[MLP] Roleplaying is Magic IC: The Broken Road.

[One Tin Soldier]

Grease gave the gryphoness a quick nervous grin. "If you don't mind?" With that, she looked around at the back of her head. "No, not that I can see," she called down.

[Balmas]

"That could do it," he muttered, gently slipping one of the griffon's eyelids open to check for concussion. Flying train car, items flying with it; it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine flying griffons meeting with the other two midair. He bent in for a closer examination.

[BlasTech]

After a few minutes of poking, proding and generally making sure everything moved as it was supposed to ... during which time the gryphoness began to get rather irate at the constant invasion of her personal space ... the party was able to ascertain that nothing was broken, although one of the ambassador's wings was swollen and likely severely sprained.

That, and a rather large, rising lump on the back of his head, explained why he hadn't managed to grace them with his illustrious presence yet. So long as they didn't drop him on his injured wing, he should be safe to move.

[Balmas]

"Well," he said, nodding his head, "he's safe to move. We can get him out together, I think. Agreed?"

[One Tin Soldier]

"I think so. I could come down there and give him a lift from beneath."

[I think the Strong talent would give Grease a reroll for this, so she might be the best choice as a primary actor if the roll matters. Though since she can only help for part of the lift, I'm not sure she can. Thoughts?]

[Balmas]

Dive Bomb looked from the door to the griffon, his hooves reminding how steep the path was. Man, but that wing injury looked nasty. He grimaced in sympathy; sprained wings were annoying as anything he could think of. Painful, sure, but more annoying than anything else. That one time he crashed into a cloud pillar, he was laid up in bed for almost a week; a city of clouds is not friendly to a foal who can no longer fly. Mind you, he'd spent most of the day in his father's office, reading meteorological charts and books of flight maneuvers. The talking to he received for using his father's office was more painful than anything the wing did.

Moving gingerly around to the side with the sprained wing, he nodded. "Can you lift him," he suggested, "and we'll steady him?"

OOC

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((Grease Spot is the strongest physically of all of us, so she should get the task anyway. And I think she'd get the reroll, but I'm not entirely sure.))

[BlasTech]

"Finally." Said the gryphoness, as she tucked her helm back on her head. "Hopefully the old sack of feathers comes round once he gets some of this bracingly fresh air in his lungs."

[OOC: Roll is done by whoever is the primary do-er, DC to lift him safely out of the carriage is 10. Strong talent would apply.]

[TheAmishPirate]

"I'm thure he'll be righd as rain when we ged him oudside." Crown stood ready to assist the lifting effort. He didn't even know why he was so worried in the first place. Going through a massive train accident, and only having a little bump on the head and bruised wing to show for it? Mister Highwind was made of stern stuff, that was for sure.

[One Tin Soldier]

[Assuming getting down won't have any difficulty.]

With the assistance of Dive Bomb and Crown Cork, Grease Spot climbed down onto the precarious pile. "Ok," she said to the assembled ponies and miscellaneous. "I'll count to three, then we all lift. Got it?"

[I'll add in the roll itself here once I'm sure who's helping, unless anyone wants to say anything first.]

[TheAmishPirate]

Crown Cork nodded. "God id!"

...he made a mental note to have a word with their resident medic when this was all over.

[Balmas]

Dive Bomb nodded in agreement, and hooked his shoulder under the barrel of the huge griffon. "Ready."

[One Tin Soldier]

"Alright then." Grease wormed her withers under the body of the gryphon, preparing herself to lift him up. "Three, two, one, hup!"

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Body 4 + Harmony bonus 3 + Extra Talented (Strong) 1, roll twice for Talent.
Roll 1: 15+8=23
Roll 2: 20+8=28 (I'm not going to bank the crit, just leaving the 28 for the check. If I'm remembering correctly, that is.)

The ponies all lifted at the same time, only for Grease to find that either the gryphon was much lighter than he appeared, or the colts were stronger than they appeared. Or maybe it's both. It would make sense for gryphons to have light bones.

Working together, they deftly maneuvered the unconscious gryphon out of the train car.

[BlasTech]

Working together, everyone was able safely move the injured gryphon out of the carriage. Once the hatchway was clear, Rinda swung back inside to retrieve the mattress, which she then dropped into the sand in the shade of the caboose.

She pulled out a small hankerchief and gave the gryphon a few gusts of air. While this stirred the feathers on his head, it did little to bring him around.

"I guess he's out for the count ... it'd be too much to hope this train has stretchers and a first aid kit?" she asked the other ponies.

[OOC: Given the train has already been searched, you can assume no, but something might be able to be cobbled or scavenged together.]

[Balmas]

Flump. Dive Bomb moved around the saddlebag in the sand. "I have a few supplies," he said. "Bandages, rubbing alcohol, some headache pills, smelling salts, some cough medicine..."

[Ravian]

Soot watched the entire process a little akwardly. She had never been much of an expert with medicine truth be told. Drizzle usually handled most of the foals cuts and scrapes, while she was there to provide them with "moral support". Course that usually meant a lot of standing around while the semi professionals handeled things.
She heard Rinda's request and suddenly saw a way to be useful. "Oh! There are plenty of table cloths around the dining car. I bet if I could find some kind of pole, we could make a stretcher."

[BlasTech]

Flump. Dive Bomb moved around the saddlebag in the sand. "I have a few supplies," he said. "Bandages, rubbing alcohol, some headache pills, smelling salts, some cough medicine..."

"Gimmie that." Rinda said, grabbing a bottle of smelling salts and waving it beneath the Ambassador's nose. The pungent odour caused everypony nearby to withdraw slightly. For her part, the gryphoness pinched her claw across her beak and waited for the concoction to have its effect.

For a moment, it seemed to be working; the elder gryphon shifted on the mattress, his eyes fluttering.

"ACTION STATIONS!" He yelled, loudly enough to send Rinda sprawling in the sand. "MARIN, FIRE UP THE ONIONS! INCOMING LEPRECHAUNS!! IT'S THEM OR US BOYS!"

The gryphon surged to his paws, staggering a half step or two before keeling over again, legs in the air.

Soot watched the entire process a little akwardly. She had never been much of an expert with medicine truth be told. Drizzle usually handled most of the foals cuts and scrapes, while she was there to provide them with "moral support". Course that usually meant a lot of standing around while the semi professionals handeled things.
She heard Rinda's request and suddenly saw a way to be useful. "Oh! There are plenty of table cloths around the dining car. I bet if I could find some kind of pole, we could make a stretcher."

There were a few moments of stunned silence, as Rinda adjusted her helmet the right way around again.

"Errr yeah ... If you can get something like that, it would be great."

[Balmas]

The pegasus blinked, and then shut his mouth. Staring at the griffoness, he plucked the bottle from her claw and tucked it back in the saddleback. "I'll go look for poles," he said, still looking at the griffoness.



Hmm. The passenger car ladder clanged as he prodded it. If I can detach this and maybe remove the rungs, it could serve. He began wobbling it back and forth, trying to loosen if off the train.

[TheAmishPirate]

Crown's heart leapt for joy as the old griffon took to his hooves, but it shortly fell to the depths of the earth when he fell to the ground a second time. A stretcher would indeed make the going far easier, and it appeared Dive Bomb had the makings of a few poles. But perhaps dividing and conquering was the appropriate strategy, yes? "I shall go and search de odder carth. Id may be de cathe thothe poleth will nod be budged." With that (and a wipe at his bloody nostrils), he set off to the other cars. His imagination spun, pondering the makings of a stretcher. What makes a stretcher a stretcher? The poles? The cloth? The way a body can be moved with adding a minimal amount of weight? Hmm...

[Cork will be looking throughout the train, trying to picture anything that could be jury-rigged into a stretcher, not necessarily just poles.]

[One Tin Soldier]

While the others went off to look for stretcher material elsewhere in the train, Grease went back into the caboose. Both to check for stretcher materials, and to take another look at something she saw earlier. Climbing back into the car, she moved a couple items aside, fully revealing a book with a feather and a lightning bolt on the cover. She almost dropped it in disgust, however, when she realized that it was bound in leather. Must belong to those gryphons. However she felt about its coverings, she was a little bit curious about its contents. She flipped it open to a page somewhere in the middle, promising herself that she would only read a little bit of it before returning it to them.

[BlasTech]

The book was old, but evidently well preserved - its pages still supple despite the slight yellowing on their extremities. Inside, the words were written in a flowing, cursive script that bespoke both great care as well as a slightly older form of hoofwriting.

Or maybe claw writing was a better term.

The entry Grease Spot opened to, only midway through the book but with a date of nearly three decades ago, emphasised the time since its owner first began writing in it.

October 28th.

Boarded the skyship Winged Victory for ranging patrol along the southwestern border. Reports have come in of Boardorian forces in the area, which most of the crew think are only one step up from outright fabrications. The boar have not ventured that far afield in strength since the Sun Armistice and, personally, I suspect one of the scouts simply had too much to drink and confused himself when he stumbled across some of the natives. If so, the commander has already made comments about a possible court martial.

I will be much happier when we return to the stronghold, the winds are already turning cold and winter will soon be upon the Eyrie.

[BlasTech]

(Double-posting because I CAN TOO! )

The pegasus blinked, and then shut his mouth. Staring at the griffoness, he plucked the bottle from her claw and tucked it back in the saddleback. "I'll go look for poles," he said, still looking at the griffoness.

Hmm. The passenger car ladder clanged as he prodded it. If I can detach this and maybe remove the rungs, it could serve. He began wobbling it back and forth, trying to loosen if off the train.

The poles broke free with little trouble, falling into the dust with a clatter. Damaged in the fall? Or just brittle? Either way, Dive Bomb hoisted them on his back for transport back to where the others were gathering the parts.

Crown's heart leapt for joy as the old griffon took to his hooves, but it shortly fell to the depths of the earth when he fell to the ground a second time. A stretcher would indeed make the going far easier, and it appeared Dive Bomb had the makings of a few poles. But perhaps dividing and conquering was the appropriate strategy, yes? "I shall go and search de odder carth. Id may be de cathe thothe poleth will nod be budged." With that (and a wipe at his bloody nostrils), he set off to the other cars. His imagination spun, pondering the makings of a stretcher. What makes a stretcher a stretcher? The poles? The cloth? The way a body can be moved with adding a minimal amount of weight? Hmm...

[Cork will be looking throughout the train, trying to picture anything that could be jury-rigged into a stretcher, not necessarily just poles.]

There were plenty of things which could potentially be used in a stretcher; bedsheets, tablecloths, sacks and the like. The real challenge would be selecting the right kind of material - would hessian be too heavy? Would the tablecloths tear?

Oh yeah, and actually finding some way to put it all together without falling apart like a poorly made Neighponiese cart. Gathering the bits and pieces as he went, Cork made his way back towards where the others were assembling.

(OOC: Ok, I know I said I didn't want to clutter the thread with uneccesary dice rolls, but the way I see it is that the final assembly of the stretcher will have a +1 modifier for improvised materials. If Cork or DB can make a mind/perception roll of DC 15 to assess the quality of their respective materials (metal for DB, cloth for Cork), I'll bump that modifier up by another 1 each to represent appropriate materials. Failure will reduce it by one due to an unidentified defect.

Or you can just leave it and let the +1 modifier stand ^^)

[Balmas]

Flump. The Pegasus frowned as the ladder dropped to the sand for the third time. Eventually, he resorted to dragging it along, the curved end of the metal rails becoming runners of a sort. He paused in midmovement; maybe the ladder could become a sort of sleigh, in addition to a stretcher. After all, they were going to be walking, anyway, and it would be just as easy to drag as to carry.

The ladder proved rather adept at dragging, and he reached the griffoness in short time. His vision kept being drawn to her--those sveldt feathers and graceful build-- She was fascinating. As he prodded the ladder, checking for weakness, he felt obligated to question her; after all, when would he be likely to meet a griffon again? "So, your name is Rinda?" he said quietly, half afraid that she'd hear and half afraid that she wouldn't.

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Checking for weakness in the ladder. +5 mind, rolled twice for Wary. Man, I love that talent, even if I did pick it for character reasons.

(1d20+5)[7]
(1d20+5)[10]

... Are you bloody serious? Dice, why you hate me?

[One Tin Soldier]

Huh, I guess this is the ambassador's personal journal. He must be older than he looks. She considered flipping the page to see what happened next, whether there really was a boar army, but weighed against it was the urgency of their situation. No, as interesting as this may be, I have better things to do than sit and pry into a foreign diplomat's history. I'll take it with me, give it back to him once he wakes up. He'll probably appreciate it, seems like the kind of thing that someone would regret losing.

She gingerly picked up the book and put it in her saddlebags, taking care not to let the leather touch her lips or tongue. She had heard of creatures taking the skin of their fellow creatures and making items out of it, but she had always thought them to be tales made up to scare foals. Like that Rainbow Factory nonsense. And yet, here was evidence to the contrary.

Grease shook her head, clearing out the unpleasant thoughts by focusing on the task at hoof. She pawed through the contents of the caboose, looking for anything that might help in the creation of a stretcher.

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Mind 5
4+5=9

Unfortunately, everything in the car that might be beneficial for stretcher creation was either too damaged to work properly, or too thoroughly trapped under the pile of debris. So, Grease decided not to waste any more time and returned outside, heading towards Dive Bomb and Rinda.

[TheAmishPirate]

Crown ran his hoof over a tablecloth, closing his eyes as he sampled its flavor of touch. Mmmmmm...average thread count...mass-manufactured...would hold color beautifully...though fading in the sun...as would its strength...no, no this will not do at all.

In this moment, Crown Cork was no longer stranded in the desert. He existed in a world of pure sensation, beyond the world, beyond time itself. Each fabric cried out to him; some shrill and shrieking, some hardly above a whisper, some not deigning to speak, some trying to overwhelm him. Each with their own, unique voice. And amidst this clamoring sea of decision, there was but one voice, one crystal clear note that sang, "Pick me! Pick me! For I am lighter than cloud, and stronger than steel! I shall save your friend!"

His mind drifted, floated, hunting for the source of that beautiful sound.

(BlasTech, read the OOC before opening this)

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Rolling time!
Mind 3 + Job 2 + Skill 4: (1d20+9)[27]

[BlasTech]

Dive Bomb and Cork deposited their material, between the two of them, they seemed to have found enough things to build at least a crude stretcher. Now all that was left was for somepony to put the pieces together.

[mind check. DC 15 to craft a durable stretcher. Failure means it is still crafted, but will break later. Harmony bonus of 3 for Cork and DB helping. Tools bonus of 1 for improvised material.]

The ladder proved rather adept at dragging, and he reached the griffoness in short time. His vision kept being drawn to her--those sveldt feathers and graceful build-- She was fascinating. As he prodded the ladder, checking for weakness, he felt obligated to question her; after all, when would he be likely to meet a griffon again? "So, your name is Rinda?" he said quietly, half afraid that she'd hear and half afraid that she wouldn't.

Rinda was looking at the ambassador, scratching the back of her head with a claw when Dive Bomb spoke. She glanced up at the sound and arched an eyebrow at the pony.

"You say something just then, pegasus?" she asked.

(net connection not that good here, posting may be sporadic)

[Ravian]

Soot looked over the gathered materials the others had found with an approving nod "I can definately work with this." she began to float and tie pieces together with her telekinesis.

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Mind 4+ Thief 2+ Scavenging 1+ Tools 1+ Harmony 3= 11
(1d20+11)[22]

[Balmas]

The pegasus gulped, consulted his hooves, then spoke again. "You said your name was Rinda? Where are you from?" So many questions, and so little time; now, if only he could figure out how to get his mouth to work properly.

Come on; she's only an apex predator capable of pinning you down, ripping your barrel open and making macrame of your intestines... He shuddered, and looked away.

The griffoness was fascinating, despite--or perhaps because of--the danger she posed. The questions began stumbling out, slowly at first but then coming more quickly. "What's it like there? Are there a lot of griffons? What kind of society do you have? Are your leaders monarchs or elected officials? Do you eat meat? In what kind of terrain is your country found?" The notepad came out, and he was lost in a swarm of curiosity and knowledge.

[TheAmishPirate]

So, Soot was a little builder as well, eh? Crown gave himself a mental pat on the back; he certainly knew how to pick a handy errand filly. He'd have to see about a pay rise for her. But later, when bits were in a bit more ready supply. A bit more Bits...hee hee... The businesspony let a few of those chuckles reach the surface. Peril really did bring out the oddest emotions in a pony, didn't it?

"Well, now dad we haff a thretcher: Mith Thpot, if you wud help me lifd our friend onto de cloth?" Crown positioned himself on one side of Ambassador Highwind, ready and able to lift one last time.

[Balmas]

Dive Bomb paused, mouth stretched in mid question. "Er... hold that thought." He moved directly opposite Cork, and nodded his willingness to help.

[BlasTech]

Rinda just stared at the spot Dive Bomb had vacated, befuddled by the sudden deluge of words from the pegasus.

Her thought patterns could be summed up in three words;

What. The. Hay?