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File: 1551406457928.png (304.4 KB, 1570x1537, Razorback Company.png)

44700 No.207806[View All]

>If you would like to join, make a sensible loadout here at:
>And if you want to bring in something special or anything not on the list, ask to shop it in.

>When you're done, read over the Operator's Handbook:


>Or the Hoofbook if you wanna be a pony:


>Then drop a post here.

>Overall Pastebin:


>Fortress Map:


>Bulletin Board:


>Previous Thread:


Welcome back, pony cowboys…
398 posts and 34 image replies omitted. Click reply to view.

1daa7 No.223186

>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.

6d558 No.223189

File: 1558758799077.png (479.14 KB, 4495x3000, 1249772.png)

"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.

>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.

95f28 No.223271

"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

95f28 No.223273

"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

44700 No.223285

>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[ 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[ 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.

44700 No.223321

>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."

>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!"

6d558 No.223323

File: 1558862313610.jpg (152.14 KB, 650x580, 1463006119191.jpg)

>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[ 1d6+3 = 8 ] < B. Perception
1d6+3[ 1d6+3 = 4 ]

44700 No.223348

>Where does Bubba go THIS TIME?!
1d20[ 1d20 = 18 ] <Location, After Midnight

e0758 No.223366

"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?

8bd8e No.223405


>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[ 1d6+4 = 5 ] >BQ. Auspex Scan(s)

1d6+1[ 1d6+1 = 4 ] >E. Tech-use + Auspex link
1d6+1[ 1d6+1 = 3 ]
1d6+1[ 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…"

44700 No.223426

>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[ 1d6+4 = 8 ] <Auto-Field Regen

fab55 No.223437

>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.)

44700 No.223442

>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.

1daa7 No.223523

>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."

5c927 No.223530

File: 1559038080669.gif (804.32 KB, 656x860, 345677675.gif)

>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."

80442 No.223617

File: 1559090198317.png (2.77 MB, 2153x1684, 03-19_Lont_Sand_cutter_ove….png)

44700 No.223644

>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?"

d4d83 No.223723

Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>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.

>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…
>Said golden, perplexed.

4+(7x1)+9+(2x5) =???

d4d83 No.223736

File: 1559183383312.gif (604.53 KB, 1280x552, l-lewd.gif)


>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[ 1d6 = 4 ] >E.Perception
1d6[ 1d6 = 6 ]
1d6[ 1d6 = 4 ]
1d6+1[ 1d6+1 = 3 ] >H.E


>What Glacier was saying was ludicrous at best however he hid his growing doubts by just nodding with a broad smile as she talked.
>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.

8319d No.223792


>As the equation tool form before his eyes, he stared somewhat confused at the door.

>Was this a question…? A math question?
>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.

e0758 No.223837

>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…"

44700 No.223881

>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."

54792 No.223884

>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?"

54792 No.223908

>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?"

7f4fd No.224968

File: 1559963029053.gif (95.34 KB, 220x293, tenor.gif)

Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>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.

>Adon's assumption was proven true when a new equation formed in place where the first one was.
>It was several equations just in smaller fonts to take up the same amount of space as the first one!
>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[ 1d6+2 = 5 ] >B.Arcane Awareness
1d6+2[ 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 =

619e5 No.224998


>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=

>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 =

>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"

e0758 No.225014

>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.

>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."

6cfea No.225140

>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."

44700 No.225465

>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-"

"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."

6d558 No.225471

File: 1560420408168.png (123.87 KB, 508x459, 1224430.png)

>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."

e0758 No.225557

>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[ 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."

26274 No.225890

File: 1560695802809.png (383.39 KB, 1280x1024, Amerose.png)

44700 No.226405

>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."

a3e09 No.226418

>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!

44700 No.226551

>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."

44700 No.226556

>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."

fbd05 No.226558

"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."

44700 No.226573

"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:

>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.

44700 No.226578

>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."

18bfd No.226580

>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'?)

e27da No.226594

"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."

44700 No.226605

>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."

44700 No.226608

>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[ 1d6 = 3 ] <#1: Research
1d6[ 1d6 = 5 ] <#2: Research
1d6[ 1d6 = 1 ] <#3: Research
1d6[ 1d6 = 4 ] <#4: Research
1d6[ 1d6 = 1 ] <#5: Research

890a3 No.227087

File: 1561350486189.gif (5.91 MB, 845x475, maths pony.gif)

Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>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.

"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 =
140 - 121 - 4 =
19 - 4 = 15

>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."

54792 No.227150

>Zhun gives the filly a smile, letting the mispronunciation slide
>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

54792 No.227152

>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

5c927 No.228158

>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."

44700 No.228903

>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."

e0758 No.230684

>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[ 1d6 = 5 ] <B.Perception
1d6[ 1d6 = 6 ]
1d6[ 1d6 = 5 ] <Intuition

3e5cb No.230699


>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[ 1d6 = 6 ] U. Intuition

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