Cloudbreak IC: Glimpse of the sky

[Thanqol]

"Dangerous and weird y'say?" mused the old colt. "May be we have somethin' of the sort. But what's stoppin' a pony like you just ske-daddlin' off the second we let you loose?"

"That pony has a scope on her rifle," said Luminark.

If he wasn't communicating in Lowbrow Luminark would have cut into this old joker for asking him to prove a negative. He was resisting rolling his eyes so hard that it hurt his head.

[TheAmishPirate]

There's no pegasi in the camp. Most of the eight or so ponies around are earth ponies, although there's a unicorn who looks like he's in charge of the salvaging of the Vertibird. As far as mares go, there's a decent few around. "Attractive" really depends on your criteria here, but the mare with the sniper rifle (y'know, the one that probably shot you?) is pretty cute. There's also another nice looking burgundy coated one who is helping a colt with loading up one of the carts. A third mare, well, she's got one of those manes that looks like it goes on forever. It's a bit dirty, what with them living out in the sticks, but if she was properly cleaned up, she'd look pretty ... well ... pretty too.

The Scrapscallion is old and wise enough to know playing around with mares wielding large guns was hazardous to his health.

The burgundy coated one is aight. No complaints here.

The last one though? Cute now, and pretty later? Now you're talking.

"Archmages and princesses?" replies the old pony, incredulously. "Ain't no princesses no more, and nopony worthy of either title. All you get is warlords an' raiders, hoping to sound bigger than they are. Which one is your lot?"

"There's been fakes before, man, but this one? This one's big. Princess-big."

The Scrapscallion removed his goggles, polished the lens on his sleeve, and slipped into his best bragging handsome stranger story voice. "Another time, another road, a full squad of Raiders had me dead to rights. There was twenty of the bastards, all holed up in a gas station and just firing like it was breathing. But they didn't figure on facing the Scrapscallion, and the Scrapscallion doesn't die like a chump. So I punched it - hard as I could - right through the middle of them. Blew them and their gas station up. Ball of fire you could see for miles. When the smoke cleared, I was the only pony alive, but not for long. Any of you ever tried living with half a torso? It sucks, can't recommend it. But hey, I figured I'd had a good run. Not a bad way to die. So, you might be asking yourself; how does the Scrapscallion get from being dead to standing before you today? Let me show you how..."

Sitting on his haunches, he unzipped his jacket and showed off his perfect, unscarred chest. He even waved over the mare with the infinite mane to come over and feel for herself. No scar. No mark. Not even a blemish on his coat.

"The Princess fixed me up, better than new. I've horked down my share of potions in the past, and let me tell you; nothing ever healed me like this before. I've seen Death, I've seen the sky, I've seen places no living pony has seen for a hundred years, and now? I've seen a miracle. That's Princess enough for the Scrapscallion."

Luminark thought for a bit and then smoothly updated his language. Certain vocabulary was required when dealing with his lessers. "The Princess is basically a warlord. Has her turf and rules it, not looking to expand I don't think. The Archmage is a weirdo. Collects old, dangerous things. I'm a scout for the weirdo. If you got any rivals who have creepy tech, or if there's anything dangerous and weird lying about that you want taken off your hooves, point me at it and I can make it disappear."

You would say that. Nerd.

"Dangerous and weird y'say?" mused the old colt. "May be we have somethin' of the sort. But what's stoppin' a pony like you just ske-daddlin' off the second we let you loose?"

"Yeah, better keep an eye on 'ol Stickyhooves here." The Scrapscallion smirked. "This dingus swiped something from the Princess, in broad daylight, while she was watching. He's been on the lam ever since. And what's more..." He waggled his eyebrows enterprisingly. "I hear she'd be real happy with whoever brings him back."

[Thanqol]

"Yeah, better keep an eye on 'ol Stickyhooves here." The Scrapscallion smirked. "This dingus swiped something from the Princess, in broad daylight, while she was watching. He's been on the lam ever since. And what's more..." He waggled his eyebrows enterprisingly. "I hear she'd be real happy with whoever brings him back."

Holy sh*t he is selling me out.

Luminark stared blankly for a second, and then escalated. He was cold, he was methodical, he was furious. He could barely believe that the little idiot was being so incredibly brazen as to sell him out to his face. That deserved immediate punishment.

It looked like he was just flicking some sand into Scarabscallion's eyes but it was actually powdered dust from the bone suit he was wearing. Pony breathes it in and they are overcome by absolute terror. The effects were supposedly very dramatic so it should make an effective demonstration of his power.

He could not believe the little runt.

Luminark then made eye contact with Stetson and gave an unpleasantly forced smile. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

[On consideration in the OOC, this seems like suckering someone. At point blank with no warning I don't think the answer to 'could I miss' is 'yes'.

Going Aggro on Stetson: 9. What I want is for him to point me in the direction of some weird relic and send me off, or else Luminark is going to go full Scarecrow on this situation.]

[BlasTech]

Wellp, I gotta say your logic on the moves tracks to me. Congrats Scrapscallion! You're getting the joy of experiencing an alchemical blast of pure terror, right up the nose passages. Tell me what it's like for you, what really inspires terror for you? Not fear, not paranoia - straight, outright, pants wetting, tail fraying terror.

Whilst you're doing this, the other ponies around recoil in fear as to what you've just done to your compatriot. Stetson backs away, hoofs up. Yep, that's right, back away Stetson-Pony we're dealing with a real badflank here!

The question of what kind of weird relics are around here, particularly the kind that a bunch of wastelanders will know about, is a good one. What kind of stuff do you think might fit the bill? There's probably a stable or something nearby, but it sounds like you're thinking of something really unique. Any ideas?

[Balmas]

The troops head in, without apparent aim or insight into how the place is set up, and promptly begin turning everything upside down. It's pretty evident within the first ten seconds that Miliway isn't present. It's also obvious that the longer these guys go on like this, the more likely they'll break something important. Important to Milliway at least. They don't really know what they're looking for, beyond her, so it might take some direction.

Glim, they're on your leash here. What do you do? Do you want to roll a sitch?

"Racket, order your troops to avoid breaking anything too volatile," Starlight stated calmly, as she wandered in. Distastefully, she nudged a pile of refuse, wondering how much force it would take to start a reaction that would collapse the place into a black hole. Half the base seemed to be in here!

Which made it all the more infuriating that none of it was what she immediately wanted. Or at least, what she knew she wanted right now. It occurred to her that there could be several fascinating experiments that could be created out of this junk. For now, though, she'd settle on finding Milliway.

Read a Sitch: (2d6+2)[7]

What should I be on the lookout for?
(And, remind me whether this changed to two questions in 2e?)

[BlasTech]

Her Vengeance Tour was far from over, however, and therefore she steered determined steps to hunting down Black Liquorice.

Well, the first place to look for her is down in her lab. It's a lower-level section of the bunker, colloquially called "the Vats", and the hatch opens automatically at your approach. The origin of the name is obvious as you walk along catwalks that twist and turn amongst rows and rows of tubes. Some of them are empty, but many of them ... aren't. Bodies of ponies; colts, mares and foals, float sightlessly. Their lifeless forms suspended in a weird luminescent gel. Other tanks contain only parts - legs, a tail, nameless bits of flesh. Its a nightmarish scene that looks like the cross between an abattoir and thousands of night lights.

As you wind your way through the technological forest, a mare steps out ahead of you. Her mane is black, her coat white, and her cutie mark is a twisting black stick of liquorice that, in context, looks a little like a double helix.

Another, identical, mare steps out behind you.

"Hello Miliway" they say in unison. "What brings you here today?"

"Racket, order your troops to avoid breaking anything too volatile," Starlight stated calmly, as she wandered in. Distastefully, she nudged a pile of refuse, wondering how much force it would take to start a reaction that would collapse the place into a black hole. Half the base seemed to be in here!

Which made it all the more infuriating that none of it was what she immediately wanted. Or at least, what she knew she wanted right now. It occurred to her that there could be several fascinating experiments that could be created out of this junk. For now, though, she'd settle on finding Milliway.

Read a Sitch: [roll0]

What should I be on the lookout for?
(And, remind me whether this changed to two questions in 2e?)

Lemme assume you mean what you need to look out for in the context of finding Miliway right? In that case, Miliway, what's sort of stuff would you have left behind that might point to where you went? Do you have a diary of thoughts? Or just a log of commands on your computer? That sort of stuff?

[TheAmishPirate]

Wellp, I gotta say your logic on the moves tracks to me. Congrats Scrapscallion! You're getting the joy of experiencing an alchemical blast of pure terror, right up the nose passages. Tell me what it's like for you, what really inspires terror for you? Not fear, not paranoia - straight, outright, pants wetting, tail fraying terror.

The Scrapscallion's in a fancy restaurant, perched in a blooming rosebud high above the skyscrapers. He's seated at a table for two, lit only by candlelight and starlight. And across from him sits Milliway; mane styled and flowing, coat sparkling clean, and dressed in a...wearing the latest...oh princesses, what even is that called? A dress? No, no, a gown? A pantsuit? A coif-fure? This is bad. He's already behind. And she knows. Her eye glows as she drinks in his ratty old jacket and day-old stubble, and finds the flavor lacking.

She leans forward, and chokes him with a look. "Romance me."

Words. Mouth. Not working. Voice. "...what?"

"Romance me."

He looks down. There is hundreds, no, thousands of utensils arrayed before him. Some look identical. Some he can't identify as silverware. Some he's certain he's seen in a toolbox before. And is that...a set of keys? He swipes them up, tosses them, and catches them expertly. The jingle is reassuring. "So, uh, maybe after this, you and me can take a little ride someplace-"

*WHAP*

She slaps him. Across the mouth. With her metal hoof. "I am not one of your ride-along tramps." She recoils in disgust. "I am a mare. I like my stallions capable. Brilliant. You want to be my lover? Earn it. Romance me!"

*WHAP*

He's knocked out of his seat. He doesn't get back up. He crawls madly across the floor, throwing tables and chairs and decorative plants between him and her all-seeing eye. He runs off the rosebud. Runs down the stem. Runs into the ground. Runs deeper and deeper until the red glow fades into the hazy aftermath of a bad trip.

[Rolling for Eye On The Door. His route is to run like heck from his fears until he gets far enough away from them. 3 + 4 + 2 = 9]

[Elanorin]

The question of what kind of weird relics are around here, particularly the kind that a bunch of wastelanders will know about, is a good one. What kind of stuff do you think might fit the bill? There's probably a stable or something nearby, but it sounds like you're thinking of something really unique. Any ideas?

I hear the Palace of The Deep is 'round these parts. Never been there myself, but I enjoy the ghost stories about it. It's supposedly this deep inverted palace that, instead of sitting on the ground with spires that reach for the sky, has stairs leading from the surface deep in to the ground with a dizzying flipped gravity. Within it there are walls of dark crystal that cast countless reflections of you as you walk, and some reflections begin to move on their own, and talk back. It's a powerful and haunted place, that some ponies foolishly decide to venture in to by the allure of the powerful magic there and the ancient riches in its treasury. But those who they return to always find them changed by their visit, that is, if it's really them that return at all.

Well, the first place to look for her is down in her lab. It's a lower-level section of the bunker, colloquially called "the Vats", and the hatch opens automatically at your approach. The origin of the name is obvious as you walk along catwalks that twist and turn amongst rows and rows of tubes. Some of them are empty, but many of them ... aren't. Bodies of ponies; colts, mares and foals, float sightlessly. Their lifeless forms suspended in a weird luminescent gel. Other tanks contain only parts - legs, a tail, nameless bits of flesh. Its a nightmarish scene that looks like the cross between an abattoir and thousands of night lights.

As you wind your way through the technological forest, a mare steps out ahead of you. Her mane is black, her coat white, and her cutie mark is a twisting black stick of liquorice that, in context, looks a little like a double helix.

Another, identical, mare steps out behind you.

"Hello Miliway" they say in unison. "What brings you here today?"

"Work," Milliway said without much enthusiasm. "I have to install yet more surveillance systems, this time over that... library-thing-place. I understand you have some expertise in dealing with the weirdery that goes on there?" she said calmly, banking on that the best lies follow the truth as close as possible. Then she blinked and looked at the two of them. "...or...one of you...?"

Were there always two of them?

Lemme assume you mean what you need to look out for in the context of finding Miliway right? In that case, Miliway, what's sort of stuff would you have left behind that might point to where you went? Do you have a diary of thoughts? Or just a log of commands on your computer? That sort of stuff?

House does keep a log of all her commands (including the attempted hack and her using the Crystal Heart to fend it off), as well as any thoughts/monologues she shares out loud (the thought interface is still in the planning stage), and he catalogues her planned research projects (such as the aforementioned thought interface to House), projects in progress (including the surveillance system on the library and her notes to find Black Liquorice to help, her intention to reanimate Power Overwhelming), lists of items to acquire, a surprisingly comprehensive inventory, some kind of attempt at bookkeeping and highly detailed lists of Luminark's many crimes (top of the list being Theft Of Eye - Make him give it back). However, I am unsure how much of this is accessible at the moment what with House missing and all the computer screens still displaying 'well played'. There is an odd feeling that this place should have more activity even in her absence, and that Something Has Gone Wrong. If any of the mics are still working there might be a log entry regarding hunting down Scrapstallion for trying to steal/destroy the Crystal Heart.

[Balmas]

House does keep a log of all her commands (including the attempted hack and her using the Crystal Heart to fend it off), as well as any thoughts/monologues she shares out loud (the thought interface is still in the planning stage), and he catalogues her planned research projects (such as the aforementioned thought interface to House), projects in progress (including the surveillance system on the library and her notes to find Black Liquorice to help, her intention to reanimate Power Overwhelming), lists of items to acquire, a surprisingly comprehensive inventory, some kind of attempt at bookkeeping and highly detailed lists of Luminark's many crimes (top of the list being Theft Of Eye - Make him give it back). However, I am unsure how much of this is accessible at the moment what with House missing and all the computer screens still displaying 'well played'. There is an odd feeling that this place should have more activity even in her absence, and that Something Has Gone Wrong. If any of the mics are still working there might be a log entry regarding hunting down Scrapstallion for trying to steal/destroy the Crystal Heart.

As Starlight combed through the wreckage, she couldn't help but notice with some frustration that for all the things that were here, there were a thousand Milliway-shaped holes. And with the noise of her guards, she could hardly think!

"She's not here," she barked. "Cease your useless destruction!" Then she began to pace, carving a path through the mess as she went. "She's not here. Something went wrong. She's playing games with my systems. And someone is playing back." Her horn rapped against the monitor as she thought. "Did she win or lose? Commander! Put out a notice that Milliway is wanted for questioning. She's not treasonous, perhaps, almost certainly but not surely. Afford her all the respect any other member of Our Bunker receives, but bring her to me and let me know when you find her."

[BlasTech]

"Work," Milliway said without much enthusiasm. "I have to install yet more surveillance systems, this time over that... library-thing-place. I understand you have some expertise in dealing with the weirdery that goes on there?" she said calmly, banking on that the best lies follow the truth as close as possible. Then she blinked and looked at the two of them. "...or...one of you...?"

Were there always two of them?

There were at least eight. She is the Bunker's resident cloning expert, after all.

"The library?" reply the two Liquorices. "An interesting request. Also irrelevant. The library surveillance systems are sufficient. A fine blend of biological and etheric technologies - though it is almost self-serving to praise it. After all, one of my prior selves was partly responsible for installing it."

"My son works there, did you know? It's been some time since his last visit."

As Starlight combed through the wreckage, she couldn't help but notice with some frustration that for all the things that were here, there were a thousand Milliway-shaped holes. And with the noise of her guards, she could hardly think!

"She's not here," she barked. "Cease your useless destruction!" Then she began to pace, carving a path through the mess as she went. "She's not here. Something went wrong. She's playing games with my systems. And someone is playing back." Her horn rapped against the monitor as she thought. "Did she win or lose? Commander! Put out a notice that Milliway is wanted for questioning. She's not treasonous, perhaps, almost certainly but not surely. Afford her all the respect any other member of Our Bunker receives, but bring her to me and let me know when you find her."

"Yes ma'am!" shout the patrolponies, as the sounds of wanton destruction patter away.

"I'll put out an all-ponies-bulletin on her ma'am, we'll have her located before long."

It won't take long for your squads to catch up to her. In the meantime, what will you do?

Luminark then made eye contact with Stetson and gave an unpleasantly forced smile. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

[On consideration in the OOC, this seems like suckering someone. At point blank with no warning I don't think the answer to 'could I miss' is 'yes'.

Going Aggro on Stetson: 9. What I want is for him to point me in the direction of some weird relic and send me off, or else Luminark is going to go full Scarecrow on this situation.]

When the dust hits Scraps, well every other pony in the clearing takes a good step backwards. Nopony seems to be going for their guns just yet, but they're all taking care to handle you with a bit more respect - keeping their hooves where you can see them.

"Calm down fella" replied Stetson, "No need to go about doin' ... whatever that was to any of my ponies. You've made your point."

"If yer after stuff that's weird, then I'd say you need to head about a day's walk west o'here. Shores of one of the lakes in the shadow of Canterlot. Ponies out that way will be right up yore alley - allus talkin about the "deep magics" or whatever it is that stokes their fancy."

He's knocked out of his seat. He doesn't get back up. He crawls madly across the floor, throwing tables and chairs and decorative plants between him and her all-seeing eye. He runs off the rosebud. Runs down the stem. Runs into the ground. Runs deeper and deeper until the red glow fades into the hazy aftermath of a bad trip.

[Rolling for Eye On The Door. His route is to run like heck from his fears until he gets far enough away from them. 3 + 4 + 2 = 9]

Blinking, battering, running. You break out of the fear haze, lying in the churned dirt and drenched in sweat (that immediately starts to slick off you thanks to that talisman).

However, in your escape, you've taken something with you; a primal fear of Milliway. When you next see her, that fear will manifest in some appropriately amusing way - say, you'll uncontrollably scream for thirty seconds, or something like that.

Everypony is looking at you with varying degrees of horror. The kind of look that says "I'm glad that's happening to that guy, not me".

Anyway, you've awakened just in time to hear stetson-pony's reply to Luminark.

[TheAmishPirate]

When the dust hits Scraps, well every other pony in the clearing takes a good step backwards. Nopony seems to be going for their guns just yet, but they're all taking care to handle you with a bit more respect - keeping their hooves where you can see them.

"Calm down fella" replied Stetson, "No need to go about doin' ... whatever that was to any of my ponies. You've made your point."

"If yer after stuff that's weird, then I'd say you need to head about a day's walk west o'here. Shores of one of the lakes in the shadow of Canterlot. Ponies out that way will be right up yore alley - allus talkin about the "deep magics" or whatever it is that stokes their fancy."

Blinking, battering, running. You break out of the fear haze, lying in the churned dirt and drenched in sweat (that immediately starts to slick off you thanks to that talisman).

However, in your escape, you've taken something with you; a primal fear of Milliway. When you next see her, that fear will manifest in some appropriately amusing way - say, you'll uncontrollably scream for thirty seconds, or something like that.

Everypony is looking at you with varying degrees of horror. The kind of look that says "I'm glad that's happening to that guy, not me".

The Scrapscallion understands. It's not easy, being the Scrapscallion. Heck, if it was easy, everypony would do it. But then there wouldn't be much point to being the Scrapscallion, y'know?

Anyway. Time to do his thing.

Luminark, in the middle of your conversation, you feel the barrel of a revolver press against the back of your head. "Gotta say; not the worst trip I've had with you." The Scrapscallion chuckled, struggling not to cough and totally ruin the moment. "But maybe it won't be the last. Why don't you put your toys away, and we talk this over like grown-ups?"

[Rolling to Manipulate Luminark. Take off that armor and put your weapons down - including any more of the fear dust - and Scraps will put his gun away and talk things out. (2d6+1)[4]]

[Elanorin]

There were at least eight. She is the Bunker's resident cloning expert, after all.

"The library?" reply the two Liquorices. "An interesting request. Also irrelevant. The library surveillance systems are sufficient. A fine blend of biological and etheric technologies - though it is almost self-serving to praise it. After all, one of my prior selves was partly responsible for installing it."

"My son works there, did you know? It's been some time since his last visit."

"Interesting. I met him not long ago. Are you close to him?" Milliway asked, trying to remain cool.

[Rolling Read a Pony on... the one she saw first, the Black Liquorice now to her left: 5+4+0=9 How can I get Black Liquorice to agree to install my surveillance interface gadget in the Library?]

[BlasTech]

The Scrapscallion understands. It's not easy, being the Scrapscallion. Heck, if it was easy, everypony would do it. But then there wouldn't be much point to being the Scrapscallion, y'know?

Anyway. Time to do his thing.

Luminark, in the middle of your conversation, you feel the barrel of a revolver press against the back of your head. "Gotta say; not the worst trip I've had with you." The Scrapscallion chuckled, struggling not to cough and totally ruin the moment. "But maybe it won't be the last. Why don't you put your toys away, and we talk this over like grown-ups?"

[Rolling to Manipulate Luminark. Take off that armor and put your weapons down - including any more of the fear dust - and Scraps will put his gun away and talk things out. [roll0]]

*BLAM*

A painful tug at the gun in his mouth, and Scraps' revolver went spinning away into the dust. Everypony froze, before turning to look at the one who had fired the shot.

"Aw crabapples ..." muttered Stetson "Grithoof."

The first thing anypony would have noticed was Grithoof's eyes - big, bulbous and round like a bug's, sitting above a strange circular muzzle. It was only after blinking that you realised you were looking into the goggles of a full-face gas mask rather than some strange alien pony. Your brain would then allow you to take in the other details of the newcomer. His thick jacket and trousers, worn with age and so heavily repaired that there was almost more stitching than cloth. The still-smoking hoof-gun, the ripper on his back, the assault rifle slung over his shoulders and the other assorted weapons lying about his body.

The net effect was that you had to assume he was a pony, and indeed a he, given that every visible inch was lost somewhere in the walking pile of rags and guns.

Nopony pointed their guns at him, but a lot of them were slowly shifted in his general direction.

He stopped above Scrap's revolver, before picking it up and pocketing it. Slowly, deliberately, he turned towards Stetson and spoke in a voice that sounded like he gargled rocks.

"I claim right of salvage. Release them"

Scraps, Luminark, the guards around you warily step backwards. You're free to move about, but there's still a lot of guns in your vicinity.

"Interesting. I met him not long ago. Are you close to him?" Milliway asked, trying to remain cool.

[Rolling Read a Pony on... the one she saw first, the Black Liquorice now to her left: 5+4+0=9 How can I get Black Liquorice to agree to install my surveillance interface gadget in the Library?]

The answer to this question demands that I first ask Luminark one. Hey Luminark: Do your mothers love you?

[Balmas]

"Yes ma'am!" shout the patrolponies, as the sounds of wanton destruction patter away.

"I'll put out an all-ponies-bulletin on her ma'am, we'll have her located before long."

It won't take long for your squads to catch up to her. In the meantime, what will you do?

Well, there are a number of things that need handling. Luminark still needs to be found. Scrapscallion needs to tell me what's going on with my power. I'd like to talk to the archmage, but as my troops are currently working on finding Milliway, that will have to wait. There's a dead hellhound just waiting to give someone in Cryo a heart attack, and there's a niggling part of me telling me that where there's one, there's more.

As such, I'm going to do what I should have done yesterday. I'm going to go talk to Trees' next of kin, a little earth pony filly named Rhododendron.

"Rhody?"

[Thanqol]

*BLAM*

A painful tug at the gun in his mouth, and Scraps' revolver went spinning away into the dust. Everypony froze, before turning to look at the one who had fired the shot.

"Aw crabapples ..." muttered Stetson "Grithoof."

The first thing anypony would have noticed was Grithoof's eyes - big, bulbous and round like a bug's, sitting above a strange circular muzzle. It was only after blinking that you realised you were looking into the goggles of a full-face gas mask rather than some strange alien pony. Your brain would then allow you to take in the other details of the newcomer. His thick jacket and trousers, worn with age and so heavily repaired that there was almost more stitching than cloth. The still-smoking hoof-gun, the ripper on his back, the assault rifle slung over his shoulders and the other assorted weapons lying about his body.

The net effect was that you had to assume he was a pony, and indeed a he, given that every visible inch was lost somewhere in the walking pile of rags and guns.

Nopony pointed their guns at him, but a lot of them were slowly shifted in his general direction.

He stopped above Scrap's revolver, before picking it up and pocketing it. Slowly, deliberately, he turned towards Stetson and spoke in a voice that sounded like he gargled rocks.

"I claim right of salvage. Release them"

Scraps, Luminark, the guards around you warily step backwards. You're free to move about, but there's still a lot of guns in your vicinity.

Luminark assumed that what was being salvaged was the Judas Buggy and that was Scrapgalleon's problem and fault so he just moseyed on out of the way of the badflank and tried to blend into the background. Listen to how that conversation goes, look for alternate means of transportation, all that stuff.

[TheAmishPirate]

*BLAM*

A painful tug at the gun in his mouth, and Scraps' revolver went spinning away into the dust. Everypony froze, before turning to look at the one who had fired the shot.

"Aw crabapples ..." muttered Stetson "Grithoof."

The first thing anypony would have noticed was Grithoof's eyes - big, bulbous and round like a bug's, sitting above a strange circular muzzle. It was only after blinking that you realised you were looking into the goggles of a full-face gas mask rather than some strange alien pony. Your brain would then allow you to take in the other details of the newcomer. His thick jacket and trousers, worn with age and so heavily repaired that there was almost more stitching than cloth. The still-smoking hoof-gun, the ripper on his back, the assault rifle slung over his shoulders and the other assorted weapons lying about his body.

The net effect was that you had to assume he was a pony, and indeed a he, given that every visible inch was lost somewhere in the walking pile of rags and guns.

Nopony pointed their guns at him, but a lot of them were slowly shifted in his general direction.

He stopped above Scrap's revolver, before picking it up and pocketing it. Slowly, deliberately, he turned towards Stetson and spoke in a voice that sounded like he gargled rocks.

"I claim right of salvage. Release them"

Scraps, Luminark, the guards around you warily step backwards. You're free to move about, but there's still a lot of guns in your vicinity.

The Scrapscallion worked his jaw, powering through the stinging in his teeth. He turned to face the newcomer with a confident smirk. "So what? That means you get what's left of salvage?" Wink.

Rule #the next one of being the Scrapscallion: There is never a bad time for a one-liner.

[BlasTech]

Luminark assumed that what was being salvaged was the Judas Buggy and that was Scrapgalleon's problem and fault so he just moseyed on out of the way of the badflank and tried to blend into the background. Listen to how that conversation goes, look for alternate means of transportation, all that stuff.

A couple of the wastelanders place themselves in your way. They don't look too keen to be tangling with the crazy fear pony, but they clearly care enough about what Grithoof thinks to stop you from easily melting away.

The Scrapscallion worked his jaw, powering through the stinging in his teeth. He turned to face the newcomer with a confident smirk. "So what? That means you get what's left of salvage?" Wink.

Rule #the next one of being the Scrapscallion: There is never a bad time for a one-liner.

Grithoof just stared at them, only moving to unhook two metal collars from his plethora of equipment. It was Stetson who answered.

"Mean's he stakin' a claim on you. Unless y'all can pay a price for yer freedom."

Well, there are a number of things that need handling. Luminark still needs to be found. Scrapscallion needs to tell me what's going on with my power. I'd like to talk to the archmage, but as my troops are currently working on finding Milliway, that will have to wait. There's a dead hellhound just waiting to give someone in Cryo a heart attack, and there's a niggling part of me telling me that where there's one, there's more.

As such, I'm going to do what I should have done yesterday. I'm going to go talk to Trees' next of kin, a little earth pony filly named Rhododendron.

"Rhody?"

Well, Our Bunker doesn't have much in the way of childcare services. The pony who is tasked with looking after Rhody, now that Trees is gone, has the air of an administrative go-fer. Diligent, but no connection with foals. He lets you in and shows you to the living room where Rhody is playing.

The room feels a little bit empty, despite the presence of yourself and a squad of the Friendship Patrol.

Rhody puts her crayons down, and gives you a bow as you approach.

"Hello Princess." she says, in a little voice.

[Thanqol]

The answer to this question demands that I first ask Luminark one. Hey Luminark: Do your mothers love you?

Well obviously not because they didn't buy me that hoverbike I always wanted THANKS MOM

All they ever did was provide a loving and supportive environment to grow up in, taught me everything they knew, organized me a role as the apprentice of the pony I idolized since I was a colt and stop by every few days with fresh fruit and ask me how I'm doing.

Seriously, my moms are great.

A couple of the wastelanders place themselves in your way. They don't look too keen to be tangling with the crazy fear pony, but they clearly care enough about what Grithoof thinks to stop you from easily melting away.

Grithoof just stared at them, only moving to unhook two metal collars from his plethora of equipment. It was Stetson who answered.

"Mean's he stakin' a claim on you. Unless y'all can pay a price for yer freedom."

"The hell does he mean 'a claim'," said Luminark, looking at those collars and getting mentally ready to kill everypony in the room.

[BlasTech]

Well obviously not because they didn't buy me that hoverbike I always wanted THANKS MOM

All they ever did was provide a loving and supportive environment to grow up in, taught me everything they knew, organized me a role as the apprentice of the pony I idolized since I was a colt and stop by every few days with fresh fruit and ask me how I'm doing.

Seriously, my moms are great.

"Interesting. I met him not long ago. Are you close to him?" Milliway asked, trying to remain cool.

[Rolling Read a Pony on... the one she saw first, the Black Liquorice now to her left: 5+4+0=9 How can I get Black Liquorice to agree to install my surveillance interface gadget in the Library?]

"Close as any mother is with their progeny, I presume." reply the mares. "So long as we're talking about mothers that look after them, change their diapers every day, raise them with the sweat of their own brows and provide security, home and future for them."

A beat passes between the two of them.

"We just wish he'd call more."

Anyway, it's clear that the Liquourice's both seem to hold Luminark pretty close to their hearts. In this case, the clear answer to your question is to convince them that quiet surveillance is in his best interests. Either that, or find a Liquorice who doesn't care that much.

"The hell does he mean 'a claim'," said Luminark, looking at those collars and getting mentally ready to kill everypony in the room.

"I dno, capitalist slavery?" shrugs Stetson, before he cut off at a glance from Grithoof.

"Not slavery." replied the masked pony, whose voice resonated hollowly in the confines of his gas mask. "Property. A life is precious. Yours is now mine. Pay for it or forfeit."

Now is probably the time to point out that this pony is armed to the teeth, and that there's at least eight other ponies around you - all armed. You're in the open, not carrying a weapon, and (along with Scraps) the centre of attention.

What do you do?

[Balmas]

Well, Our Bunker doesn't have much in the way of childcare services. The pony who is tasked with looking after Rhody, now that Trees is gone, has the air of an administrative go-fer. Diligent, but no connection with foals. He lets you in and shows you to the living room where Rhody is playing.

The room feels a little bit empty, despite the presence of yourself and a squad of the Friendship Patrol.

Rhody puts her crayons down, and gives you a bow as you approach.

"Hello Princess." she says, in a little voice.

This is the never-fun part of being the chief. There was a time, I think, when I could go around after every treasonous accident or unfortunate mutation to comfort the ones left behind. I used to know everyone. Now, I don't even know what to say. "I... hope you're comfortable." No. Stupid. Big. Loud. No, that won't work. We haven't had anyone to help me lead a rousing musical number since that pony with the clown cutie mark went to the big test-bench in the sky. You're too big. Get down next to her. That's right. Be with her. Will she mind the wing? Go for it, it'll work. She NEEDS to love me. It has to happen. "Is there anything you want for?"

[Elanorin]

"Close as any mother is with their progeny, I presume." reply the mares. "So long as we're talking about mothers that look after them, change their diapers every day, raise them with the sweat of their own brows and provide security, home and future for them."

A beat passes between the two of them.

"We just wish he'd call more."

Anyway, it's clear that the Liquourice's both seem to hold Luminark pretty close to their hearts. In this case, the clear answer to your question is to convince them that quiet surveillance is in his best interests. Either that, or find a Liquorice who doesn't care that much.

"Must be nice," Milliway just about managed, half trying to hide the bitterness at hearing of the cusie-wutsie little clone family, half biting back a pang of jealousy.

So he can't blame them for his complete lunacy.

"We... could always draw a line to here. If you want. When we instal it." Milliways offered, testing the water. "Then you can check in on him discreetly whenever, y'know, just to make sure he's ok. That library he's in is not to be taken lightly. We were both nearly eaten by Decibugs earlier." She watched the two of them, hoping she hadn't overstepped her mark here. She was not well versed in family bonds. "Nopony needs to know," she added with a submissive shrug.

[TheAmishPirate]

"I dno, capitalist slavery?" shrugs Stetson, before he cut off at a glance from Grithoof.

"Not slavery." replied the masked pony, whose voice resonated hollowly in the confines of his gas mask. "Property. A life is precious. Yours is now mine. Pay for it or forfeit."

Now is probably the time to point out that this pony is armed to the teeth, and that there's at least eight other ponies around you - all armed. You're in the open, not carrying a weapon, and (along with Scraps) the centre of attention.

What do you do?

You've got a point there. The Scrapscallion has been through some daring scrapes before, but the situation is looking grim.

"Welllllllllllll! It's been great meeting you and the limits of your standards." The Scrapscallion tipped his goggles to Stetson. "Good to know you're willing to throw innocent strangers into slavery! Real nice."

A walking pile of guns advancing on him. A sniper pony, standing by if he made a break for it. And he was armed with nothing but his charming wit, a rugged jacket, and the sweat on his back.

"But hey - Grithoof, right? Yeah, I got payment for you. It ain't much, but y'know? It's more than you deserve."

Or rather, thanks to his amulet, the sweat pooling around his hooves. Mixing with the dust. Turning into a fine puddle of mud...

*FWAP FWAP*

...two hoof-fulls of which were now flying through the air, aimed square at Grithoof's stupid eyeholes. Nice big targets, those. While they were still flying the Scrapscallion grabbed the sniper pony, dipped her, kissed her thoroughly, and dropped her to the ground. And before the shock could wear off on anypony, he was dodging through the scrapyard and headed back to the Peregrin.

[Rolling for Eye on the Door: 6 + 6 + 2 = 14!]

Turns out when flashbangs are scarce, sheer audacity works just as well.

[Thanqol]

Luminark was nothing if not a total opportunist.

He used the moment of chaos to gallop for the downed Vertibuck.

[BlasTech]

This is the never-fun part of being the chief. There was a time, I think, when I could go around after every treasonous accident or unfortunate mutation to comfort the ones left behind. I used to know everyone. Now, I don't even know what to say. "I... hope you're comfortable." No. Stupid. Big. Loud. No, that won't work. We haven't had anyone to help me lead a rousing musical number since that pony with the clown cutie mark went to the big test-bench in the sky. You're too big. Get down next to her. That's right. Be with her. Will she mind the wing? Go for it, it'll work. She NEEDS to love me. It has to happen. "Is there anything you want for?"

She "needs" to you say? Wow, that's more energy in this scene than I expected. What's going on here?

Is this a read a pony/sitch territory?

"Must be nice," Milliway just about managed, half trying to hide the bitterness at hearing of the cusie-wutsie little clone family, half biting back a pang of jealousy.

So he can't blame them for his complete lunacy.

"We... could always draw a line to here. If you want. When we instal it." Milliways offered, testing the water. "Then you can check in on him discreetly whenever, y'know, just to make sure he's ok. That library he's in is not to be taken lightly. We were both nearly eaten by Decibugs earlier." She watched the two of them, hoping she hadn't overstepped her mark here. She was not well versed in family bonds. "Nopony needs to know," she added with a submissive shrug.

I've got an old adage that "if you want to do it, roll it." that would apply here. It's a decent argument, but you'll need to roll a manipulate on these ponies to get them to agree.

Either that, or convince her you're actually interested in Luminark. I think I'd let that one auto-succeed just for the added hilarity.

Your call Milliway!

Turns out when flashbangs are scarce, sheer audacity works just as well.

Most of the ponies around you are dumbstruck by the sheer awesomeness of your escape. The sniper swoons, the thugs just stand there, watching, as you beat a path back to the Peregrine. A ragged cheer goes up, which shows that even in the Wasteland, ponies appreciate a good bit of theatre.

You hear, as you leap to freedom, one of the ponies mutter.

"What a colt."

Luminark was nothing if not a total opportunist.

He used the moment of chaos to gallop for the downed Vertibuck.

Hey Luminark? I think, despite the great roll here by Scraps, given that you're making your own break for freedom rather than going with your previous travel buddy, you probably need to roll an AUF to get away?

[Thanqol]

Hey Luminark? I think, despite the great roll here by Scraps, given that you're making your own break for freedom rather than going with your previous travel buddy, you probably need to roll an AUF to get away?

8.

It is a curious feeling, making a decision as obviously totally bad as Luminark is making here, going for the downed helicopter instead of escaping when he has the chance. But damn it, he came out to this hellhole for a reason and he is not going back empty hooved.

[Elanorin]

I've got an old adage that "if you want to do it, roll it." that would apply here. It's a decent argument, but you'll need to roll a manipulate on these ponies to get them to agree.

Either that, or convince her you're actually interested in Luminark. I think I'd let that one auto-succeed just for the added hilarity.

Your call Milliway!

There were glances, awkward pauses, uncomfortable shuffles. A cough. Okay, so, she wasn't winning them over with this but she hadn't lost them either.

Oh, hell, I'm gonna have to go There, aren't I?

With a resigned sigh, Milliway sat herself down. "This isn't an Administrator-issued workorder," she admitted, reluctantly, looking down, "I- I just don't trust that library. It's packed to the brim with some seriously twisted and dangerous stuff. It's like some kind of hell-chaos-dimension in there. It traps you, tries to kill you on a whim- I mean- Luminark's even had to make this- this- hellbeast monster pet to defend himself. I know that the Library has its own surveillance system but for who? Who keeps it? Not even the Administrator has a line there, I think."

"I think the Library is sentient and it has an agenda of its own. And- and- he is not safe in there, but will he listen? He's so wrapped up in his little Archmage worship he won't even stop to consider his own safety. He just throws himself in headfirst, no regard for his own safety, or- or... It's just 'Archmage says so' and, devotion is great... and all, but she is using him. If- if not worse... and he's going to get hurt. And I try to... say stuff... and it comes out all wrong, and we fight, and..." Milliway was increasingly confusing herself with this rambling rant. She had started off trying to convince the Liquorices, but she wasn't entirely sure where some of this came from and her instinct was to shut up, scowl, and walk out, but it was all furthering her interest so she made herself carry on, trying to ignore the fact that her pink cheeks were taking on a darker shade of pink.

"But somepony has to look out for him, even if he won't, and even if he wouldn't like it," she said, a little deflated. "I know some added surveillance might not be enough, but least it will be run by pony hooves as opposed to by whatever that is. I'll be able to keep an eye on just what it is that place is doing to him, and I'll be able to keep that Archmage accountable. It's not- I know that- well- it's just wires and solder but, that's the stuff I know." Milliway admitted with another shrug. "It's not like he'd let me help him. But at least this way I can do something, and he doesn't even need to know."

[Balmas]

She "needs" to you say? Wow, that's more energy in this scene than I expected. What's going on here?

Is this a read a pony/sitch territory?

Mind if I paint you a picture on what happens if she doesn't love me?

Right now, she's scared. She's confused. She's just lost her mom, and her dad isn't here for some reason. (Do I remember him? So many colors and faces that they kind of blend together.) She doesn't know why her mom is gone--hell, I don't know why she died, except that someone is trying to get to me by screwing around with my things! if I don't help her through this trying time, she's probably going to come to the conclusion that this is all my fault!

Fast forward a few years. Now she's a teenager. She's nurtured this misplaced grudge for years. She starts spreading rumors, maybe talks to a few friends, and we already have treason, traitors, spreading lies through my home. Maybe it doesn't even happen until she's an adult, with a foal of her own. And then I need to have Mommy retrained, and you have another child starting to have treasonous thoughts of not loving me.

No, much better to nip this in the bud right now. A little bit of comfort and direction now can save me and our Bunker a lot of heartache later on. And yes, I think I'd better take that roll. I'm trying to gauge how she's acting, how tense she is, what she's saying with her body, if not her mouth.

Read a Pony: (2d6+2)[13]
How can I get Rhody to love me? (Platonically, I mean. Because she's a filly, and I'm a two hundred year old demigoddess, and there are some lines that even I don't cross.)

[BlasTech]

8.

It is a curious feeling, making a decision as obviously totally bad as Luminark is making here, going for the downed helicopter instead of escaping when he has the chance. But damn it, he came out to this hellhole for a reason and he is not going back empty hooved.

Well, as you're running for the Vertibird, something smacks into your back. After a step, it tugs strong enough to nearly make you lose your footing.

Turning back, Grithoof has wiped the gunk off one of his eyeholes and has hit you with some kind of grapnel. It's tines are tangled amongst the bones of your jacket though. If you try to break free, there's a good chance that a few of them will break loose - with all the fear-generation that entails.

The upside is that if it takes enough of them with it, say four (i.e. about half your remaining supply) it'll probably affect the whole crowd and Grithoof is probably going to get stuck dealing with that for a while.

What do you do?

"But somepony has to look out for him, even if he won't, and even if he wouldn't like it," she said, a little deflated. "I know some added surveillance might not be enough, but least it will be run by pony hooves as opposed to by whatever that is. I'll be able to keep an eye on just what it is that place is doing to him, and I'll be able to keep that Archmage accountable. It's not- I know that- well- it's just wires and solder but, that's the stuff I know." Milliway admitted with another shrug. "It's not like he'd let me help him. But at least this way I can do something, and he doesn't even need to know."

A complete change came over the two mares she was speaking to. Initially, cool, initially detached. But as Milliway progressed through her rambling, their expressions gradually morphed until both were biting their top lips in excitement.

"Oh, say no more dear, say no more." they said, both shooting each other glances that contained far more energy than those calming words.

"Of course we'll help you. Anything for our boy's maref- I mean, best friend."

"Just let us know what you need us to do."

Mind if I paint you a picture on what happens if she doesn't love me?

Right now, she's scared. She's confused. She's just lost her mom, and her dad isn't here for some reason. (Do I remember him? So many colors and faces that they kind of blend together.) She doesn't know why her mom is gone--hell, I don't know why she died, except that someone is trying to get to me by screwing around with my things! if I don't help her through this trying time, she's probably going to come to the conclusion that this is all my fault!

Fast forward a few years. Now she's a teenager. She's nurtured this misplaced grudge for years. She starts spreading rumors, maybe talks to a few friends, and we already have treason, traitors, spreading lies through my home. Maybe it doesn't even happen until she's an adult, with a foal of her own. And then I need to have Mommy retrained, and you have another child starting to have treasonous thoughts of not loving me.

No, much better to nip this in the bud right now. A little bit of comfort and direction now can save me and our Bunker a lot of heartache later on. And yes, I think I'd better take that roll. I'm trying to gauge how she's acting, how tense she is, what she's saying with her body, if not her mouth.

Read a Pony: [roll0]
How can I get Rhody to love me? (Platonically, I mean. Because she's a filly, and I'm a two hundred year old demigoddess, and there are some lines that even I don't cross.)

Oh yeah, the ole best-served-cold. Well, at the moment, things for Rhody are not quite that cold. In fact, things are pretty hot. She wants revenge, and you're right in terms of her blaming you if nopony better presents themselves.

As you look at the drawings she was doing, you notice that a large percentage of them show bloody scenes - with some pony or other, labelled "killer" dying gruesomely. Not the standard foal's colouring practice.

Anyway, the way to her heart is simple enough. Find her a better target and kill it. Tell her you've found her mother's killer. Lie if you have to. Scapegoat someone if needed. But if you walk away from here without giving her a good degree of commitment, if you waffle on the subject, she's going to start wondering why the all-powerful administrator is so impotent.

But if you present her the body of this "killer" ... then she will love you for it.

[Elanorin]

A complete change came over the two mares she was speaking to. Initially, cool, initially detached. But as Milliway progressed through her rambling, their expressions gradually morphed until both were biting their top lips in excitement.

"Oh, say no more dear, say no more." they said, both shooting each other glances that contained far more energy than those calming words.

"Of course we'll help you. Anything for our boy's maref- I mean, best friend."

"Just let us know what you need us to do."

Strangely the little surge of excitement of a plan coming together failed to materialise as the Liquorices suddenly became only too happy to help. Milliway had convinced herself she was in control and knew exactly what she was doing. But there was something in their voices that made a tiny icy trickle of dread meander its way down her neck and spine and prompting her to wonder if in fact she really did, if she in fact had any damn clue whatsoever.

She looked down at the piece of tech she had pieced together before coming over, and for the very first time since the War on Luminark had started she found herself wondering if the end would come to justify the means. But, in for a penny...

"Just help me hook this up to the creepy eyeball chandelier thing. That's all. It's an interface that will get me access, I should be able to hack the rest," Milliway said, brushing off any irrational feeling of dread. "And, uh... thank you."

[Thanqol]

Well, as you're running for the Vertibird, something smacks into your back. After a step, it tugs strong enough to nearly make you lose your footing.

Turning back, Grithoof has wiped the gunk off one of his eyeholes and has hit you with some kind of grapnel. It's tines are tangled amongst the bones of your jacket though. If you try to break free, there's a good chance that a few of them will break loose - with all the fear-generation that entails.

The upside is that if it takes enough of them with it, say four (i.e. about half your remaining supply) it'll probably affect the whole crowd and Grithoof is probably going to get stuck dealing with that for a while.

What do you do?

So option one is to send everyone not me into a panicked frenzy, option two is, what, get hauled back and beaten by some big angry raider? That's as straightforwards a choice as Luminark has ever heard - he lets the bones break and keeps running.