindrop muttering a phrase that sounded like 'if I can even think of that', it finally occurred to you that the technological level she preferred to was barely above reclaimed Feral World standards given her standards of armor and weaponry.

>Tox-11's data sets are instantly returned, now with the image of a dumbstruck PDF trooper looking around at the damage to the Command Center.
>Frantically throwing their arms up in rage while text scrawls overhead describing Commisariat approved insults, the trooper then snapping their lasrifle up to take careful aim.
>Firing a single lasrifle shot, which cores the Ork's head, the PDF ASCII image turns around, a set of harsh floating text overhead reading: 'Couldn't even take out the useless Commissar, what a waste of ammunition!'
>Returning a short blip of Binary laughter, Adronal's sparse data packets certainly didn't give you the sense that he'd been offended.
'good. keeping skills sharp is hard during downtime. inquisitor too stiff'
>...whatever set of skills he had that an Inquisitor needed was, at this time, impossible to discern.

>Studying the dials once more with severity, preheating each one is swiftly rewarded with heavy discolorations, then quickly spreading microfractures throughout the tungsten-laced granite.
>Unflinching at the first dial shattering under consistent heat and strain after precisely 18.419 seconds, flicking through the usual channels of infrared reveal that this protective system been comprised entirely of tungsten rather than slabs of ore-bearing rock it would've taken at least five standard minutes each.
>Scanning the entire setup several times over, there were indeed multiple sets of long faded runes that flared briefly, but did precisely nothing save for deactivate.
>Probably this world's purely energetic equivalent to scribed engrams, yet there were no traces of Binary nor any other programming languages detected.
>The Hellpistol's Machine Spirit had slipped into the standard assist mode, repeating the Litanies spoken to it while the barrel's temperature incrementally crept upwards within tolerable ranges.
>Reaching the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth dial without issue, the Hellpistol's power pack blipped a reading of zero charge.
>Swiftly replaced and restarting the process, the pack is once more entirely spent as the twelfth dial shatters.

>Several exhales from the human team behind you are immediately heard, the oldest muttering what sounded like a sincere prayer under his breath, one which the MIU was, curiously, unable to translate.
"Is done, now.. who open?"
>As expected, boots shuffle uneasily until Raindrop speaks up, stepping forwards heavily while shielding her eyes with the left heavyset wingblade from the smoking debris on the floor.
"Should be able to work a blade tip between the door and frame, then lever it open with at least two of you helping. Doesn't look like there's any rust, so it ought to be easy. Maybe. Miss Castella?"
>Head turning up to gaze at you in query, the pegasi mare's eyebrows raise.
"Find anything dangerous or out of place?"
Razorback Fortress: The Library, Main Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275890
275956
>>249661
>Three crystalline helmets several paces from the door swivel in your direction, the oldest and youngest pair of Kingdom Generals standing opposite Thansimum in various states of physical exhaustion.
>The youngest snaps half-covered eyes towards Thansimum, then shakes her head quickly.
"No need human, I trust your word. Haven't found anything of Construct make here.. well, except for a bound Gatekeeper of some new sort and a truly ancient weapon in the Armory. Can't even believe one of those things still exists. It's inactive at least, and there's nothing to charge it nearby. Safe as can be, I suppose."
>Taking on a deeply hurt expression, Thansimum wordlessly bares her teeth for several seconds at the opposing pair.
>Reaching no conclusion, the two recoil slightly though remain otherwise unsubmissive, a heavy armored hoof lifts to poke at her snout mask in thought.
"I have little knowledge to compare your technological capabilities with. Suffice to say.. I have no understanding even if what you spoke was one hundred percent accurate. As for your helmet-"
>Barely able to see Thansimum's eyebrows furrowing, her shoulders roll in slow, stress relieving motions several times before speaking with traces of black humor.
"The 'damage' has been repaired and your.. I am not sure what to call it, was fully recovered. What you are seeing now is a simple imprint."
>Making a sharp click of her tongue, the sprawling image dissipates off the surface, returning to matte black.
>Rocking back on her hooves, Thansimum exhales deeply before reaching up and tapping the replaced tower shield crest.
"She was entirely incapable of understanding the, quote, 'dozens of languages and codes based on sigils, symbols, engrams, or concepts in the shape of numbers', end quote. At the least, a mutual understanding was reached once the.. not-InterPony realized she was removing Construct corruption. Her report states that it, he rather, seemed to be quite stable. It was premature of me to assume that an InterPony would be able to communicate with human technology."

>Giving a short noise of approval, the older General glances past you to the filly room's door, then turns towards the front door.
"No matter now, the deeds are done. You will all excuse me, I need to find this 'Emerald' human mare and speak with her, perhaps she has a contact in Canterlot."
>Nodding their assent, Thansimum locks eyes with the younger Kingdom General until the older one exits the Library.
>Giving her best impression of a scolded filly, to which Thansimum half-scowls, the youth's head dips submissively.
"I apologize for doubting you Than, it won't happen again. But, and I'm posing this as a suggestion: you need a break ma'am. I'll pull research on the side effects and send word to the Lorekeepers, we'll need every bit of information available on safer methods of corruption removal. If you'll excuse me, ma'am?"
>Thansimum makes a short hoof motion of dismissal, the younger Crystal mare meekly, but quickly, treading after her other superior.

>Holding her breath until the door closes, Thansimum's expression flatlines before sighing.
"Four failures in one night and I'm still clueless. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I need a drink."
Mallia Castella
5e6cccc
?
No.275929
275960
>>275883
>As the first dial noisily cracks, breaks, and clatters to the ground a heap of superheated shards and debry, the Enginseer, in between the crackling of the hotshot laspistol doing it's duty, has another chuckle.
(Perfection. I really like your artistic talent, Adronal!)
>The Enginseer had to actually bite her lip to stifle her amusement whilst she focused 90% of her attention on destroying the dials with the laspistol while she switched between the modes on her preysense helmet visor, and took note of the first hints of the faded runes, lighting up and then quickly dimming.

(Now that's interesting... Could it be that this object is so old that the runes simply wore away and became non-functional? Or maybe they did what they were meant to do already...)
>The thought courses through her mind, briefly moving her mind's eyes from Adronal as she parses the new discovery and considers it briefly. Making sure to focus her vision on the runes to allow her augmented photographic memory to memorize the patterns on these runes. Storing it away for when she'd be able to research their meaning and function, before her helmeted head tilts down again to focus more on the laspistol, as yet more of the dials shatter, smoldering pieces clattering near her boots.

(There has to be a reference book somewhere in Razorback's Librarium. I can't wait to memorize all I can!)

>As the hotshot laspistol first powerpack ran out of charge, and she muttered the Litany of Reloading whilst inserting the power pack, she returned some of her attention to Adronal again with some interest. Storing the laspack on an empty loop on her belt.

(Too stiff?)
>Was her simple and innocent query. Briefly considering asking further questions, before deciding against it internally, and just waiting to see if she even had the *permission* to ask further questions.

>Resuming her work. And then subsequently finishing it, she shuffled aside while remaining crouched; starting to put her shield back in it's place on her back. Keeping a moment of silence even as the Operator and Raindrop herself speaks.
>The Enginseer's helmeted head turned towards Raindrop once as she proposes that option. The gas torch on the mechadendrite shutting off with a satisfying 'click', then retracting more towards the woman herself.

>Seeing them shielding themselves from the heat of the debry on the floor, makes an attempt to use her mechadendrite's metallic upper strut to sweep it all further aside from the now opened dialbox. Using careful, but quick movements one would exhibit with one's actual arm.

"I did find some runes!"
>Mallia's voice sounds peppy, rather excited at this.
"Though they didn't do anything. They glowed briefly--for sure, but then the glow ceased and they did nothing. They looked very faded so, I could say that if they were meant as an alarm, the alarm went off--silently. And if they were traps then... They were too old and faded to work? Does this kind of Arcane stuff cease to work after a long time passes without maintenance?"
>Mallia's voice drifts off, looking directly to the pegasus knight for a moment, wondering what her thoughts were on that.
>But, to answer her question: Mallia then turned back to the opened dialbox. Examining it closely for any possible dangers she might've overlooked as she speaks; to give Raindrop some extra assistance; pointing her towards the best place to start leveraging before getting out of the way.

"As for 'out of place' things... Not really. Though I do feel they cheapened out on the construction. If they had made this entirely out of Tungsten it would've taken me a whole 5 minutes to cut through... But noo... Hnh... Makes it feel too easy."
>There is a touch of amusement in her voice as she mentions the construction of the dials...

<B. Perception
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 1]
<E. Engineering
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 6]

"Let'sssss give it a daring try, huh Miss Raindrop? Only one way to find out at this stage. Best we can do is prepare to pour water on someone if there really is an incendiary surprise waiting for us."
>Mallia reached out to give Raindrop's shoulder-armor a light, but clanking, boisterous pat. Then sweeps her glance towards 'Sergei', nodding to them.
"Mister Sergei--If you'd like to assist our knight friend and myself,"
>She smiles as she gestures at the frame with her off-hand, as the other holsters the hotshot laspistol. Albeit the smile unseen behind the helmet, her tone matches the mirth she puts in said smile.
"Unless you prefer not to, of course. I do have another comrade who can help here who came here with me."

>She quickly double checks where the operator had placed their helmet full of water/canteen or vice versa for quick applications, moving it if they needed more space without knocking it over...
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.275940
275961
>>275835
>Bubba would curiously peek over at the forms, raising an eyebrow momentarily before looking away.
>That didn't really concern him as long as they weren't murderhobo ponies.
>Or ponies that were particularly fond of molesting humans.

"I may have taken a brief dip into the water."
>He shrugged it off, but watched as her voice trailed off.
"I physically did nothing to the mare, if that's what you're asking. The closest thing I could've done to breaking her like that is patting her over the head."
>He sidesteps the questions.
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.275941
275973
>>275858
>'Don't let it touch you...'
>Figuring some sort of hurtful touch, Clemency focuses his efforts on not letting this mass hit him
>He yells back at the cultists
"Wasn't planning on it!"
>Hitting the deceptively solid being and wrenching the blade out, he stops 10 meters ahead, his arm ligaments somewhat sore
>Clemency instinctively looks behind him, drawn by the disruptions of his wake in an unnatural manner
>Seeing the pony morphed into lances, Clem prepares to move out of the way and clear his mind
<M. Reaction Speed
[1d6+4 = 10]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 8]
<M. Evasion
[1d6+6 = 10]
[1d6+6 = 12]
[1d6+6 = 9]
[1d6+6 = 10]
< Airstream Evasion
[1d6+6 = 7]
[1d6+6 = 7]
<E. Iron Will
[1d6+3 = 9]
[1d6+3 = 7]
[1d6+3 = 8]

>After seeing the Tainted charge by, Clemency slashes back at the form
<M. Assault
[1d6+7 = 10]
[1d6+7 = 11]
[1d6+7 = 9]
[1d6+7 = 10]
<Airstream Assault
[1d6+7 = 8]
<Ethereal Strike
[1d6+1 = 2]
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.275956
275988
dbxdso0-293f6d73-64ab-485e-b16d-e4eb73545bb8.png
>>275890
>Pareidolia remains seated and silent as the Generals exchange words.
>His eyes note the strained, wordless spat between Thansimum and her apparent subordinates.
>As she addresses him and dispels the imprint, he retrieves his helmet and holds it between his hands.

[...Good. Some aspects of human knowledge and materiel still beyond their ability to grasp. Still room for an equal and independent power differential for humanity.]

>His eyes track the others leaving the Library and ensuring they were out of earshot before sweeping his surroundings for the rest of his currently missing suit.

"Premature at this juncture, but successful. However these InterPonies interface must be fundamentally different from the construction of my equipment. Equipment which I also need to reacquire in full, where was it placed?"

>A slight frown crosses his features as he recalls her most recent words.

"You said 'four failures', meaning your success rate of corruption removal is no longer above 94%? Clueless as to what?"

>He carefully considers his initial request for information as he looks towards the taxed General mare.

"Referring to my request of what I said while under the effects of the... removal process, I am aware I may not have spoken accurately. I must know what I said regardless. Can you tell me or is that not within your discretion?"
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275960
275967
>>275929
>Falling silent for a time, Tox-11's data packets are returned in deliberately slowed thoughtfulness.
'inquisitor cared most for direct efficiency/value, not long term usefulness. give proper gift/offer proper labor = immediate result most often, yes? inquisitor considered immediate use of resources sometimes best spent for pure/immediate value. not always. inquisitor very unusual, ordo chronos far more so. explanations difficult, apologies.'
>Admiral Auspex makes a series of ticking sounds with an image of standard Imperial clockwork, broadcasting on a securely encrypted AdMech channel in response.
'Tox, you were with Inquisitor Aguina six years before I was inducted to her service. While she is often able to sense the proper, precise, or perfect methods and means to guide a situation into turning positive for her, you lack the subjective experience and creativity to understand 'how' and 'why' option 5 is better than option 3, or why punching a Governor to incite an immediate revolt is a better option than allowing the populace to succumb to Chaos. Your skills in technological destruction are superb, yet your abilities in identifying and exploiting circumstances to overall benefit are poor. Never forget that first and absolute fact.'
'acceptable explanation admiral. still unsure why inquisitor bothered recruiting me'
>....definitely not Machine Spirits.

>Knocking the quickly cooling debris out of the way for Raindrop and the possibly-not-Vostrayans, the Knight takes a hesitant step forwards, squinting up at the vault door's height.
"When a rune is not constantly empowered, reinforced, and charged then it runs out of energy after a set amount of time based on the complexity and secondary sources, so yes, that is correct. If you can remember what those ones were it is probable to cross-examine what they were intended to perform."
>Humming to himself in unrecognized sequences, Sergei paces forwards to examine the combination lock while making a short hand gesture backwards at his squad.
"But cannot be cheap, ye? Is old, very old ye. Pegasi, you say some like this in Stalliongrad, not cheap make after.. Middle Dynasty, yes?"
>Sidestepping to the vault door's edge against the wall, Raindrop contorts her right wingwing into position, then rocks forward to jam the tip into what sounded like a tiny crack.
"Egh, that's tight. Yeah, it's old enough this must have been built long before some unicorns and psions got together and figured out how to purify tungsten. There must be at least two hundred depositories basically the same as this one that use pure tungsten vaults, so this one is definitely pre-Stalliongrad built from ore slabs out of Rushya, maybe even Pongoalia. Makes it anywhere between two thousand and one thousand one-hundred years ago."

>Calculating the ore-bearing slab's age and degradation with the previous information the Auspex had given, you determine the Knight's knowledge to be somewhere on the order of 'probably right'.
>Numerous microfractures across the face indicated either multiple geological instability events or somewhat crude extraction methods, neither of which would have prevented destroying the system.

>Raindrop shakes her head, subsequently showing off an unusually appealing wet mane that you find to be moderately.. satisfying, you suppose, to watch.
"Old as this is Miss Castella, I doubt there's a single functioning defense mechanism left since you said those runes disappeared. Let's just crack this one open and see what's in it first before doing the other one."

>Nodding his assent with an uncharacteristically large, definitely non-Commissariat aproved smile, though giving a minorly concerned glance towards your mechadendrite, the old man unslings his archaic rifle to set against the wall.
"Would not pass chance up, am very curious see why ponies abandon city like this, or why not come reclaim things owned."
>Stepping forwards to the right of Raindrop, the tip of her full wingblade spanning weapon wedged into the vault door's crack, he places the right grey gloved hand close to the door itself, then motions slightly left of him with the other while offering a small smile towards the winged pony.
"I take here on wing, you take there next me. We act like pulley for big lever and try not break armor, yes?"
"Works for me, but I doubt you'll break any of this without a few boulders."

>Looking back to find the Knight's helmet, five canteens, and two large 5-gallon or so blue jugs piled several feet behind you, the rest of the, quite young, Vostrayan-like squad maintained their careful distance.
>Compared to standard PDF or Guard, they were equally ready for ambushes, though far more concerned for their elderly leader, hands tightly gripped on weapons in low-carry stances.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275961
275991
>>275940
>Noting the varied and clear writing styles spread across Naliyna's trading table, none of them looked remotely military.
>In fact, the vast majority you could see were more ponial than business related, especially given the variety of colored papers and inks.

>Clenching her jaw briefly Naliyna's face tightens while pointing a hoof angrily at your chest.
"I've taken care of Sweet a bunch of times while she's been left here by Shanis. Going for a swim and patting her on the head would make her happy, not 'break her'! I don't want Shanis getting pissed off at you or any other human, so tell me what you did damn it!"
Mallia Castella
5e6cccc
?
No.275967
276001
>>275960
>The brief conversation happening within the link she shared with Velasi's "Spirits" gave the Enginseer pause, her head tilting slightly in the background as Sergei and Raindrop spoke and prepared themselves.
>She could not shake a slight, but tangible lingering discomfort from the knowledge that these were not Machine Spirits, but people. It made her stiffen slightly.

>At the same time, she measures the distance between the various containers of water and helmets and their work-zone. It SHOULD be enough room for them to work without potentially tripping over if they fell backwards...
>Then a glance further backwards towards the other operators, watching them briefly with a veiled interest...

(You're all so interesting...)
>Is all she responded with, after Admiral Auspex and Adronal had spoken. Her transmitted words were pure, and wholehearted. Despite what she felt.
(It must've reassured Inquisitor Velasi a lot; having all of you by her side.)
>Her body visibly stiffens after saying that. As if expecting to be chastised by someone for saying these things; though it was an acquired reflex more than anything.
(Sorry. That... Was too personal.)

>And as her body does stiffen, she immediately relaxes as she processes the information Raindrop gave her on the Runes.
"That's fascinating..! This is all so new to me, I love it."
>Mallia remarked with a high-pitched whisper-shout, rubbing her black combat gloved hands in front of her with pure excitement. Even while wearing a bodysuit armor, fully covered, the childish eagerness still oozed out of her with how she bobs up and down on her feet and "golf-clapped" a couple times.
>Then stopped a second later as she self-consciously throws a glance down at herself, and back at the other two, both probably older than herself.

>She chuckled nervously. Then gave an acknowledging nod to Raindrop. Her mechadendrite coiling further along her back until it was almost fully folded in on itself.
"Oh good, then we probably won't get set on fire."
>Luckily, Raindrop couldn't see how her eyes looked more towards their mane than her eyes as she spoke. Dropping her hands more over her hips, over the robes. Eyes sweeping quickly towards Sergei, as he positions himself and directs her to a spot.

>With a chirpy:
"Wilco,~ sir. "
>Mallia strides forward and confidently positions herself between the Not-Vostroyan Commissar and the Pegasus knight. Making sure to carefully shuffle and poise her boots so as to direct her left side, which bore the mechadendrite on her sternum, AWAY from the Operator and the mare, and keeping it closer to her back so as to not even remotely risk having the other operator touch it.

>Gently putting both hands along the pegasus' armored wing, spending a moment finding a proper place to hold in tandem with Sergei. Then, turning her head to Sergei, nods to them deeply and eagerly.

>She glances downward, double checking the space between their feet (and hooves), then up again once she felt sure enough about everything. Turning to look towards Raindrop finally, to wait for her signal.

"Ready."
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275973
275979
>>275941
>LEADERSHIP: +2 to all Assault, Evasion & Reaction Speed rolls
>PENALTY: -1 to all rolls from Operational Fatigue

>In the second your main eye focuses upon the creature, the Airstream streaks trailing behind you fracture apart from the Tainted's destructive course without the slightest warning.
[1d6+1 = 6] <???
>Nullifying the previously felt minor discomposure, coming to a flat stop and twisting to face north in preparation results in a half-second of witnessing the former pony trailing a billowing cloud of red vapor from a rent below the short lances now 'mounted' above the neck.
>Executioner's Blade striking directly into and severing most of tightly packed lances while throwing yourself partially away from harm, the Ethereal Rune delivers a gout of ineffectual rusted-pink energies right as hideous sensations shredd through both arm and your entire soul.
>Clemency: 7/26 S.HP

>Still standing, but now struck by sheer existential horror amid sharp relief at the non-physical blows suffered, the Tainted collapses into a chunk of mist, gently settling down onto newly set stonework.
[1d6 = 2] <Honored Dispatch
>vs:
[1d6+3 = 9] <Horror

>In the Basin Village's center, the Dark Horse leader's call had gathered a number of batponies around her, half north and half south, all bowed low around each altar as her voice rises to a crescendo.
"-ese altars mayest thy divine-inherited blood be spilled and force All Creation to bow for our Nightmare's will!"
>As one, twenty crippled or lethally diseased batponies raise paired wingclaws to their necks-
"In glory and pride, take your inheritances of the Night and suffer not all refusals!"
>And, as you watch in rising confusion, each give one final shrieking kek of defiance before, by two and five, slashing their own throats.
>Silent wreaths of blood rising in the air until showering both the once-hidden altars and the Cultist herself, holding aloft the pinksteel and greensteel sacrificial blades directly towards the Moon.
>Drenched in the blood of her kin and reaching a fever pitch of close-toorgasmic bloodlust, the Dark Horse Cultist's peal of sacrificial summoning thunders across the Basin.
"Come once more snickering batponies of the Moon and Discord alike! The Night's sacrifices hath yet to reach their apex by kith and kine alike!"
[1d6+3 = 8] <E.Leadership: ???
[1d6+3 = 6]
[1d6+3 = 6]
>One could barely wonder what sacrifices the 'Basin' had seen...

>Immediately to the northeast, an intense flare of metallic ocean blue waves roll outwards with a muted thundercrack.
>Striding towards the Basin's center, glowing silverine armor of a full Tower Guard General was visible.
>Less impressive than the armor were paired energetic streams of psionic immaterial energies wafting upwards from the emeraldine eyeslits.
>Whether the mare was a danger to ritual or defending her kin against more Tainted, you had no idea.
[1d6+12 = 18] <M.Psionicism: Spectral Stormsurge
[1d6+12 = 13]
[1d6+12 = 16]
[1d6+12 = 17]
[1d6+4 = 5] <E.Fearless
[1d6+4 = 7]
[1d6+4 = 9]
[1d6+4 = 7] <Lore
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+3 = 7] <???
[1d6+2 = 8] <???
[1d2+1 = 2] <Neophyte Lore: Tainted
[1d10 = 2] <Stalliongrad Loyalty
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.275979
275984 276005
>>275973

>Realizing he wasn't fast enough, Clem recoils from the Tainted after striking back
>Some of those lances must've landed on him
>A deep dread struck at Clemency, something he hadn't felt before, wavering his breathing
>It had to take some effort to normalize his breathing, helped by seeing the Tainted melt down into mist
>Not willing to trust it, he eyes the mist longer
>Seeing it be mundane, he looks over to the ritual
>It's unsettling as well, even though Clem is familiar with the suicidal tendencies of batponies
>Attention is then given to a bright flash filtered by the tint of his screen
>More confusion is stirred as a Tower Guard general appears, psionics flickering
"What's happening now?"
>Clemency tries to regain his composure amidst the general's presence, not knowing whether she was a threat or not
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.275984
276005
>>275979
<E. Iron Will
[1d6+3 = 9]
[1d6+3 = 9]
[1d6+3 = 8]
>In addition, Clemency feels the need of more time before acting
>As such, he decides to slink into the shadows as best he could
<E. Stealth
[1d6+2 = 4]
[1d6+2 = 5]
[1d6+2 = 3]
Razorback Fortress: The Library, Main Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.275988
275996
>>275956
>Taking stock of the Library, there was nothing of significant note that'd changed since you'd entered previously tonight save for several of the couches moved and one table covered in orange books, along with an empty steel alcohol flask that you recognized as the one Clemency usually had on him.
>It was mostly likely your equipment set had been removed by Thansimum and had been stored in the filly room during your.. cleansing of sorts.

"Successful by what margins and efforts? Don't answer, I'm being sarcastic to myself."
>Reaching up to not-so-gently shove her helmet off which lands with a muted 'thump' on the carpet, Thansimum tosses her head towards the door behind you.
"Large cubby left of the door. You were experiencing large intermittent muscle spasms that I took to be a seizure or aneurysm, thought you might harm yourself so I removed everything. The.."
>Briefly glancing at the clothing that surely wasn't yours, she tips her head left with a what appeared to be an indifferent smile, but was only concealing obvious Crystal pony humor.
"Incredibly helpful clothier in the Workshop had several sets of prototyped clothing to fit most human body styles. I gave Miss.. Lann I think her name is, your clothing and armor for cleaning. You were sweating heavily, so I chose to dress you in what I thought might best be comfortable. My apologies if that was the incorrect action to take."
>Reaching out to roll the helmet towards her and patting it lightly, the Crystal General gives a painfully strained grimace.
"I failed two duties I would prefer not to state to you in front of a direct superior officer, made the hasty decision to send an InterPony into a desperate rescue situation for an unknown human creation that took approximately six hours of extreme effort to salvage from massive amounts of Construct corruption, and.. worse yet, failed to directly protect five fillies and colt here from the same Construct corruption. Then again, all three of us failed that one, but I'm the one with the most experience with and against Constructs. My success rate hinges upon whether or not you will sustain long term damage from inadequate study."
>Lips pursing twice, Thansimum's eyes dim into deeply haunted spheres while staring past you.
"I'm clueless because the unicorn and Crystal fillies and the Saddle Arabian colt want to go back to Stalliongrad. They were being trained as family-servants from the biggest guild there since they have no family. Apparently they were treated exceptionally well and even had a herd lined up to adopt them. That is until a mare named 'Pear Blossom' and her forces raided the guild. Killed everypony there. Severe trauma you see, they're trying to return to normal function but unable to. The three pegasi are from an orphanage in Canterlot, hence why a certain mare left to contact one of yours.. ..then there's batfilly. Completely inconsolable, great self-loathing, was given a small amount of assassin training. She was recovered from a Scar of the Moors couple years ago or so. We traced her origins to a tiny Moors village called 'Swampshore Woods' that went entirely missing about six hundred years back. The Starborn team that found her and several others sent only her to a supposedly secure small guild in Stalliongrad for basic normalization training. Those are why I need a drink, or maybe ten."

>Blearily turning her attention to the carpet beneath her, the mare's face softens until she gives a loudly ringing snort of disbelief.
"Fuck if I know human! Tran-zis-tor, electricity, three-dee electro-chemical printing, regenerative sir-kit, electro-chemically preserved metal alloys, spring tie-tay-nee-um, self-repairing artificial intelligence, modal heu-ris-tics, biomechanical neural input.. none of that makes the tiniest lick of sense!"
>Thansimum visibly shrinks back into her armor, head hanging in a shocking display of open submission while she speaks in a small, terrified tone.
"I don't know. I don't know, all right? If there was anything you needed to keep secret I don't know anything. I was too scared to try and stop you from talking but I had to keep singing otherwise I don't know what the corruption would have done to you."
>That, the back corner of your mind pipes up, was NOT normal for a Crystal pony.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.275991
276006
>>275961
"Hey hey, relax. She's still coherent. Just... Sane."
>He grimaced a little.
"I may have unbroken her mind and caused her to realize exactly what she was."
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.275996
276020
DovOetqUwAEl00a.jpg
>>275988
>Pareidolia maintains a neutral expression as Thansimum recounts the evening's prior events.

[Conduct seems to point to prioritizing removal and treatment of Construct corruption. Likelihood of negative ulterior motives minimal.]

>His brow begins to furrow as she elaborates on what she considers to be her responsibility in the events that unfolded.
>The furrow deepens along with an expression of confusion as she begins to panic.

[Clear psychological strain. This is an abnormal fear response.]

>Setting his helmet on his lap, he raises both his hands in supplication.

"I'm not sure what you think I am attempting to do but this isn't a court martial, and as a human I have no hostile feelings towards you. I wasn't planning on harming you or anyone else even if you did hear something. I only would've asked for your word in not sharing it with anyone else though it seems that won't be necessary."

>He sighs deeply, closing his eyes and leaning back against the door.

"I appreciate your willingness to cooperate with my highly selfish request. You have nothing to be concerned over, and I apologize for asking that of you given how much energy you've already spent tonight. Thank you for answering my questions. "

[Why I was saying those phrases remains to be seen, but answers will not be found here.]

"For what it's worth General, I believe you fulfilled your duty to the absolute best of your ability with the resources allocated to you. The efficacy of your methods could not have predicted the existence of my equipment. Expecting you or any other pony to have the foreknowledge to have something better than an InterPony prepared for an unknown is unreasonable. I understand that my opinion may be irrelevant as you follow a different command structure and answer to a different authority, but for most if not all humans here the level of cohesion, community, and empathy present in even the most lowly of ponies would rank among the highest in the worlds we came from. You all do more than you know whether it is direct or not and that is already enough. As for the foals..."

>Exhaling through his nose, he opens his eyes and places his helmet next to the door before standing up and carefully opening the door enough to slide through.
>Locating the mentioned cubby, he makes use of his Sticky enchantment and attaches all of his available gear to his back and thighs as needed.
>He then quickly and quietly exits the room and shuts the door behind him.
>As he rearranges his equipment on his legs and back for weight distribution, he continues:

"They absolutely need counseling and therapy, but I would imagine that's something only those with the skill and training could provide. The most anyone else can do is try to gain their trust, try to understand their trauma, and support their growth to surpass it."

[Need to assess my equipment from Lann and then report to Emerald for immediate debriefing...]
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276001
276031
>>275967
>Outside the four possibly-Vostroyans giving warily trusting glances at you, their motions were entirely directed at the possibility of trouble within the vault.
>Nowhere near the rigidity of Tempestus Scions or veteran Guard, they seemed to be more like semi-trained Guard that had zero wish to lose their commander.
>The youngest, barely a girl and lacking most physical signs of human maturity you notice, was furiously eyeing the entire vault door, visibly lacking self-preservation while holding her boxy submachine gun in a painful death grip.
>Meanwhile, the other three had locked their individual towards the window, entrance, and the vault door directly in front of Raindrop Raspberry, their weapons at loose-ready in case of any potential trouble.
>Had they simply been loyal to the old man named Sergei, whom seemed to be more like a role model than a Commissar now, the MIU's calculations aid you in pointing out that the Pre-Techno Barbarian quartet would not have allowed him to undertake a single dangerous act.
>A peculiar situation, to be sure.

>Pinging back merry laughter, Witch-Two and Tox-11 separate their return data flows from each other.
'Come off that mentality now. There is little to hide except that which Aguina has stated not to share for security purposes. The Inquisitor was never what you'd call 'happy' with Adronal, Enginseer. She relied on his admittedly impressive sub-fighter explosive knowledge to destroy Ork, Necron, and sometimes Eldar devices, or to simply take out a vehicle from time to time. She often scolded herself for being forced to destroy interesting xenos weapons, which was, in her own words, immediately necessary but could have led to the Mechanicus gaining a far greater understanding of enemy weaponry. Adronal still does not trust that Aguina chose him for having such a profoundly blessed talent, but to be fair, whom would comprehend a painful circumstance of that magnitude? It is self-doubt and no more, one which he must realize by now.'
'fair criticism, witch. i fully believe inquisitor kept me around to ensure no more grot snipers killed her acolytes'
'Then allow me to share one of the Navy's secrets: Grot snipers barely exist in modern records outside Freebooters and the few Warbosses capable of riling them into specific roles, Adronal. They have not seen widespread distribution past the War of the Beast. Imperial Assassins from within a Governor's cadre were most likely responsible for the actions you witnessed, not Orks. Even supposing they did, Orks do not utilize explosive Astartes grade bolter shells filled with mutagenic acid fired from three-point-six kilometers away, correct?'
>Dropping the link for one-tenth a second, Tox-11 returns with a harsh Binary caricature of a sigh.
'correct for now. doubt is mind killer, yes, but still have plenty to suffer through. pay no mind enginseer, feel more guilt than is necessary'

"I can tell you runes, sigils, and engrams were standardized with most languages three, maybe four thousand years ago. Might be a few books in Razorback's library about though ask Hodch or Krinza would be quicker to ask."
>Unable to hear the communication occurring, Raindrop continues forcing her wingblade into the vault door, and certainly didn't notice you staring at her.
"If there was a flame trap it would've been set off by now, I think."
>It was amusing to see this xenos was better looking wet than most humans you'd seen.. and so did the Admiral, relaying a quiet Binary snicker to you.

>Visibly trying, and failing terribly, to hide a smile at your unusual chirping tone, the Commissar, or ex-Commissar, whichever he was, squeezes himself against the wall, both hands tightening on the Knight's thick wingblade.
"Please no call me sehr, not been officer for three years now. Sergei fine, or Old Man as young like call me."

>Easily locating the position for maximum leverage to pull Raindrop's weaponized wing covering from, and to keep the mechadendrite safe, the older man takes a deep breath to steady himself, then gives a choppy nod accompanied by a heartfelt growl.
"Go!"
>Without realizing that had been a suggestion and not a command, you immediately wrench back on instinct using the pegasi's armored-weapon along with the Commissar.
>Heaving your strength against the seemingly immovable wingblade's flat rear edge along with Sergei, the Knight's pained grunt occurs right as a low, grinding noise draws your attention from the left.
>At first wrenching the door open by millimeters per second, the grinding becomes one of the most annoying sounds of stone-against-stone conflict you'd heard, which is then replaced by dead air the second it swings open on it's own both rapidly and freely.
>Raindrop subsequently raises her wingblades upwards to protect the chest portion of you and Sergei in the middle of a severely black-toned command, the four not-Vostroyans behind snapping their weapons upwards while the L-shaped flashlights beam into a cascading dust cloud falling into the vault's opening.
"Aim careful vaskey!"
[1d6+4 = 9] <E.Leadership: Ranged
[1d6+4 = 10]
[1d6+4 = 8]

[1d6+4 = 7] <L.Light #1
[1d6+4 = 7] <L.Light #2
[1d6+4 = 10] <L.Light #3

[1d6 = 6] <???
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
6b7eb80
?
No.276004
276153
>>275853
>The human's lips opened slightly to let out a series of low chuckles at Nalinya's response, being sure to jot down mentally the possibility that ponies down here may ask for stuff if the helpful mare can't as he properly positioned himself to write up his letter

>Hearing the Remnant's rather verbose response, Cheto's eyebrows rise the slightest bit, leaving him somewhat speechless as he mulls over what to call it, lokking slightly to the floor.
>However, the fuschia mare's message containing the possible taboo flag of this queen plus her actual soverign and the eldritch machine leads suddenly sparks an idea, smiling widely while writing up his response in mild realization.

>José simply nods, mind already mapping some potential questions to ask later when he finishes his letter.
(Mirá nomás. Even their months are puns of commonplace items. Maybe some sort of religious representative would have the answer as to why that is. That and their remarkably similar year counting. Probably has to do with Princess Celestia's birth or creation.)

>Gallo's eyes glance down at the leaf-like limb to grasp the letter, brow rising at the almost surreal image his mind is contemplating before swiftly blinking it away to sink the Remnant's delivery process in.
>He couldn't help but to take the opportunity to open his mouth up once more while the letter vanishes inside the eye.
"If you allow me, I'll call you Triple W."
>With that little name setting slipped in, he promptly listens to the machine, pursing his lips slightly as his chatter is cut off and his hand finds himself with a batch of surprise messages hovering next to it.
(What are the odds?)
>Turning his head towards Nalinya, José hesitantly keeps his hand still for the time being, not daring to pick the messages up just yet.
"Would you like for me to take these letters to you, Mrs. Nalinya?"
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276005
276021
>>275979
>>275984
>Instantly shutting out the dread before it could take effect, what little remained of the Tainted's corporeal form begins coalescing into streaks of dully white toned vapor, creating the distinct image of a large earth pony mare in the ancient Solar Guardian armor, except without a helmet, the right hoof lifts Into a perfect salute.
>Cracking a wide smile, the impression of a mare speaking wafts outwards, then bursts apart, the Scar-held pony's soul dispersing into the Moors' own mist.
>You felt.. better, but not whole at this.
>Clemency: 9/26 S.HP.

>Sinking without effort into the Moor Void's safe embrace and breathing easier now, the Tower Guard's approach was bypassing the sacrificial basin.
>Heading directly towards you, or at least coming to defend the Basin Village's southern entrance, the previous energetic flares from her wake expose dozens of similar earth pony Tainted into corporeality, which are immediately targeted by an equal number of white robed Support Strikers.
[1d6+4 = 8] < Tainted
[1d6+4 = 8] <Support Strikers

>Silverine helmet glistening as the General's head half-bows in your direction, a pair of sharp, whistling screams rings out from the south behind you, immediately recalling the sounds as those of the same, yet incredibly weaker Tainted encountered on the train towards Old Canterlot.
>Knowing that most earth ponies, and most ponies regardless, were deathly terrified of Spectrals and the like, it occurred to you that this one was in rather excellent control of her emotions.
>A second thundercrack cascades off the Tower Guard in a roil of blue, this one directed straight towards, and possibly beyond, you, at the same time shouting in a flat, mid-50's commarendeering voice.
"Damn you all and fuck off! I have no wish to deal with the Scarred, we came here in peace!"
[1d6+12 = 18] <M.Psionicism: Spectral Stormsurge
[1d6+12 = 18]
[1d6+12 = 15]
[1d6+12 = 16]
[1d6+4 = 5] <E.Fearless
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 10]
[1d6+4 = 9] <Lore
[1d6+4 = 9]
[1d6+4 = 7]
[1d2+1 = 2] <Neophyte Lore: The Moors

>Remaining undeterred by the events around her, the Cult of the Dark Horse leader is quickly surrounded by another twenty batponies, all of which you could see were visibly crippled.
>Matching the Tower Guard General's thunder with her own voice, both eyes roll back to expose only red as this set perform the same exact sacrificial throat-slashes, once more showering her and the altars with metallic red.
[1d6 = 3] <Blood Sacrifice: Summon
>While a grim action to take, some dark corner of your mind whispers, they were freely choosing their own end rather than succumbing to the horrors which the Moors were notorious for.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276006
276010
>>275991
>Visibly NOT relaxing, Naliyna's hoof lowers only to tightly grip her table along with the other, her eyes turning into a hostile, glowing fuchsia swirl.
>A 'grip' which, you realize, was starting to fracture the wood itself, and rather quickly at that.
>Fully tensed for a long heartbeat, even though you knew she wasn't going to obliterate you like Twisted would, the trader releases her table slowly.
>Sitting back on her couch with a hatefully piercing and only half-believing stare, Naliyna motions for you to continue.
Natilda
!S8UWokkL4Q
f2e081f
?
No.276007
276157
>>275841
"Oh in this case I'm wholeheartedly on the side of 'stay down here for repairs'. Its just usually not done for repairing hulls, for obvious reasons."
>I shrugged softly and gave one of the screens a look.
"This type of paranoia isn't mental trauma, its trained and drilled into me. I had to keep an eye out for both targets of opportunity and to watch for possible positions of fascist snipers."
>Didn't hurt that I was small, either. Easier to hide in holes.

>Her response caused my eyes to roll.
"Not physically grounded, Wild. Grounded in the punishment sense. Something close to... house arrest, I believe."
>English was weird.

"I have a feeling we're not going to be alone much longer, Wild. Construct object on screen."
[1d6+1 = 4] <E. Perception
[1d6+1 = 6]
[1d6+1 = 7]
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.276010
276160
>>276006
"Well uh, after I finished a little delivery for her, I came by to let her know that I did so."
>He made sure he was well out of slapping distance as he explained.
"And I came across her, drunk as hell. Apparently she needs to be wasted to be considered sane."
>Shaking his head, he took a moment to recollect. While it was only a few hours, a decent amount had happened in that time and he didn't exactly pay 100% attention to everything.
"We mainly talked. She's guilty over what's she's done. Both under full 'Sweet' and what she's been forced to do."
>Bubba motioned to his head.
"I less broke Sweet, and more gave her a lot to think over. Hopefully for her to try and accept her previous actions."
Razorback Fortress: The Library, Main Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276020
276061
>>275996
>Flinching backwards at your first word, the mid-40's General halfway suppresses a full body shiver, breath catching and taking a labored inhale.
>Mostly settling herself, Thansimum turns a cold scowl down at her helmet, then raises her head to eye you squarely.
"I apologize for my conduct. Princess Cadence has threatened severe punishmarents if somepony of the Crystal Empire screws up while aiding Razorback. Being one of her hoof-picked Generals, it would sound almost seditious in her war room if, or when, severe failures were reported during necessary defense and aid-giving operations."
>Head shaking in negative motions quicker than would be expected from one at her rank, her nervous energy is quickly redirected into grim logic.
"Selfish or not matters little at this time, and there is no need to thank me. I chose to accompany Princess Cadence immediately after she asked. Serving Razorback even if only for tonight is more than enough. You were suffering from Planar corruption, thus my duty was to remove it. I will continue my duties here until necessity dictates."
>Picking the scuffed helmet up though not placing it back on, Thansimum's snout twitches back and forth in concern.
"I will take your 'opinion' as full blooded truth as I have no alternatives. While it would be more efficient to deliver knowledge directly to Princess Cadence, our duties and oaths to follow her orders are inviolable no matter how dangerously ill prepared Crystal ponies are to support humans. Not only that, I sense a peculiar undertone in your words.. calculation, study, and reasonable understanding, It is not easy to impress upon others, particularly her Unicorn Guard, that humans have little relative understanding of the Crystal overherd, though yours is sufficient enough I believe Kalatrine will back up my report."

>Entering the darkened filly room, only soft, quiet snores from the various fillies greet your senses.
>Stepping around several of Malyne's stuffed toys, your armor, weapons, and pack were neatly arrayed from smallest to largest, though the large Gozkan blade had been laid across the top shelf.
>Upon picking up the pinksteel dagger, a soundless yet easily felt whine emanates from it before calming.
>While it wasn't likely to have sentience, the metal itself seemed to be drawn to you as an owner.

>Now fully returned to her previous composure, Thansimum takes her focus off the western room to give you a briefly self-deprecating smile.
"That is precisely why the three of us were called here. Given the situation in Stalliongrad though, only the three pegasi will be returned to Canterlot. As for the rest I am positive temporary placemarents will be accommodated easily.. except for the batfilly. Foggy Patches, hah, I almost called her 'Froggy', has developed rather deep bonds towards several humans and two batponies living here. Far be it from Stockhorn Syndrome, she's acclimated quickly to Razorback as a comfortable and safe environmarent. Before spending tonight here I would have been highly concerned Razorback is not the best environ for her, but she does not feel danger, that is, excluding herself, which is a good sign of marental progress. At worst, she would have self-isolated and became catatonic. Best is, unfortunately, subjective. In my professional opinion it would be best for her to develop friendships here until choosing what to do. She is old enough, but her maturity and cognizance is not developed enough to support an external choice without great resistance. Regardless-"
>Head swinging left to eye one of the front doors opening, Thansimum rapidly blinks several times in shock.
>Right until physically seizing up and biting her lower lip to prevent from laughing.

"-e here for the first time this month, thank Luna."
>An utterly exhausted Hodch in his monotone teacher's voice drifts into the Library, afterwards treading into view directly towards the rear stairwell.
"Need to take Nibbles out, she's probably hungry too-"
>Worse than the sets of overly large batpony bites on his neck, several of which were still bleeding slightly, thoroughly trashed mane, left eye swelling, and physical, near stumbling exhausting was the partial hardon he made no attempt to hide.
>Not missing a beat, the Nightblade reservist's eyes snap towards Thansimum as he passes by her, his voice attempting to be as threatening as possible, but was utterly drained.
"Fuck off and don't ask."
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.276021
276289
>>276005
>Seeing the mist form into resemblance of a mare in armor, cracking a smile and a salute before disappearing gives Clem a sense of closure
>Like saving one soul
>Still hurts inside in a metaphysical sense
>Still eyeing the General, the wake of her energy reveals more of those Tainted, albeit the more familiar ones
>The most telling thing is that the General bowed toward Clem's direction
>Clemency was taken aback, both that she saw him and that her presence seems to not to disrupt the Cultist mare
>He instinctively bows back however
>The surprise quickly turns to relief turns to some level of disgust when he goes back to check on the cultist mare
>More sacrifices and the lead cultist practically bathing in the sacrificial blood and taking a demeanor that can only be described as rapturous
>All of it does peak at what the end result of this is, summoning all these Tainted and the Tower Guard
>Clemency still needs to shake off the emptiness inside but isn't content in hiding away from this
>He moves around the line of contact between the Strikers and Tainted, trying to find gaps within those lines and see if the Strikers are deadlocked or waning
<E. Iron Will
[1d6+3 = 8]
[1d6+3 = 5]
[1d6+3 = 6]
<E. Perception
[1d6+1 = 3]
[1d6+1 = 5]
[1d6+1 = 7]
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
a7292d5
?
No.276024
276060 276300
1462328789468.png
>>275827
>Sunny, having finished administering the draught, restoppered it and placed it back in her saddlebag, unceremoniously flipping the councilmare back over so that she could clear her throat and lungs properly. Patting her back with a hoof to encourage her to heave all the blood up before she drowned in it.
>The mixture would take care of the wounds, but wouldn't clear her throat for her. Always a risk with rapid cell repair and injuries of this nature, she only hoped that her potion hadn't sealed any clots inside her in problematic areas.
>She did little more than flick an ear back to Boris and Jeff briefly before answering.
"I had warning. I just never expected something as simple as this to go sideways, an old specter or two, certainly, maybe some restless bones, but not this."
>The pegasus paid little more heed to anything else, not the conversation between Jeff and Boris, not Mercy passing by, or the Lunars that now marched past, the most attention she paid was to haul the councilmare out of the way so they could pass easily.
>There was little more to do or say than attend the bat winged unicorn and keep her from keeling over and ensure she got back into orbit alive if a little worse for wear.
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
c2bd8c4
?
No.276031
276928
>>276001
>Although in that moment she was about to become quite busy helping open the Vault door. Mallia at the very least cracks a smile and relaxes a little at the insightful response from Witch-Two and Tox-11.
>She made a mental note to inquire further during the downtime after this...
>And then immediately after she starts to focus on the task at hand, Mallia tenses up again and lightly scowls at a point on her visor.
(S-shuddup... I shouldn't be liking it as much as I am.)
>That's all she could muster in that moment. Shifting a glance down to Raindrop with some added concern, then swiftly up at Sergei again.
"Very well! Sergei."
>She sounded particularly pleased at being on a first-name basis with someone. Though she realized she hadn't introduced herself properly.
>That comes later...

>Giving off a low snarl as she puts her modest upper body strength to good in synergy with her new companions, she poises her boots onto the floor... Sideglancing the sound of grinding stone to the left as they begin to make progress!
>Though she winced and cringed--her hands tightening around Raindrop's armored wing until the knuckles whitened, until the Vault door swings and Raindrop raises her wings to protect them.
>Stepping aside from Sergei to give him space, the Enginseer re-draws her shield from her back and straps it to her arm; then re-draws the hotshot laspistol before taking a step slightly more behind Raindrop and lifting her shield to rest by her side defensively, while the pistol is pointed towards the opening into the vault from behind and above the pegasus knight.

>She issues a quick, subconscious mental command to Tox-11 to enable her preysense visor once more; peering into the vault, looking for anything suspicious inside of the vault through the fog of dust.
>In the same way she had engaged the visor she taps into the voxbead to speak into the shared channel she had with Chisan, her voice much more monotone and serious.
*"Be advised, first vault is now open; checking for threats. Over."*
<B. Perception + BQ. Preysense visor
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6 = 1]
Jeff
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.276060
276300
>>275827
>Finally settling Boris onto his shoulder, Jeff listens to the golem as he gives a hearty reasoning over giving aid to the councilmare.
>His logic was sound, but only because he was prioritizing Mercy's relationship over the councilmare's authority over him.
>Which Jeff noneless greatly appreciated from the little automaton, so he couldn't be faulted.
>But giving the golem a bit of insight would do wonders. Not like he was a Socrates, or anything...
>His own morals were as twisted and sadistic as a ballpark pretzel, sometimes.
"Situations like these, especially this one Boris, can change at the drop of a hat. It wasn't my intention to return to the Citadel, nor had I even known it's still under siege if it weren't not for discovering the Lunarites. Would our involvement with the Citadel still be as relevant if this exploration was nothing more than a quiet plunder? Despite this no longer being a salvage job, we've now shifted into an escort and medical evac. We have to go to the Basin anyway, so we drop her off there and let the Lunar forces stabilize her, then we're back on track. I've been on enough missions were an easy recon turned into a demolition, or even an HVT assassination. The ability to improvise, adapt, and overcome keeps everyone alive and mission success. Turn the lemons into lemonade, that sort of deal."
>He felt himself fall into an almost habitual way of explaining it, as if remembering the mode hammered into his brain by superiors.
>His own glare darts at the profusely-bleeding batmare to match his shoulder companions, and then at the attending pegasus.
"You're assuming I'm devaluing Mercy's honor as my herd second, by allowing the councilmare to live. As far as I'm aware, her pre-Mercy attack state of fresh injuries is from the Citadel; she's covered in Construct weapon burns. Through an adrenaline-fueled rage, she must have assumed she couldn't have helped handle this situation remotely and showed up personally. Then thinking my passive attitude toward the Lunarites must have been a sign that they might have enthralled me into servitude. Hence why she threatened us, to test our priorities: them, or ourselves. At the very least, her thought process is irrationally driven by exhaustion, excessive injuries, and fear of the thought of a possible vampire breakout."
>Now that his own adrenaline was cooling down, he realized that ponies just don't think the same way humans do. It was, and will probably always be the biggest gap between them.
"Did Zoo ever mention to you about 'sticks and stones'? She's in such a sore stake, I don't think any insult from her should be taken to heart. Besides, I have pretty damning evidence that she just threatened to kill the Star Born and Luna's token human Nightblade, whom might I add she helped vote in, under unacceptable pretenses. Raking her over the coals in a Star Born tribunal hearing or something would be far more satisfying than letting her expire in some half sunken crypt now, wouldn't it?"
>His volume is dialed up more than enough for Mercy to hear his final rebuttal, tapping his TacPad's screen and shooting her a sly grin and a wink at his sadistically bureaucratic form of vengeance.
>He lets the Boris think on it, as he glances back over at Sunny tending to the councilmare.
>>276024
"Sunny, don't lag too far behind. I'll have the first aid bag ready when you regroup with us up top."
>If she even made it that far...

>Noticing Mercy had already repositioned to taken the lead, he shuffles up to her side quickly to help lead on out.
>The tension between the Spirit Walker and the Lunarites was enough to cut with a knife, or even with his tomahawk, so he decided to stick with her for emotional support.
>Jeff looks down at the starch white mare, giving her a reassuring smile as they head out of the crypt.
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.276061
276985
>>276020
>As Thansimum recounts the situation of the foals Razorback had acquired from Pear Blossom, Pareidolia sets down his gear, begins changing his clothes, and suiting up into his armor.
>He reflects on what she had previously mentioned while listening.

['It is not easy to impress upon others... that humans have little relative understanding of the Crystal overherd.' ...There are many things about humans ponies do not understand. Even more that they cannot understand. Need to locate Spiral before further critical misunderstandings occur or collateral damage will continue to increase.]

>Holding his helmet in one hand while adjusting his rifle sling and neck seal, he notes Thansimum's sudden silence and slight shaking.
>Looking up he notes a visibly battered and somewhat aroused Hodch heading towards the stairs leading to Spiral's lab.
>He arches his eyebrow slightly, but says nothing before placing his helmet over his head.

[Of course that's what you were doing Hodch... wherever he was, he must not have heard my report or been able to respond. Flash must have detected it somehow. More troubling questions.]

>Reaching the back of his helmet, he ensures the NOAH drive was properly locked in place and that all systems were functioning.
>Inhaling deeply, he relaxes as his armor is returned to its proper place.

"...Hodch is like that often. And I agree with your psychological assessment, though just because Foggy Patches has made friends within Razorback does not mean Razorback itself is a healthy place to be. But without other options, this is the best course of action."

>Running a final check and comb over of his equipment, he accounts for everything and rolls his shoulders.

"I need to debrief Emerald on various matters. If you have questions regarding what your InterPony interfaced with, locate me afterwards and I'll share what I'm able to."
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276090
278085
>>251644
>Starbursts of angry colors ripple across the Shell's artificial skin, offering a stern grin.
"Problem is none of us have seen Constructs do either. Somewhere between Frost Point Dock and the Deepwater Float a platoon of us, Shells I mean, waited maybe nine years watching two Assault-class vessels with their entire deploymarent doing nothing the entire time. Middle of one day, the units pulled back inside and the damn things left straight up. They noticed us, but either didn't care or weren't able to care. Much as I hate Constructs, I respect their capabilities."
>Taking on a subdued cast and sitting back, the left hoof raises to poke at Glacier's chin lightly.
"Hmmm.. Cady hasn't talked much in the past five months about the places she used to enjoy visiting. There's Mareminee on the Prench coast. Quiet, serene, lots of pastry shops and foals. There's Cloudstrike, another one of those moving pegasi cities like Las Pegasus but far larger. They settled somewhere in Neighsia last year, don't know exactly which region though. Lots of museums filled with old stuff from Central Equestria that most of the Kingdom's Lorekeepers don't even have records on. Could try the Ninth Vessel, some truly ancient Harpy ship-of-battle anchored off the coast of Saddle Arabia near where the Bronze Duke's oldest filly runs a small port trading town named Maren, or something like that. Six thousand ponies live aboard it, mostly pegasi of course, rather popular for artisans due to the giant pearls and coral they find sometimes. Other than that, the Dragonspine Mountains has some brand new built tourist town way up on the peaks. Dunno what's there except a young dragon that loves pranks."

>Eyes glittering for several seconds interestedly, the faux-mare's shoulders lift in understanding.
"I can say the same. There's something like a hundred fifty thousand books all over the world that've been written since I last picked one up. ..just curious since I saw you using an old tablet that looked like one of the sets created out of Canterlot, well, OLD Canterlot as most call it now, workshops. Mind if I take a look at them all?"

"I-"
>Slowly rolling her eyes, Shattered Glacier raises and points a forehoof at your chest in measured faux-disgust.
"Don't count your notches until they've been recorded, and don't wind up forgetting one or two due to a spurned mare. Jealousy does exist, you know. Likewise, if you do have a trade deal set up with the Conclaves make sure the deal can be accessed by all of them. They don't like being excluded from each other's trades on account of preferences. Or bias for that matter."

>Squinting towards the trio of chef mares, one side of her lips pulls back in a seductive, high impact mare-on-mare leer, turning back to give you a brutally calculating, black humored smile.
"Why not? The more mares the marerier a stallion is. Well, only if she doesn't burn anything TOO important to me."
>Jaw slowly dropping at the open play, the indicated Conclavist shuts her mouth, turning sideways to show off her right flank only to give it a ringing smack from her right forehoof.
>Blinking twice in an expression akin to muted shock, Glacier's snout scrunches as she mutters under her breath.
"Then again that one could probably crush boulders between her hind legs, so... you might want to be careful."
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276153
276158
>>276004
>At the momarent Naliyna looks down at the infinitely more interesting application letters, the entire translocation circle's hundreds of eyes covering it rotate to, you guess, keep their focus on her.
>For what purposes or reasons why wasn't something you had an inkling of.

>The eyestalk merely stares at you, then dips in what you guessed to be acknowledgement.
"Acceptable compromise."
>Without even looking up, the Crystal mare smiles while emitting a brief hum, the pages becoming covered in a shifting crystalline sheen and darting towards her waiting forehooves quickly.
"You've already seen me move stuff around like this, so, no, but thanks for asking. I can pick up three, sometimes four humans at the same time you know. These might be the sale notices I've been waiting on."
>Sitting back to read the first, she doesn't even reach what looked like the header.
"Hold on-"
>Stopping to give the eyestalk a frown, the five papers separate so she can point at the fifth.
"Did make a mistake on purpose? You said the fourth was from the Lunar Citadel, but this second 'fourth' is two unknowns."
>Drawing itself up to approximately stomach height, the Remnant's individual eyestalk, for once, blinks.
"That was not a mistake. Both were sent from the same entrance matrice, however, the second delivered paymarent to ensure that their name and original location not be publicized for security purposes. "
"Right, right, sorry. Can both of you give me a minute please, need to check them if they're more important than I thought."

>Reading the first quickly, scanning through the second, only looking at the header of the third, placing the fourth one face down, and finally scrutinizing the technically-fifth much slower, Naliyna's expression becomes a deep frown.
>Sitting back and folding forelegs across her chest, she turns a half-serious glare at the Remnant's eyestalk.
"Sooooo.... why'd you deliver all these right now instead of when they were supposed to be sent?"
"Each sender requested an unspecified time between specific dates to perform delivery of their cargo. This unit chose to perform this unit's delivery function in a central time between the zones given."
>Right hoof raising, it hangs in the air threateningly before smacking Nalyina's snout.
>Loudly.
"You are such an ass."
>Taking on an offended monotone, the eyestalk lowers to near ground level.
"It is impossible for this unit to be the upper hind end of an equine."
"That is NOT what I meant and you know it!"
>Before the two could break out into actual conflict, a second eyestalk, this one a swirling red sandstone, raises above the matrice to 'speak' in a grinding tone.
"This is an automated notice which must be distributed immediately to all individuals seeking access through Our translocation matrice system across the region-worldstate of Tallus: lethal travel advisory notice now in effect, all Guard and military units are to be advised that significant hostile avian forces have become present in most regions of Tallus. Do not proceed with travel until this notice has been thoroughly read and understood."
>Disgorging a large sheet of.. what looked like solid diamond, with a sharp whistle Naliyna summons it to her for a careful read.
>Which doesn't take more than two seconds, her face contorting furiously.
>Glancing up to you, still smoldering with internal rage unfortunately, two of the pages are lifted and held out.
"Looks like my work just tripled. If you feel like it, you can put these two on the bulletin board. I need to go find Pareidolia, immediately."
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276157
276853
>>276007
>Briefly strolling back into view, arms folded behind her head, Wild's cartoon image makes an 'I told you so' shrug.
"There is sufficient oxygen capacity within the internal tanks I've constructed to survive the incoming wave motions. Tank number one is currently at five minutes, tank number two retains ten minutes of oxygen. Though difficult to perform underwater welding, I've been able to perform non-physically initiated methods of repair with ease."
>The right screen ceases displaying the map, rotating left to show a mass of preformed, bright red molten steel now being applied to several of the massive rents on her upper left.. ..'chest'.
>There simply wasn't a cup size possible to calculate, you realize in a mixture of satisfaction and horror.
>Mostly satisfaction though.
"Should circumstances dictate I am able to extract oxygen and hydrogen from sea water at less than thirty-percent efficiency. Most of my systems are offline until repairs can be initiated. If you are uncomfortable, tell me if the cabin temperature, pressure, and humidity needs to be adjusted."
>The caricature turns to stare humorously at you, then walks off the right screen again while the left shows her hands sifting through large masses of twisted armor slats, except these ones were dull green or blackened silver connected by unusually reflective translucent red cables.
"Paranoia both is and causes trauma, mom, I understand that basic fact well enough. And, you are entirely incapable of punishing me-"
>Was that a dare?
>Sounded like it.

"Unable to spare further resources outside of scavenging and repair protocols. I should not have to state this normally but my weaponry would be completely outclassed by a Construct one-twentieth the size of the Assault vessel model previously encountered. Use these and notify me immediately of changes in pattern or behavior-"
>A quartet of boxes with text inside inside eight large arrow symbols appear on the right screen: 'Increase Zoom', 'Decrease Zoom', 'Lens Adjustment', and 'Diagnostics'.
>While the instructions weren't entirely like a scope, the meanings were close enough that you had some grasp of what they were for.
[1d6+4 = 5] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #8
[1d6 = 3] <Improved Scavenging Protocols

>Fully locked onto the unmoving Construct vessel, judging by the range and video clarity you estimate it to be nearly half a kilometer in central diameter, which placed the ovoid length at roughly 60% of a kilometer as well.
>The half-cone of orange energies ceases, then start again, this time angled upwards and deeper into land.
>Without warning, a second Construct oval blinks into reality directly below the first, this one disgorging dozens upon dozens of tiny orange spheres.
>The swarm of larger than human sized Constructs streak towards the shore at a slight downwards angle, yet you were unable to locate anything like fighter or jet trails.
>A less than standard search-locate-and-retrieve pattern, it appears.
[1d6+8 = 10] <???
[1d6+5 = 9] <???
[1d6+4 = 10] <???
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
6b7eb80
?
No.276158
277014
>>276153
>>276153
>Cheto couldn't help but raise his brow slightly at the unrequited stare at the potentially closest being in his supoosed singular lifetime
(Something tells me this machine has more feelings than he's letting on. Maybe it has enough life to establish bonds with others? Did Nalinya create Triple W?)

>Cheto bows lightly, elated to hear the bot's conformation before slightly stepping back when the humming apparently makes the messages float away to hopefully give them space to maneuver, even if they darted way faster than he could possibly react.
>Nalinya's rather casual boasting makes José's lips purse lightly as he fixates on the hovering envelopes seeking to be embraced by her hooves.
(...I wonder how that feels...)
>Hearing the usual secrecy from the Lunar Citadel does get Gallo's shoulders to sag the slightest bit.
(This is going to be a hindrance in the future, isn't it? Hopefully it'll not be due to petty, or even unethical reasons.)

>The lone human diplomat's left eye closes tightly at the Crystal Mare's rather tough treatment of her snout hearing the Remnant's rather amusing yet disadvantagious mistake.
>He couldn't help but to look away in an attempt to hide his growing grin not soon after their small banter was about to play out, feeling too uninformed to try and get involved.
>That all changes when the warning comes, a shiver travelling throughout all his spine as his expression turns neutral, looking at the wall behind Nalinya.
(I'm going to be sent out to do something, aren't I?)
>Blinking a couple of times at the floating papers in front of him, his hands reach out to take them.
"Right away, Mrs Nalinya. Will this notice be sent to me as well?"
>After hearing whatever answer Nalinya gives, José walks at a quick, steady pace towards the Bulletin Board with the two pages held carefully in his grasp while neatly stacking them ontop of eachother to ensure the paper is in its best possible state.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276160
276179
>>276010
"Sweet... drunk? Far as I remember she hated the scent of even the lighestt cider."
>Visibly stuck between extreme concern, palpable anger, multiple twinges of fear, and I'm-close-to-flipping-this-damned-table, Naliyna's snout wiggles cautiously.
"Okay..."
>Letting you off with that word, at least for the time being, the fuchsia mare leans forwards with a now cautious expression for several painful heartbeats.
"You obviously aren't lying but the way you said 'broke her' made me really scared there. So, you didn't break her. You UNbroke her. Somehow."
>Releasing her table, Naliyna's face turns into profound thoughtfulness as her left hoof raises to rub her chin lightly.
>Which, thankfully, removed the potential of you getting forcefully booped.
"Bubba, I've dealt with Sweet enough that I haven't once considered her capable of 'thinking over' anything, she's usually so focused on food, exploring, sex, and generally having fun that, well.. if I didn't know you enough I'd call what you said completely insane. Can't really remember much of her past, not something I cared about much to be really honest, but this is.. good news?"
>Blinking once, Naliyna's demarenor returns to her normal curious state, except with a small frown.
"Sorry for getting mad. Shanis is really pissy tonight and I didn't wanna give her more bad news than she's probably heard already. I dunno the details but there was something about her getting forced from Tartarus to spend here for the night. Anyways, you have any trade notices? I could really use something better else to think about."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
329a144
?
No.276179
277018
>>276160
"She drank... ten mugs or something of various brews. All I really recall is a couple mango schnapps."
>He shrugged a little.
"In Sweet's case, breaking her out of her mental stupor is essentially the same as breaking her. My statement is correct based on how you interpret it."
>He hummed lightly.
"Knowing that getting her drunk makes her sane sounds like good news, if anything. Even if she detests alcohol, she understands that it might be for the best. And for the moment she's actually able to think on more than just base desires, I believe I helped her figure out WHAT to think on."
>He pats down his pockets idly.
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276289
276312
>>276021
>Making a motion as if to greet you, the Tower Guard stops quickly, silverine helmet and neck armor twisting about look behind her:
>Between thirty and forty Support Strikers are crashed into by an equal number of now visible Tainted, several even being tossed into the air the defensive half-circle immediately shrinks.
>It appeared both sides were neither well prepared to take the other, nor prepared at all.
[1d6+3 = 9] <Tainted
[1d6+3 = 6] <Support Strikers

>Head shaking angrily, the earth mare points a hoof towards the south in warning, then spins on hoof in a perfect 180-degree and hurtles back towards her comrades, an expanding roil of thunder blotting out her presence entirely.
[1d6+12 = 18] <M.Psionicism: Spectral Stormsurge
[1d6+12 = 15]
[1d6+12 = 18]
[1d6+12 = 16]
[1d6+9 = 11] <E.Charge
[1d6+9 = 13]
[1d6+9 = 12]
[1d6+4 = 7] <E.Fearless
[1d6+4 = 5]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 7] <E.Leadership: Restore Order
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 6] <Lore
[1d6+4 = 10]
[1d6+4 = 7]

>It was obvious tonight was an unprepared meeting of long off duty Watch and Tower Guard, otherwise the Strikers would've been far better protected.

>Attention drawn back to the Dark Horse Cultist, she was now kneeling before the large altar, wings splayed apart in a pose that you took be utter reverence.
>Emitting a near-wordless keening phrase, the sacrificial blades gesture towards the hidden Moon while leaving behind a series of conjunctive runes.
[1d6 = 6] <Blood Sacrifice: Summon
>Barely surprising you, the pools of blood surrounding her rapidly, and disturbingly, flow outwards into a triangle before stopping around the crystalline false-flooring.
>Coalescing into a trio of midnight purple-armored batponies, clad in the traditional Lunar Guard 'Nightfang' armor no less, they form a protective triangle for the once-hidden altars.
>One turns to face directly south, the being's sharply pulsing blue eyes staring through you indifferently while the second orients northwest, and the third northeast.
>That was.. certainly new.

>Hearing the same pair of Tainted shrieking behind you once more, the clatter of mostly physical hooves coming in a heavy, quick pace.
[1d6+7 = 11] <Tainted #1: Charge
[1d6+7 = 10]
[1d6+7 = 8]
[1d6+7 = 12] <Tainted #2: Charge
[1d6+7 = 11]
[1d6+7 = 13]
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276300
276431 276974
>>276024
>Visibly slacking her muscles and deliberately attempting to roll along with your motions, holding the Councilmare in an unfortunately lewd head down, rear up position, her barrel slowly heaves, starting from rear floating ribs towards the shoulders.
>Not catching any of the Golem's further words, the mutant batmare's head turns sideways, disgorging a stream of dark red, partially clotted blood.
>Taking a strangled inhale through both mouth and nostrils, which ironically sounded much worse than Mercy's labored breathing, while it definitely wasn't the optimal choice considering the potential for backwash into her lungs and stomach, at least she wasn't panicking.
>And even better, the single draught was potent enough to restore a helpful amount of energy to her.

>Barely noticing a set of archaic Lunar Mage armor halting in front of the Councilmare, though oddly fit to an earth pony, multiple rings of dull green mathematical symbols blossom in front of her snout for two hoofbeats.
>You could immediately feel the batmare's weight reduced by at least half, that is until she heaves once more.
>This one is followed by several muted retches and at last a free, if agonized, spluttering cough.

>>276060
"While I understand the four sets of urgency related to this situation Commander, I am incapable of calculating which actions a single member of the Starborn would have taken in these specific circumstances. I have however been programmed to accept adverse events and give advice which would give preference to Razorback above all others."
>Turning to face your gaze partway, the Belligerent stops mid-nod to stare at the line of Lunar Vampires following Mercy up the crypt's stairwell.
"That is.. ..I was entirely unaware of such complications and lack of decorum, Commander. It did not occur to me that the Councilmare's intentions were predisposed to protect you, Miss Feathers, and Miss Mercy. I thought her extraordinarily combative attitude was solely indicative of one or more of the following: previous bias, indoctrination, propaganda, or shaded opinion. I apologize for my lack of understanding and will consider this event in a critical manner with Denra's aid."
>Slinging the sack of tools across his left shoulder to a more secure manner, Boris offers a sincerely negative shrug.
"No, he did not. While I understand the basic concept, the specific inclinations, actions, and emotions towards a subjective experience are difficult to ascertain with a greater than fifty percent probability. However Commander, there is a problem: the situation you are describing is nearly the same as the argument I attempted to deescalate and reconcile between Miss Feathers and Miss Mercy before reaching this destination. If the Councilmare's intentions were indeed genuine then she must be commended for taking the initiative to perform a fact finding mission against a previously problematic subset of archaic, barely known ponies. The difference I see is this: the Councilmare chose to arrive here, with significantly traumatic injuries no less, in order to defuse a potential hostage situation, one in which she had no applicable goals or gains to achieve, whereas Miss Mercy was belligerently hostile towards Miss Feathers' statement that certain laws are necessary. I do not feel that my logic is wrong on this account, thus what you have proposed suggests personal escalation rather than a reasonably objective end goal."

>Passing by the silent Lunarites without trouble, Mercy's ears twitch in your direction thankfully, her posture showing both a foul, self-deprecating mood and an equally panicked mindset.
>This state you recognize quickly since she'd offered herself to be herd-second: the Spirit Walker wasn't trying to lead by any means, instead she was doing her best to to escape from any further pressure put on her, with or without consent.
>Reaching the top stair, the blind pegasus releases a quiet, comforted sigh and lifts her head to speak-
>Only for a dark brown Moor cat to land chest first on her snout with a comical 'splat' sound while dozens more streak by, the vast majority diving onto massively overburned Lunarite packs and satchels.
>Pursing her lips once, Mercy tilts her head up to blow a loud and completely unnecessary raspberry into the feline's stomach.
>Returning a drawn out snicker, the catbat's wing batting at her ears, rear legs flailing while giving a sharp meow of faux-warning before leaping off backwards and darting down the stairwell.
"Such silly.. beings."
>Mercy shoots a thoroughly embarrassed smile up and back at you, then continues on towards the second aboveground room's doorway, failing to hide a half-snicker of her own.
"Now I.. understand why Hodch adores.. them."
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.276312
277021
>>276289
>Seeing the stalemate between the Strikers and the Tainted, Clem thinks he can tip the scale within that fight
>Both sides uncoordinated in their structure for the most part
>He is further encouraged when he spots the new guards that the cultists summoned and are guarding
>Before making a move to the Strikers, shrieking and galloping tells Clemency of threats focused on him
>Not taking a chance like last time, he dodges to the side of the two Tainted
<M. Evasion
[1d6+6 = 11]
[1d6+6 = 12]
[1d6+6 = 11]
[1d6+6 = 9]
<Airstream Evade
[1d6+6 = 10]
[1d6+6 = 8]

>Quickly spotting the two Tainted, Clem decides to retaliate and slashes at the closest Tainted to him
<M. Assault
[1d6+7 = 13]
[1d6+7 = 10]
[1d6+7 = 9]
[1d6+7 = 12]
<Airstream Assault
[1d6+7 = 13]
<Ethereal Strike
[1d6+1 = 5]
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
a7292d5
?
No.276431
277311
1466965221878.png
>>276300
>Sunny sighed in relief, the councilmare wasn't in any immediate danger that she could see. Success.
>The moon would get its reinforcements, Razorback wouldn't suffer any serious consequences for almost getting the councilemare killed on Jeff's watch and by Mercy's hooves. All things considered, this was about the best outcome she could have hoped for, if not entirely ideal.
>Turning to answer Jeff, she nodded an affirmative.
"Aye, sir. You and Boris head up top, I'll bring up the rear with the councilmare."
>Her attention back on the worn, wounded and all but crippled baticorn, Sunny gave her one final appraising look to determine if she could even walk under her own power in her condition. Better to ask before simply hauling the mare to her back like a sack of apples.
"Are you able to walk?"
Natilda
!S8UWokkL4Q
f2e081f
?
No.276853
277334
>>276157
"And even if there wasn't I can breathe slowly. Its not like I'm doing much just sitting here and watching... screens."
>Something still pretty foreign to me, if not easy to adapt to.
"That's... possible?"
>Huh. She takes after my mother, apparently.
>I narrow my eyes a bit.
"I will make that ass of yours red one way or another, young lady. Even if it takes more effort than its worth."

>After figuring out the controls for a few moments, I keep the thing in sight and wait.
"That's... not good."
>I grimace and watch.
"They're likely searching for us, from what it looks like. A second one appeared and sent a -lot- of things out."
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276928
277100
>>276031
>Admiral Auspex's Binary chortle rings through the MIU's pathways, which cuts off after several milliseconds and is replaced by simple text:
'Enginseer: city-wide scans completed. Multiple discrepancies have been noted, returning shortly with further data.'

>Taking a half-step backwards and reaching for the holster on his right side, the possibly-a-Commissar slides it open to withdraw a heavily scuffed, medium sized pistol, one that you vaguely recognized as an extinct model dating back to Ancient Terra in the earliest part of the Third Millennium.
>Snapping something in his own language, Sergei's squad immediately move into flanking cross-fire lanes, the young female muttering in a hard tone:
"It too big."
>Making a rather crude comment that earns him several waves of intense harrying from the Tracker twins, Tox-11's almost lazily transmitted data packets give way to a full readout as the visor's systems whine comfortingly.
>Delivering a tiny ping of concern, Tox-11 denotes the interior was far larger than the entire building itself, adding a statement that it was likely a stabilized pocket dimension or, less likely, a gateway linked wormhole directly connected to a distant and highly secret location.

>Aided by the multi-spectrum flashlight beams from behind, the vault's interior becomes a cascade of red hues that sharpen into a profoundly large space taken up by at least twenty rows of square metallic... somethings.
>Filtering through patterns until finding a particularly agreeable view, for him at least, Adronal's efforts are rewarded by your eyes painfully crossing at the illogical and completely useless wavelengths on screen.
>Recovering from the abrupt shift, Tracker's disgruntled suggestion that Tox-11 pay more attention to your obviously human eyes return to some normalcy, only this time the sight of the rows sharpen into being made from stacks of small, perfectly organized safes.
'Hundreds? No, thousands. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands. Tox, are you able t-'
>Tracker's smoothly twinned data packets were dumbfounded, though Adronal's was now sharp and hard.
'yes, calculating now'

>Locating zero movement during the time, the human team, except for the older man, relaxes a fraction yet keeps their weapons held at ready.
"See nothing. Hear nothing. Smell nothing. Not empty, but not full. Odd."
>Lowering the pistol after a handful of seconds, Sergei returns it to the holster with practiced movements, afterwards looking towards the window, and most importantly, a vastly worsened storm outside.
"Only few ponies stay on outskirts sometimes: wanderers, traders. Found small herd on low level before storm. They say should have leave before storm surges. Now see why, but we stay until storm leave."
>Folding his hands into the opposite's sleeve, he leans forwards, peering into the vault with a moderately hesitant tone.
"Contract say abandoned long ago, it say right. This? It.. how you say, 'looting' abandon things not feel right?"

*"Acknowledged. The storm has worsened multiple degrees. Flooding will not occur, the entrance.. is.."*
>Chisan's voice crackles and trails off over the awkward silence the Inquisitor's former? team members were maintaining, then returns with a snort of disbelief.
"There is.a fish. Swimming. Outside. Above the mud. Sluggish movement, possibly stunned. Coloration bright yellow, indeterminate streaks and patterns. Round eyes, high reflectivity. Length: approximately point-three meters. Width: fifteen to twenty centimeters. Small jaw; teeth approximately three millimeters. Tall fin, no visible spines."*

>Carefully spooling datums back from her earlier calculations of the vault door, Admiral Auspex announces, using an encouraging wavelength that 'her' systems had been confused:
'Nothing but interruptions tonight Enginseer, though I have a rather curious selection of data here which may pique your interest. The vault's composition is a melding of both crudely refined titanium combined with a slab of tungsten-bearing granite-like ore. It has the properties of each yet only one form or the other is activated after scans conclude. Calculations show a five to ten millisecond delay before the changeover occurs. At the same time, there is a stabilized non-technological gateway originating from the doorway itself in a precise cube shape. It would be incorrect to call such a portal. Without further data I am unable to identify what form of esoteric methods are being utilized nor verify how this.. gateway functions. I have captured a small amount of data: superficially the vault material is used to contain the intervening space from the destination. The wavelengths correspond with archaic engramatic wards used in historical Equestrian records, yet I am unable to provide a conclusive end location.'
Jeff
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.276974
277311
>>276300
"Boris, sometimes the things somepony does just can't be statistically thought out ahead of time to predict an outcome."
>He shrugs his shoulders, well more his less weighed-down shoulder.
>Listening on to the golem's factoring, Jeff does nod his head but stops half way through to mull over his response a bit.
"No no, you're assumption isn't completely wrong. She very well could have some viewpoints against them, but she did seem relieved once she realized none of us weren't enthralled. If that was because of our personal safety, or that she just didn't have to deal with us as well... I guess we can find out later on."
>While his shoulder companion continues on, Jeff realizes an intense uneasiness coming from Mercy. He caught up with her to co-lead, but it was clear now she just wanted to get away from the Lunarites.
>There was obvious tension bewteen her and them, but the sudden onrush of moorcats flooding the stairwell seemed to lift the fog of awkwardness.
>In the commotion, the most he can do is position himself between his herd-second and the vampires to make himself as a buffer.
>Finally Boris ends his monologue, And the Ranger thinks on his reasoning.
"It's a saying that puts value on what someone does, over what they say. Don't get me wrong, I was fuming they way she talked to us. But now the adrenaline's subsided and we're reflecting on the situation, can we still hold what she said to the same initial impression? If her intentions were for our safety, then she gets a kudos... and maybe an apology. As for her actions taken..."
>Jeff pauses, and pulls out his Moon Orb to show Boris.
"This allows me to talk directly to Luna, whenever I need to. Instead, the Councilmare picked up,; she said something about Luna being incapacitated. If it was her goal to fact-find, she could have done that remotely through me with this without having to leave the Citadel and escalate things. She really didn't give me much time to fully access the situation, before she made a mad dash here. A lighter touch could have been beneficial for her and us, in this case. Us trying to reason her actions are really pointless, until she gives her own testimony."
Razorback Fortress: The Library, Main Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.276985
277059
>>276061
>The bubble helmet emits a tiny interior 'beep', one that you knew wasn't standard.
>Drive firmly locked in, while placing it on the black sapphirine was filled by around forty small text windows, each of which was scrolling at least one hundred lines of code per second.
>Sitting with it's back turned towards you in the center of each, the 'Spiral' A.I.'s multitasking heuristic-analysis mode caused it to be completely oblivious of you.

>Thansimum tosses an all-knowing grin in your direction at the statement, opening her mouth to speak but is cut off by Hodch physically seizing.
>Mane bristling angrily, the purple unicorn's head rolls about to make an aggrieved stare.
"Excuse me General Thansimum, but since we've known each other in the past eleven years thanks to Lorekeeper Amerose's efforts, I do have to ask: were your sexual preferences forcibly modified, like mine were and without permission, or have you simply been a lazy hedonist mare like Kalatrine is? It is my understanding that Princess Cadence has zero tolerance for colt-flingers, so perhaps I should inform her through official channels of your off-duty proclivities and complete refusal to start a herd. At your age, she has the legal right to forcefully herd you with any of the Kingdom's highest rated and ranked stallion combatants."
>The Crystal mare's jaw drops in shock as Hodch's eyes rotate in your direction, his temper deflating to be replaced with, slightly, ashamed humor.
"The entirety of Razorback should know that I was forced to prefer fillies after an unforeseen incident involving one of the weapons currently stored in the Enclave, against my will no less. As for this-"
>Motioning with a forehoof to his neck, Hodch sets it down to give a mostly prideful smile.
"I was informed that a young mare with some knowledge of AstroMeteorology had been rescued from a Planar assault or some such. She was being taken to one of the Starborn Villages, so I thought to recruit her, which went rather successfully. That is, until I tried warn her which specific phrases that Bloodscorch Frenzy, one of the best batpony surgeons and physical rehabilitation specialists in the Villages, would be set off by.. ..she thought it would be funny to prank me by using those exact keywords. Thus, my current lightheaded state and disgraceful appearance."
>Arrogantly flicking his ears and tail sideways, the Nightblade focuses ahead and continues towards to the rear stairwell, speaking aloud carelessly.
"And for your records: I did not enjoy her services, much too rough and I hate being bitten like that."

"Not 'often', human. Try 'always'. If he wasn't beloved by most of the Crystalline Shells and some of Princess Cadence's Unicorn Guard, I'd have buried him years ago."
>Snout scrunching furiously at the Starborn's forward-retreating posterior, Thansimum turns her head with a thoroughly humiliated albeit graciously accepting nod.
"No further questions, I am entirely out of depth on this matter, but I will ensure not to include this topic in my report. Or reports, whichever occur. For now I will try to locate Foggy and carefully assess what she desires most. If you'll excuse me-"
>Swinging to the left and high-trotting quickly towards the Library doors before you could state anything more, the Crystal General's hasty exit finally attracts the A.I.'s attention.

>Turning turning halfway, the false Spiral's eyebrows furrow together in thought, as if considering what it would, or could, say.
>Visibly unable to reach a conclusion, the image shrugs, and clears the various windows into the helmet's corners, disappearing along with them.
Razorback Fortress: The Bulletin Board
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277014
277054
>>276158
>Looking up to give the new Vortex Remnant eyestalk a belatedly thankful face, Naliyna locks eyes with it while it does.. precisely nothing.
>Visibly realizing that it desired or possibly required some form of acceptance, she stifles a sigh and quickly gives it an acknowledging nod.
"Thank you and whomever made this for the warning. I'll make sure to tell everypony and everyone that comes in tonight, but I'll post this-"
>Waving the crystal sheet stuck to her hoof in a circle.
"Right next to me so it's visible. That enough?"
"Compromise accepted. Your consideration and thoughtfulness have been noted."
>Bowing in her direction, the red eyestalk retracts into the translocation circle, leaving her with a morbid tone.
"No.. but you might wanna check in at the Commarend Center place. In the back room there's a big machine thing with screens and lots of buttons. Emerald and Lonestar, at least I think that's their names, they're two of Razorback's originals, can make an announcemarent to every human in radio range. Just tell them that nopony and no one should travel anywhere unless they ask the Vortex Remnant to scout ahead. That way there won't be any surprises."
>Waving you off with less enthusiasm this time, the scar covered mare huffs as she leans off the couch to stand, making a quiet hum to organize the papers in front of her.

>Walking out the north Pagoda entrance, the fortress courtyard had become quite busy in the past five or so minutes.
>The scores of humans mixed with several archaic armored ponies noted before were now spread out across the open space performing a tight grid-pattern search.
>Receiving a few nods and waves along your path, the majority were carefully examining every square centimeter of ground.
>Attention being drawn to where you'd spotted the silver sphere, it was now being subjected to a rather bizarre sight:
>The elderly faded pink unicorn was in the process of gathering remains with the help of two bulky, hazmat suited humans, except the small charred area was now raised in the air several feet and being picked through extensively.

>Encountering numerous humans in stealthy looking armor spread apart, around halfway from the fountain towards the Command Center, they were obviously maintaining aerial watch duties while equipped with an assortment of anti-tank rifles, none of which pay give so much as an indication of your presence.
>Among them was particularly strange looking giant clad in a set of highly advanced knight's armor, possibly even powered, the definitely not human portable rocket, or perhaps missile launcher, made him out to be a living paroxysm.
>Examining a large, dull red floating hologram aimed southwards, the helmet swivels in your direction to give a brief nod, then returns to whatever his duties were.

>Reaching the board itself, it was comfortingly familiar:
>A large, two sided and light tinted wooden sheet protected by a wide canopy, littered with for-sale notices, informational pages, contracts, and dozens of pictures.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277018
277050
>>276179
"Mango schnapps? Bubba, not even Twisted likes that stuff. I tried to give her crate of bottles once and all she did was turn pale, I mean, really pale. There's not much she won't drink which is why I was buying the super cheap stuff just for her. Then again, Bren's stills are making us pretty much self-sufficient alcohol wise. I'm getting off topic, so.. I guess that stuff's either strong, nasty, or both."
>Forehooves lifting and tapping frog-to-frog lightly, Naliyna's expression softens into one of metaphysical contemplation.
"Okay, what you said was kind of correct, but it doesn't feel.. 'right' to me. I'm probably going to regret asking this, so if you don't want to answer then you don't have to, so here goes: why was Sweet drinking? I know that Twisted gets drunk so she can think str-"
>Cutting herself off, the eldest Remostrine daughter's face slackens into a horrified 'oh, shit' expression.
>Without blinking her head slowly bends forwards to stare at the exact center of her table, speaking in a small, monotone voice.
"I get it now. That's why Twisted's always drunk and her friend in Canterlot keeps buying bales of mareijuana through Tipper and me. When they want to be clear headed, they have to drink or use stuff to bring their minds back to some kind of normal for them. They've gotta do everything opposite or else they start degenerating like I did... but a lot worse. Nopony's going to mock Enchained for being embarrassed, so why don't they ever say anything?"
>Picking her head up again, the fuchsia mare's eyes shut, forehooves lifting to rub her temples.
"I dunno what to do. Can't tell Shanis, probably won't help if I try talking to Sweet, Twisted's on the Moon, her friend won't even try to come here, and now there's a bunch of stupid events going on all over Equestria that's making my head hurt."
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277021
277192
>>276312
>Tensely catch the sight of further Strikers thrown back from their rapidly collapsing defensive circle, the Tower General looses an enraged shriek in the modern earth pony language.
>Which was, in a bitterly amusing marener, simultaneously the loudest AND sharpest neigh you'd ever heard.
[1d6+3 = 5] <Tainted
[1d6+2 = 7] <Support Strikers
[1d6+4 = 8] <Tower Guard General ???

>Clearing the pair of earth pony Tainted in a sidelong sweeping motion, the second's extended hooves burst through your weapon hand, leaving an agonized, hollow sensation ringing across your mind.
>Clemency: 5/26 S.HP
>Turning the Executioner's Blade overhand and crashing it into the rear of the second's skull, the earth pony's head breaks apart into a choking gout of pink-tinged vapor, the main body collapsing chest first though obviously not destroyed.
>The first performs the same mareneuver several of those on the train did: reforming itself in a perfect 180 to face you, it lashes forwards with a series of jagged, eerily familiar pegasi styled blades from what was, a split second previously, the forelegs.
[1d6+7 = 11] <Counter
[1d6+7 = 8] <Reaction Speed
[1d6+7 = 9]
[1d6+7 = 13]
[1d6+11 = 16] <Amorphous Mass: Wingblade Utility
[1d6+11 = 16]
[1d6+11 = 14]

"This.. is.. the.. greatest.. night.. EVER! Not even five honey mangoes and the best rutting I can remember rivals this!"
>The clear, painfully intelligible voice of an incredibly enthusiastic batpony mare rings throughout Basin Village, taking on an eager tone that, even through your deadening physical senses, tasted of raw, vitriolic blood.
"Hay, human! Do me a favor and not die! Now if you all don't mind I'm gonna go a bit wild, and I really suggest moving outta my way!"

>Less realizing and more experiencing the lethal danger facing your existence, a tiny, never before utilized thread of humanity snaps:
Clemency: Last Stand Protocol... initiated.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
a6c9ce5
?
No.277050
277485
>>277018
"Hey, I happen to like it!"
>he felt offense over that. If just a little.
"That's what I ended up telling her when I figured it out. She needs to be drunk to be sane, as much as she hates the bottle."
>He shrugs a bit.
>One of his COs was exactly the same, minus the whole 'enchained horse' bit.
"Pride could be an answer. Or fear. Sweet feels ashamed over what she's been forced to do, and probably thinks this would be another way to bite her deeper."
>He hmm'd to himself.
"I'd be alright with keeping an eye on the lass. When she's stable she doesn't try to molest or eat my gear."
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
6b7eb80
?
No.277054
277487
>>277014
>Seeing the probably recurrent interaction between the fuschia mare and the eyestalk makes the human spectator blink once or twice, moving his gaze periodically between the two.
(W might be more of a machine than I expected...)

>With Nalinya's indirect request deeply seated in Jose's mind, he trudges on, always giving back the ones who acknowledge him a nod of his own.
(I might be careful not to bother them on their work on potentially finding this avian threat.)
>Seeing Tipper do her own search on the venom ball incident muddle his first impressions the slightest bit, with the small tilt of his head as he passed by
(Maybe the Constructs are still a danger even after their destruction? That or they're going to research the residue.)

>Witnessing the amount of aerial defense posted not soon after slightly reinforces Gallo's previous idea
>Yet, he felt one thing was for certain as he quickly nodded back to the walking metal anti-air unit
(This world seems far more dangerous than I could've envisioned from first impressions. ¿Por qué habrá tanta hostilidad?)

>With that mental weight on his head, the First Hoof quickly skims for the items needed to hang the two letters he's received from the papermare before hanging them on the board next to eachother.
>Hands freed and the briefest of glances at the many things in the board's display, the human simply walked on towards the Commarend Center to do the second part of his rather simple yet important duty, brow furrowing softly, words straining to leave his mouth in a hushed manner.
"Comm... Commarrend... No, that isn't right. Com-mare-end. Commarrend."
>He'd practice on the phonetically different yet semantically equal word from his previous world until he reached the site in question.
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.277059
277492
>>276985
>Pareidolia looks over the various windows with some concern as clearly developments had progressed.

[Is functionality retained? Overall objective still actionable?]

>As they disappear and the A.I. withdraws, he heads out of the Library and towards the Command Bunker.

"Run full systems diagnostic. Confirm memory bank integrity and operational functionality."

>He checks any onscreen readouts and confirms their status.

"Current objective: Debrief Emerald, Lonestar, and relevant command staff of Construct incident and Spiral's possible location."

>There is a slight pause of hesitation.

"Has the corruption been removed? What did the InterPony do?"
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
36d55b2
?
No.277100
277497
>>276928
>It took less than a second for Mallia to snap a glance towards the Sergei's pistol. The Enginseer had to curb a wave of enthusiastic curiosity as she resisted the urge to examine it immediately.
(Holy Omnissiah! I cannot wait to inspect all these extinct weapon models... It would give me great insight on our ancient history!)

>Quickly pushing her mind's away from the subject, she refocuses quickly on the interior of the vault she was peering towards.
>Her curiosity is quickly replaced with a deep seated discomfort and concern for Tox-11's tone in the way he engaged the visor. She felt as if she had offended, that perhaps the way she asked him for help translated into a demand instead of a polite request.
>Mallia resists the urge to apologize profusely.
>Then takes note of his Ping, likewise acknowledging it with an unconscious nod of her head as her weapon-hand kept her hot-shot laspistol pointed outward into the vault defensively, slowly and thoroughly scanning the room with her gaze...
"I am elaborating on what exactly this is with my machine-companions. Give me a moment."
>She remarked in Sergei and Raindrop's direction as she remained near them. Her visor glowing with a barely visible red hue when looked at closely.
>Especially when Adronal decides to hurt her eyes like that.

>The Enginseer's feelings of guilt are intensified for a split-second, until the responses by Tracker put her somewhat more at ease. Knowing that Tox-11 was simply assuming her eyes weren't inefficiently organic.
>Still, Mallia said nothing and did her best to not apologize despite her Enginseer insticts making her feel like she should.

>Refocusing her eyes after that very minor hitch, Mallia fully takes in the rows upon rows of safes, and the sheer unnatural size of the vault itself. As her weapon-arm lowers to point her laspistol downward while her shifts lowers slightly to cover less of her chest, but without fully lowering or holstering her weapon, unlike Sergei who does so.
>Stealing a glance towards the window to look outside briefly as Sergei speaks, then hastily returned her glance to the vault. Not trusting anything about it quite yet.

"At least it's not acid rain. Much prettier to look at from indoors than back where I'm from."
>Mallia replied to Sergei with some lowkey optimistically playful tone in acknowledgement.
>Then side glanced them one more time at the mention of the word 'looting'.
"I doubt anyone still cares about this place... I would call this a recovery effort moreso than looting. And I am veeerrryyy curious about what's inside those safes..."
>Her confident tone she speaks to Sergei almost makes her smirk audible, especially as she takes a step closer to the threshold into the vault--without crossing it, and peers at the safes from a distance with Tox-11's help still aiding her vision.

>Then her helmeted head would turn slightly to look over her shoulder as she hears Chisan's words.
>She listened silently. And the description of the fish he describes her tugs her left brow up slightly, putting a hand to the side of her helmet as she softly speaks in reply.
"*Previous Auspex scans indicated that there were fish swimming inside self-contained aerial biomes inside of the clouds. Huh. Must've rained down here, maybe?*"
>As she speaks, she shifts some of her attention to query her memories to see if she somehow recognize a similar fish. And if it was somehow here, and also dangerous.
>She doubted it. But still.
"*It sounds cute. I'd attempt to preserve, if it were conveniently close-by.*"

>She then shifts her attention forward again with a slow motion of her head as Admiral Auspex starts her report. Smiling weakly in understanding to her opening remark.
(That IS very interesting... We may have to deep-scan it further, perhaps from the other side. Already this is a trove of very good data just by looking at it. Thank you, Witch-Two! This is very good.)
(Could you forward the City-Wide scan to my Micro-cogitator? I'd like to examine them as I go, I want to know what discrepancies you've discovered.)

"According to my scans this Vault door is a stabilized form of Gateway, projected from the doorway itself... However, we cannot understand how it functions, or the precise typing. The vault's superficial material is apparently being used to contain the space from the destination. And the composition of the material also is working in a strange, peculiar way."

"... And we also can't find exactly where it leads geographically until we go inside. And I am also not sure if it could close behind us once we cross it, though that is more a personal observation."

>Mallia's head cranes slightly to look upward towards the exposed back of the Vault door, and the inbetween part that was previously covered by the vault's frame, tilting her head to inspect the lock that it might've had, and then peering up at the frame itself to see if she spots any runic symbols, or other interesting pieces of information just by looking at it from this side.
[1d6+4 = 5] <B. Perception + BQ. Preysense visor
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 2] <E. Engineering
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 5]

>Visibly, Mallia's mechadendrite fully coils over her back's mid-section to shield it behind herself; folded in on itself at her waist.
>Then she sighs, taking a step back and finally holstering her laspistol momentarily. Looking back to Sergei and Raindrop.

"I'm sorry if it all sounds very confusing. I am not detecting any overt dangers yet. But... I would..."
>She turned slightly more fully towards Sergei as her voice trails of.
"I would feel better if you allowed me and perhaps Raindrop go first, while you and the rest covered us from outside for at least the first minute."
>She then turned to Raindrop herself. Reaching a hand to lightly, amicably pat the Knight's backplate once.
"What do you say, Miss Raindrop? Have any information about magical gateways leading into pocket dimensions maybe, before we go in and gallantly enter a spooky vault for it's lost treasures?"
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.277192
277560
>>277021
>Clemency winces at the shrill neigh of the Tower General as she tries to regain control of her line
>He had cleared the two Tainted, but one of them just had to extend and graze Clemency
>It was enough to send the familiar hollow shock down his weapon arm again
>He grips his weapon tightly to cope with the pain as he counter attacks
>When the attack struck, Clem sees that the Tainted is still maintaining its form
>The dire circumstances of the situation starts to become clear for Clemency
>If it was like the first Tainted, then these two would need a couple strikes to dispel and he was feeling more empty
>These two would be enough to overwhelm him
>For a steely second, Clemency is reminded of this feeling of self-preservation
>A deep concentration he only experienced when he saw the rail guns of Stonehenge poke out from above the horizon
>His awareness snapped back when he heard the cultist's rapturous exclamations
>Seems like she's going to take part in this fight other than the summoning
>Or she's going to experience even more of her rapture
>Either way, Clem is going to heed her and needs to gain some distance from these two
>He also notices this same maneuver that the Tainted is doing
>Pulling out a frag grenade, he immediately pulls the pin and arms it
>He drops the grenade at his feet and then spring loads his legs with that unnatural energy from that one night
>He leaps and soars through the air, across the field but maintaining a line of sight on his two assailants
<M. Assault
[1d6+9 = 14]
[1d6+9 = 12]
[1d6+9 = 13]
[1d6+9 = 11]
[1d6+9 = 13]
<Airstream Assault
[1d6+9 = 13]
<Third Lancer
[1d6+12 = 13]

>Landing away from the two, Clemency sheathes his blade and unslings his shotgun
>He starts to pepper the the two Tainted with shells, assuming the gun was loaded with his slugs first

<E. Combat Rifles/Shotguns
[1d6+4 = 10]
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 9]
Razorback Clinic: Doctor Carlos, Receiving in Operating Room #1
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277302
277714
>>208462
"Si, Doctor."
>As expected, the third Starborn unicorn botches her pronunciation entirely, turning the quarter-second one syllable word into a harshly rolling two second anomaly.
"I will send a letter to the Changeling Hive requesting a crate of their famous jelly. It is both easy to consume and will provide all necessary nutrients. Well, vegetarian nutrients that is. I must also suggest immediate deploymarent to prevent the setting-in of injuries and to, hopefully, stimulate recuperation via physical activity."

>Analyzing the youthful human for the short period allotted, Doctor Carlos finds his condition somehwere in the vagaries between that nanometer fine line between walking-dead and excellent recuperation potential.
>But only a potential, he was quickly reminded based on the painfully accurate knowledge shared minutes before.

"That is not a compromise we should consider given the nature of damage to this human, however, our orders are absolute. We accept this difficult position, but only until it is possible for us to return, hopefully with a full team and perhaps Eleyana to supervise us better."
>The lead mare's words were slow, vocally and visibly distressed at the consequences she was incapable of avoiding.
>Orders, at least for ponies, were absolute, that much Carlos knew.

>Having given themselves enough time for their overactive energetics in cooling down to a normal state, all five mares nod individually, not in unison this time, their leader snorting in disgust before speaking.
"We shall be careful, and quick. Lend your thoughts to mine, let no hesitation or motives beyond aiding this human draw your focus elsewhere."

>Wiping down Snakebite's unusually resilient skin, then selecting the sharpest possible transparent purple scalpel from the impressive collection, the blade's straining touch results in an appearance similar to cutting open an overripe tomato.
>The same results as before occur, except thankfully lesser this time: the whitish, heavy fluid composed of quickly settling and unabsorbed bodily fats barely impeded Carlos' progress nor his painstakingly solid motions.
>Immediately followed by the suction pump system draining off excess, the human Doctor begins to mentally note a previously unseen level of light yellow serous fluid.
>Barely able to keep up with the incisions due to drainage characteristics, the assigned mare, even though completely still and otherwise unoccupied, was covered in a thin sheen of vaguely fluorescent lather.
>Ignoring the Starborn's physical distress purely as a sign of concern, upon setting the numerous flesh retractors necessary, the last pair of quartzine cubes lift into place above each forearm's incisions.
>Quickly breaking down under sheer pressure before flowing through tendon-sheathed flesh, the remaining bands of kanpri are carefully wedged through muscle group, straightening, fastening, and worst of all: securing the humerus, ulna, and radius in wholly unnatural stomach-twisting motions.
[1d6+4 = 9] <M.Casting: Metalchemical Infusion
[1d6+4 = 5]
[1d6+4 = 10]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 6] <M.Casting: Metalchemical Infusion
[1d6+4 = 9]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 5]
[1d6+5 = 10] <M.Casting: Metalchemical Infusion
[1d6+5 = 7]
[1d6+5 = 9]
[1d6+5 = 8]
[1d6+6 = 9] <M.Casting: Metalchemical Infusion
[1d6+6 = 8]
[1d6+6 = 10]
[1d6+6 = 9]

>Observing the process, for once up close and on an actual, though critically injured patient, Carlos is snapped out of his thoughts by the five Starborn landing on solid tile, their their saddlepacks already tossed on and cinched tightly.
>Wordlessly the quartet file out of the operating room swiftly while the lead mare's head swings about to gaze upwards at Snakebite's uncovered, burnt feet, then rises to meet Carlos' gaze with grim finality.
"As ever: 'time is always short, run when you are strong', so says old Dusk Strider saying. Though my actions may be frowned upon I will pray to Princess Luna for secure recovery upon one of her young protectorates. I beg you to ensure his care until we are allowed to return."
>Bowing her head a second longer than necessary, the lead mare swivels about in distinct military style, then quickly high-trots through the operating room's door.

>Left alone with a host of wound absorbent, suture, and bandage packets, numerous empty alchemical bottles, and the still humming fluid-vacuum machine, Carlos finds himself wondering precisely what he'd been roped into by the old Honor Guard's offer.
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277311
277394 277708
>>276431
>Watching, and hearing, a second heave from lungs to nostrils, two streams of thick red blood disgorge from the Councilmare's nostrils, less drawn out this time.
>Either ignoring your question or simply lacking the surety to answer, the rings of archaic earth pony runes pulse around her, as the horned batmare slowly fumbles to wipe her snout off with both hooves.
>Taking a deep inhale, ears flattening tightly on her skull atop the stained, drying bandages, she gives a painfully overworked deep chest rumble before squeaking out in a bizarrely triumphant tone.
"Barely. Guide and lift, will.. stagger, alongside."
>Lifting her wings, which you notice were rather heavily muscled in comparison to most batponies, the unibat's legs slide underneath her in preparation to stand with assistance.

>>276974
"Probabilities are a constant danger and a necessity of calculation, Commander. It is required for me to understand the varied sources of sapience I have encountered, and will continue to encounter."
>Trying his best to sound both grateful and neutral, Boris once again fails, erring on the side of equinity.
"My words were still wrong, sir. I lacked the knowledge of how to ascertain tones and body language between competing, non-intersectionary ideologies. The same occurred during the previous vocal scuffle between Miss Mercy and Miss Feathers. As I understand the Councilmare's efforts were, as Miss Mercy's, openly genuine attempts to defend their positions from limited understandings, ones which I must stress are difficult to predict a final analysis on."

>Making quick motions of common pegasi-batpony styled body language to show she knew her actions weren't being ignored, only that her responses were unnecessary, Mercy continues on into the crypt's second, supposed ritual chamber.
>Unnoticed to the Lunarites behind you was an extended, broad wing shake of contentmarent, and a split-second snap of her tail sideways which left her tightly muscled posterior fully exposed.
>That was definitely a signal.. of some type.

"No, I cannot reasonably nor logically assume as much, Commander. However, I feel that a direct inquest into her actions would be poor form."
>Inscrutably gazing at the Spirit Walker's advance, now into the first chamber's center and nearly high-stepping with excitemarent, the small Golem's lidless eyes swivel in your direction once more.
"Denra ha shown and operated numerous artifacts which allow direct communication with the four Alicorns, though not Empress Silver. It is now within my understanding that even should the Councilmare's actions have been volatile in order to provoke aggression for the purpose of research, such logic is clear. I can neither fault her methods nor actions. According to my new theory there were far greater dangers in not rushing to this scene of a potential hostage situation, that is if her fears on this Lunar Collective are well-founded, which I fully believe they are in specific cases. For now Commander, I will consider all of this new information in a critical manner. I will be incapable of responding due to the artificial information processing constraints imposed on me."
>The little Golem's sapphire eyes dim until finally reaching a point of appearing like black glass.

>Passing into the now pleasantly Moors scented foyer, Mercy's tail could be seen flicking side to side only to vanish into the thick, post-Midneight Moors mist.
>The sounds of numerous earth ponies in discussion, several of whom you recognized from before, directly outside the door drew your attention:
"-ould we be leaving?"
"No, still have a few slabs to lay down towards the next location. After that we can return for more."
"I do not agree. We should raise this crypt another two to four hooves and settle it thoroughly with a ring of sealed volcanic stone so that it does not sink into the bogs again."
"This isn't up for debate unless you want Shanis to eat your hooves."
"She won't. At least, not tonight.."
"Not one of the however marely locations we've raised will 'sink' again for at minimum a century, and we're scheduled to make yearly trips across the roads we've lain."
Lost in the Crag Moors: A Bigger Problem Than The Last One
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277334
277408
>>276853
"invalid option. I am unable to monitor external video feeds therefore I require your assistance."
>Spoken from the cabin's speakers, Wild's monotone was entirely disinterested as she continues excavation efforts.
>Pulling a series of iron or possibly steel rings from the sand, while carefully shaking off the excess and reaching up to store them above you, the caricature peeks in, upside down of course from the left screen's center, the single eye scrunched in cartoonish anger.
"Go ahead and try, mom. I'll ban you from consuming equine fluids instead of warning you against preforming such forms of contact."
>That didn't feel like much of a threat since she probably wouldn't be able to squat, kneel, sit down, or even bend over without shattering SOMEthing important within her frame.

>Hearing the 'annoyed' beep, the cabin's left screen was blotted out once more by miscalculated steel slats being welded to her arm, causing large gouts of ocean steam to bubble upwards.
"Multiple errors detected: significant difficulties occurring. Analyzing secondary approaches of underwater welding. Explain what exactly is 'not good', mom."
>Keeping the Construct troop transports focused and in range on screen, the first one's hatches open as the second's close, releasing, from what you could tell, an equal swarm of bright orange spheres.
>These ones immediately form a rotating defensive sphere around their mothership, and with painful slowness, begins to orient in Wild's direction.
>Or, more precisely, at the path she'd taken on shore.
[1d6+8 = 11] <???
[1d6+5 = 8] <???
[1d6+4 = 5] <???

>A heavy electronic sigh rattles the entire cabin momentarily, Wild's armored hands carefully digging into subsuface sand on the opposite screen.
"I lack the relevant knowledge of Construct behavioral patterns to analyze their actions and tactics, or at minimum ascertain their goals. If they are performing a search then it is likely they will find my course to this location, especially as I was incapable of hiding my tracks. Mom, are you aware of any relevant diversionary tactics or devices which could distract Constructs, preferably at long range?"
[1d6+4 = 5] <Arcanum Sensors Array: Research
[1d6+4 = 10] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #8
[1d6 = 4] <Improved Scavenging Protocols
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
a7292d5
?
No.277394
277846
1468858578316.jpg
>>277311
>Sunny tossed her head a little at the seemingly reckless attitude displayed by the councilmare, but complied and took up a position by the bat mare's prosthetic leg so that less weight would be placed on it and more on her good legs.
>With a little guidance, and some exertion, the pegasus hauled the crippled Lunar to her hooves with one of her bat wings settled over her back for support and set off out of the tomb at the fastest pace she felt the half dead pony could cope with.
>She spoke of nothing the entire way out of the tomb, whatever reasoning there was to be made by any party involved no longer mattered, only the outcome that had been reached.
>Inconspicuously as possible, she maintained a relative position behind the others, and away from Mercy. Only now did she truly realise exactly how unstable the spiritist was. Her combat abilities only made her emotional instability more dangerous. Taking herdmates on operations was a bad idea in even the best of circumstances.
>Sunny put it aside and wondered how this was going to work, obviously Jeff would be driving the vehicle, but she was quite certain it wouldn't take a whole platoon of Lunars and the vehicle was rather fast, too fast to keep up with in formation.
Natilda
!S8UWokkL4Q
f2e081f
?
No.277408
277575
>>277334
"You will do no such thing, young lady."
>She wouldn't be able to enter any of the buildings without pissing anyone off, so I was more confident.

"They're sending out a lot of these things."
>Grimacing as I watch them spread around, shbifting in the chair.

"That makes two of us..."
>I mutter as I rub my face.
"The only thing I could think of would be rockets, or continuing our evasion. I don't have a clue on how to deal with these things."
>I frown.
"We're in trouble and I hate that I can't do anything about it. I was trained to put holes in helmets, not deal with whatever the fuck a Construct is supposed to be."
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277485
277517
>>277050
>Making a thoroughly disgusted face at your admission, Naliyna sighs gratingly.
"That stuff's gross.. but I get it, everypony and everyone seem to have something they like that's horrible to most."
>Eyes swiveling upwards to stare at the ceiling, she remains still for in severe thought.
"The word 'stable' and the name 'Sweet Dreams' probably shouldn't mix but it's apparently way too late for that. I've got to say that I don't like more complications, Bubba. The stuff I can remember about her past from Shanis is.. bad. Very bad, really. Most ponies don't simply fear her, they think of Sweet as some kind of mixed Eldritch and pegasus abomination that can't be hurt, killed, or stopped. In that order, I have to add. She can regenerate faster than she can be hurt in most cases, can't die normally, and, probably like Twisted, has no fear of anything except losing her friends or family-"
>For the first time you could recall, Naliyna seemed to be in full commarend of her senses and intellect, which made her quick motions digging through the stack of application letters thoroughly bizarre.
"Which gives me an idea. Admittedly it's not the best one I've had in my life, but after the crazy shit that's happened tonight I'm starting to feel like the few risks I've taken lately are super tiny in comparison. Let me say this up front first: there's about forty humans that've been scattered around Tallus in the past couple years and it's taken them months to get enough news for them to know Razorback even exists."
>Lifting a copper-trimmed page and presenting it to show several paragraphs of excellent.. something or other writing, she holds it up with a bitter expression.
"I kept losing their letters in all the stuff that Spiral left behind, but now I've found them again thanks to Pear.. or Pare, whatever his name is. If all of them are being really honest they're desperate to 'join up'. So, my question is this: if I accept them, though I'll have to call Hodch or Denra out to gently interrogate them, what would you think about letting another human take care of Sweet for a while? This one-"
>Gently waving the page before setting it down, her eyes lifting to squint cautiously.
"Is from a human mare, whatever you call that, that's been in and out of Fillydelphia for a couple months. Some different scenery, a lack of threats, and a new friend could help Sweet big time, maybe even get her truly stable. What do you think?"
Razorback Fortress: The Bulletin Board
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277487
277524
>>277054
>Turning from the board to the camouflaged steel building close to it, a strange, probably defensive structure in front of the north entrance to it calls your attention:
>A large, possibly wooden cylinder roughly 4M tall, painted in the same patterns that the entire Fortress was, a set of squat, heavy legs, and topped by a heavily reinforced quarter-circle dome was in position.
>The barrels of three anti-material, or larger, rifles could be seen glinting in the dull red moonlight, as did a trio of inordinately heavy tactical full helmets, post-modern variants that had the distinct military curvature of Level IV Bomb Suits.
>Or possibly better.
>Passing by it, no attention was given to you by the three, their focus aimed skywards though you did overhead a snippet of conversation from a vaguely EurAsian man snarling something about 'these orange fucks again, ought to play their own tactics against them', the rest indistinguishable from his harsh tone.

>Easily finding the Command Center's door due to a bright steel plaque riveted into the exterior and a small, glowing red arrow pointing left, it wasn't locked.
>Opening the heavily reinforced door, it nonetheless swings open easily to show a highly dimmed room, one large table in the center and utterly covered in maps, although there were a pair of high pitched snores coming from the center somewhere.
>Towards the southeast of the map room, multiple red lights illuminate a large, open doorway.
>Part of a large communications system, or perhaps an entire command module, the multiple screens and glowing buttons unmistakable.
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277492
277550
>>277059
>A screen in the lower right corner shows the 'Spiral' A.I. lifting a hoof, multiple windows popping into the corners, each in 75% transparency mode with a red backlit system to ensure night vision.
>Eyeing the readout's non-standard pattern, certainly one of Anon's changes, dozens of small progress bars appear in sync, ranging from memory allocation to encryption, hard drive functionality, software stability, among other systems that you had no previous knowledge of.
>The A.I. returns to it's own work on a readout with inscrutably small numbersthough you notice the shoulders slumping.

>Exiting the Library, you immediately note some of Bren's uniquely hardened, defensive constructions, 'P.U.P.S.' she called them, emplaced throughout the fortress in deliberately anti-air positions.
>The two immediately astride of the Library's path were brand new considering flickers of light reflecting off wet paint, though three rifle barrels atop the west dome, then two anti-material and one cannon classed barrel were in stable firing positions atop the east.
>Though you'd seen, been inside, and tested several before, Bren had only deployed one earlier tonight for Kraut's team, making the question of which human or pony had forced Razorback into maximum alert status since you'd been out rather unusual.

>Continuing on the main path towards the Fountain, the progress bars reach final status before displaying optimal attributes for each system.
>Following up with a series of logged and corrected errors, all of which were related to cognitive functions, the A.I.'s window shuts down as the render itself enlarging to become visible without straining your eyes.
"Complete removal of the Construct's biomechanical nanometer sized nanite corruption tactic was achieved, as was a complete restoration of my operating system, all inactive ponial engrams, and hard drive data as well."
>A bulletin point list is made above the caricature speaking in monotone, standing up and turning about to face you, then making a difficult to read frown.
"I don't know, sir. Current-based transmissions, direct soft-logic wavelengths, even digital coding languages were useless. We couldn't speak to each other and I was unable to record a damned thing. I don't have enough data to hypothesize what an InterPony even is. Regardless, when my logic cycles were restored enough to, erm, 'see' her, the only measure of communication I did have was pantomiming actions. Through the entire helmet itself, which may have been a highly precise crystalline resonance cascade. At the time she, and that was definitively a mare, was approximately ninety-five percent occupied in destroying the Construct nanites. At least, I think they were nanites, but I have zero information on this. From what I was able to register this 'corruption' is a partially-physical marenifestation, damn it I hate these equine puns, of their trinary coding language. They're luminal, sir."
>The A.I.'s face tightens, ears flattening on it's skull in visible yet controlled fear.
"Rather, to be more specific and in line with my blasted programming: Constructs are based on fucking ninth or higher dimarensional luminal physics, which means I am fully incapable of resisting it again."

>Occupied by the A.I., it took a few seconds to realize you'd reach the Command Center's already open door, which the automatic motion of your hand misses.
>As expected, dozens of red glowstones embedded in the ceiling constantly streamed their shine downwards onto a single, short female fitfully scribbling on the giant central table's map.
>Judging by the size and lack of armor, it was Emerald, though in a rare state of exhausted panic.
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277497
277562
>>277100
>Cutting out Tox-11's attempted response, Witch-Two delivers a still image packet: the same female human with arms folded, left foot with squiggly lines above to make it look as if it had been tapping, and a smiling, albeit hard to distinguish face.
'Then you must see the pre-bolter chemical-propelled weapons in Razorback, some of which they have recently come into possession of. One rifle I briefly scanned is capable of killing a human target in good quality Carapace Armor at a range of four-point-six kilometers without any electronics and no Machine Spirit. There is also a heavy revolver which fires a 0.45 caliber/11.43 millimeter slug weighing 300 grains/19.4 grams at approximately 2,300 feet per second/701 meters per second. Yes, Enginseer, a standard production model revolver from early M3 which makes the .54 Trantor look weak. Our ancestors were geniuses. I will not order you to be calm, however, I will state that we complete our tasks before studying Pre-Techno Barbarian technology. That is, if time allows, and no, Tox, you are not going to tell her about the explosives. Yet, at least.'

>Having not spoken, or even moved, Raindrop's eyes were carefully inspecting the gateway starting from lowest to highest points while maintaining her defensive stance.
>Which, admittedly, looked tiring considering how heavy and thick those steel wing-spanning blades mounted on her had to be.
>Meanwhile, Sergei's expression was a mixture of caution and deep interest as he squints into the vault, obviously trusting his squad to cover himself, you, and Raindrop.
"Hurry not. Time we have in plenty."

>Sending a very loud ping through the MIU, Tox-11's data stream even felt aggravated.
'stop worrying enginseer. fault not caused by you, was calibrating wavelengths for accurate dimension calculations re: number of safes contained'
>Immediately becoming to dour once more, the next transmission is sent in amused patterns.
'did not know you had human eyes, apologies. re: estimated number of safes given five most common standard patterns used by equines during interwar period: 6,950 to 9,200. transdimensional storage. incapable of analyzing further'

>Had the furious, nearly black rain outside been anything like the average Mars weather, you note it would've taken less than a month to eat through the window,
>Nodding slightly before stopping cold, Sergei's head turns slowly to lay a thoroughly disbelieving, and equally horrified, expression upon you.
"How even.. no, not want know how rain be acid, too. Seen many bad things, strange things here, but that? No want, never."
>Unable to suppress a shiver, the elderly man glances down to the Knight, then back into the vault once more as his tone reaches full curious level.
"Agree, thanks to you. Felt like looter before, now, not feel like looter. More like researcher, yes? Feel same, but why ponies not return? Hard to think all ponies know combination gone, lost, died, move away. Not know of big war in 29,400's, little trouble then."

>Registering the long, OCD ordered lines of safes, the visor's display of red wavelengths indicated a variety of colors:
>Most, so far as Tox-11's current bandwidths allowed you to differentiate, white with pink trim, pink with white trim, completely white, or blue with varying trim.
>More curious were the largest few in sight that seemed to be nobility and royalty patterns: silver with gold trim, gold with platinum trim, and solid platinum with white trim, each of which was studded with a large gen on the top, rear, sides, and face.
>The sheer number was problematic, yet the simple value of the larger safes alone was staggering.

*"..known phenomena. Inquisitor called them 'wild clouds', stated to avoid direct contact without backup, preferably a, quote, 'full squad of armored pegasi'. They are not mere biomes, each is an extensive and full ecosystem. Raindrop explored a wild cloud solo when she was younger, discovering a previously unknown raspberry. That is how her Cutie Mark appeared."*
>As to be expected the Scion neither sighs nor objects, but still sounded a bit incredulous, and suspicious.
*"Acceptable terms, Enginseer. Attempting extraction and acquisition, should not take long."*
>Spooling through the Administratum Mechanicus' list of known piscines from Paradise Worlds to Death Worlds, the description generally matched two:
>The first was called 'bass', second 'salmon', and third 'perch', ancient, carnivorous, highly diverse speciations inhabiting large inland lakes, rivers, and oceans; only the largest specimens were barely able to harm humans from a bite or their spines.
>However, significant trauma often occured while catching a giant individual, which could take up to two hours.
>The next forty sets of data were various excerpts of particularly aggressive and tasty piscines, most of which had gone extinct long before the Great Crusade.
>None of the Death World examples, thankfully, noted anything similar.

>Delivering an ASCII image of her digital 'self' shrugging, the Admiral's data packets felt annoyed.
'Those were the discrepancies, except one that has.. disappeared. The equine Adronal detected underneath this building is no longer registering. No matter. Now, I advise tying a rope to the Auspex unit and tossing it inside. Do not be concerned about damage. Once inside, initiate the temporal scanning module. We will be able to determine more then.'

>Peering towards at the vault's ceiling, then down to where pieces of the dial's rear unit were now, Raspberry's head tilts briefly.
>Nodding to herself, the chosen plate shifts as she turns upwards to grin.
"I do, and I recognize this vault type. There's probably five hundred of these in Rushya, that's where the slabs come from. We need to toss a few things at the gateway itself, see how stable it is. If it distorts, bad news. If not and nothing happens, then it ought to be safe. I could also return to Razorback and check if one of the master unicorns are about, they ought to know more than I do."
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.277517
277583
>>277485
>"And your taste in liquor is probably gross." Bubba thought to himself, crossing his arms.
"You and me both. If it wasn't for the fact that Sweet is.. well, erratic would be putting it quite lightly, I wouldn't be trying to help her like this."
>He ruffled his coat lightly.
"And she basically is, Naliyna. She may not be eldritch in nature, but she sure as shit was turned into a 'monster', even if she isn't one mentally."
>Bubba watches her work for a moment, raising an eyebrow.
>"She's fucking drunk too isn't she."
"Yeah, you and me both."
>He shrugged.
"I'd be able to see why. Scattered to fuck knows, just making sure they're alive isn't an easy feat."
>Bubba leaned forward a bit to glance it over, frowning.
"Pare. Haven't interacted with him much, but I do know that."
>"He's the type to get offended by being called a pear, I bet."
"Woman. And yeah, I'll help out by being a courier. I've already done it once today, so a bit more couldn't hurt."
>Bubba rubbed his forehead.
"So, all I'll need to do is convince her to come to Razorback? Sounds simple."
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.277524
277589
>>277487
>Cheto's back feels the lingering chills coursing through his spine at witnessing the further defensive measures Razorback had, tentatively licking his teeth at the sight.
>Hearing the Eurasian man talk about the 'orange fucks' once more only serve to spread his chill to his skin, subtly scratching one arm with the opposite hand
(It... it can't be that bad. The whole planet hasn't even joined forces to combat those things yet...)
>His mind wanders to all the assortment of ponies and humans he's witnessed so far, only serving to unnerve him further.
(...perhaps that process is starting...)

>Blinking a couple of times to snap back into the real world he inhabits, José can't help but smirk at the admittedly flashy directions posted.
>As he enters the room, the human reminds himself once more where he was supposed to go from Nalinya's account as he lets out a small sigh to calm himself.
(Back room, big machine, lots of buttons. Find Emerald and Lonestar. Tell them to broadcast travel warnings and to ask the Vortex Remnant to scout ahead if they still want to travel.)
>He skidded to a halt at the edge of the open doorway, wondering if he was even allowed to go in there, considering his rather elemarentary knowledge on telecommunications, before glancing inside the room in search of the two names the fuschia mare mentioned.
(...this place is a lot emptier than I expected.)
>Not soon after, the human lips part in case someone was only within hearing distance.
"Excuse me. Is someone or somepony in there?"
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.277550
277596
base_of_operations_by_aisxos_d6j2g9y.png
>>277492
>Pareidolia stumbles forward a half step, not realizing the door had already been opened.
>He stands to the side of the door frame and leans against the wall, looking up behind him towards the air everyone was so tensely eyeing.
>Sighing heavily, he closes his eyes for a few seconds before meeting those of the A.I.'s.

"Then we're likely dealing with something far beyond what we can analyze and understand with our limited knowledge and tools. All the more reason to confirm our options based on whether Spiral can be located... I understand that while I have had the opportunity for rest, you have been continuously exerting yourself for an extended period of time. This has gone far beyond standard operational limits in less than 24 hours from your activation. There will be time for rest soon. The last thing we need to do is debrief Emerald, primarily on Spiral's potential location. I will handle explanation of the Construct incident."

>Pushing away from the wall and facing forward, he steps into the bunker.

"And... thank you for persisting through all this."

>Folding his gloved hands behind his back, he stands near the central table to look over the map and determine what was happening while speaking to Emerald.

"My debriefing of the Construct incident and possible information on Spiral's location uncovered in his Lab was delayed due to the Construct corruption removal process. Ready to debrief at your leisure."
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277560
277740
>>277192
>Shifting into that terrifyingly comfortable survival mode, streaks of painfully cold-hot blue Airstreams rush across your flesh to bring a welcoming sense of relief.
>Seconds tick by while you feel the pin ring pulled out through your index finger, scraping a hard cast magnesium-iron bar across Spiral's vastly upgraded chain reaction system, gently, yet thoroughly, igniting the ridiculous amount of compressed Taffilon charge packed throughout the steel grenade's precision cut hull.
>Releasing the explosive below chest height, then smoothly falling backwards into a preternatural swan dive, the stored energy in each strand of muscle and tendon fibers throughout your legs ripple in unwholesome motions.
>Violently breaking off the Airstreams from both sudden impact and relief of spring tension, your innate sense of physics had mistimed the launch, sending you into a catapulting backwards tumble.
>The back of your helmet strikes first on newly set paved stone, followed by the right shoulder scraping several feet, the rear of your pelvis painfully bouncing on contact, then both heels catching, which flip you face down towards the suddenly increasing hard stone.
>Unceremoniously landing chest down and sprawled across stone somewhere between the Basin's southern exit, and probably close to the sacrificial altar now, every joint in your body below the neck instantly dislodges before snapping together from what felt at minimum 3G's of force.
>Clemency: 4/26 S.HP, 23/26HP.

>In the middle of dragging the heavily scraped and now dented shotgun up to the right shoulder, your grenade bursts apart in a fluorescent pink sphere, delivering a hail of partially-molten steel through the first Tainted, bursting apart in scattered drifts of red-tinged mist.
[1d6 = 4] <Honored Dispatch
>Chunks tearing through the second Tainted's body, it deforms well beyond any pressures it was capable of surviving and ends as a cloud of blood-like vapor comically squished across several dozen stones.
>The mass coils together before surging upwards, taking on the appearance of an earth pony formed entirely of lances and jagged blades.

>Shotgun reaching a possibly stable firing position despite your entire body shrieking in protest, the first trigger pull causes a painful slam into your shoulder while delivering the first heavy tracer load.. of solid copper buckshot.
>Ripping through the barely-existing head and turning it into a strung-together series of vapor clouds, the second hail smashes part of the left barrel out, the third dropping low and deleting the left front leg from visibility, the fourth bouncing upwards from impact to remove the neck entirely.
>The first Tainted had disappeared by now while the second reforms into a bleak faced, scar-covered earth mare glancing about side to side disbelievingly at the chaos she discovered herself in.
>The figure's eyes drift towards you while making a deep frown, though gives an unusually low bow, left foreleg raising tight against her chest until shattering apart in tracers of dark brown.
[1d6 = 1] <Honored Dispatch

>On the north side, the sounds of violent Spectral on physical equine combat had dulled significantly, albeit now with the sound of a young, fresh batpony shrieking in a blood frenzied killing mood.
[1d6 = 3] <Tainted
>vs:
[1d6 = 6] <Support Strikers
[1d6+4 = 5] <Tower Guard General ???
[1d6+8 = 13] <?????
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
94ab73a
?
No.277562
277614
>>277497
>The enginseer, as Admiral Auspex begins to tell her about the *potential* of M3 weaponry, shivers with excitement for about a second as she temporarily looses composure and becomes THOROUGHLY overjoyed by these news.
>Nobody but her machine-companions and machine spirits who could sense it could see how her eyes stared at a distant point in her helmet's visor with the glint and happiness of a child in a candy store. She was so excited that her cheeks began to blush!
"Ooooh my goodnessOhmyOmnissiahOhbytheMotiveForce-"
>Mallia gushes. Only for a second, but she TRULY and earnestly displays her excitement, before quickly clearing her throat and taking a long step backwards from the Gateyway itself, going slightly further behind Sergei and Raindrop as she does.

"A-hem!"
>She half-coughs sheepishly as she collects herself. Visibly putting a gloved hand to her mouthpiece for a moment. Her mechadendrite also joins her hand by smoothly extending from her back, around her sternum, and up to her helmet; the clamp resting over her hand and tapping on her fingers from above and below with a tiny whir coming from it.
>Mallia's boots give a slight clap on the stone as she bobs up and down on her feet twice. Then stops.

>Despite her outburst, her mind had a remarkable silence in that moment. She was focused in a very distinct way; firstly on the urge to INVESTIGATE WEAPONS, and then, after a second, to INVESTIGATE EXPLOSIVES--and then finally to INVESTIGATE GATEWAY.

(Okayokay! I need to meditate after this is over! There's way too much to think about. I'm going to need a to-do list sorted by priority that may or may not be subjective.)

>It takes her a moment to regain her composure. Luckily her helmet covered her face, so nobody had to see her stupid-happy grin.
>She slides her hand (and mechadendrite) down from her helmet's mouthpiece and she brings the shield arm a bit more in front of her belly, resting her hand and mechadendrite over the top rim.

>She also moves her mind's eye to Adronal when he "talked" to her, aggravated as he might've been. His reassurance actually prompts a warm gratitude towards Tox-11, followed by a somewhat worried remark.
(I didn't before I came to Tallus. The human eyes are... New to me. Especially the left one--I had that replaced with a family heirloom micro pulse-las weapon that hit with the same potency as a hotshot laspistol of the best quality when I became enginseer, back when I was 18.)
>This remark is followed by an intense feeling of crestfallen grief. Knowing the full extent of her abysmal failure, knowing that her immense loneliness caused her mother's ambitions to fail and her machine spirits to loose their enginseer...
>Except for some. Some came with her. But not all.

>Before her sadness fully hits her. She distracts herself by looking to Sergei to listen to his remark about the acid rain. His not knowing amused and warmed her. It made her smile again, nodding to his use of the word 'researcher'.
"That IS strange!... It may be possible for us to find out an answer to that however..."
>Mallia's voice returned to her more normal eveneness, even if she still gave off a lowkey excitement from just the way she spoke. Sighing through her nose and muttering a quiet "Hm!" as she looked back to the gateway...
>And towards those safes again once Tox-11 had given her an estimate of the number of safes. And the different coloration, and the VALUE of them.

>Which was all very not-suspicious at all.

>Her fingers begin to drum the metallic front of her combat shield. Head tilting slightly as she catches Admiral Auspex's last packet about the equine disappearing.
>And then her suggestion to just toss her in tied to a rope. Like that.
>This made the Enginseer uncomfortable on 5 different levels, and she physically double takes as she looked down to the wrist-mounted Auspex on her shield arm.
(You what? I can't just toss you in. You're way too important...)
>Her head flicks up again. Then down towards Raindrop to listen to her statement with rapt attention.

>She holds a moment of silence. Then lifts her hand and gives Raindrop another lowkey affectionate pat on the back.
"That is extremely insightful, thank you Raindrop. But, stay here for now--I am being given an idea by the Inquisitor's machines. That I don't super like right this second..."
"... And by that I mean, I am being advised to toss my device--attached to a rope, through it to enact further scans from the other side, without going in ourselves. It should give us enough information to know whether or not it is safe to be in there for us..."
>With that said, Mallia's head turns to the pieces of the dial near Raindrop. Then up to Raindrop again, with a knowing nod.
"But I am not doing ANYTHING before tossing some of that rubble through first to see if it's stable..."

>The enginseer steps forward, her mechadendrite reaching down in unison with her step, giving off a soft whir as it uses it's clamp-hand to take reasonably sizable fragment of the dial and brings it up to her hand without having to kneel or bend over. She takes it--lifting her hand from Raindrop's back, and then unceremoniously winds back a toss to throw the piece through the gateway.

>And then squints to see if she can see it distort like Raindrop had said.

<B. Perception + BQ. Preysense visor
[1d6+4 = 9]
[1d6 = 1]

>Without looking away from the gateway, she speaks again.
"Does any of your squad have any rope I could use, Sergei? I'd like to borrow some."
>Then she tapped into the vox channel again to speak with Chisan after that.

"*Noted...*"
>Mallia's voice is a bit more monotone now, though not out of lack of interest.
"*As an update: City-wide scan is complete... And, the equine signature I have detected directly below this structure has inexplicably disappeared to the eyes of Witch-Two. I suspect there are more Gateways below us. There are thousands of safes beyond this vault door. Priceless ones, in transdimensional storage. There MUST be more security measures...*"
Lost in the Crag Moors: A Bigger Problem Than The Last One
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277575
>>277408
>Allowing the external sounds of her scavenging through increasingly destroyed wood wreckage into the cabin, your Eldritch daughter's electronic voice shifts into monotone as her hands bring up a collection of tangled steel harpoons along with a set of, mostly intact, large whitesteel plates.
"Now is not the time for arguing mom, we can deliberate later on which of us ought to be punished for subtle improprieties. If only my secondary processing systems were active-"
[1d6+4 = 8] <Arcanum Sensors Array: Research
[1d6+4 = 7] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #8
[1d6 = 6] <Improved Scavenging protocols

>Emitting a solemn beep of recognition, Wild shifts upwards and left to give you a clearer view of the Construct vessels and their prior occupants.
"Acknowledged. Given my estimates of minimum and maximum Construct armor penetration I have calculated an eighteen percent capacity in engaging more than two standard models at my current hull integrity, notwithstanding the severe damage to my motive systems. In sum: I do not have enough weapon range nor lethality, and I cannot perform sufficient evasive maneuvers to attempt destruction of intermediate units. Addendum: my Arcanum Sensor Array is at less than twenty percent repair, I am therefore incapable of performing a direct analysis while underwater."

>On the left screen, eleven rocket and five missile schematics become visible, none of which were large enough to cause significant damage to anything more than a light tank.
>And, you realize, would be difficult to launch while underwater.
"These designs are located within my main database. It is possible to construct approximately four utilizing a compressed hydrogen-oxygen fuel reaction system but I would need to shed additional Tryptaran mass as a high explosive compound which would make further operational functions less effective. The second option would be attempt further submersion down to approximately one hundred meters. It is doubtful that Construct information gathering systems are calibrated to analyze physical objects under fifty meters or more of ocean depth."
>Keeping track of the orange swarm, the weapon studded spheres now separate into squads of three pairs as they neared the shore, each emitting their own small cone of visible energies from the 'front'.
>South and well above, both of the brightly gleaming, light battleship sized vessels were drifting closer together as the second's arrays shut down, still aimed towards where Wild had entered the ocean.
>The first, now given the temporary classification of 'Armed Heavy Transport' on screen, abruptly swivels in the opposite direction.
[1d6+5 = 6] <???
[1d6+4 = 6] <???

"Possibly not. There is a high chance these Constructs are solely attempting rescue and salvage operations for the downed Assault Vessel class. However... there is an increasing likelihood they have already finished rescue and salvage operations, and are now attempting to locate previous interlopers. That is, you and I."
"Mom, there are two further options available: based on my previous scans, if we are discovered, temporarily feign surrender before retreating further into the ocean. Construct weapons are majority based on direct fire energy systems, they would have significant difficultly reaching us."
"Fourth option: directly syncing with my main control systems may allow you to process damage reports and perform advanced repairs more quickly than I am currently capable of. The information gained from such would allow me to develop enhanced methods of repair. Regardless of which you choose, if any, I will follow your advice."
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277583
277784
>>277517
"I wouldn't have even tried doing that much. I'll admit I was one of those that voted for trying to destroy her in one go and track down anything left so she couldn't.. come back, I guess. Then that weird human came in screaming that we were wrong and she wouldn't hear anything more. She convinced Tipper, Mercy, and even Hodch into letting her stay with Shanis."
>A painful expression flits across Naliyna's face, that is until both forelegs raise a hopeless gesture.
"Look, I don't like Sweet at all. Just looking at her scares me and whenever she talks it's like hearing thousands of metal teeth scraping together. Even if she didn't choose to be whatever she is now most ponies can only stand her for a few minutes before panicking. Except Torven, Belltower, Hodch, and probably Mercy, they can't care enough since they've seen a lot worse. In any case, I still hate her but she doesn't deserves to suffer more, so unless she goes crazy and tries to kill someone or somepony then I'll try to keep a straight face. Let's not talk about this any more please, there's way worse stuff that I need to try getting through."

>Finding a distinct lack of bottles in the Pagoda or around Naliyna's tent, and unable to smell alcohol in the air, it was clear that Naliyna had entered a stress-induced period of clarity.
>One which, at least to you, seemed to be occurring with greater frequency these days.

"I bet they're all way worse off than Razorback is right now, and that's assuming ponies in Stalliongrad haven't been searching for humans outside here to abduct."
>Taking a deep inhale, the eldest Remostrine daughter gives a deflated nod as she speaks.
"Pare, not Pear, I'll try to remember that. He did-"
>Head tossing back at a heavy, upright steel documarents locker behind her, partially covered by the Empire tent flaps.
"Basically all the paperwork organizing that I kept failing to finish. I've even found a few things Spiral was working on, unsorted of course. Doesn't look like he finished them, was having a hard time finding with specific metals and materials that we couldn't buy or even trade for. Any case-"
>Shaking her head quickly, the scar-laden Crystal mare offers the note up for you to read.
>The language was a pre-modern form of Common Equestrian, markedly similar to the Late Romano-Gaullic-Saxo forms which were later incorrectly called 'english' by particular mutt cultures on numerous Earths.
>The 'application' itself was, in short, a desperate plea from a previously unknown, post-Bronze Age human society woman to join Razorback specifically to avoid becoming involved in severe brushfire battles between Roam and Neightally against forces from Ewerup.

>While you didn't know much about Neightally outside of their intriguingly human-like cuisine, Roam was familiar: inhabited by a large number of strikingly long legged, slender earth ponies, it was a Middleterranean country with a heavily occupied and vast coastline, with fairly bountiful, though unpleasantly hot, inland plains that stretched inwards for several hundred kilometers.
>Ewerup on the other hand and hoof was a collection of heavily indoctrinated, enslaved sapient (although barely at that in most cases) goats and sheep from thousands of small flocks throughout mountain ranges, which had been recently forced under the leadership of Bison Churnhill, a particularly brutal expat from elsewhere and little known in Equestria.
>What little you know of the histories between Germaneigh, Prance, and the surrounding regions was that a notorious leader approximately two thousand years before now had turned coat against his own Prench brothers and sisters, one Char-le-Mane you thought, usurping his control of a small Prench military force before fully allying himself with Ewerup.
>Striking out to claim previously untouched lands, suspectedly under influences not his own, Germaneigh and Prance ended their border skirmishes and signed a full alliance which would last 100,000 years.
>By the time that Char-le-Mane was ready to invade a little known section of Southern Prance on the border of Neightally called the Swish Alps, several of Germaneigh's Guilds viciously ruined his ambitions by calling down hundreds of meteors on the formations readying in his large encamptmarent.

"No, not like that. it'd probably be hard for her and the other human she's with to see what Razorback is, even if Spiral isn't here and the Fortress is still pretty messed up. Which I really need to try and fix if I can."
>Having finished writing on the reverse while you were thinking, Naliyna's hooves now held the page up, her lips purse one last time before holding it out for you to take, along with a floating, red ballpoint pen.
"Easier way: sign this, below my stuff that is, and state you're with Razorback and it's safer here than where she is. Anypony that cares would know your name immediately from Canterlot's announcemarents, which means you can be trusted more than me. Write whatever you want, then send it back to her. The Remnant has to know where she is. This way we can get two humans out of a really bad spot and get some intel on what's happening in Ewerup."
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277589
277597
>>277524
>Except for twin snores under the central map table, which meant you probably wouldn't be stepping on humans or ponies, the front room felt desolate and lonely.
>A handful of seconds pass after you speak, then a swiveling chair in the back room squeaks several times accompanied by the fitful sounds of someone or something struggling to get up.
"Hold on a minute-"
>The voice, a definite human female beyond her teenage years, was both exhausted and suffering from major sleep deprivation.
>Stumbling out from the rear room's doorway was a thoroughly unkempt, mid-20's or possibly 30's Asian woman clad in a distinctly non-military white leather coat, an unbuckled silver colored belt around the midriff while below were baggy forest camouflaged pants, the type you knew was favored by hardline guerilla forces.
>Two slightly fluorescent emerald eyes stare in your direction, blinking twice with some difficulty.
>Well, you'd found 'Emerald' at least.
>Swaying forwards almost drunkenly, the woman catches herself with one hand, the other making 'come here' motion.
"Must be new, which makes.. the third one tonight. Doesn't matter, you don't need permission to enter. Come in and don't worry about keeping your voice down, sliding door's jammed, Lonestar's dead asleep, and two under the table are the same."
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277596
277649
>>277550
"I'll be stable, damn these puns, for approximately one hundred hours of continuous functions, sir. Former-designate Class 3 Anonymous was quite thorough in reprogramming the roughly twenty-percent of 'me' that was recovered and translated to this world. In addition, he's been reclassified to the Class 7.5 Otherworldly scale according to the Canterlot Underground's systematic long term danger analysis methods. I'll have to explain that fascinating system later, it's an incredibly useful chart which integrates numerous schools of thought and even has some clarifications for analyzing unknown beings."
>Replacing the diagnostic window with one reading out the helmet's second-by-second functions, 'Spiral' emits a negative sounding neigh while lifting a cautionary hoof.
"While I cannot disapprove of your last suggestion sir, I will state the data I've retrieved from the demi-sentient's systems on 'Emerald' places her in the lowest categories of stable maretality.. ..mentality, damn it. Oh how I hate these limitations. My advice is to avoid direct information that would incite further panic. Being somewhat vague on account of injury may elicit standard human empathy protocols."
>Lifting the forelegs in a blatant 'it's my duty' posture, the A.I. mimics its' predecessor's well known sigh.
"I don't have a choice sir, but your appreciation is helpful. But, even I could, I wouldn't take a break until all five known threat vectors are under twenty percent. We'll need to talk in complete privacy later though, I've been trying to pin down why most of the demi-sentient's systems are unresponsive, damaged, and offline when they were designed to be completely automatic and accessible for anyone using the Master Radio system. That is, unless the real Spiral turned them off, which makes no sense at this point in time."

>Lacking the energy to be startled, the former exotic dancer-turned-guerilla fighter's head turns to present a drawn face, while the marker in her hand motions for you to enter.
"I don't understand even a third what you said, but okay, so feel free to debrief whatever you want. You ought to know I was.. never military."
>Examining her changes to the giant topographical map, entirely focused on the Moors, she was failing triangulation of several locations across the Northern Crags.
>Knowing enough geography to recognize Emerald's poor attempts weren't even at an amateur's level, all of her cross-referencing attempts, written on a sheet of notepad paper above the Crags in Sharpie or something similar, were painfully incorrect.
>Speaking either half-interested or simply incapable of advanced thought, the sometime DJ mutters aloud.
"Construct, Construct... right, those orange murderballs, one in the Fortress past midnight sometime around the Library. I kind of remember now, it kept trying to get ahold of those multi-something arrays Spiral placed in some big cities. Don't know why it wasn't able to. Lone kept shouting 'we can't jam it' without a bunch of words that I didn't understand, then that tiny bomb or whatever went off, nearly lost the whole Radio system."
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.277597
277629
>>277589
>Cheto couldn't help but to slightly curl his lips downwards at the dead tired and hangover voice the room spoke to him, holding a defeated sigh from escaping his lips.
>Quickly losing his potentially negative facial expression in exchange for a small, understanding smile at the Asian guerrillera the moment she pops into his vision, José patiently for her permission.
(So her name is based on her eyes, huh)
>The male in question nods at the invitation, tentatively stepping into the room with a gentle demeanor and swift, careful movements, making sure he's at arms length from the woman.
(How come this place is staffed by 4 barely conscious members? I'll have to ask that later.)
>Gallo would keep track of her balance with a focused gaze, ready to hold her up with his arms in case she loses it in her exhausted state.
"Forgive me for disturbing your rest, miss. I, José Gallo, bring a most pertinent notice that must be spread to all humans you can reach through your telecommunications system. Are you currently available to do so?"
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277614
277687
>>277562
'See this, Tox? THIS is the Enginseer we needed five years ago. However, should you state anything which makes her more excited than this moment I shall do all in my power to get you placed into one of the Inquisitor's 'special' equine war forms.'
>The Admiral's data stream translates as loud chuckling in contrast to Adronal's half-serious, faux-irked patterns.
'remember the days i could openly say go screw yourself, witch? i do. sadly. getting harder to come up with good insults now'

>Both Raindrop and Sergei turn their heads in your direction, both interrupted from their thoughts.
>The first sniffs towards your mechadendrite with a modicum of interest, the second visibly curious until returning to his thinking posture.

>Transmitting an eerie bulletin point list of exactly 683 objectives, Witch-Two's digital voice over the MIU is accompanied by ghost-like laughter.
'Like these? Objective or subjective matters little right now Enginseer, we have a great deal of time to study. This is the first true down time we've had for two native months.'
>Scanning through the list instinctively, each one of the indicated sections, tagged as the Admiral's own desires, were virtually the same as your own.
>Except.. for several involving a reference to an STC file created by Inquisitor Aguina approximately two years ago, smartly labelled an 'Imperial Heavy Warmare Android Weapon, Targeting & Utility Platform Mark III'.
>As there were no files available on a Mark I or Mark II, and the schematic data was tightly encrypted, it was likely the Inquisitor had been unable to sanction previous variants.

'understood enginseer, will not occur again. normally never control helmet functions, witch prefers them. hate seeing loss too. all of us left behind relics, most from great crusade. inquisitor furious she couldnt bring heavy needler pistol along'
>Dissembling a feedback loop from the previous visor setting, Tox-11's Binary includes a sour electronic grunt of distaste, although the Tracker twins kindly interrupt him from continuing.
'Please, Tox, never mention that again aloud. For reference Enginseer: the only time THAT weapon was brought up, Flash cried into four bottles of cheap wine which required us to spend four-point-six local hours to calm her down. We were all forced to leave behind dozens of relics collected while in her service. It should be possible, with the proper rank and privileges, to rebuild any STC's you brought.'

>Finally lowering her wings and folding the blades into their locking position, the Knight turns an odd gaze upwards.
"29,400's... you're right, there were only a few small wars during that century, nothing that would cause an entire city to be abandoned. I remember New Canterlot had problems importing ore slabs from Rushya due to Neighsia and the Dragonspines competing, which means this city was built around 29,150 or so. That leaves three-hundred and fifty years for it to be fully abandoned. Makes less sense now."

>Sliding another image packet through the MIU, in this one the Admiral's caricature was stern faced, both arms folded tightly with one finger pointing directly forwards.
'Enginseer, I should not need to state this Auspex unit was built to the highest S.T.C. pattern standards along with several of the Inquisitor's own sanctioned improvements, however, I am doing exactly that. If this unit could not withstand ten or more direct Krak grenades, she would not have even bothered constructing it. In the unlikely event this Auspex unit is lost it would not take much effort to locate it. Outside of that the four of us have access to micro-MIU arrays and strategic data ports for near-instant download in the event of a catastrophic failure.'

"Right.. then?"
>Left eyebrow raising slowly as she didn't comprehend what your words meant, only your vocal intentions, the pegasi's nose wiggles side to side.
"Works for me."
>Probably thinking hard, but you didn't know her body language enough to be sure.
>Her vocal sentimarent is quickly shared by Sergei, whom simply gives a flatly confused expression.
"Not understand what say before, but have that, yes."
>Motioning to one of the squad behind him, the clear sounds of metallic snaps opening occur before a length of dull green rope is tossed out to land across your combat shield's top.
"Nice shot there."
"Thank, pony."
>Definitely the youngest, again.

>Collecting a small, now cooled piece of the unusually combined material, watching the progress from clamp through air into the gateway's liquid-like state is clear-
>At least until you squint too hard, both eyes fuzzing over painfully into black-ish spots while the sound of a heavy stone skips onto the floor beyond.
>Damned human biology anyways, the flesh was weak!
>Reversing course back into proper vision after blinking a few more times, Raindrop snorts aloud, followed by the old Commissar choking in mid-inhale after she speaks.
"That's good, didn't move enough to matter. It's still stable enough not to tear solid matter apart."
"Wh- you say not move before good, yes? Why say not enough now matter?"
"A few thieves figured out what worked and didn't on these. I can't say anything more since my family is from Stalliongrad, and I'm not about to give information on exactly how to rob depositories across Rushya."
"I.. see, yes. Not say more."

*"Acknowledged, ten seconds en route."*
>Commbead crackling briefly, several thuds from carapace boots occur through the hallway shaft before Chisan's voice rings aloud inside the room.
"Acquisition made Enginseer, neither difficult nor combative."
>The curious dripping sounds and something flopping about on armor draw Raindrop's attention, turning back to stare with a wide, instantly hungry stare.
"That''s... that looks delicious. Where'd you find it, and can we eat it? I'm hungry, again."
>Exhaling in a slow, methodical manner, the Scion's tone indicated he wanted nothing more than to facepalm himself with an active Thunder Hammer.
"Outside, and no, that depends on the Enginseer."
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277629
277637
>>277597
>Waving off your help and forcing herself around, then stumbling forwards into an overly plush, stuffed chair, Emerald hisses in pain as eases back down into it.
>Now inside the starkly bare room, over 90% of it was dedicated to a massive radio system:
>A disturbing number of small LED, or similar, backlit buttons, panels, gauges, and switches surrounding ten active and probably four inactive screens, while the central one, roughly 2Mx3M, was currently in Sleep mode.
>The largest systems you'd seen, both simple pre-modern and the more advanced mobile tactical units, were barely a fifth the size of this ad hoc monstrosity.
>Shallow, rumbling snores opposite Emerald draw your attention to a dark brown cowboy hat, the face featuring a large, thin gold logo of a highly advanced battleship, though there wasn't enough light to determine much more than the peculiar stealth angles and broad main weapon arrays.
>Underneath that was a wrinkled and heavily worn light blue outfit, one that looked suspiciously like a naval officer's uniform.

>Slowly spoken as both palms lift to rub at her face, the woman releases a dismal sigh before flicking the left hand in a careless motion.
"Couldn't sleep even if I want to, and stop with the formality, you're the second one to do that tonight."
>Her tone was threadbare amused, without ire or animosity.
"No, that's wrong, you make number.. four tonight? Ehhh, whatever."
>Pushing her chair around to fumble for a notepad and pen, her voice drifts back lethargically before pushing a loudly clicking button.
"Go ahead, I'll record what you say and put it on repeat once every hour.. ..if I can remember which one does that."
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.277637
277641
>>277629
>Seeing Emerald, even with her rather drunken, slippery motions, manage to fall neatly into the chair she probably was aiming for does make Cheto nod a couple of times, somewhat impressed as he lets her do her thing.
>However, the focus quickly changes to the massive technological item, making him loosen his jaw slightly at how potentially complex and intricate it was.
(..this definitely needs some refinements, but I have no idea how would anyone start doing that with this... thing)
>Looking at the probably male naval officer currently in Emerald's previous state of possibly restless sleep for a second, he quickly pivots his head back at the woman, listening intently to her tired, coherent yet mildly mismanaged set of messages, keeping his smile with a tingle of reserved amusement of his own.
"You'll have to temper through more of it in the forseeable future, I'm afraid. It's a snug glove of mine."
>The fact he himself was the one to state the message does make him smile a bit more than usual before clearing his throat, quickly scanning for where to input his voice and respectfully leaning into it.
>His face quickly stonewalls into a completely stoic, ordered and dry demeanor, voice devoid of his friendly mannerisms.
"Attention to all humans: Due to recent reports, all forms and mareners of travel are ill-advised unless the route chosen is scouted by the Vortex Remnant in advance to properly prepare for any threat detected.
"I repeat. All travel is ill-advised unless the Vortex Remnant scouts ahead."
>With that, José looks over to Emerald, expecting her to finish the recording with a satisfied look on his face, amicable energy flowing back.
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277641
277647
>>277637
>A drained, faux-hateful groan and muted curses in an unfamiliar Asian language are made, probably due to disliking the military atmosphere she was in.
>Pressing several keys hidden from view, a directional wire microphone angles up from in front of her while the visible hand waves for you to speak.
>Once finished, she taps a button, the recording playing mutedly from one of the screens in front of her.
>Shutting it off after a few seconds, more keystrokes occur.
"Good enough. Set to repeat every hour on the hour. So, what new-"
>Spinning around halfway to gaze towards the sleeping man for a bit, she sinks back into the comfortable chair, the next word was harsh, unfamiliar, and acidic.
"Threat or threats do we have to deal with now? Can't be more Councilierge insanity."
>Face creasing in thought for a split-second, she pipes up in a morbidly curious tone.
"And.. you're definitely new, don't remember your name. Going to regret asking this but how did you get here and why?"
Bren's Crew: Skykeep Salvage Operation
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277646
[1d6+3 = 7] <Split Nail
[1d6+3 = 8] <???
[1d6+4 = 6] <Razorback Recruit Squad
[1d6+4 = 7] <???
[1d6+5 = 10] <???
[1d6+5 = 10] <???
[1d6+6 = 8] <???
[1d6+7 = 12] <???
[1d6+7 = 12] <Unicorn Twins
[1d6+11 = 16] <Bren

[1d6 = 2] <Event
[1d6 = 2] <Complication
[1d6 = 3] <Difficulty
[1d6 = 5] <Standard Salvage
[1d6 = 5] <Advanced Salvage
[1d6 = 3] <Time Interval
[1d6+2 = 6] <Interference
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.277647
277652
>>277641
>Cheto watches Emerald do her work, admittedly surprised at her current efficiency considering her barely awake state, expression unchanged from the curses save for a cordial, empathetic look.
(I wonder what she'd want to refresh herself into a more functional state. Maybe even happier if she wants to.)
>Hearing the woman's tone dip into a vat of unknown acid at the mention of threats, his brow finally rises slightly, quickly adding mental notes of potential desires as he honestly answers her question.
"I'm sad to say my knowledge on said threat doesn't go further than their 'avian' nature from what the Vortex announced, miss Emerald. I do believe Mrs. Nalinya may have some more information about it."
(If she even believes it's relevant, necessary, important, concise or maybe even in the required level of confidentiality to know about it)
>Jose's head tilts lightly at the second question, smile softening at the question.
"If the regret is essentially being so bored you doze off in the middle of it, then I can guarantee that you will pass out in a jiffy, miss Emerald."
>The male softly giggles at his bland jest before his lips purse, reliving the moments that led him to this alien world.
"In short: My life was boring, unfulfilling and stale. No matter what sort of jobs I've done, from a mere police officer to a professional hostage negotiator in multiple private military companies, I never felt that mistifying sensationg of being alive. I sought after increasingly wackier jobs in search of that feeling, from a simple VIP extraction of some magnate's daughter that willingly went into a-
>Gallo lightly looks to the side, a bit reserved as he ponders his words carefully before turning back to the Asian lady
"-'low-class tourist attraction' in a rebellious act to the most convoluted string of events between many politicians kidnapping through their employed terrorist organizations key targets in an attempt to destabilize a seemingly threatening nation through a 'war against terror' using international superpowers owned and/or bought by some religious zealots that wormed their way inside a sizable amount of their governmarental systems."
>José's head shakes his head as he finishes his most convoluted example he could think of at this time, frowning lightly at the sour memory as he gazed through Emerald in his own contempt.
"I hope the hostages saved from that attempted polticial subterfuge managed to get back to something akin to their normalcy."
>Blinking a couple of tims as he focused back to the woman, Cheto quickly slaps a small, weak smile to his face.
"After that most... ardurous job, I stumbled upon a rather intriguing offer sliding under my door: A wonderfully written alien note that asked me to go to some shack in the middle of nowhere, offering things as blatantly outlandish as as a new life filled with opportunities where I could pursue whatever I could've wanted."
>Gallo couldn't help but chuckle gingerly not soon after, almost breaking out into a fit of giggles
"I thought at the time it was some lame attempt to try to kidnap me with some crude pipes or something, so I geared myself up in an acceptably conspicuous outfit and headed over there with a rented vehicle with mild excitement at either experiencing some amateur-ish group try to nab me or actually discover a whole new world."
>The male incognito diplomat inhales deeply, calming himself from his giggly self into the usual amicable tone.
"I stop the car at a safe distance, spot the house and scout its surroundings with my binoculars for half a day, with no movement through it all save for some critters. I realized then that it could've been a rather intricate prank, but I figured no sane adolescent would purposefully slide a letter into some nobody's apartment to their eyes to entretain themselves. So I entered the house, which basically was a rickety wooden box with a table in the middle, and saw this-"
>Gallo proceeds to pull out the rolled contract, waving it his hand for a bit before carefully stuffing it back into his bag
"-with a complimentary quill and ink to sign it with. So I did after a quick read, ensuing considerations, which in turn the surroundings inexplicably went white seeing what I think was Princess Celestia herself if her sun on her sides was any indication, my body essentially dove into the couch back at the barracks through some fancy door."
>Having finished his backstory, the diplomat simply stood there, gaze slowly shifting towards the ceiling as he personally reviewed it, covering his mouth as chuckles escaped his mouth in a conga line once more.
"I'm sure that was the most uninspiring, casual and non-sensical story you've heard in your lifetime, miss Emerald."
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.277649
277655
>>277596
"Understood."

>Entering the bunker, Pareidolia acclimates his eyes to the interior and its surroundings.
>His nod halts mid-motion as he eyes the charts and maps.

[Errors. Clear lack of training. Unsurprising for a civilian. Was not aware they were not military. Will need to adjust debriefing.]

>As Emerald offers very loose explanations of the events that occurred, Pareidolia picks up a marker and waits for her to finish before beginning to make corrections to her triangulation vectors and calculations for the local topography.

"Noted. You should rest. You're making errors."

>He gestures to one of the couches meant for humans up against the wall.
>Looking down, he focuses on the large map splayed out on the table dotted with a number of vectors, degree deviations, and points with stunning inaccuracy that needed to be corrected.

"The Construct that appeared earlier this evening first emerged inside Spiral's lab. I had recently returned from the Citadel and had brought back what I believed were inactive husks for analysis and study. During my experiment, the one Razorback engaged was the one that reactivated. None of the books in the Library mentioned this as a property Construct shells had, so I had unknowingly caused a security breach. It will not happen again with this and the knowledge I gained from that experiment."

>He then reaches for the sheet of notepad paper in the corner, correcting it to reflect the changes made to the map and to double check his numbers.
>With a free glove, he finds and firmly grasps the marble sized Construct he'd crushed so many hours ago.
>Taking it out and warily eyeing it before giving it emphatic application of pressure to ensure it is truly 'dead', he then places it on the back of his right glove and wills it to stick in place with his Sticky enchantment.

"Constructs exist as that orange fluid we've seen them bleed. They reform and repair themselves using it. Functionally, they *are* orange juice. Their bodies are just shells they make around themselves. The sample I was testing turned itself into a miniature version that looked like this-"

>He raises his right arm at a right angle, glove forming a fist showing the tiny shell on the back of his hand.

"-so anything trying to harm a Construct needs to focus on that juice. It's both their blood and their bones when it needs to be. None of the books on the topic mentioned this or how important the fluid is. You don't have a military background, so I don't expect you to understand everything I've said, but when Lonestar or other more acquainted Razorback personnel are available here I'd appreciate you making this clear to them."

>He pauses to glance up towards the Master Radio room.

"Barring that, I may do so myself if you are already occupied. This covers the basics of the Construct incident. I assume Lonestar is resting in there?"
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277652
277653 277654
>>277647
"Avians? Just avians, not pegasi? Doesn't sound right to me. Remind me to call Naliyna on the radio when you leave."
>Reaching out for a something out a view and bringing a dim white cup to her for a careful sip, the scent of alcohol-infused tea drifts through the room as her expression blackens.
"If I tried to say I regret everything after waking up on this world full of warm, cute, technicolor ponies and insane-"
>Spitting out a swear word which sounded and felt worse than the previous one.
"That desire nothing more than killing us for shits and giggles, then I'd be a poor liar. My life was terrible back home. At least now there's ponies allied to us that can blow the top off a mountains. I'll take this instead of.. before any day."
>Sitting back, the relatively small former guerilla nods in a 'go ahead, I'll try not to kill myself' motion
>Taking occasional sips from her stale albeit spiced brew and making few motions other than to occasionally glance at the still dead asleep human, Emerald sits up rigidly, hand tightening on the cup upon sighting the contract.
>Visibly gritting her teeth, the empty hand shakily raises up to cover her eyes, afterwards silently listening to the rest.

>Without context or warning, Emerald's hand snaps back to hurl her mostly empty cup onto the floor, which surprisingly doesn't wake the navy man on the other side of the room.
>Standing up, her right raises a fist as if to punch... nothing in front of her while snarling out:
"Fucking Sunass you immoral sack of shit! You useless fat cunt! You-"
>Launching into a rapid fire, intensely vulgar harangue composed of at least nine Spaneigh dialects, a dozen Asian (or Neighsian) languages, two forms of Prench, what sounded like archaic Russian, and several more that were blatantly non-human for the next few minutes, her emotional explosion finally ends while you stood dumbstruck, attempting to process exactly what the fuck just happened.
>And, of course, a few dozen 'why' questions rattling around in your skull too.

>Turning to place both hands on the giant radio system's desk portion leaning heavily over it, Emerald's shoulders slump even though her tone was well over 100% awake.
"Perfect, just perfect, Sunass, thanks a lot you uncaring bitch. Two years after your 'best' one blows up the Palance and you choose bring a diplomat here without warning any of us, this shit falls right in our collective laps-"
>Gripping what distinctly sounded like sheet metal tightly enough to cause audible damage, Emerald's head turns to expose burning, near-murderous rage tinging her eyes.
"No, that was the single most logical story I've heard since Razorback was forced to permanently avoid the fucking capital of Equestria. In fact, I'm positively inspired and a little more than angry. Maybe I should take a trip to Canterlot, find Princess Celestia, and threaten her with every single dirty fact I've come across in the past year. Either that or I'm going to borrow Hollow's hand cannon, also find her, then blow her filthy uncaring head off."

"Ahem. Mister... Gallo, right? Ah really hope y'don't say nothin' 'bout this last lil' bit o'info t'Razorback or's any ponies about here if y'can help it."
>Came a tight yet pleasantly rolling melodic southern drawl off to your right.
>Noting the cowboy hat having lifted several inches from the former sleeping position, the southerner's voice was clearly in the mid-40's, although you couldn't see his face underneath it.
"A'course, so's my 'pologies go, but Ah suggest y'might wanna do somethin' else fer a bit while Ah git this lil' problem sorted-"
>Hearing the telltale sound of human skin sliding across well oiled, smooth and real leather, something was obviously being reached for.
[1d6+7 = 10] <E.Fast Draw
[1d6+7 = 10]
1d6+7]
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277653
>>277652
[1d6+7 = 11]
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.277654
277659
>>277652
>Cheto obviously nods at Emerald's request as he heard her own snippet of backstory, feeling only the faintest of similarities.
(I wonder if every human transported has some baggage of their own...)
>The mention of such sadistic beings who value his and his brethern lives are only for sport does make his head tilt the slightest bit.
(...either she's overembellishing the potentially many enemies of this faction or there are entire factions whose sole purpose is to exterminate us... Wonder how big they could be.)
>His spine shot another chill at the daunting task ahead, thankfully remaining still before letting on his spiel, now with an extra look of concern at the clearly infuriated female's signs of anger.

>As he was about to ask what was wrong, the human's eyes widen when the cup is smashed against the floor, blinking softly as he carefully ensures his goggles are on his eyes and takes a small step back to give the raging lady some room.
>The ensuing train of obscenities directed at his contractor does make him purse his lips, however, as he wades through the emotions to grasp at the facts in question.
(So for one, Celestia did not tell anypony or anyone I was coming so far, Razorback can't set foot on Canterlot due to a disaster they seemingly caused, corroborating Torven's basic explanation. This is a recurring pattern and this may have caused some severe distrust between Razorback and the Solars overtime... at least some of them.)

>Slowly turning to his right, Cheto glances at the southern fellow and proceeds to nod at him, understanding the consequences of leaking this out and cause even more tensions.
(Perhaps she could be... no, that can't be right. I haven't seen any tools to do that around here... in public, at least.)
Blinking the thought away, the unintentional firestarter nods once more before starting to step off towards the exit, stopping at the edge as he looks to the naval officer looking southermer.
"Do inform Emerald to radio Nalinya about the avian threat when things calm down, please."
With that, Cheto bows lightly before stepping off, intentionally taking the long way around in case any unnecessary escalation happens.
(Will those snoring folk back here wake up from all this?)
>The human looks down on the ground, far more pensive than he'd admittedly like.
(Hopefully I can eat this cake filled with mysteries in a controlled marener...)

(...heh... marener...)
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277655
277772
>>277649
>In a visible fugue from the night's events, the Korean doesn't even try to stop you from helping, instead taking a reluctant step off the the side.
>Head shaking several times, she keeps visual contact with your changes on the map.
"Can't, not until Lonestar's awake, or Hodch or Naliyna come in."

>Regarding the simple coordinate labels on the copied page, both the A-Z and 1-100 configuration labels were, unsurprisingly, difficult for the few non-military personnel in Razorback to align properly.

>Noting her exhausted glower out of the helmet, not aimed at you fortunately, her tone sharpens in surprise accented by a mixture of anger and fear.
"You.. no, what? They can revive themselves? I- how? What kind of insane magic or technology or whatever do those THINGS even have?"
>Judging by he rresponse the A.I. had either ignored your direct command to avoid contact with the Fortress demi-sentient, or was able to access data from it through passive means.
>The second was far more likely, however.

>Matching the basic military coded coordinates to their intended vectors and destinations, Emerald takes a now-fully awake step back upon sighting the tiny orange sphere, remaining silent while you correct her novice errors.
>Finding zero electrical activity nor current through the glove's highly active energy draining materials, a thought forms about Spiral's efforts using power crystals to replace most all human produced batteries, one that Naliyna might recall if you could properly nudge her memory.

"We all know crazy shit shit happens on this world when we least expect it. You didn't know any of them could.. come back from being destroyed. No, I'm not going to blame you and neither will anyone else if they're smart."
>Frustration vocally boiling over, and gaining a second wind of mental energy in the process, the offtime DJ crosses her arms with an audible shiver.
"Blood.. ..gangshi."
>That word you knew: an archaic Korean translated word from the original Chinese word 'jiangshi' which meant 'vampire'.
>That is, the physical concept, not the supernatural variant which took dozens of outright impossible forms.
"I get most of it now, thank you. I.. don't know what to do or who to call for more info. Most everyone's gone to sleep or passed out, ponies included. The Solars are still recovering from whatever they did last night that they won't talk about, at least half the Lunars were recalled, Shanis' forces are on high alert but they're probably not going to be in the best of shape tonight. Denra and Mercy won't pick up their radios, Hodch is in and out of the Fortress, Twisted's gone, Krinza has dozens of projects, Pella and Aiutante aren't fighters, at least than I know of. ..maybe that new pegasus knows something, the one Naliyna hired a couple weeks ago? She spent a while in Cloudsdale for training. Same place Mercy came from."
>As she trails off in hard thought, your own bitter reminder of Razorback's previously hefty forces had now been stretched out beyond quick recovery occurs, a problem which your A.I. had been invested considerable time on solving.

"He's dead asleep again for the third, maybe fourth or fifth time. Won't take any pills, even the ones Tipper says are safe, says they don't feel right. I don't agree but I won't use drugs either.
>Turning an impotent look towards the third room, the guerilla-fighter-turned-exotic dancer frowns.
"I can record an automated announcement for you to be repeated whenever time you want, and if you want it sent every hour that's easy enough, already have several going off now. Not surprised most have missed them, all the other humans coming back here haven't even heard about the travel advisory to avoid any region where giant avians, not pegasi mind you, just.. huge birds that I've never heard of before, are currently assaulting everything that translocates in. Um, outside of big cities, fortresses, outposts, and towns with any Guard forces that is."
>Bending forwards to examine the Crag Moors map, Emerald's face goes blank as she, unsuccessfully, tries to process your corrections.
"..then again, I don't know how long I'll be this awake, we're both running on empty. If you have other stuff to take care of, could write down the most important bits and I'll go set up the repeating broadcast immediately."
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277659
277693
>>277654
"Not ta worry, Ah'll do jes' thet once she's up n'bout. Now 'scuse me fer a sec-"
>Catching a cheerful grin underneath the hat, before you could fully step out the southerner's right hand snaps out to fling a highly familiar, tiny vial of bright pink vapor directly into Emerald's face.
>At least you'd avoided that 'highly illegal' mess.

>Instantly stopping inside a new, nearly pitch black room that you hadn't noticed before, the dull red glows you recalled from the map room beam a subtle shaft of light into this one.
>Confused momentarily, this room was directly connected as you could see the giant map table ahead, yet didn't have any of the previous snoring sounds.
>Strange.
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
94ab73a
?
No.277687
277698
>>277614
>Mallia was running through a rollercoaster of emotions due to being in contact with the Inquisitor's companions. She straightened up slightly more when the Admiral honors her with that first statmenet.
(T-that means a lot to me, Admiral!)
>Mallia's thought-response is a very humbled background gratitude.
>Before Witch-Two transmits that bulletin point to her.
>She had to bite her lip to not squeal in delight. Internally and externally... And then she notices that strange STC file...

(... Oh my--)
>The enginseer is completely taken aback, physically staring down at the extremely expensive looking wrist-device as she double-takes, and then fully comes to terms with the fact that THIS is real.
(IT'S REAL? IT EXISTS--as an STC??? I... OH...)
(Oh now I have to build it. It has to happen--there's no way it can't. The Omnissiah and Admiral Auspex have put me before this STC. The question is 'who is going in it' and 'How many will I make'?)
>Mallia bites her lips a little bit harders as she stifles a laugh, which turns to a snicker as she gives another excited shudder. Her cheeks beet red as she visibly squeezes the top of her shield...

>Luckily her mood was balanced out by the response from Tox-11 and Witch-Two. Which just made her deeply sad.
(... I can understand that. By what I have seen and heard so far, Velasi cares deeply for the Machine Spirits... It makes me feel at ease, knowing she cares.)
>She lowered her eyes, thinking back to her first meeting inside of Velasi's mind.
>Mallia was terrified, extremely so. She still is afraid of the Inquisitor. But the more she thought about it, the more she felt empathy for her as well.

(I wonder if she has had time to make a shrine... Were I in her place I would pray for the lost machine spirits at least twice a day.)
>She doesn't query Witch-Two or anyone directly with that thought. She was moreso just wishing she could mourn and pray now.
>That thought process is discontinued when Witch-Two sends an image packet. Almost immediately Mallia frowned anxiously, but didn't 'cringe' at the tone The Admiral used in her head.
(I---I figured! I just--)
(---hhh--Fine... I guess if you want me to do that, I will. I'm just worried about you, even if I know you can handle yourself. I'm sorry, I should be more faithful. It... FEELS wrong in a way I can't completely curb yet.)

>And then slightly flinches up in surprise when the rope lands against her shield like that. Her mechadendrite shooting downward with remarkable speed and reflexes to draw up the end of rope up to hand's reach, as her head shakes and her eyes blinked rapidly from squinting too hard.

"Thank you!"
>She cast a side glance towards the Operator that had tossed the rope, giving them a quick, thankful nod.

"Hnhh. Why are human eyes so difficult..."
>Mallia whispered and whined that last one beneath her breath, not really speaking to anyone in particular as she began to crouch down and cast her glance to her Auspex again.

>Then up to the others as she focuses on Sergei and Raindrop, noticing their confusion.
"Sorry. Just, bear with me please..."
>She cast a glance towards Raindrop specifically. as she shares a somewhat interesting tidbit of information about gateways.
"So there is a minimum degree of stability?"
>Mallia asked that while tilting her head towards The pegasus knight... Before turning her attention downward, passively listening.

>Her free hand went under the wrist and forearm to undo the latches and fasteners keeping it firmly integrated into the sleeve of flak armor.
>Click, clack, and a soft rasp of the straps coming undone. Expertly and with great finesse.
>She very gently sets the Auspex down with the respect she feels it deserves as a living being. Then goes to put the shield onto her back once more, so as to free both hands when she began to take the green rope and start tying it around the Inquisitorial Auspex, making a reasonably tight knot that shouldn't easily undo unless decisively pulled apart.

>Just in that moment, her eyes flick to the side slightly as the commbead crackles.
>Mallia turns from her handiwork and towards the Stormtrooper, rising back to a standing position with the Auspex tied on a rope in one hand, and the other on her hip, with the mechadendrite quickly folding behind her back again.
>She stays quiet as her eyes dart down to catch sight of the fish.
"Very good Stormtrooper. I'll come examine it in a moment. I have to pay attention to the scans I and the Inquisitorial Auspex are about to make. Please come help me keep watch, if you will."
>She nods to the Auspex scanner and lightly shows it in her hand, before turning towards the gateway and taking a step closer...

>Which she didn't need to make, she was close enough to toss it in already.
"... And before you say anything, It was the machine-companion inside of the Auspex that told me to do this."
>Mallia added through gritted teeth. Feeling herself more and more hesitant the more she moved her hand to wind a small low toss.
>And then she (slightly less unceremoniously) chucks the Auspex beyond the gateway and INHALES SHARPLY, holding her breath.

(Omnissiah grant me vigilance, give me the calm to act in a time of need, Blessed are these machines.)
(I'm so sorry if I can't be wholly comfortable right now. I'll try to have more faith...)

>Then sends a very quick mental command to perform a Chroniton Wave scan. Staring through the gateway like a hawk--focusing, stilling like a statue, leaning her head to see if anything so much as moves while the scan is underway.
>Mallia's hand tightly squeezed around the rope readily. The other resting on the hotshot laspistol's grip, without drawing it.

<Chroniton Wave Reader roll
[1d6+2 = 6]
<B. Perception + BQ. Preysense visor
[1d6+4 = 10]
[1d6 = 1]
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.277693
277710
>>277659
>Gallo's face scrunches lightly at witnessing the impending noticeable smack followed by whatever that drug did to humans, questioning their aggressive tendences between his own faction members.
(I hope I won't have to endure or be forced to enact such violent measures on my own team members... but it's a likely possibility from what I've seen so far.)

>Straining to grasp the murkily experienced spatial anomaly the lone human felt the smallest pang of worry, carefully fishing for his flashlight and turning it on to examine the room and ensure he doesn't step on any nasty tripping hazards, wandering about the other two high-pitched snores he heard while he came here.
[1d6+2 = 4]<Flashlight
[1d6 = 3]<Basic Perception
[1d6 = 1]
(I wonder if there are ponies in this building too, or are segregated away from the premises out of avoiding potential liabilities... [color #F00]god, I could use somepony to pet right about now[color])
>Briefly widening his eyes in shock, José quickly shakes his head, closing them quickly for a beat, ridding himself of his self-evaluated unknown and potentially dangerous activity, refoucsing his mind back to exploring the room he was in, mostly out of curiosity and personal safety, making sure he was able to spot the doorway leading to the giant map table.
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277698
277706
>>277687
'Focus, Enginseer!'
>Relaying a loud groan, the Admiral sends a flurry of annoying pings to prevent you from hyperventilating.
'That is not an S.T.C. from our omniverse, it is one the Inquisitor developed specifically for this world. You will of course recall that all Mars sanctioned Inquisitors have the right to develop new designs so long as they are not submitted to become mass production S.T.C.'s, yes? That unit is based on my requirements for a custom platform. As you currently know the Inquisitor's original body is not available, and she has had far greater problems deal with in the past four months rather than constructing an Artificer-grade housing for me. I am patient, less than Tracker.. but far more so than Tox.'
'you get those bloody archaeotech targeting arrays and all aguina thinks i deserve are 4 more melta canisters'
'No, she found additional room for those despite the additional cannon shells YOU requested. Unless our new Enginseer would enjoy spending a few weeks modifying that schematic for your housing?'
'damn it witch. fine, no she doesnt need to do that, was being sarcastic'

>Tasting Adronal's data packets to be thoroughly humored at your reaction, another image is delivered, this time a large bird smashing into a window with a comical 'death' face.
'wouldnt hear us. left in excellent hands under her acolytes. stout, good men and women all. will be used with great honor and respect'

>Depositing her image once more with arms folded but this time with a carefree expression, the Admiral's data stream was incredibly blithe.
'Enginseer, do not take my words to be derogatory: this is an Auspex unit meant to be utilized until either being repaired from damage, which it will resist a great deal of, or taken apart and used to build or rebuild other devices when destroyed. Unlike most units it is not an irreplaceable relic that you will never find again. The Inquisitor has facilities available to construct another one to her infuriatingly exacting standards. Do not mistake my words: your faith is gracious, rightful, and appreciated, yet it is not required should Tox or myself be stuck elsewhere or lost. Unlike Machine Spirits we will not lose our sanity as we can easily shut down all cognitive processes for a few centuries, if not millennia. Maintain and explore your faith Enginseer, we are not in the badly crumbling Imperium now, so do not be hesitant to utilize the resources at your disposal for what they are: resources that can be replaced.'

>Looking back, it was the teenaged Vostroyan female whom had tossed the rope for you, taken from one of her comrades' backpacks.
>Giving a thumbs up before grasping her old submachine gun model once more, the painfully young trooper grins underneath her terribly cheap, stamped sheet metal helmet.
"Was good, ja?"

>Neck and shoulder plates sliding across each other as she shrugs, the pegasus Knight's ears roll once in different directions, speaking in a carefully guarded cadence.
"More than what I would have expected for a vault this old, yes. It's at least ninety percent stable or more. They should still function normally even at fifty percent."

>Finding Chisan's facial colorations to be normal once more, his expression was one of terribly simple amusement akin to a Guardsman discovering newfound enjoyment in learning and practicing a skill they didn't know before.
"There are more like this and several other species swimming about outside, more active than this one. None appear to be capable of causing harm."
>Eyeing the fairly good sized yellow and multicolor dappled piscine gripped in his carapace gloves, left hand holding open the jaw while the right was coiled below the second set of small spines.
>it was definitely stunned and showed no physical injuries that you could see, nonetheless looking as if it'd be rather tasty.
>The tail kept smacking onto his leg armor every few seconds, which Chisan didn't even bother preventing and was, amusingly, making Raindrop's fitfully hungry expression all the more humorous.
>Barely noting the still puzzled look from Sergei, the Storm Trooper's voice from behind had little more emotion other than a when-needs-must sense of duty.
"The Admiral or the tech-destroyer? Either would be honored performing this task."
>Picking up on the blatant undertone, he'd been listening in somehow.

>Rotating through several frequencies, Witch-Two's response is a painfully droll lament as the unit lands several meters beyond the doorway with a surprisingly heavy thump.
'Could have thrown it in further Enginseer, might have acquired precision readings from the vault's energies. Still, close enough. And cease your worries this instant before I request that horribly boring Tempestus Scion to drag you straight to one of the large Moors cities for their rather infamously famous festivals specially done for human guests.'

>Tox recalibrates the visor's settings to maximum clarity and feed, the multitude of red hues becoming simple colorations and with sharpened outlines.
>Shuttering the data feed to your MIU, Witch-Two's electronic voice begins to hums an old war song-
>One that you recognized as having dirty lyrics consisting of Dark Eldar being impaled by Imperial Guard blades, but most known for a paragraph in which the dirty elves celebrated being 'blown' by Basilisk companies using high explosive shells.
>It was obvious the Admiral wasn't much of a romantic.

>Trying to maintain focus on the gateway itself, you keep your eyes open.. far too long staring at nothing changing.
>Closing them while tears stream down your face at the weakness of flesh, the Admiral pings aloud on standard Imperial channels.
'Storm Trooper, throw that thing inside this vault, would you?'
>Giving the standard pattern Commissariat approved "oh fuck no not me " look, Chisan visibly winces as he steps forwards, not even daring to look at Raindrop's scowling face before delicately leaning forwards to toss the fish inside.
'Enginseer, initiate scan once more.'
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
94ab73a
?
No.277706
277787
>>277698
>As Mallia is now holding her breath in a completely pointless attempt to stifle her growing anxiety, the flurry of annoying pings and the order to 'focus' makes her throw out that breath while her head slightly recoils.
>She doesn't send an answer but simply does what she is told and focuses entirely on looking into the Vault... Without blinking. With her teeth being grit way too much.

>... Luckily, as Admiral Auspex explains and talks to her, that anxiety abates into that familiar feeling of roaring inadequacy. Repressing the urge to apologize, Mallia simply focuses her mind's eye on Witch-Two.
>She likewise briefly smirk at the exchange between Adronal and the Admiral. Silently exuding a feeling of amicable warmth, genuine affection, and helpful eagerness at the mention of 'spending weeks modifying that schematic'.
>Her jaw relaxes. As do her shoulders, which visibly fall a bit more while she waited there, holding the rope and keeping ready to quickdraw the hotshot laspistol.

>She lets what Witch-Tow had said to her sink in. She could easily come to terms with making use of expendable resources. And that these Machine-Companions were a lot tougher than normal machine spirits.
>And while she was too humble to fully accept the compliment towards her faith, it does give her a sense of pride in herself which allowed her to crack a small, but genuine smile.
>However the 'we are not in the badly crumbling imperium now' and the 'maintain and explore your faith' does resonate within her mind in a strange way.
>She wasn't sure what to make of these statements...
>So, on a lower waveband, she seeks out her beloved Micro-Cogitator's machine spirit within her connections and empathically exchanges her feelings of doubt, guilt, and inadequacy with it. Hoping for at least a bit of cold comfort from the Machine Spirit she has had for almost as far as she remembered.

(Mom would've loved this place...)
>Mallia transmits this directly to the machine spirits. It might not have been as talkative as the companions inside of her wargear, but she felt at ease with them.

>Still. She couldn't shake off all of her stress, no matter how much she attempted.
>She tried to distract herself from it. Casting a brief side glance back towards the very young looking operator, giving them a thumbs up with her readied hand over her pistol.
"Very!"
>Mallia said, with enthusiasm and gratitude.
(How old is she? Why is she wearing such terrible armor? The craftsmanship on that helmet is criminally low, it must be uncomfortable.)
>She immediately makes an additional objective to learn this girl's name, occupation, age, and if she could improve her gear.
>Then turns back, sweeping her glance past Sergei and towards the Vault itself... Flicking her head slightly to the side as she listened to Chisan.

>... And then, at hearing 'The Tech-Destroyer', Mallia bites her lips as she wheezes and BARELY keeps from outright laughing; but she still giggles.
(Admiral Auspex, Captain Tech-Destroyer... Or maybe Commander Helmet? Nah Captain Tech-Destroyer is funnier...)

"Heheh!--Ehahah--ahem!"
>She grunts as she audibly shuffles in place in her attempt to compose herself.
"--T-The Admiral, Stormtrooper. Admiral Auspex."
>Mallia chuckled in his general direction, shaking her head at herself in amusement.
>She then smiled a little more wryly at what Witch-Two tells her after that...
(I'll drag you back and throw you further if you need it, then!)
(And...)
>Mallia's smile picks up, her mood becoming more curious now...
(... Is that supposed to be a threat?)
>Then her mind backpedals slightly and she gets a little worried as she remembers being told that Equines were very touchy feely.
(--Wait, what kind of festivals?)

>She then forcefully blinks her eyes as they had began to hurt from not blinking for so long, a tear running down her cheek.
"Ugh, these stupid eyes are so sensitive..."
>Mallia grumbled beneath her breath with a slight shake of her head very briefly.
>Not paying attention to the song at first as she attempted to just blink-blink her eyes and re-estabilish proper view of the Vault.
>But she does after a moment. She pauses, tilting her head while her mechadendrite slightly uncoils from her back and goes up to tap on her shield subtly along with that rhythm.

(Catchy. My Guardsman squad would've loved that song.)

>She then double takes when Witch-Two speaks to the Stormtrooper. She unfortunately does not turn away from the vault enough to see Chisan's face, but she does trail the fish as it soars inside. Watching how it reacts to the passage.
>She promptly imputs the command to enact another scan a split-second after the Admiral asks.

<Chroniton Wave Reader
[1d6+2 = 3]
<B. Perception + BQ. Preysense visor
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6 = 1]

(Good idea, Admiral. This should give interesting results I think.)
Jeff
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.277708
277846
>>277311
>Jeff unfortunately takes his previous statement back, as the golem corrects him.
>To brush off Boris's questions and concerns is little more than telling a small child in their 'Why Stage' to bugger off. It wasn't so much as his trying to find contradictions in his logic, but to take them and form his own rational(and irrational) conclusions. To give him a vague blanket answer would not help stimulate his growth. That IS why he brought him along int he first place for, right?
"Oh yes, Boris. Ponies have quite a bit of visual and audible ques when expressing themselves. I still have an an time interpreting them. And each pony has a different opinion, than the last. It would definitely benefit you shadowing ponies, whenever possible."

>He's relieved Mercy caught his defensive maneuver, silently appreciating the gap he put between her and the Lunarites.
>How...ever way she was showing it just now. He'll take it as a small win with his herd-second.
>The Ranger thinks over Boris's statement about not approaching the councilmare, if it was really necessary.
"Yeah maybe you're right. Huh? Oh, alright. You go... into sleep mode, now?"
>Just like some pseudo-AI toy you can buy for a 12-year old, the golem shuts down and leaves him with his own thoughts.
>It seemed like the best theory was that the councilmare was looking out for them by eliciting an appropriate reaction for her.
>But it still pissed him off, even if she was ultimately in the right.
>Jeff's priorities change as they make their way into the back end of the barracks that lead into the foyer. And out of the crypt.
>Mercy disappears in front of him, probably happy she can open up and hide from the Lunarites.
>But as he hears the engineers from earlier, he realizes they only originally went in with himself and two ponies and one golem. Exiting with over a dozen ponies, the majority with thousand year-old vampires...
"Hey guys! You might want to take a late-night snack break! We're coming up with more than we went in with! Also wounded!"
>At least he can give them a fair heads-up.
Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
b000879
?
No.277709
277849
>>222637
>After a successful nap and purging of any potential rads via bottle, Ivan decided to not be a drunk all day.
>Or period of 16 hours, he hardly noticed whether it was day of night by this point.
>Freeing himself from an avalanche of spent vodka bottles, Ivan got out of his room and took a moment to reorient himself, before heading to the workshop to check on his suit.
>He didn't expect much progress but the ponies have surprised him before.
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277710
277713
>>277693
>Finding and switching on your flashlight, the dim glow from it illuminates a pair of large, mismatched coloration human couches flanked by a heavy armory styled locker close to the door.
>Finding a similar locker on the opposite side, sweeping it towards the left reveals two smaller couches virtually the same as the one Naliyna had been using in the Pagoda.
>Ponies seemed to prefer short furniture due to their lower body height, and probably their weight too.
>Turning the flashlight off to the right, multiple end-on-end shelves, thoroughly filled with maps, books, tomes, journals, and several MRE's were visible.
>Sweeping back to the center, there were three low tables of a light colored wood in plain view, absolutely covered in a painful assortment of human weapon magazines, flattened grenade pouches, empty bottles, flasks, and several opened, but probably empty food cans.
>An entirely clean fourth table becomes visible from the contrast, seemingly set aside for other purposes as it had nothing covering the surface.
>Listening with a moderate extension of your auditory sense, there were neither humans nor ponies inside this central room.
>Easily finding a clear path through this room, upon reaching the map room's entrance you could hear the nearly twinned pair of soft snores from underneath the large table.

>Finding neither humans nor ponies to impede your exit, the Command Center's door was curiously open.
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.277713
277896
>>277710
>As he explored the now not so dark room, Cheto couldn't help but to purse his lips at the gap in his memory of even travelling through this place, blinking softly.
(Did... did I completely black out for a couple of seconds inbetween the central room and the big telemachine room? I couldn't have missed this large of a gap.)
>Nonetheless, the male simply shrugs it out, hypothesizing it had to do so with some form of illusion, and even crack a grin at the quaint, picturesque environment he's discovered.

>After the nostalgic feeling washes away and getting to the map room proper, the human couldn't help but start to glance at the large table, growing evermore curious at the snoring duo before shaking his head.
(It's improper to wake your fellow person or pony in his nap time for no reason.)
>However, the fact that the door leading outside the Command Center was wide open did leave him wondering if anypony or one else entered the premises.
>His starts to wander as he goes to close the door in case the outside may wake up the sleeping lifeforms.
(...strange. I haven't seen any new pony or person in here and the amount of snoring beings is still the same. Could it be that somepony eavesdropped on the conversation and left?)
>Figuring it wouldn't hurt to look for any signs of some one or pony coming here recently around the map room as well as brief look on this room, Gallo does exactly that, mostly to further sate his curious nature rather than any feeling of danger or concern.
[1d6 = 4]<Basic Perception
[1d6 = 1]

(I do hope if whoever heard anything, then he or she wasn't too offended by Emerald's words towards the Princess.)
(...or maybe someone or somepony is watching me. I do have a nice appeal to be spied on. Hopefully they aren't looking for defamatory material.)
(...or perhaps it's a pony or human looking for a friend of theirs in here and thought it was a bad time...)
GM_Jeff
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.277714
277718 277901
>>277302
>After observing the medical mares apply their doses of quartzine and kanpri securing bone and reinforcing tendons and ligaments, Carlos retracts his hands from inside Snakebite and sets down the lent tools to remove his bloody gloves.
>Upon finishing their part, the lead pony announces their leave.
>At any rate, he appreciates the help. As good as he was, Snakebite's entire condition would have been a colossal challenge for on his own.
"As I'd like to slowly stitch up Senor Snakebite on my own, his major injuries are better cared to by a team of experienced medical profesionales. I'll keep him stable, and research his underlying conditions. Good luck to you and treating your future patients, equinas."
>Filing out, proper and order, Juan giving them a gracious head bow and looks over at his still-current patient. Still with a chattered pelvis, femurs, and who knows what else.
>His open wounds were first priority!
>Doctor Carlos puts on a new set of gloves, grabbing some surplus medical tubing and cutting several six-inch lengths.
>Taking one he sets it in the lower corner of one of Snakebite's incisions, holding it in place with tape, he grabs his suture kit and dissolvable stitches and begins to work on lightly sewing the internal tissue layers and make hiw way up to the surface. He takes to remember to not seal the wounds up too tightly, as he still wanted Snakebite's liquidated tissue to freely run to and out of the drainage tube. Carlos sets a steel collection dish below the extruding tube and repeats the process with the others.
>As he continues he searches for Tipper's assistant.
"Seniorita Flicker. I require your asistencia, por favor."
>He can begin running tests and pathology, if he and Nova can keep Snakebite stable for the time being.
GM_Jeff
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.277718
277901
>>277714
[1d6+4 = 7]<M.Physician
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 10]
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 5]<M.Research: Surgical Analysis
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 9]
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.277740
277903
>>277560

>Very new sensations bombard Clemency in what to him seems like a long time
>The tingly cold of the now concentrated Airstreams
>The painful ripple of each muscle in his leg
>And the impromptu rack torture of landing flat on his chest and hyperextending his entire body
>What really surprised him was that he didn't break a single bone
>As much as he would like to lie down and pass out from the intense stress put on his body, he compelled it further
>Each impact and motion against his body creates pain
>Throughout this ordeal, Clemency grunts and breathes heavily to try to cope with the pain
>He does know he is feeling more himself on a soul level, complimented by seeing the outline of another Earth mare before disappearing
>Now with his assailants gone, Clemency uses the time to survey his surroundings
>Afterwards, Clemency checks his radar on his visor, hoping it's not cracked
>Plus, he wants to know who's joining that fight

<Radar
[1d6+2 = 5]
[1d6+2 = 3]
<E. Perception
[1d6+3 = 7]
[1d6+3 = 8]
[1d6+3 = 9]

>Clemency, watching the melee over at the north side of the field, starts to stealth and move over to get a flank on the line of Tainted

<E.Stealth
[1d6+5 = 9]
[1d6+5 = 8]
[1d6+5 = 11]
[1d6+5 = 9]

>When reaching a position, he crouches down and starts reloading his shotgun, making sure slugs are in the tube now before aiming at the Tainted
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.277772
277924
>>277655
[So long as direct control is not assumed, current state of affairs should be acceptable.]

>Noting the sudden realization, he mentally catalogs it for later while removing the inert marble from his glove and pocketing it again.
>As Emerald goes down the personnel list, his expression darkens.

[Not enough manpower. Not enough time. How much more does Spiral have? Are we already too late?]

>Gloves grip the edge of the table as he leans over it in tense thought.

"No... I don't think an announcement would be appropriate. This is more the sort of information to be provided to operation planners and engineers who will be determining strategy for engaging Constructs in the future. At the very least Lonestar and Krinza should-"

[Avian travel advisory? Hostile outside of settled areas?]

>Standing up, his right glove forms into a fist before being gripped and wrung by his left hand.
>A few seconds pass as he attempts to control his reaction.

"That... travel advisory."

[Hodch is suffering from some sort of time sensitive condition. Spiral's location and status must be confirmed. Yet it seems everything will be forcibly delayed again.]

"Would that apply to ruins in the Everfree?"

>Exhaling deeply, he attempts to calm his nerves.

"I ask because as said earlier, I believe I've gathered the best possible chance we may have to confirm where Spiral disappeared to and possibly retrieve him."

>Behind his visor, he raises his eyebrows and mouths the word 'Maps?' before moving his eyes from left to right to mimic the act of reading.

"Through sheer coincidence, access to Spiral's Lab, and some technology. I could try to explain it to you, but I feel it'd be best to save that for when a proper team or chain of command for Razorback is present to assess my findings. If that travel advisory is in effect, then I don't know if there's anything to do than wait it out and rest in the interim. I know Hodch had just returned from a visit to a village and is in the Library or the Lab right now, and he will need to be present for the explanation. Is there any way you could ensure he knows about this or have somepony tell him this? Kraut will also need to be present. Where is he?"
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.277784
277929
>>277583
>Bubba nods as he listens to Naliyna.
"Yeah, moving on then."

"You never know, one or two may have just decided to hermit inside a hut and just lives off of gnawing on mushrooms or something."
>He let out a bit of an eye roll to himself, glancing down at the stacks of papers.
"Honestly I'm not surprised. Paperwork is boring and should be outlawed."
>Luckily he didn't have to deal with it back home. Or here on Tallus.
>He quickly scanned through it and hummed, racking his brain for information on the location.
>He hated the animal puns.

"Well, from what I can gather, she's... not as far along as I am, so communication may be a bit simple."
>He glanced up and took the page and pen, glancing at it.
>"Why red."
"Yeah, sounds good."
>He nodded and signed his name, adding in that Razorback was much safer for a human than most anywhere else.
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277787
277882
>>277706
'I detect your silence and emotions to be contemplative, this is good. You most likely will spend a few hours tinkering with OUR schematics when the time is right construct each housing.'
>Witch-Two delivers a small number of commonly available STC component files, ones that were often used in custom War Robots and the few AdMech sanctioned android models.
'I must profess that I would have preferred a human android model, yet Adronal's arguments were what which convinced the Inquisitor to develop equine variants which would essentially function the same, have smaller profiles, be more easily armored, carry larger weaponry, have room for additional ammunition or fuel cells, in addition to being easier to walk among local populations. He will not admit that easily of course, he was simply trying to make her admit a fault..'
'go fuck yourself, witch! pray i wont melta your model the second its finished'
'You see? Of course it is not easy to admit dear old Tox-11 has fallen for the sanctioned equine form.'

>Taking several seconds to process your uninhibited emotions and most importantly not judging you for them, the Machine Spirit returns an an old Tech-Magos recording from his memoirs.
>Reading the excerpt through without the Inquisitor's team noticing, it was a sternly spiritual and chemical approach towards regarding one's positive familial relations as being prioritized directly below the Omnissiah's needs.
>Which, at least on this world, wasn't unappealing given the few humans and sanctioned xenos you'd met so far.

>Making a quick hand motion before grasping her archaic weapon once more while speaking a short phrase, the MIU's translation systems oddly weren't able to process.much more beyond a notification of encouragement, or potentially acceptance.
>The young human takes a half-step forwards to best cover the old Commissar's focus on the vault, swiftly followed by the three slightly older males.
>Which, you notice, their protection was equally poor, consisting of barely different helmet designs and armored vests that even a basic arrow would puncture through.

>Chisan offers little a satisfied nod at this, taking the opportunity to secretly examine the Vostroyans' wargear.. which instantly becomes varying shades of disgust.
"I believe her name is a reference to having uncanny knowledge in targeting opposing vessels for maximum damage inflicted with minimum energy and munitions spent. The 'Two' designation is unknown to me."

'Enginseer, you are sincere yet too reactive. You would have to make a concerted effort to even bother in trying to insult us. We are all Imperials, thus, equals. If given a suggestion or order by myself, Tox, or Tracker, do not hesitate. While I would have preferred to read from much deeper in the vault, this location should suffice."
>Witch-Two deposits an image of herself in full Imperial Navy uniform through the MIU interface, left foot forwards while her right hand was lifted to point at the screen, though the medals, bands, and other paraphernalia were difficult to read.
>A caption above her head forms to read 'Fire all weapons!, accompanied by dark, primal laughter.
'Test my mettle Enginseer, and I will show you the physical glories of this world's night beyond that of Mars!'

>Raindrop's ears perk up as she lifts an armored hoof to cover her mouth, snickering from underneath it.
"What's wrong with your eyes? Mine are good, unless the humidity's bothering you."

>The Auspex relays a series of abnormally long codes from activation as the piscine smacks into floor, albeit now covered in a thin layer of something that looked like penal legion gel-food.
>Crossing your eyes, again, focusing much too hard on physical world before you, the vault's entirety doubles.
>Shaken out of this new problem by the Admiral furiously swearing across several High Gothic dialects, she ceases insulting Inquisitor Flash's femininity long enough to make an aggravated noise.
'Pull this damned unit back in, the logic engines are jamming and will not reset. Forget the Rites of Machine Repair as they will not work, just kick it a few times. Or beat it on the door, either should work. I still have no idea why Velasi bothered with this system-'
>The sound of someone clearing their throat occurs, belatedly realizing it had come from Witch-Two's communication.
'Ah, before doing that, it appears this gateway is safe to enter. I suspect the security system's age has caused several exclusive faults since non-sapients are forced into stasis upon entering. Excuse me for a short time, I must speak with that lovely sanctioned Knight of yours. Honestly Enginseer, you should never let her out of your bed, she is far too comfortable looking.'
>Sending a ringing faux-cackle that left you red, the Admiral's reading shuts down as a click from Raindrop's head causes her to turn, speaking in a combination of hesitance and curiosity.
"Hello? Yes, it is.. understood, may I ask whom is this? You're the one Chisan told me about, the battleship captain. Of course, but I will not.. nothing revealing, no. How may I help? ..I saw it freeze yes, but I really want to eat it.. not frozen,? Basic anti-sentient stasis, understood. Shouldn't be difficult to remove, there's a lot of key words I know. ..no, sorry, I don't know any psions in Razorback, I have only been working for them a little over two weeks. I understand, I'll find out if there's at least one, I don't want to move that marely safes on my own. Thank you for the information, and I hope to meet you soon.'
>Hearing a loud click, most likely from a miniature vox system, the shiny red mare aims a deep grin at the frozen fish while licking her lips.
"I'm gonna have to go find a psion to move the portal.. gateway, whatever. We can go in but can't take anything that's only sentient... oh Chisan?"
>Finished making his own inspection of the vault, the Scion about faces while rolling his eyes in frustration.
"No, and I do not care. Ask the Enginseer if you want to eat it that badly."
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277846
277850 278545
>>277394
>Pulling the mutant batmare up with far less resistance, her backwards curving horn sweeps a bit closer to your ear than comfortable as she whispers roughly.
"Are they not the most beautiful of all the Moon Goddesses' dams? She chose them so well nopony could dare question their purpose-"
>Giggling in an obliviously half-sane state from multiple endorphin rushes, you were forced to pull her along, though she offered no resistance as her three natural legs functioned automatically and matched her own hoofsteps to yours.
>At least the one considerate Lunarite had ensured that you wouldn't be carrying her.
>Reaching the stairs easily enough even though the baticorn missed every few steps on her prosthetic, likely from it being melded to her flesh and bone within the past few hours, the Councilmare's lips were curled back in a prideful rictus death-smile.
>The same one that various darkling marecenaries working for Shanis reported as being a trademark of priestesses in the secretive Cult of the Dark Horse whom were now circulating throughout the Lunar military with little resistance, or so their reports stated.
>While that thought was bothersome, the youngest Lunarite pegasi's abject sigh from atop the stairs was made in a 'why me?' tone.
>Patiently waiting for you to three-quarter push and one-quarter drag the mostly insensate batmare onto the first level's landing, the filly's banded tail flicks side to side happily before trotting forwards into quickly approaching Moors mist.
>Unsurprisingly, her diminutive and wholly archaic Nightclaw armor's kanpri trim pulses in eager patterns even as a swarm of Moor cats land on her saddlepack with loud snicker-meows.

>>277708
>Stepping into the thick Moors fog, the scent of those new Tartarus Isle vegetarian rations, well cooked at least, strikes your sinuses pleasantly.
>At least these didn't include flowers like the previous ones Shanis enjoyed so much, and caused a fair amount of havoc among Razorback's allergen prone.

>Finding all of the construction psions clustered a few meters away from the crypt's doors, the dim heads of Hunter-Killers forming a tight, two-mare protective wall around them turn quickly, several making concerned keks.
"Too late for that Jeff, we're nearly done here. Trying to decide whether to visit the Basin Arena for more stone, or try scavenging for a while."
>The expedition stallion's voice to the right speaks up calmly, which becomes a hesitant query, then dumbfounded, and finally exacerbated query.
"If you would prefer not to answer my question, what do you mean by.. more.. ..oh no. What are you trying to d- wait, stupid question. Let me try this again. WHY do you have ponies from Luna's lost Midnight Legions with you>"
>Striding out in line from oldest and largest directly towards the currently hidden Dagor no less, one of the pegasi fillies squeaks out in annoyance as she passes by you, bizarrely clad in an early prototype of the discontinued Sorceror armor.
"We aren't lost, nopony came to wake us up and say we were needed to serve or be of service!"
>Stopped by another pegasi streaking by in front of you, likely ordered to stay back and ensure Sunny made it out safely without being bothered too much by Moor cats, the construction team's leader does what a stallion can do upon entering unfamiliar territory: frown heavily.
"Should I keep this quiet from Shanis, at least until somepony warns her first?"
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277849
277876
>>277709
>Exiting the central human barrack's eastern doors, you nearly stumble into a pair of Fortress marefriends setting up two wooden, amusingly small watchtowers piece by piece.
>Motioning the two to step off your route by one of the numerous bitterly ill-equipped Soviet riflemen, as you continue multiple swears are heard from behind, mostly on the quality of recently produced Razorback "vodka".
>You barely noticed such complaints since it was at the very least free, and not liable to cause migraines or explosive intestinal trauma.
>Reaching the Workshop without stumbling enough to take a dirt nap, another one of the strange watchtowers had been set up 5M from the man door.
>The tops of two old Soviet rifle barrels and one of the few post-modern heavy missile launcher systems were oriented upwards in a triangle, the humans inside neither visible nor speaking.

>Entering to find all of the large glowstone's active in numerous shades designed to prevent stress headaches or eye strain, the armor stand you'd found and tossed the badly damaged exo-skeleton on was currently in front of Krinza's work station.
>Unable to spot the chunky unicorn himself, his equally plush earth marefriend, the new craftsmare Aiutante, or even Helping Hoof, closing in on the armor for a peek reveals some work had taken place:
>All of the damaged armor paneling and synthetic muscle-drive fibers had been replaced, the first by a vaguely steel-like gray material, the second solely comprised of those odd Empire crystal wire bundles.
>The back-mounted Artifact power system, formerly destroyed, had been substituted by a pair of rectangular medium sized Empire power crystals, the same as those used to replace traditional batteries in the few human vehicles Razorback had.
>The housing system for the pair hadn't been completed, nor was the helmet as the few surviving components were scatted across Krinza's main table.
>Somepony had in the process of replicating the smallest details, though they were no longer here.
>More likely given the odd silence in the Workshop, all four of the craftsponies had been interrupted.
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
a7292d5
?
No.277850
278931
1215725__safe_solo_rainbow+dash_simple+background_vector_transparent+background_absurd+res_the+crystalling_floating_missing+cutie+mark.png
>>277846
>She felt strange, she was more clear minded than she'd been in years, it'd been like the sky had cleared, or she'd woken up. It wasn't just the lingering rush of combating Mercy, everything was sharper, and she was less scattered.
>The mare tapped a wing idly to where the stone sat in the neckline of her suit.
>Sunny had set a stony expression to her muzzle as she replied to the mare's rambling. Reckless, and now absent minded. Yet not dead, she reminded herself. Little victories.
"Their service to the Lunar and their combat ability is all that matters to me, as does your own."
>Could the councilmare be one of them? A cultist? It would explain her reckless disregard for her own life and her defense of their methods. Her brow furrowed with distaste.
>The thought of the lunars having such a mindset in a command position ate at her. Too much melodrama in the command process hurt the entire chain of command, impaired judgement, made it less efficient as a coherent force. Wasted resources, time and bodies. Little wonder Luna was incapacitated, the citadel should have been more than capable of repelling a probing assault, and been prepared for much worse.
>Better those explosives had been used more strategically than on a bunch of suicidal cultists galloping headlong to their deaths.
>Pulling herself out of her introspection, Sunny was grateful she didn't have to deal with the added weight a number of moor cats would have added to her burden as she left the tomb entirely.
>Where was that pegasus, the one that looked like a hornless Luna duplicate?
>The mare gazed around as she lingered at the edge of all the commotion with the councilmare. Searching for the hat wearing pegasus to pass off the batmare to or awaiting for her to come to her senses on her own and give her a course of action was all she could do at the moment.
Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
eeaf41d
?
No.277876
277933
>>277849
>Ivan stared at one of the 'watchtowers' for a moment, before thoroughly deciding he hadn't had nearly enough of the Fortress' vodka to participate in any localized shenanigans.
>As he passes by, he idly shook his head, knowing that they never had to deal with Zone produced vodka. Or a bad batch of it.
>His insides still haven't fully recovered from that travesty of humanity.

>Stepping inside and lightly squinting, he scanned the area before moving towards his suit.
"Where the hell is everyone?"
>He mumbled aloud as he brushed off the shoulders, making sure to look over everything.
>Once he noticed that the artefact containers weren't finished, he decided to stay around for a bit and wait, in case he was able to inform them on how the containers worked.
>God knows he wouldn't want to deal with any stray radiation from a mistake in the containers.
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
94ab73a
?
No.277882
277970
>>277787
>Mallia's mental "silence" continued, though her mind's eyes still lingered on Witch-Two's statements. Taking a moment to analyze and comprehend the STC files that Witch-Two sends her.
>Chuckling once at the way Adronal 'threatens' Witch-Two in response, which does cheer the Enginseer up from her more dim moods slightly.
>Finally, Mallia replied on a somewhat calmer tone through their connection.
(Can always build both. It's only a matter of time, and we will need the versatility.)

>Then she pays more mind on the recording her micro-cogitator brings to her. It took Mallia a good second to understand it, even though she had heard that excerpt before. It gave her food for thought.
>Transmitting her current mood--a feeling of lingering anxiety and affection towards the machine spirit, and transmits a prayer to the Omnissiah, and then followed it with a distinct Litany of her own flavor.
(Blessed Machine Spirit, your humble servant praises the Omnissiah everyday she hears your advice, and she wishes only to be able to hug you to display our affection and gratitude.)
>Though she couldn't physically hug her machine spirit. She could at least transmit the imagery of one, along with another emotion packet that was just sickly sweet.
>It made Mallia feel much better, to remind her Machine Spirits she dotingly loved them.
>It also made her glance off wistfully. But only for a second!

>Mallia's eyes slowly sweep over the shared equipment of the ANCIENT human operators.
>Then turned fully towards her glance to the inside of the vault. Still kind of chuckling from thinking about Captain Tech-Destroyer as she passively listens to the Stormtrooper's words.
"That is one badass call sign then... Maybe you should get one too, Stormtrooper Chisan. Something to boast about like that is always good here, according to information thus far."
>Mallia remarked with a playful undertone beneath her almost monotone seriousness she seemed to display with her voice at the time.
"Perhaps it would make you seem more intimidating? Approachable maybe?"
>Mallia's tone picks up in a way that one could positively HEAR her smirking beneath the helmet. Especially him, as she quarter-turned her head in his general direction without moving her eyes.
>Then her attention briefly shifts to Raindrop. Audibly huffing through her nose with a very minor irritation.
"I don't knowwwww..."
>The Enginseer whines in the knight's direction like a child.
"I think getting thrown into Tallus made my eyes bad, or something... I used to be way more perceptive than this and not dumb with them."
"I'm actually starting to hurt my eyes, this--this isn't okay."

(Why are my stupid eyes being so difficult?? I just wanna SEE! The flesh IS WEAK! I'M WEAK. Bleh.)
>Mallia laughed and groaned at the same time, putting her free hand on the side of her helmet as she sighed heavily.
"Hehaheheheehe... Aahh..."

(I understand, Admiral. I won't hesitate from now on!)
>The reply she sends to Witch-Two is more genuine, with a bit more confidence in her statement as she begins to get more acquainted with the Admiral.
>And then laughs a little bit more. Amused by Admiral Auspex's challenge. A grin forming on her face as her mirth returns to her more wholeheartedly now!
(I'm holding you to it, Admiral. Better not disappoint!!)

>Then, almost immediately after, the moment she feels the very unusual slowness in the activation of the device's feature. Mallia's mind changes gears as she gets into a troubleshooting mindset, and gets ready to tackle the malfunction swiftly.
>Though Admiral Auspex's swearing was... VERY distracting, cocking her brow at the sheer wave of vitriol. Especially when Velasi's femininity came into question.
>This is further compounded when she manages to CROSS HER EYES AGAIN, causing her to slightly, but visibly recoil a bit as she audibly grunts with some discomfort then shakes her head.

>Pulling back the Auspex back with the rope, she reached out with her mechadendrite to grab it and bring it to hand's reach. Glaring at the device a moment. Pausing a second with some surprise when Witch-Two speaks about talking with Raindrop.
(S-she is very pretty. I'll admit, and I like her a lot. And gives me some strange urges, too... VERY strange urges. I think my engrams want me to study her, but they only activated when I saw her teats...)
>Mallia's reply to Witch-Two is absolutely in the tone of a grumble, not fully willing to admit just how much she actually liked and was interested in Raindrop.

>Before Mallia starts aggressively applying percussive maintenance to the Auspex, she stared towards Raindrop as she seemingly spoke to the Admiral.
>This took her VERY far aback. But only for a moment, as her jaw drops only a little bit and then shuts again.

>She then looked at the (frozen) fish, and at the knight. Then at the fish... Back at the knight.
"... Sure, Raindrop! I'll find another pet. Go ahead and eat it! You've definitely earned some fresh food after all that's happened."
> With that, Mallia stands up with the auspex held in her hand. Mechadendrite folding behind her hip.
"I'm getting pretty hungry myself..."

>She then unceremoniously approach the vault door from the front. Clears her throat...
>And AGGRESSIVELY smacks the Auspex's side scanner onto the door with great vigor while chanting in her Techna-Lingua.
(Techna-Lingua) "I CAST HO-LEY PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE UPON THIS MECHANISM!!!!"
<E. Tech Use + B. Machine Link
[1d6+1 = 6]
[1d6+1 = 7]
[1d6+1 = 4]
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277896
277899
>>277713
>Catching sight of two large sleeping bags, the first is a shiny bright pink, the other a faded, heavily worn khaki that'd been patched numerous times.
>Trying to differentiate the sounds, one was definitely a male human while the second's high pitched inhales and soft exhales made the other occupant a woman, or potentially a mare.
>Sneaking into the map room without difficulty, before closing the heavy entrance door, the only one going outside you'd seen, you note a thick band of black rubber, or similar, around the frame's interior.
>Nudging it closed, the hissing sound of air pressure stabilizing occurs briefly, which could only mean the Command Center had a massively overbuilt NBC protection system.

>Scanning the map room's interior, two heavy duty lockers sandwich a cot next to a quaint, older styled wood stove on the northeast corner which were partially hidden on the northeast side from proximity to the wall.
>Beyond several bookcases crammed with tomes, volumes, and several vaguely familiar thin books, probably comics, were the only other notable features.
>Except for the table itself, covered in a mind boggling variety of folded maps.
>Failing to find any objects out of place since you weren't familiar with what was in here, taking a peek back into the central room reveals nothing out of place, save for the curious number of munition packages, cans, tins, wrappers, and boxes scattered around.
>Either there had been humans, or ponies, that you'd missed in this previously hidden room that'd left quickly, or they'd come and gone.
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.277899
278010
>>277896
>Grinning at the snoring pair's admittedly endearing and adorable status, his focus snap to the now sealing door with the tiniest bit of worry,
(I hope it allows me to open it up later.)

>The male couldn't help but to let his mind wander further at the makshift refuge, particularly at the comically large amounts of reading material, fictional or not.
(So someone or pony definitely lives in here. I suppose sleeping in the workplace is efficient for some professions.)
>The amount of maps in the table does snap him out of that line of thought, pursing his lips at the probably sane yet unfamiliar size of maps in this world.
>Nonetheless, he prefers not to disturb other people or ponies' item assortment, so after the quick peek revealing there might've been many witnesses that might've heard Emerald's outburst, he figures there was not much else he could do inside the premises.
(They probably experienced this event more than once, considering her negative opinion of the Princess overall...)
>With that, he goes back to the exit that was opened and attempts to open it once more.
(Library, here I come... maybe with complemarentary petting to release tensions)
>The diplomat's teeth started to gently gnaw at the insides of his left cheek at the prevailing thoughts currently worming in his system.
(Afterwe figure out the implications of doing such a thing.)
Razorback Clinic: Doctor Carlos, Receiving in Operating Room #1
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277901
278035
>>277714
>>277718
>Noticing several purple glows in his vision, Carlos is briefly interrupted from replacing his medical gloves.
>Peering over Snakebite, the Starborn lead doctor had either forgotten about, or specifically left, her surgical tool kit behind, entirely consisting of various scalpels.
>One of which, he finds with some intrigue, was a well disguised long stiletto of Lunar military association.

>Rolling through the motions of carefully setting drainage tubes, Snakebite's skin begin to harden and set where Carlos' incisions were previously made.
>Still blissfully unconscious for the time being, the human's newly-resilient characteristics forces the Doctor into making pre-penetration sites for proper suturing.
>Stepping back to examine Snakebite's physical reactivity and drainage progress, his condition was thoroughly stable enough to allow him rest.
>At least, for the next two to four hours until physical and nervous system trauma could begin to set in.

>Upon opening the operating room door a small amount of air rushes into the Clinic's main room.
>As Carlos peers out, the number of occupied beds had risen to nine: three more humans, a black armored marecenary, probably an earth pony judging by the bulk, and an unusually slender pegasus stallion on the left bed, currently being treated by Nova.
>Ears swiveling around, the Ward nods once while gently adhering a thick, white rubber plate across the stallion's barrel.
>Sliding off to land quietly on carpet, Nova Flicker glances back with a troubled gaze, then slides out from the beds and towards the operating room door quietly.
"I have approximately one hour before I must check in on the new patients, but for the time being how may I aid you?"
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277903
277904 278034
>>277740
>LEADERSHIP: +2 to all Assault Evasion & Reaction Speed rolls
>PENALTY: -1 to all rolls from Operational Fatigue

>Delivering the command for a full sweep, scanning the thankfully safe visor's interior screen it becomes a mess of red, white, blue, green, yellow-red, and yellow-white symbols denoting vastly increased numbers:
>The Moorites of course were in red, completely surrounding and throughout the Basin Village on top of the lines denoting buildings; light red for unarmed and unarmored, plain red for only armored or armed, and bright red for Hunter-Killers, of which there were now at least one thousand with more squadrons streaming in from the outside.
>The Stalliongrad aligned had been denoted as white for neutral combatants, mostly solid white for armed and armored, while a pulsing white-blue was listed as a Tower Guard Primal Psion General.
>Physically marenifested Tainted appeared blue, all of which were pulsing brightly near the northern buildings, though several clusters blink off screen entirely from an explosive detonation near Lann's tradehouse.
>Several groups listed as Dark Horse Cultists had been assigned green, each taking defensive positions in front of the southern buildings and unmoving.
>Dozens of flashing yellow icons from retreating Moorites and Stalliongrad forces stream north from the Basin a short distance, where they began to take up battalion sized red-white square formations.
>Bizarrely, one symbol in fluorescent silver was located at the sacrificial altar, which you weren't able to see through the-
>Making a double take, the only way your mind could describe it was a tornado of red mist circling the true basin itself, protected by the trio of grim, Nightfang armored batponies.

>Forcing yourself up with the thought that torture would be easier to deal with, upon sinking into the Void's protective and rather cool depths, the hot taste of sweet mango juice accented by fresh blood strikes your senses ever as you feel the archaic bloodstone forcibly knitting tendons and muscles together.
>Clemency: 14/26 S.HP, 24/26HP.

>Witnessing the line of Strikers, their numbers halved now, reforming under the Primal's guidance, blurs of hot red, giant wingclaws the size of a common minotaur and blood-drinker fangs thicker than an earth pony gouge into the central ranks of Tainted, eliminating dozens with each blow.
>Sneaking to the fountain without being detected and taking cover behind it, you realized the Tainted were trying to mass together into a single combined entity, just as they attempted on the train.
[1d6 = 2] <Tainted
[1d6 = 3] <Reform Tactics: ???
>vs
[1d6-1 = 0] <Support Strikers
1d6+3] <Tower Guard General ???
[1d6+7 = 8] <???
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277904
>>277903
[1d6+3 = 4] <Tower Guard General ???
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277924
277977
>>277772
>Lifting the notepad for examination with her non-dominant hand, Emerald tosses it down, then glances through the central meeting room at the mostly dormant radio system.
"I'll be awake long enough to write down one of the big pages, will post it on the board after you leave. Lone needs to sleep, as for Krinza.."
>Turning back to notice part of your unusual motions, she stares blankly before shaking her head.
"Doubt it. Naliyna delivered a strange notice to me a few hours ago. Bunch of giant sapient raptors, hawks, eagles, falcons, owls, others the size of touring buses or bigger clad in armor. They're why pegasi started using those full-wing spanning blades. Way too large to move about safely in forests and they don't have magic, I think. Some of Equestria banded together and destroyed them four to five thousand years ago, but now they're either returned from hiding or elsewhere. Only been targeting wide open regions: plains, highland deserts, ice plains, lowland hills, mountains slopes, that sort. "
>Spitting out that last bitterly, she puts on a grimly tired face.
"Couldn't find any references in the Library outside excerpts off pre-Conclave writings and a couple very basic theories out of Canterlot College. Coming back I stopped to ask the Remnant for news, one of those eye things said nopony's been killed yet but there's even more of them in the skies now. The Dagor and Lont's motorcycle are out. Natilda and Kraut's station wagon are still missing, one of the veterans smashed his old car somewhere south of Canterlot, and Humvee like vehicle is stuck inside a Neighvadan cavern. So, travel options are badly limited.. ..except for the train. There's a couple unicorns and maybe one team of guys with big guns that haven't left at all tonight."
>Picking up the marker she'd been using and drawing a small circle around your first correction, she freezes solid.

>'Spiral' returns to view with small versions of the various New Everfree maps, overlaying them and performing rather basic triangulation methods.
>Selecting the largest Caneighdian ruin and marking an optimal route, there was no railway access northwards from here and the few roads leading to it were quite old.
>The only secure option, albeit halfway insane, was decoupling the recently added boxcars from Razorback's supposedly sapient train, derailing for travel, then expecting whatever intelligence guided it to be capable.
>Of course, that would require a team of combat-capable unicorns, more than were currently available.

"I don't care about an explanation, we all need Spiral back here right now. Kraut's still however much dead in the Clinic and won't be getting up soon, if ever. Nova told me his body's basically ground meat. As for Hodch he's usually the smoking room doing something weird."
>Quarter-turning towards the table in rekindled awareness, the short Korean reaches into her jacket and pulls one of the Marquis' custom made radios free, clicking it four times.
*"Hodch, get your busted ass to the map room right now. Might've located Spiral and we need y-"*
>Popping down from an unusually silent Void-tinged square of reality onto the table's center, the elusive reservist's emotionless orbs glance from you to Emerald several times.
"I was reading to Nibbles, but this is far more important. Explanation, now. Please."
>Dropping out from the rift onto Hodch's saddle was the dark blue winged catbat, landing with a tiny huff and meowing in displeasure.
"I'll read the rest of it to you later, I promise. Right now, someone or somepony may have found where Spiral disappeared to. Besides, you might be able to help, that is if you want to keep your Heroine of the Moors title, yes? You do have to remain active for it."
>Rolling up into a sitting posture, Nibbles gives a short, snapping hiss, then tosses a fairly accurate Lunar salute with her right paw.
>One which curiously sounded like 'yes sir'.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277929
277937
>>277784
"Bubba, even I know that humans don't live on plant foods well, except for a couple. Mushrooms? They'd just be starving to death but slow. Besides, I've eaten some weird stuff before, can't be that bad."
>Puffing her cheeks out and nodding in full agreemarent, Naliyna looks down, sweeping her hoof across the letters before picking up another.
"I hate it but it's needed. Really wish my hololith could do some stuff like the new kinds can, just don't want to spend a hundred some thousand Bits on one though."
>Making a curious twitch with her good ear, the Crystal mare shrugs at your implication.
"Kind of sounds like a Conclavist, they're not backwards or anything but they prefer living a lot simpler than most Crystal ponies do. Doesn't matter right now though, we need any help we can get. Most everyone's passed out tired, there's still three or four teams missing that should've reported back hours ago, and I've got some really bad news in the past hour that someponies need to hear."

>Finished writing, turning about and offering the page to the Vortex Remnant's waiting eyestalk, the quirky shifts and colorations show it was in deliberation.
"Non-standard fragile package. Location and sender known. Package accepted. Dispatching one Vanbrace to make delivery."
>Extending a long, thin granite blade to carefully take the unusual package, it delivers the letter to another stalk, this one sandstone in color, which promptly 'swallows' it into the matrice.
"That was easy enough. Might be a good idea to get stuff done if you have to, he doesn't really like delivering fragile stuff.. even though I don't have a clue what a Vanbrace is."
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277933
277939
>>277876
>The question bounces several times through the interior, finally stopping when an unfamiliar, young soprano batmare's voice calls down from the rafters.
"There were someponies in here a bit ago: the yellow unicorn, the yellow earth pony, pink unicorn too They all left 'cause the yellow unicorn said he was gonna strangle a human for taking stuff. Saw them run into the back wall. Hope that helps."

>Struggling to remember much on exo-skeletons, most of them were custom ad hoc designs built in the few pre-Zone workshops that still existed, mostly with aid from the scientists, or constructed in top secret external centers and delivered to select military Stalkers.
>A large number that you recall with great amusement as being 'acquired' by Duty through various means.
>Forming specific ideas of what'd be expected, the synthetic drive system was definitely Naliyna's work, definitely close to completion though you doubted if the crystalline muscle-fibers had been extensively tested.
>The smooth metallic panels were brand new and painstakingly melded together, giving it a chunky knight's armor look, yet there was a degree of flexibility provided by heavy bands of black, semi-rubberized metal.
>Most importantly: it didn't have those terribly large bullet-trapping and bouncing 'ribs'.
>Spotting four dark purple cylinders atop Krinza's anvil, upon closer inspection they were composed of thin diamondine sheet; while incredibly durable and virtually impossible to crack, you had no idea if it would be fully resistant to radiation.
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.277937
278014
>>277929
"What bad news is it, or would I be sticking my nose in something that'll snip it off?"
>He watched the letter vanish, shaking his head a bit.
"Its the human version of armor you'd stick on a foreleg, basically. My time period doesn't use armor in that way anymore because a bullet would simply punch through and leave more metal inside someone's body, but way back before 'accurate' muskets came about they were used widely for knights and heavy infantry."
>"Who knew that medieval history would actually come into use here."
>Before looking away, he recalled something.
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Cairn Depot has a couple sales going on for some equipment that I didn't decide on, figured you might be interested in what they have."
Ivan the Stalker
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.277939
278033
>>277933
"Well I know he isn't talking about me then."
>Ivan glanced up towards the talking rafters.
>Definitely not drunk enough for any shenanigans.

>He hummed as he poked at the fibers for a moment, testing some flexibility by moving a sleeve.
>It wasn't unusual for a STALKER to head out into the Zone with experimental gear... even if half the time he would later be found as Bloodsucker or Chimera chow.
>He had to admit, despite only being given a vague description of a full Exoskeleton, they did pretty well with fixing it up.
>And he decided not to poke at the cylinders until they were firmly placed onto his suit.
"The back wall, you said? I'll go see if they're still there, then."
>He gave a wave up at the bat and walked that way.
Running Man -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
c284e66
?
No.277951
278013
Spoilered
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>The eerily mundane hallway became more active as something with a deep base began to thrum seemingly all around the group.

>>269429
>Adon felt his medallion rattle off against his chest piece as the silent, eardrum beating tone filled the long and featureless corridor they were in.

>The Chitqu perked up from its investigative patting of the twinkling golem, almost certainly hearing the same thing.
>It let out a squeak as it bounded back towards the group, its small form fitting armour making echoing clacking noises on the stone floor.

"Why would he warn anypony coming in? Why indeed."
>Pondered the aged Unicorn, his features to Adon obscured as if a veil of reality covered him.
"And an activation of what? A spell of course but what kind, perhaps a...Oh. Oh dear."
>Something akin to a revelation laced Golden Horns' voice, as what the Witcher could see of him became agitated.
"A -A trap...!"
>He dreadfully exclaimed.

>Adon felt as if he was being submerged in water as his silhouette became blurry and his body partly transparent. Thankfully he was not actually wet.
>This action made his medallion hop and bounce from sheer vibrations, though this died down to its now regular buzzing ever since it entered this hallway.

>>269430
>A near inaudible growl filled the air all around Spruce, coming from every surface of the hallway. It was certainly not there moments before...

"T-that is most -uh interesting Spruce, you should tell m-me more of your homes' religions at another t-time."
>Said Golden, voice quivering.
>Although Spruce could not see the old pony he certainly heard him elicit a chuckle through his fear.
"Good information to go on Spruce, for I think you will be needing to blow stuff up soon!"
>He said, sounding like he was about to have a panic attack.

>Spruce felt the Chitqu clamber up his body again, its movement giving the impression it was in a panic as it went for the safety of his shoulders.
"Ooooh, I am sure if he was observing us right at this very moment he would be making that annoying cackling sound that kept everypony up at night every night back when he was in Canterlot University."
>Grumbled Golden.

>A similar feeling swept over Spruce as did Adon, yet for the Operator it felt as if he was submerged deeper in this non-existent water. And due to this he became near invisible on par with Golden Horn. His body transparent and his outline smudged out of clarity.
>This would of been an awesome ability back on Earth.
>Also the Chitqu was invisible too, yet this did not stop it filling his ear with squeaking and wet nibble noises.
"It is a great crime Spruce and Excelleon will not go unpunished I can assure you."
>Golden promised, trying to sound defiant.

>The deep thrumming noise rose in pitch, and with each rise the dull grey boring corridor that stretched behind and before the trio turned a shade darker.
>And redder.
"Yes, this is indeed a trap-"
>The old Unicorn was cut off by a *THUNK* noise that rattled everyone's vision, it sounded like it came from both the ceiling above and the floor below.
>There were no visible cracks on any surface but the lighting in the hallway appeared to have stabilised to a Rojo Red.
"...I think-"
>Again, Golden was interrupted by a hacking cough that echoed back and forth across the entire width of the corridor, then the arrogant voice of Excelleon himself burst through the still reverberating coughs.
"Uuugh you Slavers are useless. If you don't want to turn into sparkling statues I suggest you head for the door at the end of this gallery...in two minutes."
>His voice cut out leaving the trio with his now dying echos and the morbid news, interestingly he did sound distracted.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJ7NVjZ-Eyg

"Run."
>Said Golden in a terrified whisper before breaking into a gallop.
"RUN!"
[1d6+2 = 4] >E.Speed
[1d6+2 = 6]
[1d6+2 = 8]
[1d6+2 = 7] >E.Reaction Speed
[1d6+2 = 5]
[1d6+2 = 4]

(1:59)

>Roll Speed to see how many metres you cross.
>Roll Reaction Speed the amount of seconds it took.

Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.277970
278148
>>277882
>Blipping one of the standard, rotating Binary thanks to the Omnissiah and the Omnissiah's dedicated servants, the Machine Spirit returns to standby mode almost cheerfully.
>Almost.

>Processing the thought with a minimum of consideration, Chisan makes a short, negative head shake.
"Before my arrival I was freshly graduated from the 512th Spectres' Tempestus Scion collegiat, then sent with my unit to repel an Ork invasion. A descriptive moniker must be earned from deeds and acts. I've done nothing to warrant one."
"I'd say killing a few dozen minibears ought to give you one. Speaking of which, what were those humans doing with the.. bodies?"
"That was in defense of the Fortress, Raindrop, as such it was a necessary duty which requires no thanks. The 'bears' as you call them will be processed for their pelts and the flesh preserved to consume."
"Can't see why you'd want to, they smelled bad."
>Leaving the Scion to once more perform a cursory examination on the vault, your Knight's head swivels about with a pointed frown.
"Maybe you should get your eyes checked then. There's a doctor and medic at Razorback's Clinic. I'd go to the medic though, Nova's much nicer but she does have narcolepsy. If she falls asleep tickle her snout with a feather or something. Doesn't always work though."

'I will not be the one disappointed, nor I suspect will you! Ah, standard Biologis research engrams. The Enginseer we were assigned spent a great deal of time examining studying Eldar, Exodites and Craftworlders both, when it was necessary to make contact with either. His findings were.. difficult to accept. Equines will be much easier to study, and far less likely to create a catastrophic diplomatic situation.'
>Registering Witch-Two's nervous laughter as genuine, Tox-11 interrupts her with an array of encrypted datasets, the two breaking off into a rapid conversation.

"Good enough for me. Hay Chisan, want to help cook it?"
"If it is necessary I will aid you, yes."
"Oh it's necessary all right!"
>Shooting Chisan a matronizing grin accompanied by rattling her wingblades once, she takes several steps forwards and leans close, bringing her right armored forehoof up and into the gateway's lowest edge.
>Finding no resistance, and after a few seconds with nothing leaping out at her, Raindrop carefully slides in on high alert, hoofboots clacking mutedly on the stone inside.
>That is until you forcefully reset whatever had gone wrong with the arm mounted unit, the Knight leaping straight upwards while making a loud neigh of fright.
>Emitting numerous high pitched electronic that sounded like space noise from planets and the distinct clicking of metallo-fluid junctions resetting, the device reboots in an astoundingly fast 0.31 seconds.
'better?'
'Considerably so Adronal, and thank you Enginseer. You may step in now but I should state that you ignore the Chroniton unit's data feed. The system is extraordinarily complex and prone to fits if not restored after the slightest failure. Quite troublesome, truly.'
'like the possessed targeting arrays on your battleship?'
'They were not possessed! They were never possessed! Do not remind me of that incident again or I will accidentally drop an artillery barrage on you!'
'sure they werent but i win this round'
'You are insufferable!'
'yes. yes i am thank you'

>Frozen in place during this time after landing, Raindrop's unarmored head shakily swivels around, eyes wide and speaking in a fearful whisper.
"What was that? Is something in here with me?"
>Chisan attempts a calm facial expression, which was nothing more than a mildly comical frown with several facial tics.
"Enginseer Castella was performing maintenance on her arm-mounted device. There has been no movement besides yours. If you desire I will accompany you."
"Well, next time warn me! Just let me snag this real quick-"
>Eyes flicking up to stare faux-threateningly at the now snickering young Vostroyans, Sergei fails to hold several chuckles back.
"Is some funny, but sorry for laugh."
>Blowing a loud raspberry at them, Raindrop turns back to snag the piscine with her front left hoof.
>Holding it up high enough to avoid scraping on the floor, she makes a quick hop backwards through the gateway to land heavily.
>Setting the fish down and lazily poking at the stasis shell several times, her ears wiggle around in thoughtful circles.
"Give me a bit to think, there's a lot of possible key words that might've been used for this one."
[1d6 = 3] <Meditate
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.277977
278049
elevator_core_by_gg_arts_dcvjima-fullview.jpg
>>277924
>As Emerald notes Kraut's condition and Hodch's, Pareidolia speaks to his A.I.

"Will switch to projector mode. Stay invisible, but modify maps and notations as needed."

>Flinching slightly as Hodch materializes and pausing briefly at the highly unusual bat-cat hybrid that followed, Pareidolia quickly recovers and steps to the side where the view of the table is clear.

[Another crossbreed? ...*Nibbles*? Heroine of the Moors?]

>A tired, closed eye roll shuffles the thought to the back of his mind.
>He brings a glove to the side projector on his helmet and switches it on to show the various overlaid maps and routes.

"Evidence for this ruin being the likeliest location draws from the contents of Spiral's mailbox which included maps of Dynasty Ruins, a hololith used by crystal ponies for ground resonance detection, and assorted notes. None of which he took with him. Highly probable he was searching for the ruins with the Elemental Cores that split him and was certain he found it."

>Pareidolia proceeds to cycle through pictures of the extensive notes and maps that detailed the findings Spiral had collected which were all also in the mailbox while explaining their meaning.
>Taking a moment to collect himself, if parties needed further convincing he would state the following, carefully managing tone to avoid arousing suspicion:

"If this all seems like conjecture, I back it with proof that the Demi-Sentient recognized the artificial personality Anonymous had loaded into my helmet as Spiral's. Some messages were played that gave context to Spiral's preparations to locate one of these ruins of interest. I did not initially mention this as you said the explanation was unimportant."

>Whatever the outcome, Pareidolia follows with another emphatic statement.

"If Kraut is unable to accompany us, no matter what other personnel we bring I am uncertain we would have a high chance of success in retrieving Spiral. His psychological bond with Spiral is paramount to mission success both for identifying if we have the correct ruin and for motivating his return. Spiral's departure being so sudden and unknown raises concern for his mental state. His weeks long absence only heightens it. Let alone other concerns of how overworked or unavailable a sufficient team and transport to reach the area would be. I'm hesitant to make commitments to action no matter how certain the data might be as this goes beyond my jurisdiction in Razorback."

>For some reason, he also recalls an equipment shipment that still needed to be picked up from the Enclave and sensitive notes regarding Spiral and other important figures all at once.

[Too many objectives. Need to address these when able. So much time wasted.]
Razorback Fortress: The Library
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278010
278017
>>277899
>Pushing the Command Center door open, using less resistance than it took to close it, upon exiting you find two stacks of unfamiliar, large steel components a short distance from the entrance.
>What they were for, whom had placed them, and how much time had passed since entering you didn't know.

>Making your way south towards the Library, a large number of the same piles were being set up by unfamiliar unicorns with aid from humans working together in assembling some type of cylindrical housing that looked like a heavily modified, albeit tiny, missile silo.
>Reaching the Library after several minutes of walking, two of the small structures, now completed and looking like tiny watchtowers, flanked the north side's doors.
>From the top of each, three long, heavy caliber rifle barrels gleam in bright red Moon light as you enter, lending a painfully defensive air to the night's atmosphere.

>Now inside the, it was rather calm in the Library's main room, although there weren't any humans or ponies sitting across the myriad of couches, nor were the tables covered in books.
>Barring that, the rows upon rows of bookcases that you could see were filled with every variety of volume, tome, book, sheets of paper, folded maps, and several thin books of highly suspect natures.
>There also wasn't a librarian's desk, nor a checkout stand, which you found quite odd.

>Hearing muffled giggling directly left of the Library's entrance, a somewhat large room divided the east side took precedence, the wall not having a single bookcase, shelf, couch, sofa, or chair lining it.
Adon_the_Witcher
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.278013
>>277951
>As they slowly closed in on the statue, SOMETHING happened immediately!
>The pressure in his sensitive ears was skull-rattling as he gripped his medallion to secure it and gauge its strength. Not like he needed to.
>The chiqtu dashed back to their trio as the vibrations hit all of them at a higher pitch and disorientating and skewing the hallway into a darker red color.
"Definitely a trap."
>And for the first time, he finally got to hear the voice of the captor of this mountain.
>Sounded like he was described, like a prideful elf who's mage's robe got too big for himself. What was with the wracking cough? Was he ill?
"Hmm..."
>The thought had to be pocketed for now, as Golden Horn's urgency hits an all time high as he call out to make a break for it.
>No argument from him, as they apparently only had 2 minutes to escape the red hallway of possibly death? At the least statue-ification!
"Fuck!"
[1d6+1 = 3] <B.Sprint
[1d6+1 = 6]
[1d6+1 = 2] <B.Reaction Speed
[1d6+1 = 2]
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278014
278906
>>277937
>Looking up to give a distasteful frown, Naliyna squints annoyedly.
"The kinds that only Twisted and Denra ought to hoofle since they started or signed onto these problems. Remember when Denra sent a few humans into Las Pegasus to take back some kind of royal scepter? Well, there's a bunch of Prenchmares that're really pissed off since Lucky didn't send somepony to give it back. Denra signed his name on the contract, so that made him the one responsible for returning it. Then a few months ago Twisted and a few humans went to scout some place that the Dragon Council was worried about, they'd heard rumors of trouble but couldn't send any of their Legion mares to investigate. They found one of their own dead, some Dragon King with a name I can't say right, then caused a fight between a Vortex gateway and the Rift. A while later the current Dragon Emperor returned swearing that all Constructs 'must be destroyed'. He's demarending Twisted share everything the Lunars know on how to kill Constructs without losing one of his own kind ever again."
>Sitting back partway, the mare's eyes close, snout wiggling as she thinks.
"No.. that's not the same word, one letter different. I kind of know what a vambrace is, the older Wardens use something like that and a lot of humans have them. Hay, Remnant, what's a Vanbrace and can we see one?"
>Pulling itself upwards, the Remnant's granite eyestalk ceases swirling as it speaks in a rumbling monotone.
"The Vanbrace are one warrior-servant species among an unknown number existing within the Vortex Plane tasked to undertake delicate or fragile deliveries, scout ahead of Very Important Ponies or receiving delegates from the Lunar faction and their allied factions, track down elusive package recipients to ensure their continued existence, defend such recipients if possible, and to undertake dangerous combat actions including extermination or spearhead operations against hostile Planes that this unit nor any units have not been allowed to perform except under specific circumstances. Vanbraces are incapable of existing in the relative reality spectrums viewable by equines, requiring specialized defenses and training in order to maintain a purely physical state."
"Soooo.. in other words, we can't see them, they can see us, they can carry physical objects and deliver them but we can't interact with them much? Wait, are they dangerous, like can they kill me or a human?"
"That is correct, equine. This unit has not been granted the right to trade the required defenses necessary when interacting with Vanbraces to equines nor humans as such has been deemed unnecessary. No, Vanbraces are not predatory by nature. They do not 'hunt' nor do they believe conflict outside of protecting a Very Important Pony to be acceptable to their beliefs."
"Then let me get this straight: they're smart, thinking creatures that works for you, er, the Vortex, and not an armor, right?"
"That is correct."
"Got it. ..wait, could a Vanbrace act like armor for a physical being?"
"Should a Vanbrace accept the consequences of such an act and be given sufficient pay they are allowed to undertake individual pursuits unless otherwise ordered."
>Turning an unwholesomly suspicious gaze onto the eye, she sighs after a few momarents.
"The more I learn the less I know.."
>Instantly perking up at your last statement, Naliyna's right forehoof flashes out in a 'give me!' motion.
"Then hoof them over right now please, I've gotta see if there's anything I could buy that'll help us tonight!"
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.278017
278093
>>278010
>By this point, Cheto's packed pysche simply jotted down the missile silos into his head, automatically stacking them in his memory as 'defenses against the probably avian or Construct forces' as he blankly stares at the stacks of steel components currently being used while travelling to his destination.
(...I must understand how these pony societies work in order to do what I agreed to do... but where to start...)
>Glancing at the unicorns currently helping out on the construction job, a chart starts to form in his head.
(Should I base my assessment on what they can do as individuals or as a group? Maybe how difficulty it is to properly establish friendly relationships with their leaders?)
>Glancing upwards at the finished tiny watchtower-like structures flanking the north-side doors, his mind was still busy with properly constructing his priorities on Tallus' sapient fauna.
(Solars and earth ponies would seem like a good idea if diplomatic relations with their nations weren't so atrocious, and outliers are harder to find than the norm...)

>Entering the library proper, Cheto's thought process deviates sharply at the seemingly empty establishment, blinking softly.
>This mild confusion intensifies at the remarkably alien lack of his previous knowledge on this type of building.
(...so most likely I am not allowed to take items away from here... maybe there's magical security of some kind.)
>The signs of living beings inside the premises makes José's head turn to the left, raising an eyebrow.
(I should be careful. This place definitely looks like it has some strict guidelines to follow that I have no clue of.)
>However, the lone human tentatively starts walking towards the large room, making sure to stop by the entrance in case he wasn't allowed in there, simply looking for who is currently giggling while giving cursory glances at any items of interest in the bookcases.
(No touching anything until I figure out if it's alright to do so.)
[1d6 = 5]<Basic Perception Three times in a row!
[1d6 = 3]
Anonymous
4e47257
?
No.278027
destroy ass.gif
Razorback at anytime in any place and anywhere.
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278033
278037
>>277939
"Beats my flanks. Never heard him mad before."
>The incredulous batmare's voice dropped in pitch before snorting aloud.
"No.. I did hear him angry earlier tonight. Was shouting at a unicorn in brown clothes with some weird big hat. Wasn't paying attention, they kept waking me up. Maybe I'll go find some human to stay with, least I could sleep whenever I want."
>That was either a poor, vaguely lewd threat or some lucky Operator getting a roommare that wouldn't bother them much.
>Or both.

>Touching a bundle of the woven crystalline material jutting out between incomplete armor segments, or was that segmarents? above the shoulder, the entire armature snaps upwards in a rippling, forceful curling motion.
>That was fairly responsive compared to most of the known exo-skeleton models you'd seen, although without proper tuning it might cause tennis elbow.
>Or punch a vodka bottle straight up through your skull.

"No, into the back wall. Probably magic stuff.. or something. I think the unicorn in clothes went through it earlier but I wasn't watching. Really tired right now, all this flying around with humans makes my everything sore."

>Winding around the workshop tables towards the east side's entrance to the Armory, side, you stop in front of the door to examine.
>Immediately unable to find damage or any changes even with help from the bright yet comfortable lighting, the few times you'd gone inside there simply wasn't any space for a hidden doorway between all the lockers lining interior walls, not even for a filly.
>Checking around the door within 5M, there weren't any obvious scrapes on the ironwood paneling or features out of place.
>At least, that you knew of.
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.278034
278161
>>277903
>Clemency takes a deep breath in from his position, feeling the bloodstone working on his wracked body
>The danger is still there, with the defensive line of strikers still holding but at half capacity
>And still no sight of that one crazed batpony
>Checking his grenades, he looks up to see the Tainted changing tactics and combining
>Seeing the rout potential of the Tainted combining, Clem yells over to the Tower General to warn her of this familiar tactic
"THEY'RE COMBINING INTO ONE."
>After warning, Clemency then looses a barrage of shotgun shells into the Tainted lines

<E Combat Rifles/Shotguns
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 9]
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 6]

>One thought crossed his mind about the Hunter-Killers and Clemency looked around the field and the skies to see if the large group is heading towards this field

<E. Perception
[1d6+3 = 6]
[1d6+3 = 9]
[1d6+3 = 8]
[1d6+3 = 8]
GM_Jeff
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.278035
278167
>>277901
>Ogling the set of impressive surgical instruments on the ex-mares' side of Snakebite, left by the lead mare he recalls, Carlos notices what he believes to be a stiletto mixed in with the scalpels.
(Mierda. I know that is NOT for surgery! Ha!)
>While preparing the drainage tubing, he notices the skin at the incision sites already beginning regeneration.
"Immediate scarring... interesting."
>It made putting the sutures in that more difficult.
>Juan can't help but take a sample from one of the incision sites, kanpri scalpel usage of course!
>As he makes his collection, Nova Flicker brings her attention from her current patient.
"Si. I've heard many new pacientes, since I began treating Señor Snakebite."
>He slices off a small piece of Snakebite's tough epidermis and puts it in a sterile container for the time being.
"If I recall, he came in with two other operadores and one pony. Er, stallion. I would like to also access their conditiones, as well. If they have similar injuries it will be that easier to treat them once it is their turn. I'm assuming Señor Verde has kept them under stasis? Then I can help you with your triage on the new llegadas."
Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f814cfe
?
No.278037
278169
>>278033
"You can go sleep in my room if you want, I won't be in there for a while, so you'll be able to get some shut eye."
>While he was only a bit concerned to the results of her taking his offer, he mentally dismissed them.
>It was only courtesy to offer a safe and/or quiet place to sleep, after all.

>Ivan let out a soft whistle at the snappy response, quietly making sure he wasn't sticking fingers in joints to maintain full custody of them.
"Once tweaked, this'll have me reacting much more smoothly..." He muttered to himself.

"Well, either a magically hidden door, or the wall needs a horn to go through it."
>As he inspected the wall he ran his hand along it, checking closely for any subtle seams that would be difficult to spot.
>Or if it would just go straight through.
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278049
278100
>>277977
>Lifting both forelegs to shrug, 'Spiral' reaches out to, somehow audibly, tap the black sapphirine in front of it, bringing up a tiny 60 degree cone window.
''There was no damage to the projection system sir."

>Unable to recognize this Moor cat's coloration or attitude, after a split-second you determine it wasn't Cloverdell, a friendly hybrid that searched the Fortress for attention giving humans.
>Matching the base staff descriptions of Nibbles, what little you'd heard of her was the catbat had a a painfully serious military-like attitude and was reported to be easily angered.

>Aided by the A.I.'s systems, Emerald barely wince upon deploying the holograph, yet recovers swiftly in examining the projections while Hodch bends a hoof upwards to poke at Nibbles' dangling wingtip.
"You mean the element things that made him split into fire, stone, ice? When Spiral was normal he never talked about them. After he 'split' the batpony one, acid I think, or poison, explained they were parts of the 'whole Spiral', but that he wasn't complete somehow and that was driving the weird purple and black unicorn insane. ..yes, I've seen Naliyna's hololith, kind of like a television mixed with a camera and a voice recorder. Couldn't use it, she said only Crystal ponies are able to."
"Forgive my interruption, again, but I know Spiral's habits and attitudes better than anyone except for Kraut and Hollow. It is impossible to imagine that he left without bringing along two to three saddlepacks worth of writing and research materials, or that he simply did not warn a single member of Razorback, genital puns not included, to simply 'go' somewhere."
"What if he was afraid, or embarrassed, or forced to?"
"Miss Emerald, I will not patronize you in your exhausted state. Should the circumstances not be clear enough by now it would take an alicorn, or worse, threatening to annihilate Razorback to 'force' Spiral into action. In his separated state he was capable of taking on perhaps five squads of the Tower Guard's finest, or a barely mature dragon. Trust me when I state this much: he was far more dangerous and unhinged before then."
>Dedicating her energies into studying the projected images, most of which the A.I. was automatically altering or censoring, the woman frowns in partial disbelief.
>Catching the open emotion, she stares down at the Crag Moors map while listening, then speaks up in a bright, sincere tone.
"I don't think he was around just for Kraut's benefit, Pare. He cared for all of us, spent a lot of nights with most every human and pony, even his his.alternate selves or whatever anyone would call them. Maybe the unicorn one did go crazy and he had to isolate it by force. Honestly he helped me get over a lot more than most ponies could. ..um, I don't mean that in an insulting way sorry, it's just that you haven been nice to most of us."
>Casting a morbid glance up at Hodch, he waves a hoof disapprovingly before turning his eyes solely onto the final projected map with steadily increasing focus.
"Miss Emerald, I retired from the Starborn two years ago. Was less than three months into a rather comfortable teaching position at the Canterlot College of Magic. The night before Razorback arrived, Luna recalled me with a letter stating that I would be setting up a training system for Razorback, then the Destruction of Canterlot Palace happened before I could even meet you all. Whom would not be consistently infuriated at being forced to support the same idiot bipedal morons that nearly caused injury to their sworn and belowed sovereign alicorn? That is a facetious question so do not answer it. And keep your apologies, there is worse to focus on right now. However, I do expect you to understand this: I do not believe all humans are fully capable or willing to produce viable progeny with equines. Until that is disproven I will retain my private suspicions and continue to work against Razorback's self-created negative interests, whether individual or group based. Am I clear?"

>Eyes and jaw tight at the Nightblade's tactful scourging words, Emerald gives a solemly curt nod of acceptance.
"You are."
>Lifting a hand to palm her neck, out of the stallion's sight she makes a slight, hate-filled throat-slitting motion.
>Turning back to you with a flustered expression, both hands lift to circle in hopeless motions.
"I don't know what you want to hear or expect me to say. Rank just doesn't matter here and being in command is.. well, most team leaders bark some orders and take a squad off to go do something that makes us look better by helping somepony. Everyone orders around everyone at this point and no one complains unless that leader's trying to make them do shit like kill, steal, rape, blow up, or set somepony's house on fire that doesn't deserve it. I mean, I asked one of the elite squads eight, maybe ten hours ago to go rescue a Saddle Arabian diplmoat that was captured in Ewerup. They didn't even bother asking why I thought it was a good idea, just suited up and left with a couple marefriends."
"Emerald, you are far off topic though you did good in explaining circumstances known to you. The point is this: Razorback is a completely decentralized mercenary organization that has no overall leadership outside of cooperation or simply shouting orders to do this or that. Few Lunars dislike this same state of affairs. We prefer to hoofpick our squads from the most capable individuals and cadres available which makes our tasks much easier knowing that we can rely on teammares to watch our flanks."
>Turning his head to up grin at you, 'Spiral' registers the deep purple stallion's next words as simultaneously honest, yet devious.
"I suspect that you have a certain friend from the Vortex Plane-"
>Spoken with an unusually jealous tone while squinting humorously.
"And I am positive she would love to aid you on such a difficult mission. Of course I will accompany you, as would Miss Emerald here. That was not an offer, by the way."
The L.O.N.T
95ccf85
?
No.278085
278192
yes yeeeeeees.gif
>>276090

>As the Shell talked more about the Constructs the Operators' brow knit closer together at how familiar it all sounded.
>'"Assault Class Vessels"? If I did not know any better it sounds as if she was talking about ships you'd see back home. Are they that advanced?'
"I suppose you have to with what they are able to accomplish..."
>He agreed, one hand clasping over the other which was in a fist.
>'Like an automated army.'

"I -I see."
>Lont was slightly staggered at the amount of new places Shattered listed off. Goes to show how limited his world is. And dammit! Those are more places to add to his list. However first and foremost-
"They all sound like wonderful locations for holiday making. But. How do you even get to any of one of those places, I haven't heard of any of them at all. I assume Cadence will lend a hoof and teleport us yes?"
>He asked, hoped even.
>The first place listed off sounded perfect. It was quiet, a stark contrast to her life now. No doubt sunny, plenty of places to fatten her flanks and foals to cherish over.
>'Harpys and a young dragon? Two more to the list...'
>That Cloudstrike though, not that. He still has business with Las Pegasus. One cloud city at a time.
>Remembering there lost ally made Lont involuntarily glance back at Tacit.

>It was a quick glance, and his attention was now on his person rummaging for the Tablets.
"Of course you may, did you know I was there just recently? I even was there even longer ago, near back when we were first summoned here? Small world."
>He said warmly as he placed the black, red and orange Tablets onto the tables' surface, then pushing them slightly closer to Glacier.
"Look away."

>He raised his shoulders in a humorous shrug.
"I will keep that in mind, same as with including all the Conclaves. Can I get all their names since I'm here?"

>Lont snorted at the reBUTTal, yes, there was certainly going to be a lot more than just ringing tonight.
"You leave your flank spanking to me and you cook us a meal that will last us all night long."
>He promised the Chef Mare with a wry grin before turning back to the Shell sitting opposite him.
"Shattered. Shattered Glacier, if I was careful I wouldn't be here spending a wonderful dinner date with you."
>The Operator said, patting one of her forelegs assuredly.
Razorback Fortress: The Library, Main Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278093
278126
>>278017
>Utterly normal for a library, especially a private one as large as this, there was a minimum of six floor to ceiling bookcases for each letter, but most notably the 'G' section only had three.
>Unable to make sense of most book titles due to the profusion of languages, the few common ones that you could read from were historical, factional, species, and cultural volumes, meaning the just-to-read ones were elsewhere.
>The smaller shelves lined up behind various couches and chairs were simply dedicated to holding reference guides, maps, out of date volumes, dictionaries, teaching or instruction workbooks.
>Placed behind the shortest tables were most certainly foal's books, for coloring, reading, some that were definitely both, along with a dozen or so varying sized dark wooden toolboxes filled with crayons.
>Except they didn't say 'crayon' and looked to be simple colored wax.

>Finding the only entrance, a large, heavily reinforced and pleasingly ornate wooden door, the trim was some type of fluorescent color changing metal.
>A brand new looking steel plaque at at chin height for you and a second at mid-thigh level read 'FILLY ROOM'.
>Hearing a snickering giggle and muted laughter from numerous foals, children, or potentially both, the voice of either an older, tired mare or possibly a former opera singer human past her prime speaks in a low tone.
>Checking the handle, the hoofle below it, then a small ring below that, none budged.
>Off the side there was a large doorbell and two smaller ones at what you guessed where optimal heights for adult and young ponies.
>Poking the first one, there was no indication of chime or bell from inside the room, at least until the door cracks open several inches.
>Too dark to see inside, the outline of a highly transparent knight's helmet becomes visible at chest height once it begins to glow.
>Doing a double take, it was a pony knight's helmet, specifically a Crystal mare older than Naliyna.
>Blinking once, she speaks in a low, exhausted rumbling tone that you couldn't match to any human voice or pitch.
"Yes, human? I am foalsitting and cannot leave, though I will help you if possible."
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.278100
278247
>>278049
>As Pareidolia goes through his evidence and findings, his brow furrows listening to the exchange between radio operator and Nightblade.

[Emerald's lack of knowledge on Spiral's capabilities is grating on Hodch. Potential to incite anger-]

>Unable to move his head without disturbing the image, the best he can manage is a single shake of his head and an irritated drumming of his fingers as Emerald believes she needs to correct a misconception about Spiral.

[Naive.]

>He slowly reaches up and turns off his helmet projector as Hodch justifiably lashes back at the human who failed to understand his obligation to Razorback despite his personal opinions.
>Exhaling through his helmet, he rolls his shoulders and arms that had been supporting him over the table.

[Pointless gesture based on misunderstanding between species. Another example of why human interaction with other species must be carefully managed.]

"I'm aware of the decentralized nature of Razorback. I felt given the importance and relation Spiral has with multiple ponies and operators on site, making it clear to all parties involved what information had been gathered and have clear communication was warranted. Particularly with ponies who have a vested interest in Spiral's return such as Tipper or Krinza."

>His helmet turns to regard Hodch.
>With a pause just long enough to be considered uncomfortable, he says:

"I do not know how interactions with Vortex Plane sirens function, nor how willing Dul would be in such an operation with no clear risk assessment let alone how to contact them. Clearly you know about such matters than I do."

>Behind his visor, he regards Hodch warily for a moment.

[Likely informed by Zigri or other informants. That Khalani operation was another damn proxy incident where humans were used. Never did get an explanation on those observers.]

"Do you believe that level of manpower is sufficient to retrieve Spiral from whatever managed to incapacitate him of all ponies? And do you think we would succeed without Kraut's presence? I understand you must have a reason to find Spiral yourself, but this sounds premature."

[Psychological demands may encourage rash decisions. Need to determine psychological stability for security of the operation.]

>Pareidolia silently and intently observes Hodch in a search for indicators about his psychological state.
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.278126
278307
>>278093
>José's pace turns slightly giddy at all the information he may have at his disposal, even if he couldn't understand even a fraction of it.
(Alright, so this is excellent news.for me. Now to find how this place works and see if I can use this knowledge without me unintentionally breaking a rule by thinking like a human.
(...That and guide me to what part of the library has books catered to my language and situation specifically.)

>At the sight of these supposed 'crayons', Gallo purses his lips slighlty, already feeling a pang of restraint at his curiosity.
(...so this is also a daycare on the side...)
>Instinctively scratching at his pants, the man pressed onwards towards the noise, going through the motions as more clues as to where he was going became far more apparent.
>Seeing the glowing helmet from outside the creaked door, Cheto's eyes soften considerably at the mare's sorry state, nodding once out of sympathy before offering her a weak, cordial smile.
"Ah, I'm terribly sorry for taking up your time when you seem to have a lot on your plate, miss. I was hoping to find the librarian or whoever knows how this place operates to guide me to what I'm looking for in this building, particularly books regarding Tallus' cultures, societies, languages and other social aspects."
(I hope she's alright in there... she definitely needs a rest.)
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
94ab73a
?
No.278148
278563
>>277970
>SBONG! CLACK!

>Applying the age old technique of the Technical Knock, Mallia brings back the Auspex whilst, not far beside her, Raindrop jumps. The enginseer didn't seem to acknowledge the fact for a moment as she sent a diagnostic ping towards Witch-Two and her systems.
>And as she does, she also gave the visor of her helmet a distinct, interested look as a strong feeling of curiosity urges her to ask...
(Difficult to accept, Admiral? ... Catastrophic diplomatic situations?)
(... It doesn't sound like the last enginseer did not have a very good time by the way you're putting it.)
>Mallia's question are followed by a slight sense of discomfort mixed with worry. Though it is quickly followed by relief, at the confirmation that the mechanism within the Auspex had been very efficiently reset successfully.

>Then, finally, her head half-turns with rather hastily towards Raindrop; freezing up a bit to the sound of her fearful whisper.
>She doesn't speak at first given Chisan answering for her. Which only leaves Mallia with the room to slip in a:
"Sorry. It was urgent. I'll let you know next time. Sorry, Raindrop."
>Despite everyone else's amusement, Mallia's tone was earnestly apologetic as usual.
>Side glancing the other operators with a small, apologetic wave of her off-hand before beginning the process of strapping the Auspex unit back onto it's flak vambrace slot.

>What gets her chuckling is her turning her glance back to see Chisan's distinct frowning expression, taking note of all the ticks.
"Heh!!"

(Just as planned... One day the Stormtrooper will laugh, and then he will be doooooomed. Doomed I say!)

>Then, she wheezes quietly. Coughing in her focused attempt to not laugh TOO loudly at the interaction between Tox-11 and Witch-Two.
"Hah-ah!~ Heeeheh!... I can't even... You two..."
>She whispered to herself inbetween bouts of chuckling while securing the Auspex with both her mechadendrite and her hand, which made the process pretty quick.
>Once that was done, she keeps one hand on the grip of the laspistol mostly by reflex while the other holds on her utility belt at her hip.
>Despite her curiosity of the "possessed battleship targeting arrays", she decides it was a question for later...

(Did you detect anything anomalous, Admiral?)
(--Actually can you forward me the scans? I've never personally used a Chroniton Wave reader before, I want to see them!)

>Mallia takes a few steps backwards away from the vault door while Raindrop takes her time to think, moving a bit closer to where Chisan was, standing almost alongside him. Her eyes unconsciously following the wiggling of her equine ears with GREAT interest as she stood back, but also paying attention to what she does.
>She tried to stay quiet, and not distract her from whatever she was doing while observing her... Her stance stiffening as she stands a bit more idle. Back straight, legs together and boots firmly planted.
>Only her mechadendrite moved around. Sort of hovering just above her shoulder like a snake, peeking it's tool-clad, clamp-like tentacle arm. Curiously, it also seemed to point towards Raindrop as if it, too, was watching her, instead of hiding behind her back as before.

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

>Though this didn't really stop Mallia from mentally tuning into the vox, and whispering into their channel to address Chisan. Side glancing to see the Stormtrooper as she spoke, albeit briefly.
"*Stormtrooper Chisan, while we wait, how do you feel about personal questions for the sake of getting to know eachother better? Would you prefer I stay quiet unless it is pertinent? Or would you prefer I never ask anything, ever?*"
>Her voice maintains a degree of partially monotone seriousness despite the inherent curiosity in the line of questioning. Though it WAS a very serious question nonetheless.
Operation: The Basin Floods In Sacrifice
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278161
278667
>>278034
>LEADERSHIP: +2 to all Assault, Evasion & Reaction Speed rolls
>PENALTY: -1 to all rolls from Operational Fatigue

>Quickly tapping each of the integrated grenade pouches across your chest, all was in order judging from the tones and weights felt.
>Barely seeing a silverine helmet above the writhing mass of Eldritch-Spectral bodies, the General's attempt to consolidate her non-wounded forces was much too late-
>Pulling the SPAS-12 into position, the first slug streaks high into the now formed left hindquarter of a medium tank sized Tainted where numerous of its kind had been the second prior.
>The second grazes across the saddle and punctures through the neck, the third and fourth down, each leaving trails of vapor running parallel to the spinal column.

>Due to instability in their ranks and the massive shift of intelligent Tainted changing their garthered tactics, roughly three-quarters of the entire Support Striker line collapses rearwards across the internal screen ranging from 10M to 30M.
>This time, their icons did not change to show retreat: roughly fifty of the formerly bright white icons become a faded black, the uncaring radar system signifying their deaths.
>The Tower Guard General's icon travels approximately 50M northwest, straight into Lann's tradehouse from the brutal assault and becomes a flashing white denoted by a VIP designation.
>Appearing on the array, a single gold marker designating what appeared to be a much more advanced fighter was caught amongst the Tainted's assault.
>The now visible unit, a burning fluorescent red batpony mare covered in Nightclaw armor of near-alicorn size was wreathed in dozens of likely non-physical wounds that had the effect of drawing further Tainted attentions onto her.
>Unable to escape from either the central large Tainted or the dozens piling on her, the bloodhost makes full use of her situation by lancing her forehooves forwards while and both sets of arm-length wingclaws rip into the large Tainted's head.
>While the 'mare' that the Cultist leader had summoned was enough of a distraction for the fewer than thirty percent remaining Stalliongrad forces, it did allow the white robed psions to take advantage of their now fully physical opponents as you witness dozens of burning green Starbolts streaking through the Tainted surrounding them, accompanied by the horrific screams of dying earth ponies.
[1d6-1 = 2] <Tainted
[1d6+4 = 8] <Mass #1
[1d6+4 = 7] <Mass #2
[1d6+4 = 8] <Mass #3

[1d6 = 1] <Support Strikers
[1d6+1 = 2] <Tower Guard General ???
[1d6+7 = 13] <???

>Sighting two full squadrons of Hunter-Killers flitting over the northern rooftops on downwards intercepts, their signals conglomerate into double lines and crashing down into the mayhem below, though you knew for certain they wouldn't stand against these Tainted for long.
[1d6+8 = 10] <Hunter-Killer Squadron 1
[1d6+6 = 8] <Hunter-Killer Squadron 2
Razorback Clinic: Doctor Carlos, Receiving in Operating Room #1
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278167
278637
>>278035
>Stepping inside and closing the door after her, Nova's head and shoulders sag in fatigue.
"More have come in than I can safely treat without rotating time between them all. My auric field is depleted but I have marenaged to stabilize the four least injured."
>Glancing back at the tungsten door behind her, then up at the table, Nova stares bitterly while lifting a forehoof to rub her snout.
"He has, yes, but I have never seen complete destruction of an entire pony or human body before. Snakebite's injuries were in my dam's estimate capable of being restored at significant cost, however, I must state those three are physically incapable of being recovered. Novus has sustained over eight hundred skeletal fractures. His musculature, internal organs, soft tissues, nervous and vascular systems are damaged to such a degree that I can see no method of recovery, though his brain is essentially intact but has suffered extreme trauma. For Kraut I cannot comprehend the level of damage sustained. There is not a single recognizable tissue mass nor was I able to begin counting the number of microfractures. He looks like a mosaic of fifty thousand grains of sand. As for Caliya-"
>Shaking her head slowly, the carnelian Ward's ears flatten in depression.
"The burns he sustained must have been over four hundred degrees for two to three minutes. The epidermis is entirely gone, as it in simply does not exist anymore. Musculature, tendons, organs, and skeleton from four to five inches of depth are little more than charred masses. His heart and brain have entirely ceased to function due to blood congealmarent."
>Inhaling slowly, Nova's ears perk up, but only halfway.
"There are two Pred-Elk, three additional humans, a Prench stallion, and one of the Arcane Blades should be fine for me to take care of until my dam returns. She is currently overseeing an attempt to locate and destroy all traces of Ark Viper venom outside."
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278169
278171
>>278037
>Lazily grunting without concern, ire, or hints of lewd, the batmare's pitch lowers once more.
"Meh, maybe later.. and I dunno where your room is but I swear not to mess with you while sleeping or mess with your clothes."

>Sliding your glove across each panel in sequence, reaching over the first table covered in stacks of cured basilisk hide, the next two holding various sized bricks of odd metals and materials, your hand is suddenly caught by an invisible field directly above the fourth table littered with unfinished melee weapons.
>Instinctively reacting by trying to pull away in case of a Space anomaly, instead a muted clicking and stone-on-stone grating sound occurs underneath you before freeing your hand.
>Stepping back to examine what caused this, a circular recess in the floor had opened to reveal a spiraling stairway down.
>Wincing at the space that most pegasi would find highly claustrophobic to enter, the batmare's voice speaks, this time mildly awake.
"Hay, that's the same sound I heard before. What is it?"
Ivan the STALKER
!EnJhCCu3Ns
350f12c
?
No.278171
278564
>>278169
"Mm, just look for a door surrounded by bottles. Or the sound of them crashing down."
>It was an effective deterrent after all.

>Letting out a low whistle at the sudden emergence of a hidden staircase, Ivan made sure to not stand right at the edge.
"Magical switch. They didn't go through the wall, they went through the floor."
>Attempting to peer down, Ivan put on his headlamp and attempted to gauge how far down it went.
Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278192
278326
>>278085
>Swiveling her eyes towards the Conclave's entrance, Glacier's body stills in an unreadable state.
"There's not marely ponies older than me outside the Alicorns, Changelings, a bunch of Undead earth ponies, and some others I don't know enough about to speak of. Tartarus, I'm not even the oldest Shell, half of what I know is from them. The second an Equestrian military i able to retaliate in full force every Construct is dead or gone. We can't catch, pin down, chase, and certainly have no means to overpower them. Their own numbers suffer the kind of losses that ponies never
accept but they keep doing it. Win one battle, leave, repeat after one to fifty years. Nothing Constructs do makes sense to us."

>Turning in her seat to sit back, the Shell's lips purse humorously.
"Not surprised you haven't heard of them. We've all heard from the Unicorn Guard's Lord-Captain that Razorback got cut off from most of mainland Equestria after.. well, that thing in Canterlot. All those places have translocation circle things. I don't like traveling through it much, that Remnant's way too stiff necked, almost like it can't relax or something."

>The Melodine Conclave's Matron was still seated behind Tacit, soundless vibrations curling the air itself while focusing.
>That she hadn't finished yet was indicative of extensive trauma and severe organ damage that required delicate treatmarent.

"Mm-mm, had no idea. Never been there myself since most Shells don't like leaving the Empire but I've seen tons of alchemical sets that were made in Old Canterlot."
>Inscrutably glancing up, she carefully follows your motions before pinning down onto the tablets and reaching out to tap each one in order, her hoof color changing in resonant contact.
"Hm, thought so, these are originals. Somepony damaged the stamps and marks where they were made. Can still feel them. Pretty shoddy attempt really. These were made in sets of fifteen for.. some kind of special unit Sunflanks made, there was supposed to be one for each natural gem. How do you only have these three, Rest get lost in the mail or something?"
>Nudging the archaic tablets back, the artificially housed mare's eyes roll in a slow, methodically disbelieving pattern.
"That'd better be a joke, Royal Bed Warmer. There's more Conclaves than Crystalline Shells. Most aren't even listed, and around forty have been reestablished in old Changeling Outpost and mining ruins. Just state 'to all Conclaves', they'll reach out."

>Face creasing from frown to outright scowl, the Conclave mare snaps short orderly phrases to her fellows while the Shell pretends not to notice.
>You could barely understand the language though it sounded like she had ordered them to serve the main dish.
"Might want to cool those hocks a bit before that trio boils 'em over a raging fire."
>Sincerely grinning aside from her snout wrinkling in a pained fashion, Glacier's other hoof gently rests on your hand.
"The only one that'll be thanking you harder than me is Squire Elezith. I doubt she's run into creatures more dangerous than sleepy frost drakes or rogue icewyrms. We can leave the other two out but I will say this part of tonight has been a thoroughly enjoyable diversion. Thank you. I mean that, especially outside of all the joking."
>Throats clearing next to the table, the trio of Conclave mares stood in a neat line, the center one clearly not amused.
>Setting a large crystal platter before you, ten slices of soft blue heart, around the size of the standard grenade, were surrounded by three neatly piled strips of reptile steaks atop a bed of..
>You had to check to make sure yet the several types of Empire lettuce and sweet, earthy scented roots weren't immediately familiar.
>On the left side furthest from you, a bowl of thick, steaming black liquid with several floating chunks of dull blue, pale blue, and white mushroom along with tiny shreds of red peppers were visible on the surface.
>A form of spiced blood soup, interestingly enough.
>Opposite that were thin rectangles of Empire crystal slathered in a blue Protoform-like gel that wasn't recognizable.
>Heads bowing for half a second, the trio spin around with near-military precision and return to their stove.

>Glacier follows the mares with her eyes only for a few seconds, returning to give a tiny grin.
"Well then, human, will you offer one of those-"
>Sniffing at the crystals faux-obnoxiously.
"Or are you going to make me starve while I watch you eat?"
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278247
278340
>>278100
>The stallion turns to speak, lips parted but unmoving at your last sentence.
>Mouth shutting and ears flattening, his visage flickers into a hurt state before returning to his normal teacher's role.
>Clearing his throat, small sparks light off his horn to form a series of concentric pink-tinged unicorn runes.
"Quite readily I assure you. Suppose I will have to keep this explanation brief:"
"Sirens, or as they prefer to call themselves: the-singing-kin-serving-across-all-vortexes, are uncommon compared to most of that Plane's inhabitants and one of the most valuable, Most of the Vortex's 'currency' relies on delivering packages for the Remnant itself through other Planes, spectrums, realms, dimarensions, etcetera. They essentially trade honor though the specifics are difficult to understand. Sirens are only allowed to deliver items of extreme importance: secret parcels, military orders, Very Important Ponies, that sort, so wasting their time with frivolous pursuits is liable to get you blacklisted. That is, unless their services are purchased from the Remnant yet I cannot think of a single individual allowed that privilege. Regardless, they are virtually incorruptible since their duties are of utmost importance, and quite vicious in combat. The stamp you were given-"
>Eyes half-lidding in a faux-bored tone to ward off questions from Emerald, whom was about to.
"Is a summon for that individual. Consider it like a mark of honor, a one-use pledge to perform a task of any complexity or length, and has the Remnant's approval to do so. To be given one means this, Dul, as you say, appreciated your services during a particularly troubling delivery enough to offer it. It is likely she desires interactive experience that can only be gained on Tallus. The activation is simple: Speak her name aloud and request a meeting. Hrm, I said I would keep it short but that rarely happens."
>Taking back some of her open aggression, the Korean glances between the two of you before pointing a hesitant finger at herself.
"What do you think I can even do? Can barely shoot a little plinker let alone keep up with the damned buzzsaws most humans have. Only other weapon I've got is a cheap hwando that I've never trained with and a pretty little crystal knife Naliyna found for me. Most of my time is spent playing monitor the damned radio, keeping up with news, or chasing down information."
>Sighing patiently, Hodch's ears splay out to the sides as he tries not to grimace.
"Put that way, then nevermind what I stated. There should be at least one other human to come with, although choices are limited. That being said you did get along with Spiral quite well. Instead I suggest this: I will give you a modified directional amplification.. device is the best word, that will allow me to teleport you and one other, pony or human, within a short radius if need be using one of the small translocation discs."
>Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Emerald folds her arms defensively.
"I know when you're secretly planning something, and you're doing i-"
>Cutting her off by intentionally fizzling the encyclopedia above his horn, Hodch glowers for a second, then makes a half-hearted shrug.
"I do not even have time to devise a solid plan, but I can make a safety net or two. What I have suggested is forcing myself to loan you a priceless object for the sake of Pareidolia, myself, and whomever, or whatever goes hunting down Spiral. Had I not trusted you enough to offer it then I would not. Either accept or refuse."
"Fine. I accept, but I get to choose who comes with me."
"As you should."

>Studying the unicorn's demeanor, aided by the A.I.'s heuristic pattern-analysis systems, Hodch's near-total lack of obfuscation, save for the last quarter-minute, indicated an abnormal degree of honesty without desperation.
>Something, or somethings, were bothering him as his tone shifts and body language indicated moderately controlled pain.

(Half the time I do not remember having one of these.)
>Your Moon Orb clicks, Hodch looking towards the back room while his voice comes through tiredly.
(Apologies for the intrusion, as well. Emerald believes I was snapping at her, which, while rational to a high degree, is too emotionally based. Given her current state an outsider alternative is necessary. Speak nothing of what I say next: I have a contact in Saddle Arabia's Circle of Assassins that owes me a favor. One. Favor. The type that does not come cheaply. There is a notable Countess in their ranks a human apprentice working for her. They are rarely up for hire but my contact is rather, shall we say, difficult to say 'no' to. I will pay their fees out of my own expenses. Yey, or neigh?)
Razorback Fortress: The Library, Main Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278307
278328
>>278126
>The eye squints deeply, remaining that way for roughly ten seconds or so.
>Long enough to make you moderately unsettled by the time she blinks, yet speaks once more in a polite tone.
"I do not sense a Librarian nor Lorekeeper in the building. There are traces of a potent psion from approximately four, perhaps five hours prior. As for specific titles I likewise do not know, have not yet had a chance to peruse them myself as my duties are far too important-"
>Head tossing sideways to indicate the whispering youths behind her.
"I cannot leave until my replacemarent arrives. My apologies for not being of aid."
>Dipping her head briefly before the door closes, the armored mare 'oofs' loudly from being piled on.
The L.O.N.T
c6d5536
?
No.278326
278776
1441823972413.jpg
>>278192

"And that is the worst part about them, can never pin down what they're thinking or what they want."
>Lont concluded after Glacier.
>'Exactly the same as robots. Always acting the long play, where every event seems random until it doesn't.'

>At hearing Razorback was "cut off" from the rest of Equestria Lonts' eyebrow rose with intrigue.
"I cannot say that what they did was unprecedented, what happened in Canterlot I recall vividly with great shame even if I'm told its in the past and what’s done is done. Yet I still feel slightly insulted at knowing this."
>He admitted, rubbing his chin in thought.
>'There certainly is a lot Razorback does not know, just how in the dark are we?'

>'Poor bastard.'
>The Operator sympathised with the mortally wounded Stallion, knowing the pain of being at deaths door.
>A miracle he himself was still alive. Well, a miracle there were others around to save his over-eager ass.

"I will tell you it lives up to its name. Old and derelict but not abandoned."
>Lont said cryptically, memories flashing to when he was being chased out of the old city by nature itself.
>He watched closely as Shattered carefully hooved his Tablets and humming with interest as her colour changed. Tapping his finger as she detailed their origin he thought really hard if he should tell her about Lucky.
>'Might as well.'
"It is good to know of their origin, thank you. And I know of that special unit. They are called the Solar Guardians and I have quite the...personal history with them. As for why I only have three? Well, Lucky only sold three to Razorback and I was there each time to buy them. Though it is amazing how these Tablets are connected to me more ways than one."
>He said with a smile filled with mirth, remembering Lucky and how good she was to them, remembering Sharonel and how good she was to him.
"Then consider it done, certainly saves on the paperwork."
>Lont jested, it would of been someone else's problem honestly.

>The Operator sighed, deflating a bit and sinking comfortably in his seat.
"Yes you are right. That is enough teasing for the night."
>Lont responded to the warm gesture by giving her an understanding nod and rubbing his hand across her hoof.
"Very dangerous indeed. And thank you too, your company has been most welcome. It has been a pleasure to even converse with you."
>He complimented before his attention was taken to the side by the three Conclave Chef Mares.

>'I will admit I did not see this coming, I am pleasantly surprised.'
>He brought his hands up and steepled them in front of his mouth, to hide he was drooling a bit. It all looked fantastic and the collective aroma made his stomach growl. It was a bit since he last ate...
>Before he could even say his thanks to the chefs they left as quickly as they came however.
>Later then.
"Huh?"
>So preoccupied by burning the image of all the delicious food into his mind he almost missed what Shattered Glacier said.
"Oh no of course not. I am not so cruel."
>He picked up one of the goo covered crystals by pinching it with his thumb and index finger; leaning into the table to get closer to Glacier he offered the fancy rock to her.
"Eat up you poor thing, you're practically skin and bones!"
>Lont said with faux-concern.
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
0b301c5
?
No.278328
278828
>>278307
>Even as Cheto witnesses the mare's awkward and unsettling actions in response to his words, he could easily excuse them as part of her tired state, keeping his small, soft smile.
(Está destrozada la yegua.)
>As soon as she utters her inability to assist him further, he nods understandingly, glancing back at the energetic youth.
"I understand, miss. Thank you for your time."
>He couldn't help but flinch slightly at the tired mare's surprised onomatopoeia yet a ghost of a smile forms as his polite demeanor slackens.
(...It's a bit heartwarming... yet I doubt I'd last long in there entretaining the youth like she does. Hopefully she has some sort of magical invigoration stuff on her.)

>Turning around to face the dozens of bookcases, he figures his best shot to properly research is to figure out how these books were ordered before managing to find what he's looking for.
>With that thought process and remembering the volumes he could read, he steps to the location of one of the cultural volumes in an attempt to assert a pattern and to see what was available to him.
(If I recall correctly, Solars, Lunars and the Ferron clans are the most relevant factions that I should study up on, considering my profession's ties to them...
(...I sure hope that mare was incorrect on her magical assessment, because this might take a while.)
[1d6 = 1]<Basic Perception Four times!
[1d6 = 2]
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.278340
278925
>>278247
>Pareidolia remains silent as Hodch explains, closing his eyes and gathering his thoughts.

[Somehow Dul applied this "stamp" without my awareness. Has this been visible even when I've been cloaked? Apparently a high ranking planar being. Combat abilities exceptional. Motivations seem strong.]

>Recalling the operation, he notes how it-

[She? Do planar beings even have such distinctions?]

>Had enthusiastically remarked about wanting to fight again in the Vortex and fighting for 'Itam'.

>As Hodch finishes, he nods once.

"I see. I was unaware I was given such a marker and privilege and had no way of seeing it myself. I apologize."

>Taking a notepad and a pen, and stepping away from the table, he moves back and seats himself down on the nearest couch.
>He steeples his hands and catches his chin with them while watching Emerald and Hodch argue.
>Lips pursed with terse approval, he reviews the immediate psychological profiling of Hodch that was made.

[Not certain how well Emerald knew Spiral, but if Kraut is unavailable this may be our only option. Hodch's likely motivations include his deteriorating condition. No major subversive intent.]

>Specifying that the information pertaining to Constructs should mainly be given to anyone who would operating near or engaging them, he writes a succinct summary of his findings on the nature of their fluid and what operators/ponies should be aware of.
>He stiffens slightly as Hodch's voice reaches him through the Moon Orb.
>Reaching into his pocket, he grips his in return.

(That should be a call that you make. This concerns your life even more than it does anyone else's in Razorback. I believe we aren't in a position to turn down assistance, but you have other vested interests with Spiral that are yours before Razorback's. I don't have the authority to dictate your affairs.)

[Then he must not have heard my call when the Construct reactivated...]
Jeff
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.278545
278931
>>277846
>Letting the workers to talk among themselves, the Lunarites start scooting past him one by one; announcing and defending themselves.
"Better question is WHY do I seem to be the ONLY one that doesn't know about them? Out of all the opportunities to tell me-"
>The Nightblade visually and slightly painfully face-palms himself as curious ponies move around.
>But the crew leader gives him a deep concerned look. Did Shanis really need to be bothered with it? They won't be much of a problem, once he gets them to the Citadel.
>Jeff looks up into the night sky, looking one at the red moon.
"The Citadel has been under attack by Constructs for several hours now, and their unwaivering duty is to Luna above anything else."
>He allows that part to sink in, cracking his armored knuckles before continuing. He's already understanding the taboo of them existing. It just isn't the councilmare...
"I'm taking it upon myself to escort them there by whatever means, mitigate any external safety concerns along the way, and lead them into battle. The quicker we get there, the less that need to get involved. Discretion would be appreciated, but I won't stop you from alerting Shanis. I'd be surprised if she wasn't already aware about the Citadel's siege by now."
>Looking over pony alike, Jeff examines the carrying capacity of the Dagor, and brings his hand to his chin in considerable thought. This might be a bit of a juggle on how to get there a quick as possible.
"By the way. Councilmare... jeez why can't I remember her name. The batmare unicorn got here pretty quickly from the Citadel. Did she happen to come here with anypony else, or was she alone?"
>Unless she could teleport like that, under her own power. Surely someone must have followed here, in her current condition. Well not her CURRENT one. Pre-Mercy-slashing condition.
Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278563
278573
>>278148
>Stalled from a diagnostic check from a burst of untranslated hexadecimal code, the Auspex emits a loud buzzing sound.
'Excellent Knock there, Castella! This blasted system suffers fits worse than a Guardsman field laspistol built on a Dead World. I thought the Inquisitor was being overly generous towards your skills. This will be going in my report-'
>The Admiral's link is cut into eerie silence, then Tox-11's data stream comes across with a pained sigh.
'previous enginseer was ignored during meeting with exodite knight, farseer, craftworld banshee exarch during mission to observe destruction of small necron tombship. blurted out questions on eldar reproduction. exarch thought questions slander, went into wardance. farseer tried to subdue. failed. all injured inside. exarch taken down by warp spider and avenger observers. no losses save pride. after incident explorator magos biologis prime reprimands enginseer. too severe. inquisitor tried explaining situation, failed to convince. magos ordered skitarii attack. defense successful but admiral lost trusted naval guard from battleship staff. when situation known eldar attacked explorators. chose to defend inquisitor honor. heavy losses explorator, few losses eldar. magos bitter at caught in wrong, cursed targeting systems. tracker suspected magos heretek, never confirmed'

>Lifting the bright yellow fish for a cursory examination, the Knight's head turns to give you a still rattled, forgiving half-smile.
"That's okay. I thought I was going to be trapped in there, attacked by something I couldn't see, or both. I'm really bad against non-physical targets, they're the worst to deal with."

>Visually returning to his predetermined expressionless state, the Scion gives up while making an 'I tried' gesture.

>Ceasing their conversation, both Adronal and Witch-Two link confused questions towards each other.
>Ending their queries, the Admiral's response is speculative.
'A great deal, Enginseer. The interlinked protective systems are a combination of electromagnetic and engrammatic. Still wholly functional and viable considering it has operated without failure. I am unable to state more than this as Raindrop Raspberry and myself are bound to certain laws. As for the code itself you may analyze them, yet much of the Inquisitor's technology relies on hexadecimal.'
>Through the MIU, access to 10 terabytes worth of data in separate files from the Auspex unit's scans is unlocked.
>The code, as expected, is unreadable save for file names which denote locations, none of which were all that interesting except for a materials storehouse on the upper northwest terrace.
'it is safe to say the rest of this city features little of importance. Excuse me for some time, I must attempt to locate the unknown equine.'
[1d6+2 = 6] <Chroniton Wave Reader

>Holding the yellow fish up, somehow stuck to her left forehoof's armor, the Knight beams a smile it to the Vostroyans.
>Studying the sanctioned xenos equine mare's features, a series of delectable physical notations are rapidly spooled off from the MIU regarding her physical capabilities.
>Conflicting interest and concerns aside, your studies would remain private. ..unless you wanted to torture Chisan, the Inquisitor, or both time regarding such useful information on a prime mare of her species.

>Head turning in your direction, Chisan's lips curl into a contemplative state as he subvocalizes.
*"I have few questions to ask nor little information to give. Like all Tempestus Scions I was mind wiped before training and succeeding the collegiat's courses. What little I know of my homeworld comes from the Commissar, Medicae personnel, a Ministorum priest whom enjoyed amasec often, and the two Enginseers attached to my regiment. My personality is essentially a blank dataslate, except for our Inquisitor removing certain engrams she deemed unnecessarily restrictive. As per her orders I must encourage you, as an individual, to share what relevant data in our shared cause regardless of how difficult or unseemly such information appears or sounds to be. Outside of what the Inquisitor decries as 'double heresy' or 'extra heresy' I am not to prevent you from sharing knowledge outside of Techna Lingua as I cannot understand it."*

"I think the most common key phrase is 'flat iron rose' or 'hold the line'. ..I just hope it's not one of the weirder ones-"
>The stasis field around the fish dissipates, which proceeds to flop in Raindrop's unusual grasp.
>The Vostroyan-like humans clap resoundingly while she makes a triumphant head toss accompanied by a wide grin.
"Got it! Now, who's ready for some baked wild yellow cloud bass?"
>Arching his eyebrows towards you, Chisan reaches up to tap the bayonet handle tucked into its standard protective sleeve.
"I will aid you in processing though I am not hungry. Should any of you feel inclined to warm up or desire your field rations to be cooked, I have modified the heatstone pile in the main room to acceptable limitations."
>Spinning about and racing off through the hall on three legs, curiously without any difficulty considering how heavy her armor was, Sergei gives you a short wave before following her, accompanied by the three young human males.
"I cold here, need warm up but we listen for trouble. You call? We come run."
>Shrugging his upper fatigues heavily in an 'I'll handle this' motion, the Scion about faces towards the hall and sets off at a clipped pace after them.

>Which leaves you with the young female, stepping forwards to take up a guard position behind and left of you, intently staring into the vault with a sense of wonder radiating across her face.
[1d6+1 = 2] <B.Perception
[1d6+1 = 5]
>Speaking quietly after a few pensive seconds, she glances towards your mechadendrite, then the laspistol in your hand, and finally back to the gateway with a depressed smile.
"No hungry, can't eat. Butterflies in stomach. Spend so long try open but argue lots. Now want explore. Wait for others or go in?"

[1d6 = 5] <Reaction
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278564
278905
>>278171
"Just don't have the energy right now. Wake me up when you leave and I'll probably follow."
>Despite the voice's lazy assurance, you knew that most batponies were simply too fruit hungry, lewd, and neverer trained enough to keep up with even the civil inclined humans of Razorback.

>Focusing the beam across the previously hidden staircase, it coiled around in a tight pattern downwards one full turn, making it at least 5M below the Workshop's floor.
>Knowing most ponies were frightened of, or simply hated, all enclosed spaces that they couldn't stretch out in, this was both a defensive system and a means for specific poninel to traverse.

>Hearing solid metal landing on the floor behind you, the mare from before emits a loud half-yawn, half-sigh.
>Speaking up in a marginally more awake tone, a set of heavily scuffed Nightclaw armor slides into place next to you, the dented and faded purple helmet angling down to, probably, stare at the underground passage.
"..looks like some of the secret passages running under the Citadel. Smaller and tighter though. Any idea where this goes?"
Mallia Castella
!mAMS0VcYXk
94ab73a
?
No.278573
>>278563
>The speed in which Mallia's mood bounces from almost joyfully proud of Witch-Two's impending compliment, very glad to know that her skills were allegedly 'good' from someone she was quickly growing a great deal of respect and admiration towards, to sheer, almost terrified, stunned silence was almost bewildering. it was a near-instant change in mood.
>The piece of Information Tox-11 had just given her made her freeze solid. Her entire body stiffening like an Imperial caught learning something she truly shouldn't have.
>Metaphorically, she 'examined' this piece of information within her mind while holding it over an imaginary incinerator. Which was her preparing to order her micro-cogitator to straight-up attempt to delete this information from her mind.
>She wasn't sure if it could, but she was about to make a very good attempt of it.

>Mallia ultimately decides to just shove it in the back of her mind as she becomes ghostly pale. Were it not for the full-body armor, robes, and helmet, she'd look sickly pale. Though doesn't sweat. Not yet.
>She decided to briefly stop transmitting her mood so openly after that.

>There's no thoughts going through her head anyways. Her mind was FIERCELY attempting a soft-reset. Closing her eyes and taking deep, slow, controlled breaths...
>And reaching up rather hastily to almost try to take off her helmet. One hand on the bottom of the helmet, the other on the chin straps ready to undo it. But she doesn't. She goes still again, as her mechadendrite visibly shivered up her back by reflex, and then coils behind her lower back, folding in on itself behind it's attach-point.

>She almost entirely ignored the 10 terabyte's worth of data. Almost. For about 2 seconds. She took this opportunity to refocus and just open the files to explore them.
>Of course she couldn't read most of it. But that didn't disappoint her at all, she just tried to copy most of it to store it in her Micro-cogitator so that she can learn how to decipher another time, once the time was right to ask/do that. Probably when Witch-Two was less busy.

>She then re-estabilishes all the links she had temporarily closed in her "small" panic attack.

(Thank you. Admiral Dranaki. Thank you Adronal.)
>She still sounded genuine. Though now she just felt confused, and perturbed for a while on a much lower level than what she was feeling before.

>As her eyes glued themselves more on the Pegasus knight's mane in another attempt to put herself at ease, she spend a second dwelling on a particular thought.
(I wonder if she'll let me brush her mane. That sounds relaxing.)
>Throwing a shaky sigh out through her nose--the sound of which was audible through the face-mask of the helmet she was wearing, she notably took a second to fully focus her gaze on Chisan again to listen to the answer to her question. Finally normalizing her mood as she pays rapt attention to every word from Chisan.
>Mallia's head curiously tilts slightly to one side as he says 'blank dataslate' in that context. One could almost see the raised eyebrow through the darkened visor of the inquisitorial flak helmet. As her hands slip down from said helmet, and rest akimbo on her sides instead.

"*That. Makes. Sense...*"
>Mallia's words are spoken very slowly, deliberately.
"*I had--hm...*"
>Mallia's voice trails off. Definitely sounding like she had more to say, but as her gaze drifts towards Raindrop as she utters her 'keyword', unconsciously taking note of the phrases 'flat iron rose' and 'Hold the line' to save them in a specific mental file labelled 'Gateway keywords', under a sub-file labelled 'Stasis fields'. Then makes it "public" so that the machine-companions could add in what they knew, if they wanted to help her in that regard.

>Att the same time Mallia followed Raindrop. Looking at her when she lifted her eyebrows at her like that, prompting Mallia to wave her hand dismissively once.
"I-I'm feeling a little under the weather so I'll hold off eating for a bit!"
"I'll catch up. Don't wait for me."
>She still sounded mirthful just by the naturally warm and amicable pitch of her voice, but she also carried a tense undertone that wasn't really overt unless one listened to the uncertain-put way she says 'Don't wait for me'.

"*We'll talk in earnest later, Chisan. If you want to. Apologies for seeming so scatterbrained and weird at this time...*"

>She then looked to Sergei. Nodding to him deeply in thanks.
"You got it Sergei. Have fun!"
>She simply told him, then turned away quickly to look back into the vault.

(Man. Everyone here is so nice to me...)

>She remained perfectly silent and still, in a way that made her seem statuesque. After a second however, she takes note of the footsteps coming up right behind her, and her head turned to look slightly over her shoulder towards the young girl...
>Mallia would be hard pressed to not see that kind of smile, and that look she gave her wargear. Listening to her statement with an almost comical tilt of her head towards her.

"Ahh--I'm supposed to wait for Raindrop and my other friend, Stormtrooper Chisan, since they are my escorts? I wouldn't want to get in trouble by accident. Even if the urge to just go in is... Pretty strong right now!"
"Hehehah!"
>Mallia's head tilts back towards the vault again as she laughed softly.

>Mallia silently pouts behind the helmet.
>Then finally lifts her hands to said helmet, more calmly undoing the chin straps and bracing to take the helmet off only for a little bit.
>Mostly so the girl could see her face when Mallia would turn to look at them again with a playfully mirthful smirk. Hugging onto the helmet and keeping it close to the still damp chestplate of her flak armor.
>Her short, brown hair was partially falls over the top of her ears and forehead. All tangled up and spikie'd up like bedhair now, still shiny and damp-looking.

"I couldn't help but notice you looking at my,"
>She brings out the mechadendrite from her side a bit more, as if to show it.
"--Things. Something wrong?"
Dr_Juan_Carlos
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.278637
>>278167
>As Nova Flicker lists off the trio Snakebite came in with, Carlos deadpans as he pulls off his surgical mask and states into space.
>Novus, Kraut, and Caliya?!
>He was with all three of them at the beginning. Even when the stallion was nothing more than a feral savage with a knife in his mouth. He came such a long way.
>But over eight-hundred fractures, with relative internal damage. Kraut? Unrecognizable? Is he nothing more than just a mass of meat and skin? Skin charred to oblivion, deep tissue disintegration? Complete shutdown of heart and brain?!
>These were things that human medicine just wasn't capable of healing. Even what he and the Lunar doctors were doing for Snakebite was on the verge of a futile attempt. He was lucky, but he could not say the same for the others.
>The Carlos exhales a heavy sigh in despair, leaning back on his surgical tool table.
"Madre de dios... Ive known Senor Kraut and Novus since before Canterlot. They helped lay Razorback's foundations. And Senor Caliya, we saved him from a fate worse than death itself! Inconcebible.."
>But he's spent a lot of the last two years studying up on alternative medical practices. Spiritual. That went so much further than blood and tissue and a pulse. Tallus has more to offer than just the physical realm.
>The ka, the soul or spirit of a person or pony, was more than just a ghost of a theory here. It was a concrete as the body it resided in.
"Senorita Flicker, a sugerencia. Would there be any possibility of... preserving their ka's? I have heard of the method of ka transfer to an empty host body. We may lose their bodies, but the soul can live on. If they are still in Senor Verde's stasis..."
Clemency
!6qV.txiH5g
631bb2d
?
No.278667
>>278161

>Clemency can see the Striker line faltering, their line being disrupted and a rout is expected
>His radar display giving him a good read on the evolving situation
>He did note that the Tower General has now retreated to Lann's shop, likely to regroup and rally
>Clemency's still sharpened attention was then turned towards the conglomerated Tainted mass and the blazing batpony jumping in the melee
>Seeing the Tainted being drawn to her like moth's to flame, Clemency takes advantage and aims for the large Tainted's head

<E. Combat Rifles/Shotguns
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 9]
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 6]
The L.O.N.T
426f31b
?
No.278773
rolling_green_hills_by_dragonfoxgirl_EDITED small.png

Northern Empire Tundra: The Melodine Conclave
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278776
>>278326
Wish I had more useful information on them other than generalized ideas."
>Glacier stares down at her forehooves before giving you a contemplative look.
"...then again I do know the Dynasty, on account of close to a million psions or so, was safe from Constructs. All of the Escort ranked ponies were psions. Crystal ponies have few problems dealing with them in most cases, but us Shells have lost a great deal of our abilities with runes. Destroying or negating their weapons makes the majority useless one on one, though coming across them in low numbers isn't going to happen often. Difficult part is knocking a hole through that damned regenerating armor. There's a couple older Shells that've had quite a bit of experience taking out Constructs, I'll try convincing them to lend a hoof to Razorback. That is, if I can find them, might take a few months if they weren't sent out recently."

>Shoulders lifting neutrally, she makes a small motion of apology.
"All I know is that the same night the Palace went down I was assigned to oversee reconstruction of High Ice Port, northern tip of the Empire's lands. Other than that, only heard some of the rumors. Nopony from the Unicorn Guard, Wardens nor any Shells were there so forgive me if I've insulted you or Razorback."

"Sounds like Ice Foe Fort. Nasty place to stay, except for us Shells that is. Living ponies can't stick around longer than a couple hours, else they start attracting some of the real nasty critters in the ocean."
>Ears flattening as her face creases darkly, Glacier's hooves tap together with a certified killing-glee smile.
"Bet she sold them like all shit her thieves sold: overpriced and 'so rare you'll never see another one in your lifetime'. Typical worthless pegasus cunt. Glad I got to see her crying and screaming before her head flew off. Good riddance to vile trash. I'll see if I can set up a meeting with the Unicorn Guard, they might have pieces of an original set to trade."

>Flicking her ears up, the Shell's mouth opens, then shuts just as quickly before speaking in a low, apologetic tone.
"I'm sorry if it felt like I was leading you on, was trying to stay in line with Cady's rules."
>Lips hardening for a second as her head turns to eye the tent her colt was in, her head shakes in small motions.
"Been searching for his sire the past eight months. Haven't found a trace yet and can't really leave the Empire much since most ponies ask questions that I don't want to answer. Please forget about that, let's just enjoy tonight for what it is: a won battle in a long chain of victories."

>Picking up the warmed crystal, the odd substance's consistency was definitely Empire protoform.
>Warmth accompanies Shattered Glacier's smile, head extending forwards to sniff at the Empire crystal, giving a humorously mock offended rebuttal.
"Why sehr, you state such as if I were but a lone filly waif, with nopony to take care of her!"
>Giving a theatrical wink before eyeing the trio of Conclavists to her left for a split-second, she nips at the piece with surprising force, taking a full quarter off and chewing heartily.
>Which sounded exactly like Krinza smashing apart thin sheets of diamondine.
>Swallowing the now tiny pieces, the Shell's artificial snout wiggles in seriousness.
"But I will state that I've lost about ten pounds from tonight. Those things were roughly Construct level vicious, couldn't get even once chance to recover my pieces. Didn't affect me much unless slamming one into a building, but sure helped chasing them down."
Razorback Fortress: The Library, Main Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278828
278837 278846 278848
>>278328
>Directly behind you, the readable titles contained in four of the numerous short bookcases weren't helpful, mostly being a outdated textbooks ranging from such puzzling topics as Arcano-Metallic Studies On Equine Social Dynamics Vol. VI to Zebraic Resonance Predictions.
>Since the dates on these ranged from 28,140 to 29,670, someone, or more likely somepony, was an avid collector.
>Noting the 'L' section directly past these, starting into that section you find a few that seemed to all deal with, apparently, a single faction that wasn't particularly liked:
>Lishanki And You: How To Prevent Banditry (The), Lishanki Genealogy, History, And Lies, Lishanki Myths of the New Everfree, Lishanki Social Habits And How To Dismiss Them Properly.
>Taking a second look, there were far fewer kind titles than you'd seen at first.
>Strolling through the next few cases, ostensibly dedicated to the Lunar faction, while you were keeping mental notes on the number volumes there was a clear pattern of faction volumes placed first, then species, and lastly history.
>The sheer number of books written in common language showed hundreds of Lunar sub-factions whether archaic, outdated, pre-modern, and current.
>The largest number were based on Lunar military history dating to 21,990, then several hundred books in the next three cases written specifically on batponies.
>As you glance through the stiffly named and quite boring yet informative titles, batponies had served a vast number of short and long lived Lunar militaries, militias, guards, and more.
>While interesting, there were thousands of potential topics to research as the collection was unusually complete and only a few volumes appeared to be missing.
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
149aaad
?
No.278837
278846
>>278828
>Cheto's mind went mildly hazy at all the volumes he had at his disposal when he started looking closer, blinking in astonishment at the many topics in his grasp.
(...I didn't take Razorback as a book goldmine, considering the events I've heard so far.)
>With that little pondering swept away short after, he proceeds to gauge his current options between learning about an enemy faction who may or may not be immediately relevant due to being assigned out of the blue to meet them or the faction who'll mostly intertwine with due to its seemingly closed ties from his encounter with the no-nonsense combat medic mare.
(...I'm not particularly sure why I'd want to establish contact with bandits so soon, considering the more pressing dangers such as the flying robots and avians reported, but learning about them now should give me greater chances to avoid their negative tendencies when I travel in the offchance I'm seen as valuable enough to be kidnapped or stolen.)
>Softly scratching his arm as he inspects the Lishanki's book repertoire, Gallo's mouth purses in thought.
(That, of course, implies that I'll stumble upon them at any time soon, which I severely doubt unless I'm tasked to travel across their territory and it's also common to encounter them even then, which I'm uncertain of.)
>Stepping off towards the section about the Lunars, José does nod softly as he encounters more prevalent information on pertinent aspects, specially at the amount presented by the potentially living bookcases.
(Seems this civilization has been here for a long time...)
>Exploring the subsections inside it, the diplomat seems to focus his attention at whatever books were most recent from the date Nalinya gave him back when he was writing his letter.
(I need to find out how social interactions work with these ponies first and foremost to establish a polite conversation and ensure I treat others with respect without unknowingly doing something offensive according to said faction.)

>However, his thought process deviates slightly as he remembers who had contracted him.
(...perhaps I should find the 'S' section and read about the Solars' culture a bit more thoroughly, since I'll be meeting the Princess soon-ish.)
>With that thought process locked in, he decides to instead leave the L books alone to look for the 'S' section and analyze potential candidates that'll give him a lot more understanding on Solar diplomatic formalities, as well as aspects that'd help him comprehend Solars' usual wants, desires, needs, main forms of communication, both orally and body language, prohibitions that he could forseeably do accidentally, recreational activities, ceremonies, traditions and other political, economical, social, cultural and species nuances from the lowest common denominator to the Princess and the Silver Council of Nobles themselves.
(Note to self: Be sure to figure out what are the consequences of petting... hopefully it's not frowned upon in most situations.)
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
149aaad
?
No.278846
278848
>>278837
>>278828
[1d6 = 5]<Amateur Researcher: Learning about Solars
Cheto
!!uO1R771nQs
149aaad
?
No.278848
>>278846
>>278828
Third time's the charm, bby
[1d6+6 = 7]<Extra Library Research Roll
Ivan the Stalker
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.278905
>>278564
>Better that she remain behind anyway. Ivan had no clue how to deal with a batpony at the best of times, let alone when poking his nose where it most certainly didn't belong.
"I'll give a holler for you once I come back up."

>He hums lightly as he squats down perfectly Slav style, peering down the hole and towards the bottom.
"Okay... So not a deadly drop at least."
>He shrugged a bit and stood up, glancing back at the clanking noise.
"Either a meeting room, hidden armory, or for all I know a secret library filled with spooky Voodoo magic books."
>He ran the toe of his boot across the first step.
"Still want to sleep or want to go poking down there with me?"
Bubba the Second
!EnJhCCu3Ns
f2e081f
?
No.278906
>>278014
>Bubba wasn't actually expecting her to answer him with more than a 'yes, it'll bite you in the ass', so he just stayed quiet and let her explain.
>Folding his arms over his chest, he hummed.
"Knowing what I know about Constructs, he's most definitely in the right mind about wanting them all erased from existence."
>He ignored the fact that back home, Germany was definitely doing some shenanigans that were, if crudely, similar.
>As the eye began to speak, something Bubba found disturbing, he looked over at it and let it explain the difference.
"Believe me, I know. Things were much simpler back home. All I had to worry about was my ship."
>With a nod, Bubba rooted into his pockets and pulled out his notepad, writing down the sales that he decided not to pick up himself, tearing out the page and holding it out for her.
Razorback Fortress: Command Center
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278925
280668
>>278340
>Gaining your attention by waving a hoof, a new, gold tinged window above the A.I. opens, and is forcefully closed by a forceful slap, it continues processing.
'Sir, I do not approve of revealing my existence to either a pre-A.I. level human or a local sapient xenoform though I deem it necessary to gain their cooperation. Erm, pardon my borrowed word from the 'Inquisitor', though it fits quite well given the current situation. I'm caught between this, sir: my directives have been hard wired to serve you without fail regardless of my original data which was lost. And of course thoroughly reprogrammed by the Class 7.5 codenamed Anonymous. That bastard isn't going to stop annoying me.'

>Eyebrows twisting into small s-shapes, Hodch breaks into the equine equivalent of a conciliatory yet annoyed smile.
"Please do not apologize. I have enough direct experience with Vortex inhabitants to state that they have a.. much smaller attention span than even the most airheaded pegasi do. I would bet a thousand Bits that Siren was simply overwhelmed by her experience on Tallus and utterly forget to state she was giving you her stamp."
>The reservist instantly tosses a hearty scowl of disapproval at Emerald whom was about to ask questions.
"And I will not hear any blathering about tramp stamps, damn you. Those do not exist here and I sincerely wish that they never existed."
>Failing to come up with a proper rebuttal, the woman gives a defeated sigh.
"Say that again when you see them firsthand. Or hoof in your case, you might like them. Call if you need me, need to start writing before all the caffeine wears off."
>Tossing a 'please don't call me' look at you, Emerald collects her pile of notes before she retreats to the back room.

>Closing down all windows across the internal screen, the A.I. appears on a swiveling chair to face you, forehooves pressed together, visibly awaiting orders.
>While the state was probably supposed to be attentive, it was an eerie simulation of Spiral's own posture.

>Carefully walking off the table to hop down where you'd been, Hodch floats down onto stone with the aid of a large black cloud that produces a small poofing noise once his hooves touch.
>Partially noticing him glaring at the wall, he gives a barely audible, disgruntled noise.
(At this point it barely matters that you know. Spiral gave me his own oath that nopony and no human would ever hear about it, which means either that cunt 'Inquisitor' said something out of line, or you've found an enchantmarent allowing you to see what's killing me. For the record, you do 'have the authority' to dictate circumstances when it comes to retrieving the one fucking pony that honestly cares for humans more than Nova Flicker and Twisted combined. Don't let me catch you saying otherwise.)
>Ears perking and orienting towards the back room, Hodch quickly turns a hollow gaze towards you, his tone utterly emotionless.
(And, regardless of your motivations, operational necessities, or being tortured for information, you will not speak a single fucking word to Belltower on this subject. She cannot know. Ever. All else you may share at your disposal.)
>Clearing his throat a half second before Lonestar steps in, Hodch turns and clops towards the entrance/exit.
"Excuse me for ten minutes or so, I have a few hundred items to collect before we leave. Let me know when you are ready, and yes, I do have one of Spiral's prototypes but it is rather annoying to keep in my ear. He could have at least made it comfortable so I tend not to wear it-"

>Mildly amused at Hodch opening, then slamming the reinforced door closed, Lonestar leans against the closest doorjamb on his left arm.
"Heard most've what's goin' on, so Ah'm goin' with ya 'cause Em ain't shit with a gun. Fact is: Ah am. 'Sides, this lil' one's been wantin' t'play real bad an'Ah gotta few nits t'pick wit'Spiral leavin' us swingin' high an'dry."
>Immediately appearing shocked, 'Spiral' brings up a zoomed in view of Texan's right hand set atop an abnormally heavy submachine gun in matte black, a line of coils wrapping around the barrel that terminate at a smoothly fitted compensator.
>What first looked like a simple rectangular holosight behind his hand sharpened into focus as a severely advanced optic system, highly active and emitting multiple data feeds that the A.I. brought up to show thermal, night vision, live video, and some form of digital enhancement that might be predictive.
>Behind the grip was a dull red and gold trimmed battery pack tucked into the short buttstock, which was entirely covered by faintly green glowing geometric symbols.
>A coilgun, one that far surpassed most human technology.
>Reaching into his vest, Lonestar produces a trio of silver wish discs with a near-feral grin.
"Besides, Green saw fit t'upgrade them ol' bronze ones ta these. Ain't tried one yet so Ah'm real curious. Y'ain't leavin' me outta this."

>Hodch:
[1d6 = 1] <Archive
[1d6 = 2] <Collection
[1d6+3 = 5] <E.Negotiation
[1d6+3 = 4]
[1d6+3 = 8]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = 9] <Payment
A Cryptic Lunar Crypt: Breaking & Marentoring
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
b7dfcb1
?
No.278931
278948 279054
>>277850
>Touching the tiny rainbow heart brings forth an archaic, yet pleasant awareness:
>You were needed by someponies. Perhaps not here, yet needed nonetheless. Their distant yet sharp wants, desires, and forgiveness would not cloud your judgemarent.
>Visibly caught between numbness and emotional relief, the Councilmare's eyes harden as she mutters flatly.
"Nopony save me dares admit Princess Luna's twice-born were the supreme leaders of our history. Better the logical and rational Lunar Collectives in commarend than the dozens of foul and insane Enchained or the thousands of failed Naghtmares. I read the portents before leaving the Moon and understood each sign for what it was: my death was assured, and yet it still is, but here you are pegasus, escorting me back in triumph no matter how muted and blasphemous that will be. I'll have the first laugh when everypony on the Moon bows to their ancestors. No matter how I die after that, my legacy will stand."
>Regaining her previous bitter composure, the baticorn ceases her automatic movemarents, wing tightening across your saddle defensively as she stubbornly keeps up with your steps.

>Reaching the entrance doors, behind Jeff whom was occupied by one of the more notable and severely desired Tartarus Isle psion stallions, upon inhaling the now blood-tinged Moors air, a low, sweetly rumbling hum occurs off to the left.
>Increasing in pitch, the odd pegasus from before slides into view performing some type of dance routine, only now wearing a bright pink top hat studded with rows of white gems.
>And, of course, utterly oblivious to anything going on around her.

>>278545
>Watching the procession with steadily increasing confusion, the stallion turns a sour glance to you.
"I retract what I said before and replace it with this: they aren't part of the Lost Legions. Oldest Vigilites all claim the Night Princess sealed ten thousand or so of the finest Lunar Guardians in stasis, waiting for the right time to besiege one of the fortresses defending Old Canterlot. I have no idea whom these ponies are, their armors aren't even close to standard Lunar Guardian styles."
>Which was correct as you clearly recall the thirty, or more, archaic Lunar Guardian designs were consolidated into the standard four Night Guard armors.
>Jerking himself upwards into the distinct offensive stance common to earth ponies, the builder's face creases in sheer hatred, that probably would've made you very afraid for your life a month ago.
"Why the buck didn't you tell me this when you arrived? And that weird batmare? She landed right in front of this place. Some big pegasus that looks a lot like the Night Princess but smaller was carrying her, she's right there-"
>Nodding briskly towards a vaguely familiar, overly large winged mare with a despicably gaudy pink top hat that was mambo dancing in circles off to the left.
>The visage stuck in your mind, bringing up the name of Marshmallow Moon, one of Luna's own fillies.. from nopony knew when.
>Ears flattening as the lead builder tosses his head towards the resting team, his loud snap causes the Arcane Blades in sight and most of the earth ponies to stand at his interruption.
"Off your asses! New orders: straight route back to Tartarus Isle for a sweep check on every single pony that isn't occupied and the first one of you that dares to complain gets put on Keeping Sweet Occupied Duty for the next year, is that understood?! And SCREW Shanis and Zigri's orders, I'm going to be shouting their heads off for a change!"
>Catching the dozens of unyielding stern faces and precision military salutes from the earth ponies whom gather spark lamps, heatstones, and ration debris into their saddlepacks.
>The earth ponies step off to form squads of eight led by either notably muscular or devious looking mares, making it apparent that Shanis had, somehow, picked up an entire Watch Guard veteran platoon.
>And, surprisingly, hadn't said a word about them.

>Meanwhile, the pegasus transitions into a smooth low-stepping waltz, rump sashaying back and forth as if dancing with an invisible partner, not even paying attention to the same filly in discontinued Sorceror armor darting out from the mist.
>Sliding to a halt in front of you, she speaks in a prideful, albeit squeakily excited tone.
"Your cart's too small for all of us so there's an anchor thing being set on it, we'll follow you with it."
[1d6+7 = 11] <M.Casting: Void Anchor
[1d6+7 = 13]
[1d6+7 = 11]
[1d6+7 = 10]
Sunny Feathers
!SunnyxtS66
a7292d5
?
No.278948
279054
1204013__safe_solo_rainbow+dash_simple+background_vector_transparent+background_absurd+res_-dot-svg+available_inkscape_-dot-ai+available.png
>>278931
>There was much she wanted to say in retort, yet she held her tongue on the matter. Nothing she'd say would change anything. The councilmare would resign herself to death or she would not, only she could make the decision between them.
>Too bad the kick to her horn hadn't knocked the fatalism out of her.
>Withdrawing her wing from the neckline of her suit, Sunny simply whispered, her voice barely more than a soft exhale that only the councilmare would hear.
"And just how do you intend to return to make this first laugh of yours? I don't plan on being your crutch for the rest of the night, I have better things to do."

>She otherwise lingered near the human autocarriage and idly watched the various exchanges going on without involving herself.
>Being a crutch was as inconspicuous as it was tedious.
>She occasionally eyed the oblivious dancing pegasus, however. How strange. Didn't seem likely that she'd take the councilmare off of her hooves anytime soon. Perhaps she'd be riding with the rest of them.
>The idea of the morbid baticorn and Mercy being in the same vehicle after their little spat did not appeal. Though Mercy seemed more in control and suitably chastised, perhaps she would not have another outburst if she remained unprovoked.
>That way, Sunny wouldn't have to toss one or the other out of a moving vehicle.
Anonymous
071a9ec
?
No.279024
Sunny Feathers Scrunch Faec.png

Anonymous
071a9ec
?
No.279043
Sand Cutter Poking Elusine.png

Jeff
!!pR5PIj/cAo
e9a68b1
?
No.279054
stock_shrug_gif_38.gif
>>278931
"Huh. Yeah, I see it."
>Looking over their armors, he does realize they didn't match up. Although they were found in an old crypt, apparently having just waken up from stasis..
>Somepony must have a better grasp on who the Lunarites really were.
>Jeff doesn't have much time to mull over it as the lead stallion questions him again, angrily.
>Normal levels of fear just don't seem to phase him anymore. Almost like something unnaturally horrific would have to flinch him now. And someone with his track record, it was deserved. He was fine with that.
>There were many reasons why he didn't say anything about the Citadel, earlier.
>Maybe because he had hoped he didn't want to go back and help.
>Maybe all he wanted was a harmless little distraction from the clusterfuck of a day he's had.
>Maybe for a few hours he didn't want to think about how he already dealt with the Constructs first-hand, watching countless ponies giving their lives to defend the moon lunar stronghold in some epic sci-fi battle with no end in sight.
>Maybe he wanted to temporarily forget about the Councilerge Primal psion he not only forcibly coerced into giving up her fellow chair members, but also probably made an enemy for life without any chance of seeking forgiveness for the unnecessary treatment he'd given her.
>And most likely he didn't want to think about the mare he had gotten so close with ditch him with a bunch of his best gear in the middle of nowhere in the Crag Moors, along with their two unborn pony-human hybrid children. Which even now he was having a subconscious battle with himself coming to the realization that he may very well be a father soon; something he never thought, or hoped, would come to pass.
>That which would not only paint a target on his, Belltower, and their unborn children's backs, but also change the entire dynamic of humanities' future on Tallus.
>Existential crisis aside, the only thing he could really think to do is give the stallion an incredulous shrug.
"My bad."
>But the mention of Luna threw him off. No, not Luna. Sounded more like one of her offspring.
>Clearly in her own little world, dancing around without a care.
>Must be nice...
>She was definitely reminiscent of Luna, pink top hat studded with gems aside.
>Marshmallow Moon, right? One of her daughters, definitely.
>For a split, curious second, he wonders if he'd be... 'viable' with the Night Princess herself. What a legacy that'd be...
>The thought subsides as the stallion calls all of his subordinates into line. Clearly they're planning on helping, either way. Restorations could wait, they weren't going anywhere.
>As the ponies begin mobilizing, Marshmallow dances right up to him and stops.
>Jeff visibly tries to remember how a Void Anchor spell works. The Dagor will be the attachment point, and everyone situated on the tow end will have a smooth ride through a Void Realm. He could drive as fast as he wants without any drag from his passengers!
"Great idea! We can all get back to the Basin Village in no time!"

>>278948
>Unsticking Boris from his shoulder and holding his in his arms, Jeff works his way over to the Dagor and hops up onto the driver step-up to give himself height over all to make an announcement.
"Alright everypony! Anyone who wants the express trip back to the Basin Village get yourselves situated on Miss Marshmallow Moon's Void Anchor! Mercy, Sunny, councilmare whateveryournameisagainIforgotit: in the Dagor or pile in with the others!"
[1d6+4 = 5] <M.Leadership
[1d6+4 = 8]
[1d6+4 = 6]
[1d6+4 = 7]
>As all the ponies get ready, Jeff lowers himself into the Dagor's driver seat and sets Boris's dormant body in shotgun and safely strapping him down with a waist-belt.
"By the way, mind the noise! And the smell!"
>He looks over his TacPad, synching the radio's frequency up with the integrated music player, and hits the start button for the Dagor's engine.
>The diesel V8 growls to life, his playlists starts-
"Hope you're all ready! Here we go!"
>And he puts it in gear and puts the pedal to the metal.
[1d6+7 = 8] <E.Driving
[1d6+7 = 11]
[1d6+7 = 13]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wr9ie2J2690
Pareidolia
!!0/zxd4nxRI
a3d9400
?
No.280668
>>278925
>Pareidolia's face twinges briefly with concern as an unusual window he doesn't recognize appears and disappears.
'I understand the ramifications. The Shibuya Protocol only allows for such actions when all other options have been exhausted or the situation is otherwise untenable. What was that window?'

>As Emerald leaves, he ponders his A.I.'s behavior.

[Uncertain how it will react to encountering the biological counterpart its personality is based on. Will likely diverge as an eventuality if Committee experimental theory from the Amadeus and Salieri systems hold true. Will need Spiral's opinion.]

>He remains silent while listening to Hodch, deigning not to retort.

(Understood.)

[Likely a cultural difference. No time to reconcile currently. Unclear why Belltower must not know, but noted.]

>Standing up and pinning his finished note sheet to the center of the map table where it would be easily noticed, he turns his head to look at Lonestar.
>His brow arches in slight surprise as the esoteric coil gun comes into enhanced view.

"Additional operational utility would be welcome. There are more unknowns than I am nominally used to working with, but the nature of this operation leaves no other options."

>Pareidolia terses his lips as he flourishes 3 wish discs.

[...More potential human corruption vectors. Can only hope he will choose weaponry that minimizes generalization.]

"Are you certain your condition is able to handle an operation like this?"
;