Cloudbreak IC: Glimpse of the sky

[Elanorin]

House doesn't reply.

In fact, when you tap the consoles a bit to bring up a diagnostic, a large chunk of data is no longer in your systems. It didn't comprise of any of your research, which was what the hacker seemed to be after, but instead seems to have come from the anomalous chunk of information that you've always assumed was part of House's personality.

In short, he's gone. Sucked out into the electronic ether. If you want things back to normal operations, you're going to have to track him down first.

The crystal heart also looks a bit off. Its colour is wan, and flickered with a sickly yellow glow. It must have used a bit of power up in the counterattack. Hopefully it will recover in time, but for now most of your grunt and automated systems are going to be running on low power.

The workshop seems eerily silent. Just you, the occasional creak of machinery, and the two words burning on the screen in front of you.

What do you do?

Milliway's jaw drops open as she spots the massive gap of data.

House.

She slowly sits back in her chair as it all sinks in. One by one the gears kick in to motion in her mind and she starts to piece information together. Did not Scrapper spend an unusual amount of time hovering at her door for seemingly no good reason at all earlier? Did he not blatantly eye up her workshop and, in particular, the Crystal Heart?

Milliway's eyes narrowed dangerously as it finally fell to place who had been behind this.

"Scrapstallion," she muttered darkly, before getting up and heading straight for whatever hovel he called home.

[BlasTech]

Surely you're not suggesting that I'd need to resort to ruling by fear to get what I want? All of my little ponies love me!

Spoiler: The face of love and friendship

Show

[roll0]

Yikes ... that's a face that only a mother could- oh hello Glimmer!

Well, with that sorted, the answer to your question is pretty clear. Bones is going to write that report. He'll do all the tests he can think of and he'll get them done in record time. All t's dotted and all i's crossed. You can bet on it.

Nobody wants to argue with such a pretty face.

This'll go well.

[Rolled 1 + 2 + 1 = 4. Though, do I have to roll Manipulation to get them to talk/not shoot me if that's what they wanted to do in the first place?]

Luminark is going to tap into his finely honed unicorn senses, allow his magical awareness to help him pinpoint the location of everypony, and chart a precise and elegant route to the back hold which gets him seen by nopony.

Read a Sitch: 5

Yikes, double fail.

Well, in this case, Luminark, your fail here is not accounting for the presence of a jumpy, well armed, Friendship patrolpony. You manage to get the cargo door open and into the hold before Paddy's voice rings out behind you.

"THEY'RE SNEAKIN' IN THE BACK!"

You look up just in time to register the shotgun before it belches fire and pain.

[That'll be 3-harm, and a harm roll]

Scraps, the yelling and the sudden shooting does wonders for your negotiating position. In fact, while Paddy is gunning down your intruder, he silhouettes himself in the doorway of the Peregrine. He spins towards the outside, shotgun firing wildly in the general direction of the ponies you've been talking to.

There's a crack , the splatter of blood against the wall, and he's down on the ground.

Out in the open where you are, there's not much you can do before another shot smacks into you as well.

[take 2 harm and make a harm roll]

Milliway's jaw drops open as she spots the massive gap of data.

House.

She slowly sits back in her chair as it all sinks in. One by one the gears kick in to motion in her mind and she starts to piece information together. Did not Scrapper spend an unusual amount of time hovering at her door for seemingly no good reason at all earlier? Did he not blatantly eye up her workshop and, in particular, the Crystal Heart?

Milliway's eyes narrowed dangerously as it finally fell to place who had been behind this.

"Scrapstallion," she muttered darkly, before getting up and heading straight for whatever hovel he called home.

Scrap's place? Sounds cool. I wonder what it's like?

Well, that'd definitely be a good question to ask the pony himself (assuming he's still alive).

Scraps, where do you hang your hat at night? What's it like and what will Milliway find when she gets there?

[TheAmishPirate]

Yikes, double fail.

Well, in this case, Luminark, your fail here is not accounting for the presence of a jumpy, well armed, Friendship patrolpony. You manage to get the cargo door open and into the hold before Paddy's voice rings out behind you.

"THEY'RE SNEAKIN' IN THE BACK!"

You look up just in time to register the shotgun before it belches fire and pain.

[That'll be 3-harm, and a harm roll]

Scraps, the yelling and the sudden shooting does wonders for your negotiating position. In fact, while Paddy is gunning down your intruder, he silhouettes himself in the doorway of the Peregrine. He spins towards the outside, shotgun firing wildly in the general direction of the ponies you've been talking to.

There's a crack , the splatter of blood against the wall, and he's down on the ground.

Out in the open where you are, there's not much you can do before another shot smacks into you as well.

[take 2 harm and make a harm roll]

The Scrapscallion was moving before the first bang faded, scooping up his revolver and making a diving leap for the relative safety of the cockpit. Even so, he wasn't fast enough to keep a bullet from winging his shoulder on the way.

[2 Harm - 1 Armor = +1 Harm. 6 + 6 + 1 = 13 ]

Scrap's place? Sounds cool. I wonder what it's like?

Well, that'd definitely be a good question to ask the pony himself (assuming he's still alive).

Scraps, where do you hang your hat at night? What's it like and what will Milliway find when she gets there?

So, remember the Hangar?

Of course it's on the surface. Don't get me wrong; I love tunnel drives. Barreling headlong into the dark, headlights only reaching far enough to see the next stalagmite, death just a moment's hesitation away, mmmmmm! There's nothing like it. Of course, you don't find many ponies or science-y crap down there. Unless you count the skeletons. But the best pickings are on the surface, so that's where my roads lead.

The surface level of the bunker has these huge hangars, back from the war days. I think they used to hold airships, maybe tanks, maybe both. (Ohhhhhhhh baby. If I got my hooves on one of those...) Anyway, they got lots of open space, and gates leading to the outside, so it's the perfect place to stash my bike. And my tools. And my replacement parts. And a hammock for hanging out, if you know what I mean. Whenever I want to make a run, I radio one of the control rooms, and they open the gates for me. There's layers of them, see. One for the hangar, one for the main walls, and one for the outer fences. Good for keeping out unwanted pests, bad when you're coming in hot.

Turns out when the Princess says there's no room for a pony like Scraps in her organization, she means it real literal-like. The Hangar is as much home to the Scrapscallion as it is to his bike. It's not much, but then again, when you spend as much time out on the road as he does, you don't need all that much, do you?

Without the Peregrine there, it's considerably more empty than when we last saw it. A fair number of the replacement parts and tools are gone, currently stowed in the Peregrine's cargo hold. (It's thanks to Goops that there's anything left there at all.) There's a hammock tied off between a workbench and the wall, with a slightly bigger hammock tucked away for when he's got himself a guest to cuddle. There's some driving goggles, some vests, some blah blah blah blah you're not here for the easy stuff, are you? No no no, you're here hunting secrets.

So. Here's what you find.

First, nestled behind the workbench is an old shoebox with what appears to be a hundreds of paper clips, a few dozen pens and pencils, and a desk toy engraved with the name "Bumper Crop."

Second, tucked in the back of a drawer is an odd pile of knick-knacks. A rock worn smooth, a silver key, a charred bit of crumpled metal, an empty bottle of Sparkle Cola, and a color picture of a Vertibuck in full flight.

Third, hidden behind a bit of wall paneling, is a scrap of paper. With a little work, it can be unfolded and the wrinkles smoothed out. It's covered in a mass of scribbles and crossed-out words, all completely illegible to the naked eye. But at the top, you can clearly read,

"Deer Miliwey"

[Thanqol]

Yikes, double fail.

Well, in this case, Luminark, your fail here is not accounting for the presence of a jumpy, well armed, Friendship patrolpony. You manage to get the cargo door open and into the hold before Paddy's voice rings out behind you.

"THEY'RE SNEAKIN' IN THE BACK!"

You look up just in time to register the shotgun before it belches fire and pain.

[That'll be 3-harm, and a harm roll]

[After 2 armour marking 1 harm, harm roll: 8 Question: Which enemy is the biggest threat?]

This was literally the worst pain anypony in the history of the cosmos had ever experienced. Ever. He'd been shot! He'd been shoooooooooooot!!!! The only thing that kept Luminark even slightly together was his brain closing off unimportant pain-circuit processors to contemplate the far more important question of 'who's fault is this'.

[BlasTech]

The Scrapscallion was moving before the first bang faded, scooping up his revolver and making a diving leap for the relative safety of the cockpit. Even so, he wasn't fast enough to keep a bullet from winging his shoulder on the way.

[2 Harm - 1 Armor = +1 Harm. 6 + 6 + 1 = 13 ]

Well the bullet clips you on the shoulder, and the force of it smacks your head into the side of the Peregrine.

You slip into the dark black of unconsciousness.

Tell me about your dreams.

[After 2 armour marking 1 harm, harm roll: 8 Question: Which enemy is the biggest threat?]

This was literally the worst pain anypony in the history of the cosmos had ever experienced. Ever. He'd been shot! He'd been shoooooooooooot!!!! The only thing that kept Luminark even slightly together was his brain closing off unimportant pain-circuit processors to contemplate the far more important question of 'who's fault is this'.

Is it a bit trite to say "yourselves" here? What with all the stowaway and sneaking, you've done more damage to each other than the unnamed ponies that had been shooting at you.

That said, from the way the shots landed, its clear that the sniper (whoever it is) is the main threat. They're hidden, have a decent gun, and from the way he or she was toying with Scraps, are a pretty decent shot.

Anyway, the pain of Paddy's blast is so great that it sends you stumbling backwards out of the cargo compartment and into the dirt outside. By the time you've blinked your eyes clear, a pony is walking towards you, holding an old combat shotgun. The thing is rickety enough that it looks like it might explode if fired, and the pony himself is wearing what are best described as "pre-apocalypse vintage beggar", in the sense that his clothes look several hundred years old and that they'd have belonged on the street long before that.

You're in the open here. What do you do?

[Balmas]

Yikes ... that's a face that only a mother could- oh hello Glimmer!

Well, with that sorted, the answer to your question is pretty clear. Bones is going to write that report. He'll do all the tests he can think of and he'll get them done in record time. All t's dotted and all i's crossed. You can bet on it.

Nobody wants to argue with such a pretty face.

Exactly. And the jury decided all those ponies who disappeared after disagreeing with me was just a series of unfortunate accidents. it was even unanimous, after those three jurors got assigned to to a long exploratory journey outside.

And just one more question, before I leave. What does Bones wish I'd do?

Content that Bones is going to do his job for once, I head to talk to my heads of security. I think Protection Racket would know about the dead mare, right? Where's he at when I find him?

[Thanqol]

Is it a bit trite to say "yourselves" here? What with all the stowaway and sneaking, you've done more damage to each other than the unnamed ponies that had been shooting at you.

Now now, it's not entirely fair to pin all the blame on Scrapscullery. Miliway deserves some blame too. But that's all right, you're thinking along the right lines, it's probably the best that your little mind can do.

That said, from the way the shots landed, its clear that the sniper (whoever it is) is the main threat. They're hidden, have a decent gun, and from the way he or she was toying with Scraps, are a pretty decent shot.

Anyway, the pain of Paddy's blast is so great that it sends you stumbling backwards out of the cargo compartment and into the dirt outside. By the time you've blinked your eyes clear, a pony is walking towards you, holding an old combat shotgun. The thing is rickety enough that it looks like it might explode if fired, and the pony himself is wearing what are best described as "pre-apocalypse vintage beggar", in the sense that his clothes look several hundred years old and that they'd have belonged on the street long before that.

You're in the open here. What do you do?

I knew I should have packed a weapon when I went out into the wasteland, thought Luminark.

(Luminark did not know this. He is lying to divert attention from the fact that he legitimately forgot that he doesn't have any actual weapons. He doesn't even have a particularly menacing combat spell.)

So he takes the only appropriate course of action and - calmly and reasonably - announces his surrender.

[Elanorin]

Turns out when the Princess says there's no room for a pony like Scraps in her organization, she means it real literal-like. The Hangar is as much home to the Scrapscallion as it is to his bike. It's not much, but then again, when you spend as much time out on the road as he does, you don't need all that much, do you?

Without the Peregrine there, it's considerably more empty than when we last saw it. A fair number of the replacement parts and tools are gone, currently stowed in the Peregrine's cargo hold. (It's thanks to Goops that there's anything left there at all.) There's a hammock tied off between a workbench and the wall, with a slightly bigger hammock tucked away for when he's got himself a guest to cuddle. There's some driving goggles, some vests, some blah blah blah blah you're not here for the easy stuff, are you? No no no, you're here hunting secrets.

So. Here's what you find.

First, nestled behind the workbench is an old shoebox with what appears to be a hundreds of paper clips, a few dozen pens and pencils, and a desk toy engraved with the name "Bumper Crop."

Second, tucked in the back of a drawer is an odd pile of knick-knacks. A rock worn smooth, a silver key, a charred bit of crumpled metal, an empty bottle of Sparkle Cola, and a color picture of a Vertibuck in full flight.

Third, hidden behind a bit of wall paneling, is a scrap of paper. With a little work, it can be unfolded and the wrinkles smoothed out. It's covered in a mass of scribbles and crossed-out words, all completely illegible to the naked eye. But at the top, you can clearly read,

"Deer Miliwey"

Hmh.

Milliway fought the urge to just wire together a quick explosion and blow the place up. But as satisfying as the blast would be it was too quick, too easy. The loss of House demanded much greater retribution than just the charring of some meagre earthly possessions. He wasn't even here to be blown up with it.

She poked the various objects, among them the letter was potentially the most disturbing and it quickly got folded up and tucked away in a hinge of her metal leg brace.

A hoof prodded the silver key tentatively, before picking it up and holding it up in whatever light reached the corners of this... hangar. She blew a puff of breath at it and she felt it hit the small metal object, her ears pricked and she could hear how the gentle air resonated as it hit the angles, lines and curves of the key.

[Rolling Things Speak on the silver key: 4+3+2=9 what words have been said most recently nearby this?]

[TheAmishPirate]

Well the bullet clips you on the shoulder, and the force of it smacks your head into the side of the Peregrine.

You slip into the dark black of unconsciousness.

Tell me about your dreams.

It's sunny out. Manehatten is bustling. Ponies kissing their wives goodbye as they leave for work, kids scampering off to school, shops opening up for the day. All clean and tidy like it is in the pictures. The Scrapscallion sees all this, because The Scrapscallion is lying on the sidewalk, watching the crowds. Nopony's paying any attention to him. Nopony even sees him. They don't even have the dignity to step on him.

So. He swipes a pony's purse. Then everypony's watching him. Chasing him. Blocking exits as he dashes inside. Shaking their hooves in anger as he makes a daring rooftop escape. Following him in Vertibucks. Cursing when he dives into the river. Combing the banks for him. On and on and on it goes, staying one step ahead of the law and thrilling crowds and cops alike. It's a good dream.

Oh, and everything's in black-and-white. The Scrapscallion hasn't dreamed in color for as long as he can remember.

[BlasTech]

Exactly. And the jury decided all those ponies who disappeared after disagreeing with me was just a series of unfortunate accidents. it was even unanimous, after those three jurors got assigned to to a long exploratory journey outside.

And just one more question, before I leave. What does Bones wish I'd do?

Content that Bones is going to do his job for once, I head to talk to my heads of security. I think Protection Racket would know about the dead mare, right? Where's he at when I find him?

You see it in Bones' eyes as you're leaving. A momentary flash of relief, spite and ... happiness. You're giving him what he wants, in a small way.

We wants you to go away. You, the friendship goon squad, the scientists that are always bothering him, basically anypony else around him that interferes with his grand plans of drinking himself to nothingness and wasting away time down here doing whatever he feels like.

Anyway, you go looking for Protection Racket, and it's not long before you find him. In fact, he's been looking for you.

"Ma'am, glad to find you." he says, saluting with a hoof big enough to punch through walls. "We've had a bit of a situation in the databanks. Looks like somepony hacked them and fried two of our server towers."

I knew I should have packed a weapon when I went out into the wasteland, thought Luminark.

(Luminark did not know this. He is lying to divert attention from the fact that he legitimately forgot that he doesn't have any actual weapons. He doesn't even have a particularly menacing combat spell.)

So he takes the only appropriate course of action and - calmly and reasonably - announces his surrender.

The shotgun toting pony just grabs you and roughly hauls you to your hooves. Forcing you away from the Peregrine and into the ruins.

Now, the first question to ask here is, what are you going to do? Anything tricky? Or are you just going to go with the flow?

It's sunny out. Manehatten is bustling. Ponies kissing their wives goodbye as they leave for work, kids scampering off to school, shops opening up for the day. All clean and tidy like it is in the pictures. The Scrapscallion sees all this, because The Scrapscallion is lying on the sidewalk, watching the crowds. Nopony's paying any attention to him. Nopony even sees him. They don't even have the dignity to step on him.

So. He swipes a pony's purse. Then everypony's watching him. Chasing him. Blocking exits as he dashes inside. Shaking their hooves in anger as he makes a daring rooftop escape. Following him in Vertibucks. Cursing when he dives into the river. Combing the banks for him. On and on and on it goes, staying one step ahead of the law and thrilling crowds and cops alike. It's a good dream.

Oh, and everything's in black-and-white. The Scrapscallion hasn't dreamed in color for as long as he can remember.

Manehatten has been a ruin for as long as any of you ponies have been alive.

How does Scraps know what it looks like? Has he seen something somewhere, or is this just his monochrome imagination at play?

Hmh.

Milliway fought the urge to just wire together a quick explosion and blow the place up. But as satisfying as the blast would be it was too quick, too easy. The loss of House demanded much greater retribution than just the charring of some meagre earthly possessions. He wasn't even here to be blown up with it.

She poked the various objects, among them the letter was potentially the most disturbing and it quickly got folded up and tucked away in a hinge of her metal leg brace.

A hoof prodded the silver key tentatively, before picking it up and holding it up in whatever light reached the corners of this... hangar. She blew a puff of breath at it and she felt it hit the small metal object, her ears pricked and she could hear how the gentle air resonated as it hit the angles, lines and curves of the key.

[Rolling Things Speak on the silver key: 4+3+2=9 what words have been said most recently nearby this?]

This sounds like a question for Scraps! Over to you, pony.

[Thanqol]

The shotgun toting pony just grabs you and roughly hauls you to your hooves. Forcing you away from the Peregrine and into the ruins.

Now, the first question to ask here is, what are you going to do? Anything tricky? Or are you just going to go with the flow?

Priority one is keeping an eye out for anything that interests the Archmage. Luminark will change tack and kill everypony here if it turns out there's important kit to be had.

Other than that, his 'not getting shot' plan is a combination of pleading for mercy and going with the flow while hoping to meet some sort of decision maker. If push comes to shove he's got plenty of secrets to sell.

[Balmas]

You see it in Bones' eyes as you're leaving. A momentary flash of relief, spite and ... happiness. You're giving him what he wants, in a small way.

We wants you to go away. You, the friendship goon squad, the scientists that are always bothering him, basically anypony else around him that interferes with his grand plans of drinking himself to nothingness and wasting away time down here doing whatever he feels like.

Well, that will never do! Do you know what it means when a pony doesn't want to be around me? It means either they're desperately in need of the filling warmth of friendship, or that they're planning something treasonous. Either way, I could never leave my friends alone when they're in such a state of crisis. I'll have to invite him over for some tea later.

Anyway, you go looking for Protection Racket, and it's not long before you find him. In fact, he's been looking for you.

"Ma'am, glad to find you." he says, saluting with a hoof big enough to punch through walls. "We've had a bit of a situation in the databanks. Looks like somepony hacked them and fried two of our server towers."

Starlight's sigh was a tiger's hiss--long, loud, and probably a warning that pain was imminent. "That's hardly a surprise," she grit out. "Our bunker is under attack, one of my little ponies lies dead in the morgue, and now someone is committing treason under our very noses! And my leaders have somehow managed to not know exactly who did it!"

She stared at them, hoping that her mere presence would somehow rub off enough brilliance for a light to spark. "...You know? The one who has a history of messing with computers? Who's already committed treason once? Come, we have a Milliway to find."

[TheAmishPirate]

Manehatten has been a ruin for as long as any of you ponies have been alive.

How does Scraps know what it looks like? Has he seen something somewhere, or is this just his monochrome imagination at play?

Sometimes, when the Scrapscallion needs some time away from the crowds, he goes someplace he's sure to be alone; the library. You could walk for hours in those stacks without meeting another living soul. And it just so happens that along with books, Archmage Moondancer keeps an extensive collection of films from the olden times. The Scrapscallion has whiled away many an hour watching those old reels, drinking in Equestria's pre-War glory. What he's dreaming is his own, embellished interpretation of those films.

This sounds like a question for Scraps! Over to you, pony.

Well, that depends. The last ponies around his stash of goodies would have been the hazmat crew, though it's likely they failed to find it. Maybe they chatted among themselves when they thought nopony would be listening in? It's not every day you expect the knick-knacks to have ears.

If they didn't say anything near this key, then the Scrapscallion would be the last pony to speak near it.

[BlasTech]

Priority one is keeping an eye out for anything that interests the Archmage. Luminark will change tack and kill everypony here if it turns out there's important kit to be had.

Other than that, his 'not getting shot' plan is a combination of pleading for mercy and going with the flow while hoping to meet some sort of decision maker. If push comes to shove he's got plenty of secrets to sell.

Well, at least the initial part of this trip will be killing-free.

As you're dragged through the ruins, other ponies start to emerge. Two, four, seven. One mare, in particular, comes down with a well maintained hunting rifle over her shoulder. Others, all wearing the same grab-bag of wastelander rags and leathers. A few of them head for the Peregrine, probably to ransack it, but at least one of them grabs Scrapscallion's prone form and carries him along behind.

They lead you through the ruins towards what looks like a makeshift campsite in the lee of a wrecked piece of machinery. For those of you in the know, the machine was a Vertibuck: A pre-war fighting machine. Oddly, the machine itself doesn't look like it's been lying there for 200 plus years, but rather that it'd been shot out of the sky only a short while ago.

They must've built it to last.

A couple of the wastelanders are pulling the craft apart. One, even, looks like he's started to jury rig an engine to an old sky chariot husk.

Eventually, you're led to a clearing where an old pony with a Stetson and a handlebar moustache looks you over critically. He nods his head towards Scrapscallion.

"Friend o' yours?"

Well, that will never do! Do you know what it means when a pony doesn't want to be around me? It means either they're desperately in need of the filling warmth of friendship, or that they're planning something treasonous. Either way, I could never leave my friends alone when they're in such a state of crisis. I'll have to invite him over for some tea later.

Starlight's sigh was a tiger's hiss--long, loud, and probably a warning that pain was imminent. "That's hardly a surprise," she grit out. "Our bunker is under attack, one of my little ponies lies dead in the morgue, and now someone is committing treason under our very noses! And my leaders have somehow managed to not know exactly who did it!"

She stared at them, hoping that her mere presence would somehow rub off enough brilliance for a light to spark. "...You know? The one who has a history of messing with computers? Who's already committed treason once? Come, we have a Milliway to find."

"Yes ma'am!" replies Racket, who promptly gets one of the friendship squads to fall in behind you. But where to go?

First question is to you Glims. This bunker is old, but has been your home for generations. How much have you got this thing wired up to track ponies and their whereabouts?

The second question is to you, Milliway. You're the savvyhead. Technology is your b*yay*h. How do you keep yourself from being found when you don't want to be?

Sometimes, when the Scrapscallion needs some time away from the crowds, he goes someplace he's sure to be alone; the library. You could walk for hours in those stacks without meeting another living soul. And it just so happens that along with books, Archmage Moondancer keeps an extensive collection of films from the olden times. The Scrapscallion has whiled away many an hour watching those old reels, drinking in Equestria's pre-War glory. What he's dreaming is his own, embellished interpretation of those films.

Well, that depends. The last ponies around his stash of goodies would have been the hazmat crew, though it's likely they failed to find it. Maybe they chatted among themselves when they thought nopony would be listening in? It's not every day you expect the knick-knacks to have ears.

If they didn't say anything near this key, then the Scrapscallion would be the last pony to speak near it.

Huh, and the Library - the eldritch location of crazy magics and necromancy just lets you flit in and out and take that stuff?

In other news, the Hazmat team (or rather, just Goop on his own) didn't really say much around this hidden key of yours. I mean, it's hidden after all, and he was more concerned with moving your stuff before a Friendship Patrol caught him than chatting up the inanimate objects. So, question is all yours as to what the last words around it were.

[Balmas]

"Yes ma'am!" replies Racket, who promptly gets one of the friendship squads to fall in behind you. But where to go?

First question is to you Glims. This bunker is old, but has been your home for generations. How much have you got this thing wired up to track ponies and their whereabouts?

You know, I'm beginning to get concerned, citizen. You're asking some very dangerous questions. After all, if you plan on following all the rules, then there's no need to try to hide from me, or ask tricksy questions on where to find the blind spots, or which of the cameras don't work, or where in maintenance things aren't necessary to monitor. Are you okay? Do you need some more friends? I can help. Trust the Administrator.

[To answer your question: Our Bunker was built during the height of the war, kind of under the radar. Since the Ministry Mares kind of had a falling out, the Ministry of Morale didn't really get involved in the project. Not officially, anyway; I suspect that I've yet to weed out all of the hidden surveillance tech that just kinda appeared in anything from that era.

Nevertheless, I've managed to get together at least a functional security system. In the corner of most hallways, there's a small blackened glass sphere like what you might find in a grocery store. Those are the originals, or at least the shells where some of the original cameras are still there. Most of the upper levels of the Bunker have a good surveillance web, in theory. The little glass bulbs should make a nice array of overlapping fields of view, if there's actually a camera in the bulb and the camera is working and the recording function in the security office is still working.

Maintenance has fewer cameras--maybe one per hallway. And the tunnels underneath the Bunker usually only have cameras if we've actually built something. That reminds me; I still need to fix those blast doors.

However, technology is almost secondary. (Don't tell Friend Pony I said that, or I'll never hear the end of it.) What you really want in these enclosed spaces is friends. If your people love you and want to be with you and don't want to spend a lot of time away from their friends on missions to the surface, then they'll be willing to spill the beans. After all, we wouldn't want things like unfriendship to start seeping into our community, do we?]

[Thanqol]

Well, at least the initial part of this trip will be killing-free.

As you're dragged through the ruins, other ponies start to emerge. Two, four, seven. One mare, in particular, comes down with a well maintained hunting rifle over her shoulder. Others, all wearing the same grab-bag of wastelander rags and leathers. A few of them head for the Peregrine, probably to ransack it, but at least one of them grabs Scrapscallion's prone form and carries him along behind.

They lead you through the ruins towards what looks like a makeshift campsite in the lee of a wrecked piece of machinery. For those of you in the know, the machine was a Vertibuck: A pre-war fighting machine. Oddly, the machine itself doesn't look like it's been lying there for 200 plus years, but rather that it'd been shot out of the sky only a short while ago.

They must've built it to last.

A couple of the wastelanders are pulling the craft apart. One, even, looks like he's started to jury rig an engine to an old sky chariot husk.

Eventually, you're led to a clearing where an old pony with a Stetson and a handlebar moustache looks you over critically. He nods his head towards Scrapscallion.

"Friend o' yours?"

"Do I look like I associate with mere -" Luminark abruptly changed personalities mid sentence, "- he's an employee. I must say your facial hair is really impressive, do you style it yourself?"

Part of his mind was eyeballing that crashed flier - that was how you traveled in dignity and comfort! If he could get one of those he'd never have to hitch a ride on garbage ships flown by garbage ponies ever again!

Acquisitive Eye on the Vertibuck: 10
- How can I make this mine?
- Will my hoard accept it?
- What is it truly worth?

[BlasTech]

"Do I look like I associate with mere -" Luminark abruptly changed personalities mid sentence, "- he's an employee. I must say your facial hair is really impressive, do you style it yourself?"

Part of his mind was eyeballing that crashed flier - that was how you traveled in dignity and comfort! If he could get one of those he'd never have to hitch a ride on garbage ships flown by garbage ponies ever again!

Acquisitive Eye on the Vertibuck: 10
- How can I make this mine?
- Will my hoard accept it?
- What is it truly worth?

How you can make it yours? Well, to make this specific vertibuck yours: you'll need to fix it, secure it, and fly it. How you do that is up to you, but Miliway is no slouch at fixing broken things, and Scrap pony can teach you how to fly it. Securing it will mean either taking it by force or other means off the ponies who want to claim it. Ghosts might also help in these things, but it's a long way to fly this thing back to base.

Your hoard will definitely accept it. That said, it might also accept some part of it if the part is juicy enough. A full schematic perhaps, or that jury-rigged Wastelander engine the pony is working on. A blend of old and new world tech would definitely make for an intriguing study.

It's hard to judge its full worth from the outside, but this Vertibuck is certainly worth a fair bit - It looks more intact than most of the wrecks from the pre-war days. Like it could be made to fly again. The mobility it affords, and the ability to carry a hefty load, are worth lives.

[TheAmishPirate]

Huh, and the Library - the eldritch location of crazy magics and necromancy just lets you flit in and out and take that stuff?

He doesn't take them out of the library, are you crazy? He's got a deathwish, but not that sort of deathwish. Dying horribly in a library is dumb and lame.

Nah, he just sets up with a projector and some reels in a corner all quiet-like. Figures that if he doesn't bother the Big Bad Librarian, doesn't poke anything with eyes and/or screaming mouths, and puts everything back on a shelf somewhere, it should be fine.

In other news, the Hazmat team (or rather, just Goop on his own) didn't really say much around this hidden key of yours. I mean, it's hidden after all, and he was more concerned with moving your stuff before a Friendship Patrol caught him than chatting up the inanimate objects. So, question is all yours as to what the last words around it were.

Miliway, as you hold the key in your hooves, you hear a voice from afar. Like, legit afar. You get the feeling that it's not just a kooky time metaphor, but that these words were actually spoken someplace a long way from here.

"Wonder why they call this a master key? You'd think that's, like, the master of all keys, y'know? Except it's not. It's just "slightly better than the average key, 'cause it opens more than one lock." Honestly? Not sure it even qualifies as a professional key. At best, it's an amateur key with some potential, if it ever got its life together. Maybe someday, little buddy. Maybe someday..."

The voice is definitely the Scrapscallion's, and it sounds like he was alone. Alone, out in the Wasteland, carrying this shiny key.

[BlasTech]

He doesn't take them out of the library, are you crazy? He's got a deathwish, but not that sort of deathwish. Dying horribly in a library is dumb and lame.

Nah, he just sets up with a projector and some reels in a corner all quiet-like. Figures that if he doesn't bother the Big Bad Librarian, doesn't poke anything with eyes and/or screaming mouths, and puts everything back on a shelf somewhere, it should be fine.

Cool beans.

In any case, somepony dumps a bucket of water over your head to wake you up. You come to, face down in the dirt, surrounded by wastelanders.

What do you do?

[Thanqol]

How you can make it yours? Well, to make this specific vertibuck yours: you'll need to fix it, secure it, and fly it. How you do that is up to you, but Miliway is no slouch at fixing broken things, and Scrap pony can teach you how to fly it. Securing it will mean either taking it by force or other means off the ponies who want to claim it. Ghosts might also help in these things, but it's a long way to fly this thing back to base.

Your hoard will definitely accept it. That said, it might also accept some part of it if the part is juicy enough. A full schematic perhaps, or that jury-rigged Wastelander engine the pony is working on. A blend of old and new world tech would definitely make for an intriguing study.

It's hard to judge its full worth from the outside, but this Vertibuck is certainly worth a fair bit - It looks more intact than most of the wrecks from the pre-war days. Like it could be made to fly again. The mobility it affords, and the ability to carry a hefty load, are worth lives.

Good. Goals. We're basically halfway to victory already! This wasn't a disaster, this was an unplanned infiltration mission.

"So, now that we're all friends here," said Luminark brightly, "how about you tell me a little bit about yourselves and your charmingly rustic little community here? I must say that I am impressed."

[Elanorin]

Miliway, as you hold the key in your hooves, you hear a voice from afar. Like, legit afar. You get the feeling that it's not just a kooky time metaphor, but that these words were actually spoken someplace a long way from here.

"Wonder why they call this a master key? You'd think that's, like, the master of all keys, y'know? Except it's not. It's just "slightly better than the average key, 'cause it opens more than one lock." Honestly? Not sure it even qualifies as a professional key. At best, it's an amateur key with some potential, if it ever got its life together. Maybe someday, little buddy. Maybe someday..."

The voice is definitely the Scrapscallion's, and it sounds like he was alone. Alone, out in the Wasteland, carrying this shiny key.

Milliway stared at the key for a long while. Her mind thinking carefully and with purpose as she surveyed Scraps' home. She wanted to blow it up. She wanted to build a bomb and set it off. Right here. Now. But what use was that really? What satisfaction was there to be had from that? There was barely anything here! A few charred keepsakes and a singed hammock was not due retribution for the loss of House. No, she had to strike at what mattered to him as much as House did to her and this hovel was not it, clearly.

But she did know what was - that bucket of bolts he drove around and called a vehicle. It wasn't here now, but he'd be back with it, that she knew. She'd get her hooves on it before long.

She placed the key back and then left the hangar much as she had found it. She hadn't moved much, and what little she had changed she doubted such a slob as Scrapper would ever notice.

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

The second question is to you, Milliway. You're the savvyhead. Technology is your b*yay*h. How do you keep yourself from being found when you don't want to be?

The bunker has the very best surveillance system a shockingly small amount of bits can buy! Sure, it's a little patched, jury-rigged and... mmm... rustic, but it's a fine piece of kit, fit for our vital community, and our glorious Administrator. I believe I've even personally lent a hoof installing certain sections of it, some hmm years ago. Near to my workshop, coincidentally.

I find it unlikely that such a fine system would have any loopholes, shortcomings or hidden back doors built in to it when it was set up. And even if it did, that any pony could ever memorise such large and complex patterns well enough to use them in any way. It's not like it's just a case of just knowing when and where to pause for exactly how many seconds. No, you'd need to see all but imperceptible changes in light as the cameras move, hear the faint ticks and clicks of the cogs over the constant vent system ruckus. I mean, you'd have to be half machine for that, have, like, laser vision, or something.

No, I think our surveillance system is great. All hail the wise and generous Administrator for installing it. Yeah, I've heard I don't feature much on the tapes, but then, everypony knows I don't go out much. I wouldn't worry about it.

[Research question: What do I need to be able to make the crumpled letter stolen from Scrapscallion legible?]

[BlasTech]

Good. Goals. We're basically halfway to victory already! This wasn't a disaster, this was an unplanned infiltration mission.

"So, now that we're all friends here," said Luminark brightly, "how about you tell me a little bit about yourselves and your charmingly rustic little community here? I must say that I am impressed."

"There's thirty of us. Armed to the teeth. So don't go about trying anything stupid." snaps one of the other ponies.

The Stetson wearing pony quiets the other with an upraised hoof, his eyes not leaving yours.

"I think we're the ones askin' the questions here. Y'mind tellin me where you an' yore ... friend are from?" he continues, glancing over your bone-jacket.

You know, I'm beginning to get concerned, citizen. You're asking some very dangerous questions. After all, if you plan on following all the rules, then there's no need to try to hide from me, or ask tricksy questions on where to find the blind spots, or which of the cameras don't work, or where in maintenance things aren't necessary to monitor. Are you okay? Do you need some more friends? I can help. Trust the Administrator.

Well, given Milliway's answer, it's clear where she should be found. Her workshop!

Racket takes the lead there, the rest of your troop falling in behind.

Milliway. What kind of physical security does your workshop have? Especially with House out of the picture?

[Research question: What do I need to be able to make the crumpled letter stolen from Scrapscallion legible?]

I'm gonna toss this one to Scraps since it's his plot hook piece of paper. Scraps, you know the rules on projects right? What would you suggest be the threshold for Milliway to clear here?

[Thanqol]

"There's thirty of us. Armed to the teeth. So don't go about trying anything stupid." snaps one of the other ponies.

The Stetson wearing pony quiets the other with an upraised hoof, his eyes not leaving yours.

"I think we're the ones askin' the questions here. Y'mind tellin me where you an' yore ... friend are from?" he continues, glancing over your bone-jacket.

Thirty four, actually, but I'm from a place where they teach us arithmetic - the witty rejoinder takes actual physical force of will to resist saying out loud. To the untrained eye this superhuman effort looks like a weird shudder.

"Oh, I'm the apprentice to the Archmage Moondancer, who lives in an extradimensional arcane library located at the heart of an underground bunker - you know, like a Stable but for the military-science complex," said Luminark brightly. "It's the happening place if you're a mad scientist or have mad scientist related tendencies."

[Elanorin]

Well, given Milliway's answer, it's clear where she should be found. Her workshop!

Racket takes the lead there, the rest of your troop falling in behind.

Milliway. What kind of physical security does your workshop have? Especially with House out of the picture?

A single number combination padlock with some ladybug stickers on it.

[TheAmishPirate]

Cool beans.

In any case, somepony dumps a bucket of water over your head to wake you up. You come to, face down in the dirt, surrounded by wastelanders.

What do you do?

Well, first of all, he looked dang good. That counts, right? Water, dust, mud, gunk, slid right off the Scrapscallion, leaving him rugged and shining. Aw yeah.

But less importantly, he took one look at the crashed Vertibuck and the salvaged chariot, and gave a low, impressed whistle. "Nice." He nodded approvingly.

"There's thirty of us. Armed to the teeth. So don't go about trying anything stupid." snaps one of the other ponies.

The Stetson wearing pony quiets the other with an upraised hoof, his eyes not leaving yours.

"I think we're the ones askin' the questions here. Y'mind tellin me where you an' yore ... friend are from?" he continues, glancing over your bone-jacket.

Thirty four, actually, but I'm from a place where they teach us arithmetic - the witty rejoinder takes actual physical force of will to resist saying out loud. To the untrained eye this superhuman effort looks like a weird shudder.

"Oh, I'm the apprentice to the Archmage Moondancer, who lives in an extradimensional arcane library located at the heart of an underground bunker - you know, like a Stable but for the military-science complex," said Luminark brightly. "It's the happening place if you're a mad scientist or have mad scientist related tendencies."

And then he looked beside him, and the Scrapscallion laughed. "Is this where you've been hiding, Narky? Dude, no wonder nopony's found you; we all thought you were allergic to dirt. Sorry you've had to deal with this nerd, hope he behaved himself," he apologized to the Stetson-wearing pony, shaking his head. "What he said. Bunker, full of lab coats, run by a Princess."

Now, while everypony is talking, there is one other thing on the Scrapscallion's mind; among the thirty some-odd ponies here, are there any mares? Are they cute? Oooh, and are any of them a pegasi? Rare and exotic, those pegasi. (The ones not in laser-covered power armor trying to kill you, that is.)

I'm gonna toss this one to Scraps since it's his plot hook piece of paper. Scraps, you know the rules on projects right? What would you suggest be the threshold for Milliway to clear here?

You've got a fancy robot eye, right? Should be easy for you then! Scribbles might stop the pony eye, but you can see right through them. Problem is, it's hard to tell where the scribbles stop and the writing starts. You'll need a sample of the Scrapscallion's writing, more than the "Deer Miliwey" that you can see on the paper. (Plus side, with that little sample, you should be able to tell if you've got another sample of his handwriting.) Once you've got that, it should be easy as pie.

Problem is, where are you going to get another example of his handwriting? You're pretty sure you've never seen him hold a pencil in all the time you've known him. There's probably some administrative papers he had to sign at some point, or maybe you could trick him into writing something for you, or maybe you've got a genius plan of your own! What do you think?

[BlasTech]

A single number combination padlock with some ladybug stickers on it.

Well, something like that won't stand up for long against the intellectual fortitude of the Friendship Patrol!

Racket stares at it for a good minute, 'umm'-ing and 'aah'-ing under his breath, before finally nodding to himself, turning away, and bucking the door open.

Miliway. What sights, sounds and smells await Glimmer and her squads as they enter the workshop?

Well, first of all, he looked dang good. That counts, right? Water, dust, mud, gunk, slid right off the Scrapscallion, leaving him rugged and shining. Aw yeah.

But less importantly, he took one look at the crashed Vertibuck and the salvaged chariot, and gave a low, impressed whistle. "Nice." He nodded approvingly.

And then he looked beside him, and the Scrapscallion laughed. "Is this where you've been hiding, Narky? Dude, no wonder nopony's found you; we all thought you were allergic to dirt. Sorry you've had to deal with this nerd, hope he behaved himself," he apologized to the Stetson-wearing pony, shaking his head. "What he said. Bunker, full of lab coats, run by a Princess."

Now, while everypony is talking, there is one other thing on the Scrapscallion's mind; among the thirty some-odd ponies here, are there any mares? Are they cute? Oooh, and are any of them a pegasi? Rare and exotic, those pegasi. (The ones not in laser-covered power armor trying to kill you, that is.)

"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 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.

[Balmas]

Well, something like that won't stand up for long against the intellectual fortitude of the Friendship Patrol!

Racket stares at it for a good minute, 'umm'-ing and 'aah'-ing under his breath, before finally nodding to himself, turning away, and bucking the door open.

Miliway. What sights, sounds and smells await Glimmer and her squads as they enter the workshop?

"Rachet, I am shocked!" Starlight exclaims. "You, of all people, should know that we believe in the sanctuary provided by ones workshop! You can't just barge in like that! You need to get a warrant from the duly appointed leader in order to search the grounds!"

Turning, she carved off a sliver of door and inscribed "Do what I want" on it with her horn. "There, that should cover it."

[Thanqol]

"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 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.

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."

[Elanorin]

Well, something like that won't stand up for long against the intellectual fortitude of the Friendship Patrol!

Racket stares at it for a good minute, 'umm'-ing and 'aah'-ing under his breath, before finally nodding to himself, turning away, and bucking the door open.

Miliway. What sights, sounds and smells await Glimmer and her squads as they enter the workshop?

Lesser Minds such as this would probably find the sight before them... cluttered, unable to discern the thought structure behind the organisation of my various rooms housing my junkyard material reserve. It's lit by luminescent cables hanging in the ceiling, snaking in and out of rooms but all ultimately leading to the Central Workspace, The Hub. Less mess material here, almost tidy, but the place is completely packed with monitors, consoles, switches, gears and great big Buttons. The smell throughout my workshop is one of coffee, alcohol, oil, lubricant and a sweet undertone of strawberry laces.

[BlasTech]

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."

"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?"

Lesser Minds such as this would probably find the sight before them... cluttered, unable to discern the thought structure behind the organisation of my various rooms housing my junkyard material reserve. It's lit by luminescent cables hanging in the ceiling, snaking in and out of rooms but all ultimately leading to the Central Workspace, The Hub. Less mess material here, almost tidy, but the place is completely packed with monitors, consoles, switches, gears and great big Buttons. The smell throughout my workshop is one of coffee, alcohol, oil, lubricant and a sweet undertone of strawberry laces.

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?