A Most Pastel Apocalypse (IC thread)

[Pokonic]

Feel the warmth of the unconquered sun

Light the torches, the swords of the sun

He looks down with a mocking laugh

At the fools lonely in the dark


Princess Celestia is dead, and she is not coming back. Canterlot is now a city of crumbling marble and gold trim, containing the last dredges of Equestia. Society has crumbled, ponykind has fallen, and you happen to be a pony. Under the light of a eternal sunrise, in weary and worn Canterlot, what will you be?

The Driver
Earthquake (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19668759&postcount=5)

The Battlebabe
Solitaire (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19669596&postcount=11)

The Maestro'd
Consigliere (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19690278&postcount=32)

The Gunlugger
Lead (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19703685&postcount=44)

The Chopper
Thunderhead (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19706262&postcount=48)

[Pokonic]

Canterlot has seen quite near a thousand years, but the last few have been it's worse. The marble is cracked, the paint peeling, and the citizens that have yet to die are enthusiastically catching up on lost time. The world's ending, but it's been ending for fifty years, now, and still has some time to go before everyone's dead. Canterlot is a ruin, but it's also grocery store and you're the proverbial roaches that have inherited the earth.

~~~

Earthquake, you wake up inside your train. Where are you, exactly, and what does the interior of your pride and joy look like?

Also, how's the kid?

~~~

Consigliere, it's that odd time of day when the vast majority of ponies are waking up or are going to bed; no night or day makes for some weird sleeping patterns. What's the current crowd in the Le Grand like and who's the most concerning presence inside?

~~~

Lead, the building you have found yourself in is a distinctly ratty building in the lower city, one with walls marred by old conflicts and moldy carpets stained with the passage of time. Who or what brought you here, so soon after waking up?

~~~

Thunderhead; what's happening? No, really, what's happening. You woke up to the sound of a heated argument going on between a few members of the crew. Who's causing the ruckus, and where are you all in the first place?

~~~

Solitaire, you've woken up, too. But not in you're home; you're somewhere unfamiliar, on a distressingly nice couch, in a place that was clean and quiet and screamed 'fancy'. What got you in here?

[Thanqol]

Earthquake, you wake up inside your train. Where are you, exactly, and what does the interior of your pride and joy look like?

Also, how's the kid?

I lurch out of unconsciousness and slam my head on the faucet. Then I fall over and bang my head on the side of the bath before hitting the ground and breaking some bottles underneath me. Two bruises and some minor cuts in my first two seconds of being awake. Almost a record.

I must have been barfing up sandpaper last night. I wash out my mouth with a carefully rationed swig of water and stagger out through my workshop. It's surprisingly empty; anything not important I toss or sell rather than cart about. Right now it's just the Stormchaser and the stuff I need to fix the Stormchaser. I handle the rolling motion of the train like an old sailor, falling from compartment to compartment, coming seconds from faceplanting any given moment. Ha, gravity, I learned my lesson for today, I'm not falling for that again.

It's mostly big empty storage carriages, occasionally with stacks and stacks of crap I'm pulling around for a customer. Some carriages had chairs but I mostly ripped those out to save on weight. While the majority is pretty desolate the kids have done up their rooms pretty nice. I like having space to move around though, and I like having things that are clean.

Head through to the drivers compartment. Green Knight is there, driving. Soon as she sees me she starts sulking. She doesn't like when I take evenings to myself. Digger just comes over, big smile, and asks me what's for breakfast. Bucked if I know. "How we doing for time?" I ask, looking out 'cross the horizon, familiar checking for things that are green, armed or customers.

[Oberon Kenobi]

Solitaire, in unfamiliar comfortsSolitaire wakes up--not with a snap, but with the languid ease that comes from sleeping far too soundly for anypony who makes their home in Canterlot.

Half-lidded eyes take in the surrounding finery, blink away the dregs of sleep and take in a little more, then clamp shut against the spins when Solitaire sits up just a little too fast.

The haze and half-hearted headache of the morning after are slowly broken up by memories of the night before. A bonfire in the shadow of the mountain, thundering drums and cider cut with something strange. Dances giving way to glances giving way to smoldering looks, whispered promises and petitions from a voice that leads her away from the fire, the voice's owner... apparently, completely forgettable, despite their discerning tastes.

Though, their tastes can hardly be that discerning, considering who they left out on the couch.

Solitaire opens her eyes as the last traces of sleep fall away, stretching her neck in the warm light coming in through the window.

"So," she calls out, smoky voice gliding through the finely appointed apartment in search of the prior evening's company. "You have a name?"

[BlasTech]

Consigliere, it's that odd time of day when the vast majority of ponies are waking up or are going to bed; no night or day makes for some weird sleeping patterns. What's the current crowd in the Le Grand like and who's the most concerning presence inside?

It's the changing of the shifts at Le Grand. The group of ponies that run the quiet hours are winding down, glasses are being cleaned, the countertop polished and the main crew of the establishment are arriving for the day. Rosemary is behind the bar, stocktaking the drinks we still have left, while Thyme is off in the kitchen, getting the stoves cleaned and fired up. Glissando and Tulip are actually finishing up, both looking tired after entertaining the patrons. They'll go off to sleep, and then come back for when the 'dinner' clientele start to arrive.

There's not too many patrons left at this time of day. A few of the die-heards like Downdraft are still drinking, and even he will be heading home soon. A pair of earth ponies are still chatting away in a booth, and Kneecap just tossed out another one that had gone about three drinks past his limit. The most concerning one though has to be Eclipse. The guy is still sitting at the table, staring at the sunset and sipping the glass of wine he ordered an hour ago. Don't want to toss him out, but would very much like for him to move on before Brass Bell and her friends get here.

Ugh, I need to get my mind off him. I'll just do the rounds of the other patrons, smiling, backslaps, and brief conversations. Gotta make them feel welcome after all.

[Shunka Warakin]

A sudden gust of green-lit wind hammers into her left flank, powerful as the kick of a mule, and it's all she can do to keep sculling upward into the dark clouds. Lightning sheets down to her right, white fire filling half the sky, thunder feeling as if it will cave her chest in. There is a frenzied, desperate flailing, wings trying to beat the air into submission...

Suddenly, she is free of the maelstrom. A sea of roiling clouds stretches below her in every direction, and another one hangs above. There is nothing between the two planes of black cotton save herself and the two great orbs to either side. The blood-red sun louring in the East, and opposite it the mare in the moon in black-purpled silver. The clouds are tinted to either side, reflecting the colors of the absent monarchs.

Something terrifying and invisible stoops out of the heavens and kicks her back down, down, down into a steady, rhythmic pulse of thunder and darkness.

Thunderhead awakens slowly, the rumbling sounding more and more like shouting which subsides to someone's half-empty head being bashed repeatedly against a half-empty fuel tank. The darkness is the shredded, stained and charred wool blanket she stretches out like a tarp to one side of her bike. She lifts her head, old stinking wool cascading down her shoulders as she tries to focus tired eyes on the red-and-purple tinted world, then gets her feet slowly beneath her.

The pegasus shifts the old crowbar she'd been curled around to one wing, curling feathers around it as she takes in the scene. Most of the Barnstormers are up in a ragged circle, taking in the entertainment as Dust Devil attempts to redecorate Zip's bike with its owner's face.

Huh.

The rangy pegasus takes a moment to study the rest of the pack while they're distracted. The usual headcases, always happy to see a little claret, and a few hangers-on picked up for partying. One of these is a little slip of a unicorn whose face is lit up like Solstice morning as she watches Zip getting pounded on. A few more details register. The long banner of iridescent silky-stuff is missing from its customary place on Dust's sissy-bar. No, there it is on the ground in front of the gleeful unicorn, torn and muddy. The little one-horn herself is too-clean, the tears in her jacket too-regular. No, not torn. Cut. Slummer. Pretty thing. She is utterly out of Zip's league.

Gears mesh suddenly in her skull and Thunderhead lurches forward, the motion catching the eyes of a few of the other ponies across the ring. A hush descends on them and spreads slowly to engulf the rest of the gang until there's only the thump of Zip's cranium against metal, Dust entirely oblivious in his rage. Ponies near the pack alpha slip out of her way as she approaches Dust from behind.

Thunderhead realizes that part of the throbbing is in her own skull. Her head hurts, and the half-assed counter-rhythm Dust is providing isn't helping a bit.

On impulse, she clubs the crowbar's flat across the meaty part of Dust's thighs, just glancing off the hardened leather plates he wears at his hindquarters. She doesn't want to cripple one of her better riders, not even for one day, but she'll be damned if he ignores her intentionally or otherwise. The crowbar sweeps up, ready for the backswing -- and that one'll be serious if Dust earns it.

"Hey. HEY! You buckin' idjits know what buckin' time it is?"

A few of the bikers reflexively glance at the old chronometer strapped to her foreleg, but its ticking is irregular. Others engage in a whispered conversation and a sudden rummaging of saddlebags as they surreptitiously try to find the other chrono, not that it keeps the same time, but what else can they do? It's a trick question and the whole pack knows it.

Every Barnstormer knows it's not morning 'til Thunderhead has had as much sleep as she cares to. What're they going to do? Point at the sun?

[roll0] Going Aggro. Has drop on opponent, making a show of force but not disposed to really bash his head in unless she has to.

I apparently screwed my die roll by doing a 'Preview' to read through my post again and be sure I was happy with it...Been too long since I used GitP's dice system. Pokonic, just go ahead and roll for me (or take that roll if you can see it as GM?) because you need to decide what the outcome of "Going Aggro" is...I don't get to choose, you do.

Also, I just realized I didn't answer the "where are you all in the first place?" part of the question, so...Camped out for the night on the outskirts of Canterlot, in what used to be a plaza until some ponies had a bad day and pushed up as much rubble as they could into defensive mounds...Nothing a bike couldn't get over in a pinch, but nothing you'd want to run up while being shot at.

[Pokonic]

Head through to the drivers compartment. Green Knight is there, driving. Soon as she sees me she starts sulking. She doesn't like when I take evenings to myself. Digger just comes over, big smile, and asks me what's for breakfast. Bucked if I know. "How we doing for time?" I ask, looking out 'cross the horizon, familiar checking for things that are green, armed or customers.

Two out of three is pretty good; there was a big earth pony standing in the remains of what was once the train station up the mount. He (with a jaw that was visible from this far off, yeah, it was a he) was pretty huge and looked a bit like a deformed camel, with the amount of stuff on his back. Merchant? Possibly.


Solitaire, in unfamiliar comfortsSolitaire wakes up--not with a snap, but with the languid ease that comes from sleeping far too soundly for anypony who makes their home in Canterlot.

Half-lidded eyes take in the surrounding finery, blink away the dregs of sleep and take in a little more, then clamp shut against the spins when Solitaire sits up just a little too fast.

The haze and half-hearted headache of the morning after are slowly broken up by memories of the night before. A bonfire in the shadow of the mountain, thundering drums and cider cut with something strange. Dances giving way to glances giving way to smoldering looks, whispered promises and petitions from a voice that leads her away from the fire, the voice's owner... apparently, completely forgettable, despite their discerning tastes.

Though, their tastes can hardly be that discerning, considering who they left out on the couch.

Solitaire opens her eyes as the last traces of sleep fall away, stretching her neck in the warm light coming in through the window.

"So," she calls out, smoky voice gliding through the finely appointed apartment in search of the prior evening's company. "You have a name?"

A young unicorn colt stepped into the room; the kid had a white coat and blue hair, and even though he probably couldn't be more than six he was still crammed into a tiny suit and had 'noble spawn' written right on him.

"Daddy's sleeping." he said, holding up a glass of what was presumably orange juice with his magic, "He'll be up soon, though."

The kid paused, and winced.

"Are you the new nanny?" the kid finished, eyes weary.


It's the changing of the shifts at Le Grand. The group of ponies that run the quiet hours are winding down, glasses are being cleaned, the countertop polished and the main crew of the establishment are arriving for the day. Rosemary is behind the bar, stocktaking the drinks we still have left, while Thyme is off in the kitchen, getting the stoves cleaned and fired up. Glissando and Tulip are actually finishing up, both looking tired after entertaining the patrons. They'll go off to sleep, and then come back for when the 'dinner' clientele start to arrive.

There's not too many patrons left at this time of day. A few of the die-heards like Downdraft are still drinking, and even he will be heading home soon. A pair of earth ponies are still chatting away in a booth, and Kneecap just tossed out another one that had gone about three drinks past his limit. The most concerning one though has to be Eclipse. The guy is still sitting at the table, staring at the sunset and sipping the glass of wine he ordered an hour ago. Don't want to toss him out, but would very much like for him to move on before Brass Bell and her friends get here.

Ugh, I need to get my mind off him. I'll just do the rounds of the other patrons, smiling, backslaps, and brief conversations. Gotta make them feel welcome after all.

Consigliere didn't need to see the newcomers to know she entered they entered the place, because most of the ambient chatter stopped around the same time they came inside.

The unicorn mare who stepped in was short and sort of chubby, or stout, if one wished to be more flattering. Her coat was a light blue and her mane was a darker shade with purple stripes lining it. Her dress seemed slightly worn, and there was some faded oil stains around her hooves that looked like had suffered through several attempts of cleaning them. She seemed rather nervous, although calm, and looked like she was waiting to be seated.

Her companion was a eight-foot tall minotaur. His coat was black, he was crammed into a black suit, and he wore black shades, and he was frowning. When he stepped inside, his careful steps still made it sound like he particularly hated the floor, and his horns, lightly carved with some floral-tribal design, nearly scraped against the ceiling as he walked in with his head lowered. His tree-trunk like arms were peppered with light pink scars and were folded against his chest, possibly because he could hurt the door if he kept them outstretched.

Regardless, the minotaur patiently stood next to the unicorn, who seemed like she was completely unsure about what to do. Was she a newcomer or some petty noble? She could've passed for both, but one of them was making a scene by existing and he was also completely blocking the front door.

As he stepped in, the minotaur flexed his hand, like he was preparing to choke Nightmare Moon herself.


A sudden gust of green-lit wind hammers into her left flank, powerful as the kick of a mule, and it's all she can do to keep sculling upward into the dark clouds. Lightning sheets down to her right, white fire filling half the sky, thunder feeling as if it will cave her chest in. There is a frenzied, desperate flailing, wings trying to beat the air into submission...

Suddenly, she is free of the maelstrom. A sea of roiling clouds stretches below her in every direction, and another one hangs above. There is nothing between the two planes of black cotton save herself and the two great orbs to either side. The blood-red sun louring in the East, and opposite it the mare in the moon in black-purpled silver. The clouds are tinted to either side, reflecting the colors of the absent monarchs.

Something terrifying and invisible stoops out of the heavens and kicks her back down, down, down into a steady, rhythmic pulse of thunder and darkness.

Thunderhead awakens slowly, the rumbling sounding more and more like shouting which subsides to someone's half-empty head being bashed repeatedly against a half-empty fuel tank. The darkness is the shredded, stained and charred wool blanket she stretches out like a tarp to one side of her bike. She lifts her head, old stinking wool cascading down her shoulders as she tries to focus tired eyes on the red-and-purple tinted world, then gets her feet slowly beneath her.

The pegasus shifts the old crowbar she'd been curled around to one wing, curling feathers around it as she takes in the scene. Most of the Barnstormers are up in a ragged circle, taking in the entertainment as Dust Devil attempts to redecorate Zip's bike with its owner's face.

Huh.

The rangy pegasus takes a moment to study the rest of the pack while they're distracted. The usual headcases, always happy to see a little claret, and a few hangers-on picked up for partying. One of these is a little slip of a unicorn whose face is lit up like Solstice morning as she watches Zip getting pounded on. A few more details register. The long banner of iridescent silky-stuff is missing from its customary place on Dust's sissy-bar. No, there it is on the ground in front of the gleeful unicorn, torn and muddy. The little one-horn herself is too-clean, the tears in her jacket too-regular. No, not torn. Cut. Slummer. Pretty thing. She is utterly out of Zip's league.

Gears mesh suddenly in her skull and Thunderhead lurches forward, the motion catching the eyes of a few of the other ponies across the ring. A hush descends on them and spreads slowly to engulf the rest of the gang until there's only the thump of Zip's cranium against metal, Dust entirely oblivious in his rage. Ponies near the pack alpha slip out of her way as she approaches Dust from behind.

Thunderhead realizes that part of the throbbing is in her own skull. Her head hurts, and the half-assed counter-rhythm Dust is providing isn't helping a bit.

On impulse, she clubs the crowbar's flat across the meaty part of Dust's thighs, just glancing off the hardened leather plates he wears at his hindquarters. She doesn't want to cripple one of her better riders, not even for one day, but she'll be damned if he ignores her intentionally or otherwise. The crowbar sweeps up, ready for the backswing -- and that one'll be serious if Dust earns it.

"Hey. HEY! You buckin' idjits know what buckin' time it is?"

A few of the bikers reflexively glance at the old chronometer strapped to her foreleg, but its ticking is irregular. Others engage in a whispered conversation and a sudden rummaging of saddlebags as they surreptitiously try to find the other chrono, not that it keeps the same time, but what else can they do? It's a trick question and the whole pack knows it.

Every Barnstormer knows it's not morning 'til Thunderhead has had as much sleep as she cares to. What're they going to do? Point at the sun?

[roll0] Going Aggro. Has drop on opponent, making a show of force but not disposed to really bash his head in unless she has to.

Dust Devil knew what time it was, clearly, because he stopped what he was doing and turned towards Thunderhead , probably because he wasn't a complete moron. He looked like Thunderhead was his mother and he was the colt with a hoof in the cookie jar, and Thunderhead had a belt.

[Oberon Kenobi]

Solitaire, in bizarrely domestic surroundings
Solitaire takes the glass out of the air with her hoof and downs the contents in one long gulp--he probably wasn't offering, but if the worst thing on his mind is getting a new nanny, she figures he can pour himself another glass.

More to the point: sweet Celestia, this was real juice. Not watered down cider with more dust than apples, but the real fresh-squeezed, full-bodied deal. She knew ponies who would kill for a glass of this stuff--and this little colt probably had it for breakfast every morning, not a second thought about it.

Lucky him.

"Thanks, kid." She hands him the empty glass, and fixes him with an unreadable stare. "And no, I'm not your new nanny. Now why don't you go wake your daddy up; I think him and me need to have a little talk."

Not waiting for a response, she brushes past the young unicorn and gives the room a thorough looking-over for the first time, eventually walking over to peer out the window and get an idea of just where in Tartarus she is.

Strange place, questionable memory, too-clean aesthetic; seems like a charged situation, so let's read it: [roll0]

Also I just kind of assume I've been separated from both clothes and weapons here, but feel free to correct me on that front. :P

[Bayar]

It's been two days since Lead was scoping out the derelict warehouse. She heard from somepony off the streets that there were suspicious looking characters meeting there every couple of days, their description matching that of some ruthless arms dealers. Though for now, everything was quiet, except for some rats squeaking somewhere. Lead clutched her shotgun closer, trying to keep a low profile on one of the support beams. This shouldn't require any form of combat, just a bit of eavesdropping, hope to find out the location of their weapons cache, sneak to it and take the best of the bunch. Only problem, they could be paranoid, twitchy or sun knows what. Then again, they might not show up at all and this could have been a colossal waste of time. There's a slight itch in her left ear, an itch Lead tries to scratch by rubbing against the shotgun's muzzle sight.

[BlasTech]

Consigliere didn't need to see the newcomers to know she entered they entered the place, because most of the ambient chatter stopped around the same time they came inside.

The unicorn mare who stepped in was short and sort of chubby, or stout, if one wished to be more flattering. Her coat was a light blue and her mane was a darker shade with purple stripes lining it. Her dress seemed slightly worn, and there was some faded oil stains around her hooves that looked like had suffered through several attempts of cleaning them. She seemed rather nervous, although calm, and looked like she was waiting to be seated.

Her companion was a eight-foot tall minotaur. His coat was black, he was crammed into a black suit, and he wore black shades, and he was frowning. When he stepped inside, his careful steps still made it sound like he was particularly hated the floor, and his horns, lightly carved with some floral-tribal design, nearly scraped against the ceiling as he walked in with his head lowered. His tree-trunk like arms were peppered with light pink scars and were folded against his chest, possibly because he could hurt the door if he kept them outstretched.

Regardless, the minotaur patiently stood next to the unicorn, who seemed like she was completely unsure about what to do. Was she a newcomer or some petty noble? She could've passed for both, but one of them was making a scene by existing and he was also completely blocking the front door.

As he stepped in, the minotaur flexed his hand, like he was preparing to choke Nightmare Moon herself.

Well, that was unexpected. That said, customers were customers, and Con knew what it meant when one walked in like that; It was showtime.

"Welcome to Le Grand's!" he said, swooping up to them with a big smile on his face. "How may I serve you today? Would you like a table?"

[Shunka Warakin]

Dust Devil knew what time it was, clearly, because he stopped what he was doing and turned towards Thunderhead , probably because he wasn't a complete moron. He looked like Thunderhead was his mother and he was the colt with a hoof in the cookie jar, and Thunderhead had a belt.

Dust Devil may not've been a complete moron, but Thunderhead was starting to have her doubts about Zip. He didn't earn his nickname based on his speed. She bulls right up to Dust Devil and then past him, letting her cheek brush his and literally dragging her flank along his own as she forces him to give way despite his greater bulk.

...Unless she's terribly misjudged him and he's about to try to stand his ground.

She pauses, eyes only inches from his own, muzzle tilted down slightly, just that hint of threat. "Ya think ya dang ponies can kill each other quiet-like when ya know mommy's asleep? I dun' ask for much." In some senses it's quite true, she doesn't. She doesn't ask any pony to do something she wouldn't do herself, and she isn't greedy at all when it comes to loot...On the other hand Thunderhead tends to come down hard with all four hooves if something even looks like it's a challenge to her authority. Speaking of which...

The Chopper continues her slide past Dust Devil - intimate, but intimidating. Close enough to feel him tense or flinch. It'd be almost snuggly if her armor (not to mention her disposition) wasn't so spikey. Finally, she breaks eye contact with him and stares at Zip's slumped form, using her prybar to lift the other pony's bloody chin so she can see his face clearly. Not dead. Hard to say if that's a plus or a minus.

"Zip? Zippy? Ziiiiiippo...I'm talkin' atcha, love." One of the pony's swollen eyes rolls half-open. Crimson. Lovely. "I try t'keep things simple for ya-all, dun' I? Ya dun' touch other ponies' bikes w'thout them or my say-so, yeah? We're family. We dun' steal from each other." She studies Zip's half-open eye. Concussed, probably. Odds are he's not even hearing her, but he isn't the only one she's talking to.

"I dun' wanna nail yer hide to th'wall, but this happens one more time an' yer gonna wish I'd let Dusk finish ya nice an' easy." As if Dust were being gentle. "Lemme guess. Pretty thing acted like she was all set t'spread for ya if ya got her somethin' somethin' pretty like, oh, Dusty's flag." Never mind that the pretty thing is standing practically in hoof's reach. "Ain't worth it. We dun' steal from each other," Thunderhead repeats and lets the other pony's head drop, not bothering to wipe the fresh red from the end of her crowbar.

"How it's gonna be," she says, mostly for the benefit of Dust Devil and the other gangers since Zip doesn't seem to be conscious at this point. "Zip's got one week t'find somethin' prettier for ya, Dust. That dun' happen, well...If ya dun' wanna nail his stallionhood t'yer bike, Dust, sure I unnerstand. Ya like prettier trophies. But after a week it's yers if ya want it, or mine if ya don't. Either way, he's gonna lose it if he dun' provide somethin' better. One week." Thunderhead's tone of voice is as casually unexcited as a pre-disaster hoofball mom discussing a shopping list.

She turns away from Zip and disengages her flank from Dust's. "Soak his head. If he dun' come around then, find'm an Angel...He c'n pay outta his saddlebags if there's anythin' worthwhile in'em. If there ain't, send th'Angel t'me."

For the first time, Thunderhead turns to directly study the small, too-clean unicorn who she's pegged as the source of the problem. "Pretty thing. Y'come down here where it's all nasty, lookin' t'make th'big bads fight over ya? Ya dun' play 'let's you and him fight' with my ponies...And these are my ponies. I am th'big bad. I expect ya oughta have some reason better'n gettin' all hot t'have stallions fight over ya, if yer gonna wake me up." The crowbar idly twirls in Thunderhead's wing-fingers as she ambles forward lazily, straight at the unicorn, watching to see if she stands or gives ground. Inwardly, the Chopper is somewhat wary. Unicorns usually think pretty highly of themselves with their magic and all that, and it's entirely possible that this little bit of white fluff is far more dangerous than she looks.

After all, Thunderhead reasons, to start trouble with a chopper gang suggests either a whole lot of stupidity...Or a whole lot of confidence in one's own power.

I'm figuring this qualifies just fine as a charged situation (but YMMV). Going for "Read a Person." [roll0]

That's a Hold 1 (if you agree that the situation qualifies for "Read a Person"). Going with
• what does your character wish I’d do?

Pokonic, if you decide I need another "Go Aggro" for intimidating the unicorn (and I'm leaving it up to you as to what her deal is, in case that isn't clear) above and beyond the fact that the whole gang just cowed when I walked up, let me know, or roll it for me if you think it'll keep things moving along quicker...Since the results of "go aggro" are determined by the GM, not me. :)

[Pokonic]

Solitaire, in bizarrely domestic surroundings
Solitaire takes the glass out of the air with her hoof and downs the contents in one long gulp--he probably wasn't offering, but if the worst thing on his mind is getting a new nanny, she figures he can pour himself another glass.

More to the point: sweet Celestia, this was real juice. Not watered down cider with more dust than apples, but the real fresh-squeezed, full-bodied deal. She knew ponies who would kill for a glass of this stuff--and this little colt probably had it for breakfast every morning, not a second thought about it.

Lucky him.

"Thanks, kid." She hands him the empty glass, and fixes him with an unreadable stare. "And no, I'm not your new nanny. Now why don't you go wake your daddy up; I think him and me need to have a little talk."

Not waiting for a response, she brushes past the young unicorn and gives the room a thorough looking-over for the first time, eventually walking over to peer out the window and get an idea of just where in Tartarus she is.

Strange place, questionable memory, too-clean aesthetic; seems like a charged situation, so let's read it: [roll0]

Also I just kind of assume I've been separated from both clothes and weapons here, but feel free to correct me on that front. :P

The view outside was somewhat charming; at least, it showed that she wasn't on ground level, and that she was in a tallish building, given that she could see the Everfree from where she was. She was also somewhere in the plush-y noble district, where the gold trim on the roofs were still mostly intact, along with most of the roofs.

Now, despite the kid being quiet and the room being unfamiliar, the kid himself seemed perfectly willing to wait for Solitare to finish her sipping at her juice before he spoke. Solitare would've noticed by now that the room contained a painting of a older stallion that bared some resemblance to the kid right about now, although older and with patchier hair.

"He sleeps downstairs." the colt replied, wincing lightly, "I'm not allowed to wake him up."

Clothes no, weapons yes.


It's been two days since Lead was scoping out the derelict warehouse. She heard from somepony off the streets that there were suspicious looking characters meeting there every couple of days, their description matching that of some ruthless arms dealers. Though for now, everything was quiet, except for some rats squeaking somewhere. Lead clutched her shotgun closer, trying to keep a low profile on one of the support beams. This shouldn't require any form of combat, just a bit of eavesdropping, hope to find out the location of their weapons cache, sneak to it and take the best of the bunch. Only problem, they could be paranoid, twitchy or sun knows what. Then again, they might not show up at all and this could have been a colossal waste of time. There's a slight itch in her left ear, an itch Lead tries to scratch by rubbing against the shotgun's muzzle sight.

As Lead waited, a small unicorn stepped inside the room. His mane was yellow with small red stripes, and he wore it long enough to go past his shoulders. Even from the distance she was standing at, Lead could still see that enough conditioner probably went into that mane to wash a buffalo. The rest of his body was covered in a white robe with grey sleeves that was immaculate sans some mild wear around the edges. The unicorn was followed by two other unicorns who wore Royal Guard armor with leather backing; given that they kept two steps back behind the robed one, they were presumably bodyguards. Neither seemed to be armed.

The three did not seem to notice Lead; the robed one took a position near the middle of the room, accompanied by one of the mare out of the pair of guardsponies, while the stallion went over to check one of the side rooms.


Well, that was unexpected. That said, customers were customers, and Con knew what it meant when one walked in like that; It was showtime.

"Welcome to Le Grand's!" he said, swooping up to them with a big smile on his face. "How may I serve you today? Would you like a table?"

The blue mare coughed slightly before speaking. Con would probably be of one of, like, five ponies to recognize what a Fillydelphia accent sounded like now; she had one, although it sounded like she was trying to hide it. Her voice was slightly high pitched, although nothing noteworthy.

"Yes," the mare replied, looking both relieved and sort of embarrassed, "a private booth, if at all possible."

The minotaur nodded slowly after the mare spoke, his horns precariously close to making a nice tear in the ceiling.


Dust Devil may not've been a complete moron, but Thunderhead was starting to have her doubts about Zip. He didn't earn his nickname based on his speed. She bulls right up to Dust Devil and then past him, letting her cheek brush his and literally dragging her flank along his own as she forces him to give way despite his greater bulk.

...Unless she's terribly misjudged him and he's about to try to stand his ground.

She pauses, eyes only inches from his own, muzzle tilted down slightly, just that hint of threat. "Ya think ya dang ponies can kill each other quiet-like when ya know mommy's asleep? I dun' ask for much." In some senses it's quite true, she doesn't. She doesn't ask any pony to do something she wouldn't do herself, and she isn't greedy at all when it comes to loot...On the other hand Thunderhead tends to come down hard with all four hooves if something even looks like it's a challenge to her authority. Speaking of which...

The Chopper continues her slide past Dust Devil - intimate, but intimidating. Close enough to feel him tense or flinch. It'd be almost snuggly if her armor (not to mention her disposition) wasn't so spikey. Finally, she breaks eye contact with him and stares at Zip's slumped form, using her prybar to lift the other pony's bloody chin so she can see his face clearly. Not dead. Hard to say if that's a plus or a minus.

"Zip? Zippy? Ziiiiiippo...I'm talkin' atcha, love." One of the pony's swollen eyes rolls half-open. Crimson. Lovely. "I try t'keep things simple for ya-all, dun' I? Ya dun' touch other ponies' bikes w'thout them or my say-so, yeah? We're family. We dun' steal from each other." She studies Zip's half-open eye. Concussed, probably. Odds are he's not even hearing her, but he isn't the only one she's talking to.

"I dun' wanna nail yer hide to th'wall, but this happens one more time an' yer gonna wish I'd let Dusk finish ya nice an' easy." As if Dust were being gentle. "Lemme guess. Pretty thing acted like she was all set t'spread for ya if ya got her somethin' somethin' pretty like, oh, Dusty's flag." Never mind that the pretty thing is standing practically in hoof's reach. "Ain't worth it. We dun' steal from each other," Thunderhead repeats and lets the other pony's head drop, not bothering to wipe the fresh red from the end of her crowbar.

"How it's gonna be," she says, mostly for the benefit of Dust Devil and the other gangers since Zip doesn't seem to be conscious at this point. "Zip's got one week t'find somethin' prettier for ya, Dust. That dun' happen, well...If ya dun' wanna nail his stallionhood t'yer bike, Dust, sure I unnerstand. Ya like prettier trophies. But after a week it's yers if ya want it, or mine if ya don't. Either way, he's gonna lose it if he dun' provide somethin' better. One week." Thunderhead's tone of voice is as casually unexcited as a pre-disaster hoofball mom discussing a shopping list.

She turns away from Zip and disengages her flank from Dust's. "Soak his head. If he dun' come around then, find'm an Angel...He c'n pay outta his saddlebags if there's anythin' worthwhile in'em. If there ain't, send th'Angel t'me."

For the first time, Thunderhead turns to directly study the small, too-clean unicorn who she's pegged as the source of the problem. "Pretty thing. Y'come down here where it's all nasty, lookin' t'make th'big bads fight over ya? Ya dun' play 'let's you and him fight' with my ponies...And these are my ponies. I am th'big bad. I expect ya oughta have some reason better'n gettin' all hot t'have stallions fight over ya, if yer gonna wake me up." The crowbar idly twirls in Thunderhead's wing-fingers as she ambles forward lazily, straight at the unicorn, watching to see if she stands or gives ground. Inwardly, the Chopper is somewhat wary. Unicorns usually think pretty highly of themselves with their magic and all that, and it's entirely possible that this little bit of white fluff is far more dangerous than she looks.

After all, Thunderhead reasons, to start trouble with a chopper gang suggests either a whole lot of stupidity...Or a whole lot of confidence in one's own power.

I'm figuring this qualifies just fine as a charged situation (but YMMV). Going for "Read a Person." [roll0]

That's a Hold 1 (if you agree that the situation qualifies for "Read a Person"). Going with
• what does your character wish I’d do?

Pokonic, if you decide I need another "Go Aggro" for intimidating the unicorn (and I'm leaving it up to you as to what her deal is, in case that isn't clear) above and beyond the fact that the whole gang just cowed when I walked up, let me know, or roll it for me if you think it'll keep things moving along quicker...Since the results of "go aggro" are determined by the GM, not me. :)

Oh, hah, nope, this was one of those unicorns with spines the consistency of gelatin and muscles like butter. The mare was clearly cowed by Thunderhead's... well, it probably wasn't even her display so much as Thunderhead's Thunderheadness. The unicorn looked like she just wanted to get back to her precious mountaintop apartment or wherever it was she lived and probably try and find some other group of toughs to cling herself too. Worse then a camp follower, she was a thrill seeker who probably liked thrills and danger until it started accusing her of things worthy of being clobbered for.

If she could've sprouted wings and flown in the opposite direction, she probably would've, because she didn't look like a repeat offender. Any unicorn who felt the need to stop standing and drop to her belly out of wide-eyed fear was a humiliated unicorn who would probably have to turn in her Unicorn Card when she came back up the mount.

[Thanqol]

Two out of three is pretty good; there was a big earth pony standing in the remains of what was once the train station up the mount. He (with a jaw that was visible from this far off, yeah, it was a he) was pretty huge and looked a bit like a deformed camel, with the amount of stuff on his back. Merchant? Possibly.

Earthquake threw the leaver to bring the train to a slow, drawn out halt. She yawned, stretched, and watched the sand banks for hidden attackers as she stepped outside to see what was up.

[Pokonic]

Earthquake threw the leaver to bring the train to a slow, drawn out halt. She yawned, stretched, and watched the sand banks for hidden attackers as she stepped outside to see what was up.

The green stallion stepped up towards the train. His voice was rough, and he spoke slowly and with intent, but there wasn't a gun on him and there wasn't anypony else around.

"How much to get on?" he asked, sounding pretty quiet for a big guy, "I have a appointment to make."

[Thanqol]

The green stallion stepped up towards the train. His voice was rough, and he spoke slowly and with intent, but there wasn't a gun on him and there wasn't anypony else around.

"How much to get on?" he asked, sounding pretty quiet for a big guy, "I have a appointment to make."

[Read a Person: 4]

"It's all on the sign. Water, food, tech labour, hard labour," said Earthquake, pointing at a big blackboard on the side of her train with going rates for various forms of exchange. Currently clothing was in high demand. "Where to?"

[BlasTech]

The blue mare coughed slightly before speaking. Con would probably be of one of, like, five ponies to recognize what a Fillydelphia accent sounded like now; she had one, although it sounded like she was trying to hide it. Her voice was slightly high pitched, although nothing noteworthy.

"Yes," the mare replied, looking both relieved and sort of embarrassed, "a private booth, if at all possible."

The minotaur nodded slowly after the mare spoke, his horns precariously close to making a nice tear in the ceiling.

"Of course, miss." he replied, before showing them to one of the booth seats in the corner, smiles all the way.

"I don't believe I've seen you in Le Grand's before." he continued. "Is this your first time to our fine establishment?"

[Pokonic]

[Read a Person: 4]

"It's all on the sign. Water, food, tech labour, hard labour," said Earthquake, pointing at a big blackboard on the side of her train with going rates for various forms of exchange. Currently clothing was in high demand. "Where to?"

The stallion looked at the blackboard briefly, before replying.

"To the undercity. I got a meeting." he said, dully, more bored or tired then actively hostile, which was good, "How many bullets do I need to pay you in until we're up there?"


"Of course, miss." he replied, before showing them to one of the booth seats in the corner, smiles all the way.

"I don't believe I've seen you in Le Grand's before." he continued. "Is this your first time to our fine establishment?"

"Yes; it's my first time in Canterlot, actually." the mare replied, sounding like she was pleased to be able to admit that, "I think we are lost, though. Do you know who I could get a map? "

The minotaur seemed content to relax when he stepped into the booth, taking up most of the side he was sitting at; it didn't seem like he was going to break the seats, anyway. The attention being drawn by him was subsiding likely only due to a courtesy to the owner of the establishment, however, rather then any new sudden wave of respect that washed over the other customers.

[Thanqol]

The stallion looked at the blackboard briefly, before replying.

"To the undercity. I got a meeting." he said, dully, more bored or tired then actively hostile, which was good, "How many bullets do I need to pay you in until we're up there?"

"Depends. Is it just you or do you have guards?" asked Earthquake. "Do you bring protection of your own? Mob favours or anything like that?"

[BlasTech]

"Yes; it's my first time in Canterlot, actually." the mare replied, sounding like she was pleased to be able to admit that, "I think we are lost, though. Do you know who I could get a map? "

The minotaur seemed content to relax when he stepped into the booth, taking up most of the side he was sitting at; it didn't seem like he was going to break the seats, anyway. The attention being drawn by him was subsiding likely only due to a courtesy to the owner of the establishment, however, rather then any new sudden wave of respect that washed over the other customers.

"First time in Canterlot?" replied Con. "Well, you've certainly come to the right place! Le Grand's is the place to be, for anypony that is anypony after all."

"Two menus, and a city map for our new guests." he ordered, from one of the wait staff, before turning back to them. "Marvellous city, Canterlot. Well, amongst those that still exist I suppose. Whereabouts are you headed? And what brought you and your companion all the way here?"

Con was relatively practiced at this light verbal probing, mostly because he wanted to keep tabs on anything interesting that was going on in town. A giant minotaur and a lady from Fillydelphia were worth noting.

[Oberon Kenobi]

Solitaire, in a Deluxe Apartment in the SkySolitaire closes her eyes and sighs. "Of course you're not."

She turns away from the window and back towards the colt. "Word of advice, kid: you live in Canterlot. There are a lot worse things out that window than your old man getting upset–and if you want live long enough to give somepony else this advice, try breaking a few of his rules, yeah? It'll do you both some good."

She looks up past him, and gives the painting an icy stare.

"...In fact, you know what? Let's start now. I'm gonna go break your dad out of his beauty sleep, and you're coming with."

She starts towards the stairs, pauses, and looks back, fiery red hair half-falling over one eye. "You know, you never did answer my question. You got a name?"

[Bayar]

"Are those royals ? What are they doing here in this forsaken hole ?" Lead hugged the support beam, trying to be as hidden as equinely possible. This would be an interesting day after all.

[Shunka Warakin]

Oh, hah, nope, this was one of those unicorns with spines the consistency of gelatin and muscles like butter. The mare was clearly cowed by Thunderhead's... well, it probably wasn't even her display so much as Thunderhead's Thunderheadness. The unicorn looked like she just wanted to get back to her precious mountaintop apartment or wherever it was she lived and probably try and find some other group of toughs to cling herself too. Worse then a camp follower, she was a thrill seeker who probably liked thrills and danger until it started accusing her of things worthy of being clobbered for.

If she could've sprouted wings and flown in the opposite direction, she probably would've, because she didn't look like a repeat offender. Any unicorn who felt the need to stop standing and drop to her belly out of wide-eyed fear was a humiliated unicorn who would probably have to turn in her Unicorn Card when she came back up the mount.

If this unicorn doesn't stop radiating "helpless victim!" on all frequencies pretty soon, Thunderhead muses to herself, she isn't going to make it out of here on her hooves. Honestly, some ponies just make it hard not to abuse them. The Chopper lazily sidles over to the wide-eyed slummer and drapes a wing companionably behind her neck, moving right into the mare's space as easily as she had Dust Devil's. "Ya gotta name, pretty thing? I can't keep calling ya pretty thing. We've got too many of those around, and they don't last..."

"Noooooooo..." she drawls idly, "They never last. Oh look, like this one here." She steers the other mare's head with her own too-close-pressed cheek, forcing the unicorn to look at the torn and muddy bit of fabric that probably started the shindig. "Now I'm sure that wasn't in quite so bad shape when ya first saw it, was it? Maybe ya know somepony as could clean that up, sew it nice? Hmmmm? Do ya? Make it all better? Cuz see, I've got one of my outriders just now who's 'bout to get his face all sewn up and it ain't gonna be as pretty as it was for a long while. And I figger ya owe me, for that."

Thunderhead's idly draped wing grips hard suddenly, squeezing the other mare against her side. The red-flecked crowbar smears an accidental line down the side of the unicorn's cheek as Thunderhead sniffs slowly up the smaller mare's ear. "Yeah, ya smell nice. Ain't much down here smells like that. Ya could run, but I'd find ya. I know yer scent now, but yer gonna be a polite little 'corn and tell me yer name, too, and then yer gonna pick that bit'a cloth up an' go get it fixed an' bring it back t'me right quick."

She shoves the other mare away without warning, bristling her feathers in sudden, primitive threat display. "Cuz ya see, if ya don't, yer gonna be th'next pretty thing as gets wrecked around here, an' I'm sure my ponies'd love t'help. GO!"

2-3 Barnstormers (likely including Dust Devil) going to find an Angel for Zip (remainder 26 Barnstormers present)
1 As-Yet unnamed unicorn who has just been given A Mission.

I figure either of those might result in some ruckus.
Oh, and how's the weather? :D

EDIT: Typooooos. >_>

[Pokonic]

"Depends. Is it just you or do you have guards?" asked Earthquake. "Do you bring protection of your own? Mob favours or anything like that?"

The stallion shuffled his hooves. Clearly, he wasn't one to think too much when he was standing up.

"I'm going up for a meeting." he explained, slowly, "I pay you some bullets now, and when ah come down, I'll pay you in gold."



"Two menus, and a city map for our new guests." he ordered, from one of the wait staff, before turning back to them. "Marvellous city, Canterlot. Well, amongst those that still exist I suppose. Whereabouts are you headed? And what brought you and your companion all the way here?"

Con was relatively practiced at this light verbal probing, mostly because he wanted to keep tabs on anything interesting that was going on in town. A giant minotaur and a lady from Fillydelphia were worth noting.

A pony quickly fetched the map, although she held it in her mouth and seemed a little unsure as to how to step into the conversation so Col could present it.

"Oh," the unicorn mare replied, smiling brightly, "I used to sell firearms in Filly, but I packed up a few weeks ago and got out when I could. Diamond dogs were being spotted way too far inside the city for me to feel comfortable about it, so I sold all my inventory and headed for here."

She paused, and skimmed her menu a bit. "I'd like to get into the arms market here, and I have the bits, but," she frowned, "well, I don't know the area. Can't be a gun dealer if you don't know who to watch out for. We were meant to go to a warehouse later today to look at one merchant's stock, but I have no idea if we're actually going to make it."

The minotaur didn't reply, although he did seem rather interested by the promise of large quantities of lettuce.


Solitaire, in a Deluxe Apartment in the SkySolitaire closes her eyes and sighs. "Of course you're not."

She turns away from the window and back towards the colt. "Word of advice, kid: you live in Canterlot. There are a lot worse things out that window than your old man getting upset–and if you want live long enough to give somepony else this advice, try breaking a few of his rules, yeah? It'll do you both some good."

She looks up past him, and gives the painting an icy stare.

"...In fact, you know what? Let's start now. I'm gonna go break your dad out of his beauty sleep, and you're coming with."

She starts towards the stairs, pauses, and looks back, fiery red hair half-falling over one eye. "You know, you never did answer my question. You got a name?"

"I'm Fancy." the kid replied, before blinking. "I don't think this is a good idea."


"Are those royals ? What are they doing here in this forsaken hole ?" Lead hugged the support beam, trying to be as hidden as equinely possible. This would be an interesting day after all.

Probably not; most likely, they're cultists. The lead one had all the looks of a Celestia-worshiper, and likely the armored ponies were fellow worshipers or guards-for-hire.

Regardless, it looked like they were waiting for someone, or somepony, anyway.


If this unicorn doesn't stop radiating "helpless victim!" on all frequencies pretty soon, Thunderhead muses to herself, she isn't going to make it out of here on her hooves. Honestly, some ponies just make it hard not to abuse them. The Chopper lazily sidles over to the wide-eyed slummer and drapes a wing companionably behind her neck, moving right into the mare's space as easily as she had Dust Devil's. "Ya gotta name, pretty thing? I can't keep calling ya pretty thing. We've got too many of those around, and they don't last..."

"Noooooooo..." she drawls idly, "They never last. Oh look, like this one here." She steers the other mare's head with her own too-close-pressed cheek, forcing the unicorn to look at the torn and muddy bit of fabric that probably started the shindig. "Now I'm sure that wasn't in quite so bad shape when ya first saw it, was it? Maybe ya know somepony as could clean that up, sew it nice? Hmmmm? Do ya? Make it all better? Cuz see, I've got one of my outriders just now who's 'bout to get his face all sewn up and it ain't gonna be as pretty as it was for a long while. And I figger ya owe me, for that."

Thunderhead's idly draped wing grips hard suddenly, squeezing the other mare against her side. The red-flecked crowbar smears an accidental line down the side of the unicorn's cheek as Thunderhead sniffs slowly up the smaller mare's ear. "Yeah, ya smell nice. Ain't much down here smells like that. Ya could run, but I'd find ya. I know yer scent now, but yer gonna be a polite little 'corn and tell me yer name, too, and then yer gonna pick that bit'a cloth up an' go get it fixed an' bring it back t'me right quick."

She shoves the other mare away without warning, bristling her feathers in sudden, primitive threat display. "Cuz ya see, if ya don't, yer gonna be th'next pretty thing as gets wrecked around here, an' I'm sure my ponies'd love t'help. GO!"

2-3 Barnstormers (likely including Dust Devil) going to find an Angel for Zip (remainder 26 Barnstormers present)
1 As-Yet unnamed unicorn who has just been given A Mission.

I figure either of those might result in some ruckus.
Oh, and how's the weather? :D


The unicorn squeaked out something that sort of sounded like 'Dusk Bloom' at some point, between whimpering and making small squeaky noises. It would've been sort of funny if it wasn't so pathetic. She ran as fast as her stick-like legs could carry her, clearly heading for the city with speed indicating she was either slightly hungover or simply not used to moving her legs for extended periods of time.

[Oberon Kenobi]

Solitaire, in Fancy surroundings"Of course it's not. It's a terrible idea, that's why we're doing it." She looks back at him with her hoof on the handle of the stairwell door. "Fancy, you eat breakfast in a tuxedo. I'd bet bits to berliners you've never done something that was a terrible idea in your life. You want to know what it's like? With a grown-up backing you up? Then follow me."

She pushes open the door, and turns away. "Or go drink your juice. Makes no difference to me either way."

She starts down the stairs without waiting for an answer.
Let's try for a manipulate, playing on natural colthood curiosity. [roll0]

(I can't help but feel as though I am somehow being a horrible pony)

[Thanqol]

The stallion shuffled his hooves. Clearly, he wasn't one to think too much when he was standing up.

"I'm going up for a meeting." he explained, slowly, "I pay you some bullets now, and when ah come down, I'll pay you in gold."

Gold? Who wanted gold? Earthquake wrinkled her nose.

Still, opportunity. "I no longer offer a no questions asked system. I need more details - or else you can walk."

[BlasTech]

A pony quickly fetched the map, although she held it in her mouth and seemed a little unsure as to how to step into the conversation so Col could present it.

"Oh," the unicorn mare replied, smiling brightly, "I used to sell firearms in Filly, but I packed up a few weeks ago and got out when I could. Diamond dogs were being spotted way too far inside the city for me to feel comfortable about it, so I sold all my inventory and headed for here."

She paused, and skimmed her menu a bit. "I'd like to get into the arms market here, and I have the bits, but," she frowned, "well, I don't know the area. Can't be a gun dealer if you don't know who to watch out for. We were meant to go to a warehouse later today to look at one merchant's stock, but I have no idea if we're actually going to make it."

The minotaur didn't reply, although he did seem rather interested by the promise of large quantities of lettuce.

Arms dealing? Well, it was a step up from sightseeing at least. And if she was looking to get into the market here, then that meant a business opportunity! Con knew business like the back of his hoof. Take Ironshod, for instance, the biggest weapons player in this part of town and one of the many many ponies that Con had entertained at some point.

[Everypony eats - Even that guy [roll0]]

[3 Questions: How is he going? When will I see him again? What does he love best?]

[Pokonic]

Solitaire, in Fancy surroundings"Of course it's not. It's a terrible idea, that's why we're doing it." She looks back at him with her hoof on the handle of the stairwell door. "Fancy, you eat breakfast in a tuxedo. I'd bet bits to berliners you've never done something that was a terrible idea in your life. You want to know what it's like? With a grown-up backing you up? Then follow me."

She pushes open the door, and turns away. "Or go drink your juice. Makes no difference to me either way."

She starts down the stairs without waiting for an answer.
Let's try for a manipulate, playing on natural colthood curiosity. [roll0]

(I can't help but feel as though I am somehow being a horrible pony)

Solitaire would notice that the kid was clearly unsure about how the next few moments of his life were going to play out, but after a few moments, whatever gene that got noble ponies to screw with relatives kicked in after a while, causing the colt to stand tall and nod at her in affirmation.

Solitaire found herself standing in the middle of a long hallway, one lined on each side with suits of armor and other decor. The air was slightly dusty, but that's probably the one issue with living in a marble tower.


Gold? Who wanted gold? Earthquake wrinkled her nose.

Still, opportunity. "I no longer offer a no questions asked system. I need more details - or else you can walk."

The stallion snorted, but a quick look up the mountain got him to come clean.

"There's a big arms deal going on today. Bunch of gangers and pegasi and those types going to be there, and I'm going to be around the next block and sell bullets." the stallion explained, "I plan on leaving a few hours later and head down to Appletown."


Arms dealing? Well, it was a step up from sightseeing at least. And if she was looking to get into the market here, then that meant a business opportunity! Con knew business like the back of his hoof. Take Ironshod, for instance, the biggest weapons player in this part of town and one of the many many ponies that Con had entertained at some point.

[Everypony eats - Even that guy [roll0]]

[3 Questions: How is he going? When will I see him again? What does he love best?]

Ironshod's doing pretty great; word was he got shot two weeks ago and the wound went septic, but apparently he got some mare with a little zebra in her to look at the wound and now ponies are saying he looks twenty years younger, and the mare follows him everywhere. He used to come around every other Wednesday or so; Con knew for a fact that, as much as he had a public face of being a nasty piece of work, he valued peace and quiet and always paid for a private booth.

[Thanqol]

The stallion snorted, but a quick look up the mountain got him to come clean.

"There's a big arms deal going on today. Bunch of gangers and pegasi and those types going to be there, and I'm going to be around the next block and sell bullets." the stallion explained, "I plan on leaving a few hours later and head down to Appletown."

"Fantastic!" said Earthquake.

And then she kicked him in the throat, trying to break his neck. Complete, unprovoked surprise attack sucker punch to kill.

[AW 2E has previewed a move called Sucker Someone for circumstances like this:
When you attack someone unsuspecting or helpless, ask the MC if you could miss. If you could, treat it as going aggro, but your victim has no choice to cave and do what you want. If they can’t, you simply inflict harm as established.

So I'll ask, 'could I miss?]

[BlasTech]

Ironshod's doing pretty great; word was he got shot two weeks ago and the wound went septic, but apparently he got some mare with a little zebra in her to look at the wound and now ponies are saying he looks twenty years younger, and the mare follows him everywhere. He used to come around every other Wednesday or so; Con knew for a fact that, as much as he had a public face of being a nasty piece of work, he valued peace and quiet and always paid for a private booth.

Ah yes. Younger every day, really. It was a sign that the business was going well for good friend Ironshod.

"Well, if it's firearms you're in the business for, I certainly know ponies in that trade around here." he said, as he flourished the map out of his colleague's grip to place it on the table. "I could even see about arranging a meeting if you'd be interested."

"Other than that, I do recommend the salada verde, with balsamic." he said to the minotaur.

[Shunka Warakin]

The unicorn squeaked out something that sort of sounded like 'Dusk Bloom' at some point, between whimpering and making small squeaky noises. It would've been sort of funny if it wasn't so pathetic. She ran as fast as her stick-like legs could carry her, clearly heading for the city with speed indicating she was either slightly hungover or simply not used to moving her legs for extended periods of time.

Thunderhead amuses herself by watching the retreating unicorn for a moment or two, then turns back towards the hushed, nervous faces of her gang. She fixes Wing-Blade's eye a moment, brings the tip of her crowbar up in front of her eyes, then nods her head after the retreating unicorn. Follow her. Watch. The crowbar moves to lightly tap against Thunderhead's pursed lips. Quietly. Wing-Blade slinks to the back of the crowd, gauges the trajectory of the wobbly unicorn and lightly takes off, flying carefully low towards a ruined building alongside her path.

And now all the rest of them are looking worriedly at her. Everypony wants to know the answer to the question and it's always the same question. "Is she done?" Because nopony wants to set her off with an interruption.

Of course, really, that question is just a mask for the question they're really afraid to ask. "Am I next?"

She probably couldn't put it into words that pretty, but Thunderhead understands this. She lazily surveys her ponies, paying little attention to the few other camp-followers who've turned up... The non-Barnstormers all look a bit ill. They've just watched one of their number driven out under threat of death or maybe worse than death. But as for the Barnstormers?

Hades, by their lights she's probably in a good mood. She's giving Zip a chance she didn't have to, and she didn't even really Dusty out for waking her up. Thunderhead decides that, yes, she is in a good mood. She's wide awake now. She might as well enjoy it. She might as well announce it. She's let the silence hang kicking in the still air long enough, it's time to give the rope a twitch.

"Guess I ain't gettin' any more sleep. Whatta we got for breakfast?" Thunderhead idly licks the tip of the crowbar, then hooks it through the harness of hard leather and scales she wears.

Barnstormers scatter, there're at least three cookfires that've been burning for one reason or another, and nopony wants to look reluctant to offer something up. She leans a haunch against Zip's bike -- Alpha's privilege, nobody tells her what she can and can't touch -- and waits as the gang reorients itself around her.

Five minutes later Thunderhead's had about all the nervous mane-brushing, careful wing-preening, and quiet inquiries about how she's doing that she can stomach. She shrugs off the immediate flatterers and stretches her wings a moment, making some space and glancing around. "Where's my ears an' eyes? Skive," Thunderhead focuses on an unscarred young pegasus with a coat the color of honey who has been quietly chatting up a couple of the more likely camp-followers. "Come over an' tell me somethin' I wanna hear."

Skive gives her his best innocent look...The one he practices every day on unsuspecting fillies. The young stallion tends to wander off on his own, chasing tail or brew; but the advantage to that is he's pretty enough to get past most ponies' guards and sharp enough to keep his ears open for hot info. He's going to be a rough pony to replace if he gets his face scrubbed off like Zip did.

And for that matter, not many ponies would have the nerve to give Thunderhead that "Who, me?" look. Young, dumb and full of...Well, not if he keeps hanging around those mares.

The Filly-Who-Fell-From-the-Sky grins broadly, "C'mon, Skive. Tell me somethin' t'make me happy, clever-colt. An' I don' mean 'Ya sure look purdy today, Thunder.'"

Add 1 more to the list of 'gang members not present.' So currently her gang is at, oh, what...25?
Zip is wrecked.
Dust & 2 others are looking for an angel for Zip.
Wing-Blade is shadowing Dusk Bloom.

Plenty of opportunities for trouble.

[Oberon Kenobi]

Solitaire would notice that the kid was clearly unsure about how the next few moments of his life were going to play out, but after a few moments, whatever gene that got noble ponies to screw with relatives kicked in after a while, causing the colt to stand tall and nod at her in affirmation.

Solitaire found herself standing in the middle of a long hallway, one lined on each side with suits of armor and other decor. The air was slightly dusty, but that's probably the one issue with living in a marble tower.Solitaire raises an eyebrow, eyeing the armor lining the walls as she continues down the hall. Heavy metal might not be her thing, but there are more than a few ponies kicking around who would love to get their hands on classic kit like this--assuming it's the genuine article and not just for show.

More to the point...

"Your old man goes in for the classics, I see. He a collector?"

She's well aware that her weapons have been lifted, and now that she's getting a better view of the Lord of this tower, she can see how they might suit his tastes. Her blood runs cool as she considers the type of stallion who would put arms and armor on display, his own portrait the most prominent thing in the apartment, his kid in a three piece suit. Everything on display, everything in its place. The whole thing makes her skin crawl; what, exactly, had she been brought here for?

I'll keep my eyes open as I continue down the hall, but I don't think the situation has changed enough to try and read it again.

[Pokonic]

"Fantastic!" said Earthquake.

And then she kicked him in the throat, trying to break his neck. Complete, unprovoked surprise attack sucker punch to kill.

[AW 2E has previewed a move called Sucker Someone for circumstances like this:
When you attack someone unsuspecting or helpless, ask the MC if you could miss. If you could, treat it as going aggro, but your victim has no choice to cave and do what you want. If they can’t, you simply inflict harm as established.

So I'll ask, 'could I miss?]

The stallion probably would've replied, but getting kicked in the throat would stop anyone from saying something, and he ended up falling to his side and staying there. One of his legs twitched a bit, but that was it.



"Well, if it's firearms you're in the business for, I certainly know ponies in that trade around here." he said, as he flourished the map out of his colleague's grip to place it on the table. "I could even see about arranging a meeting if you'd be interested."

The mare looked over the map, putting it in front of her menu, her priorities clearly in line with reality.

"I did miss that left turn." she mumbled, looking around at the bottom corner of the map.


"Other than that, I do recommend the salada verde, with balsamic." he said to the minotaur.

"I will have it, then." the minotaur rumbled, handing his menu over to con. It seemed clear he was moving quite slow, so that he didn't startle anypony around him.

"I'll have that too!" the mare replied as well, like the food was an afterthought, now, "And icewater, I need a drink."




The Filly-Who-Fell-From-the-Sky grins broadly, "C'mon, Skive. Tell me somethin' t'make me happy, clever-colt. An' I don' mean 'Ya sure look purdy today, Thunder.'"

Add 1 more to the list of 'gang members not present.' So currently her gang is at, oh, what...25?
Zip is wrecked.
Dust & 2 others are looking for an angel for Zip.
Wing-Blade is shadowing Dusk Bloom.

Plenty of opportunities for trouble.

Skive seemed to have something already on his mind.

"There's supposed to be something big going down up the mount." he said, taking a quick look at Canterlot proper before continuing, "It sounded like a big gun lugger is selling everything he's got tonight down in the undercity."




"Your old man goes in for the classics, I see. He a collector?"

"No," the colt replied, "I think Grandma was the collector."

The colt's tone clearly indicated he was slightly saddened by the topic.


She's well aware that her weapons have been lifted, and now that she's getting a better view of the Lord of this tower, she can see how they might suit his tastes. Her blood runs cool as she considers the type of stallion who would put arms and armor on display, his own portrait the most prominent thing in the apartment, his kid in a three piece suit. Everything on display, everything in its place. The whole thing makes her skin crawl; what, exactly, had she been brought here for?

I'll keep my eyes open as I continue down the hall, but I don't think the situation has changed enough to try and read it again.

After several more hallways and a single flight of stairs, Solitaire found herself in what was presumably the parlor, or one of them, anyway. Great care had seemingly been taken for this room to be lighter in appearance than the rest of the building; the floor was pure white marble, along with the walls. The right side of the room had a comfortable-looking white couch dominating one side with a actual lance was hanging above it, looking like it had been carved from a solid chunk of diamond. Above that lance hung a small saber that was similar in construction, with a bluish tinge to the blade and a handle with small dark engravings. The wall on the left side of the room was dominated by several guns of various sizes; these were absolutely not antiques. Set to the middle of the wall, as well, was a mounted head, which formerly belonged to a rather large buffalo.

In the back of the room, there was a large wooden door, painted pure white. The handle on the door looked like it was solid gold. The entire room was spotless and there was not a speck of dust in sight.

Little Fancy seemed extremely hesitant to step inside the room.

[Thanqol]

The stallion probably would've replied, but getting kicked in the throat would stop anyone from saying something, and he ended up falling to his side and staying there. One of his legs twitched a bit, but that was it.

Earthquake snapped his neck. "Idiot," she said. Then she grabbed the bag and hauled it aboard. "Hey, kids! Sort through this for me, would you? Match up all the bullets with their guns." Then she started the train moving, went down, went through any pockets and started hauling the body to the corpse carriage.

So, what's he got on him? Bag that big there's gotta be some good stuff right?

[BlasTech]

The mare looked over the map, putting it in front of her menu, her priorities clearly in line with reality.

"I did miss that left turn." she mumbled, looking around at the bottom corner of the map.



"I will have it, then." the minotaur rumbled, handing his menu over to con. It seemed clear he was moving quite slow, so that he didn't startle anypony around him.

"I'll have that too!" the mare replied as well, like the food was an afterthought, now, "And icewater, I need a drink."

"Two salads and a drink for our guests." said Con, to the pony who had handed him the map, before turning back and waiting to see if this filly showed any interest in his offer.

[Bayar]

"Eh, screw it." That itch in her ear was unbearable, another minute of this and scratching it would have been swapped out with blowing it right off. Maybe. Probably not though.

"Uhhh, hey there ! Don't want to hurt ya, so don't make sudden movements. It's dangerous to wake up ponies like that. I'll come down and we can have a chat." Carefully and slowly floating down towards the group, Lead makes sure to keep the shotgun not aimed towards anypony. "Ok, what's a sharp dressed colt like you doing in a dump like this, mmm ?"

[Pokonic]

Earthquake snapped his neck. "Idiot," she said. Then she grabbed the bag and hauled it aboard. "Hey, kids! Sort through this for me, would you? Match up all the bullets with their guns." Then she started the train moving, went down, went through any pockets and started hauling the body to the corpse carriage.

So, what's he got on him? Bag that big there's gotta be some good stuff right?

Well, he had a stupid amount of bullets; actual bags upon bags of 'em. He was probably telling the complete truth, because someone who was lugging around this much brass out in the open probably didn't have enough braincells to lie.

Most of the bullets were pure crap, though. They were probably made in bulk, by a drunken pegasus, who was blind and did not know how guns worked.


"Two salads and a drink for our guests." said Con, to the pony who had handed him the map, before turning back and waiting to see if this filly showed any interest in his offer.

The mare blinked, and shook her head.

"Oh, yeah, I'll meet this guy." she replied, before adding, "Who is he, though?"


"Eh, screw it." That itch in her ear was unbearable, another minute of this and scratching it would have been swapped out with blowing it right off. Maybe. Probably not though.

"Uhhh, hey there ! Don't want to hurt ya, so don't make sudden movements. It's dangerous to wake up ponies like that. I'll come down and we can have a chat." Carefully and slowly floating down towards the group, Lead makes sure to keep the shotgun not aimed towards anypony. "Ok, what's a sharp dressed colt like you doing in a dump like this, mmm ?"

The one in the robe spoke; the armored one didn't, because he was too busy being alarmed by the pegasus.

"I am waiting for merchants to come." said the stallion; his voice was light and calm, like he was entirely too used to talking to small children, "But I would believe you are not here for the same reason. You seemed properly armed."

[Thanqol]

Well, he had a stupid amount of bullets; actual bags upon bags of 'em. He was probably telling the complete truth, because someone who was lugging around this much brass out in the open probably didn't have enough braincells to lie.

Most of the bullets were pure crap, though. They were probably made in bulk, by a drunken pegasus, who was blind and did not know how guns worked.

Yeah, but, like, guns? Blankets? Books? Bits? Paint? Oddments worth varying quantities of barter or possessing sentimental value? He's surely got a couple of guns at least with all that ordinance. And does he have a name or address of who he's supposed to be selling to written down?

[BlasTech]

The mare blinked, and shook her head.

"Oh, yeah, I'll meet this guy." she replied, before adding, "Who is he, though?"

"A rather ... imposing colt by the name of Ironshod. He runs a large portion of the arms business in this town, or so I'm told, and happens to be a regular client of this fine restaurant."

"An informal introduction could be quite lucrative for a pony looking to enter the market like yourself. I'd be happy to arrange it, in exchange for appropriate compensation."

[rolling hot/manipulate for a bargain?]

[Pokonic]

Yeah, but, like, guns? Blankets? Books? Bits? Paint? Oddments worth varying quantities of barter or possessing sentimental value? He's surely got a couple of guns at least with all that ordinance. And does he have a name or address of who he's supposed to be selling to written down?

No guns; he had a dinky little pistol on him, but it didn't even work. This guy was clearly a moron, carrying around a bunch of bullets thinking he was untouchable. He didn't even have any food.

...

Oh, wait, there's also ledger on him! While there was a bunch of messy hoofwriting that said wonders about the dead stallion's literacy, or lack thereof, what was probably really important was the fact that it had 'Property of Russet Apple' written on it. And, on his dead butt, there was a green apple on it. Joy oh joy.


"A rather ... imposing colt by the name of Ironshod. He runs a large portion of the arms business in this town, or so I'm told, and happens to be a regular client of this fine restaurant."

"An informal introduction could be quite lucrative for a pony looking to enter the market like yourself. I'd be happy to arrange it, in exchange for appropriate compensation."

[rolling hot/manipulate for a bargain?]

She paused, and looked at Con with slightly narrowed eyes. She didn't look like she was suspicious, but it seemed like she was now considering him as a pony with influence, as opposed to a pony who just seated her and was getting her drink order.

"Imposing?" she asked, sounding more like she found Con's notion funny, as opposed to a being a serious statement about a serious stallion, "Well, when does he usually come around? I'd be happy to give you your share, if you help me out."

As she was sitting up at the table and he was quite close, Con could tell a few things about the mare. For one, although the dress hide it well and her cabbage patch doll-like features did it better, he would easily notice that her legs had the muscles to go along with the oil stains and, the word 'stout' would probably describe her far better than 'soft'.

Sure, she was way better kept than the average pony who worked for a living, but if one throws a mechanic in a suit one still has a mechanic in a suit. On that note, she and her minotaur friend were probably equally unsuited for their respective outfits, however good they disguised themselves.

[Manipulation probably isn't necessary, because Con's bargain is perfectly reasonable, but seduction could smooth things over/be hilarious]

[Thanqol]

No guns; he had a dinky little pistol on him, but it didn't even work. This guy was clearly a moron, carrying around a bunch of bullets thinking he was untouchable. He didn't even have any food.

...

Oh, wait, there's also ledger on him! While there was a bunch of messy hoofwriting that said wonders about the dead stallion's literacy, or lack thereof, what was probably really important was the fact that it had 'Property of Russet Apple' written on it. And, on his dead butt, there was a green apple on it. Joy oh joy.

You get what you pay for, Earthquake supposed.

"We're heading to Canterlot," she called through to Green Knight, then sat down and thought.

If the bullets were crap that was fixable. She still had a tonne of gunpowder, primers, casings right here and with a little work she could rebuild them into rounds that worked. Alternately she sells them on which may involve scamming some mobsters. Or... the next idea she'd need to talk over with Thunderhead. Hmm.

She looked out the window. What's new with Canterlot? What's happening?

[Pokonic]

You get what you pay for, Earthquake supposed.

"We're heading to Canterlot," she called through to Green Knight, then sat down and thought.

If the bullets were crap that was fixable. She still had a tonne of gunpowder, primers, casings right here and with a little work she could rebuild them into rounds that worked. Alternately she sells them on which may involve scamming some mobsters. Or... the next idea she'd need to talk over with Thunderhead. Hmm.

She looked out the window. What's new with Canterlot? What's happening?

Well, for one thing, there was that religious schism.

Most ponies would never guess that, because there's, like, forty people involved and none of them are rich or important, but it's still happening. She'd know because Hilltop ranted about it nonstop until he passed out a few days ago.

Basically, the leader of one of the larger Celestia cults died, and she had two lieutenants who were trying to do each other in while calling each other heretics. This wouldn't be out of the ordinary, really, because Celestia cults being Celestia cults is something that tended to happen every other year or so, but this was one of the bigger ones. She could probably expect to ferry pilgrims away from Canterlot in due time, probably a week or two.

[Shunka Warakin]

Skive seemed to have something already on his mind.

"There's supposed to be something big going down up the mount." he said, taking a quick look at Canterlot proper before continuing, "It sounded like a big gun lugger is selling everything he's got tonight down in the undercity."

Thunderhead considered Skive thoughtfully, cocking her head to the side as she studies him. "What, like a flea market? Ta anybody?" She looks amused at the thought. "Ya got any ideas on where, pretty-boy? Undercity ain't a small place..."

She pokes and prods him verbally a bit until she's weedled out a few more details; there's no point getting the pack all stirred up if they can't find anything, but maybe if they get lost on the way they can grab some "helpful" pony to terrorize into playing tour guide.

"Seems like that oughta be a big thing. Anybody's gettin' more gunned-up than we are, we oughta know who. Better not be the Vultures nor the Cannibals, neither." She names a couple of other Canterlot biker gangs that've been a persistent thorn in her side. "Seems like the kinda thing they or other folks might crash, too." Thunderhead gets that ferally eager, crazy look in her eyes. "Sounds like somethin' a lotta ponies might end up fightin' over, either tryin' ta raid the seller or snipe the other buyers. Kinda thing somebody stupid might bleed themselves dry over. We play our cards right, we could end up pickin' up alla pieces. Maybe kick some ponies who deserve it while they're down..." She rolls the idea around in her head. Yeah, Thunderhead decides, she likes it. She can't tell if the lightning likes it, not without a storm in sight, but she likes it.

Of course, she's going to have to hold her ponies back long enough that they aren't the stupid ones trying to get in first. Timing can be tricky, but she can always make an example of the first one to pull ahead of her.

Thunderhead whistles piercingly three times, and Barnstormers drop whatever they're doing and start bundling their gear onto bikes. She saunters off towards her own cycle after assigning a couple of pillions to take care of Zip and Wing-Blade's rides, letting them know that the gang is going to be back, and soon, and those bikes better be untouched and exactly how they are now. Finding an old scrap of crumpled paper amid the debris of the encampment, Thunderhead grabs a hunk of charcoal from one of the burnt-out cooking fires and scrawls messily on the scrap, lip-writing a message before tucking it into one of Wing-Blade's saddlebags.

GUN DEEL IN UC. GON SHOPING BAK SOON

Shopping, she thinks to herself, and chuckles. As if.

Within five minutes, the sound of thunder is rumbling towards Canterlot's Undercity. The Barnstormers are moving out.

[Bayar]

The one in the robe spoke; the armored one didn't, because he was too busy being alarmed by the pegasus.

"I am waiting for merchants to come." said the stallion; his voice was light and calm, like he was entirely too used to talking to small children, "But I would believe you are not here for the same reason. You seemed properly armed."

"Well ya, I am. But I'm also in the lookout for potential improvements so here's what I'm offering. Help with the guarding business since looking at your escort over there, you'll probably need it. In exchange, I can also see what the merchant has on stock." Now that she didn't have to hide anymore, Lead had free reign to scratch her ear. Which she did, with one of her hind legs.

[Pokonic]

Thunderhead considered Skive thoughtfully, cocking her head to the side as she studies him. "What, like a flea market? Ta anybody?" She looks amused at the thought. "Ya got any ideas on where, pretty-boy? Undercity ain't a small place..."

She pokes and prods him verbally a bit until she's weedled out a few more details; there's no point getting the pack all stirred up if they can't find anything, but maybe if they get lost on the way they can grab some "helpful" pony to terrorize into playing tour guide.

"Seems like that oughta be a big thing. Anybody's gettin' more gunned-up than we are, we oughta know who. Better not be the Vultures nor the Cannibals, neither." She names a couple of other Canterlot biker gangs that've been a persistent thorn in her side. "Seems like the kinda thing they or other folks might crash, too." Thunderhead gets that ferally eager, crazy look in her eyes. "Sounds like somethin' a lotta ponies might end up fightin' over, either tryin' ta raid the seller or snipe the other buyers. Kinda thing somebody stupid might bleed themselves dry over. We play our cards right, we could end up pickin' up alla pieces. Maybe kick some ponies who deserve it while they're down..." She rolls the idea around in her head. Yeah, Thunderhead decides, she likes it. She can't tell if the lightning likes it, not without a storm in sight, but she likes it.

Of course, she's going to have to hold her ponies back long enough that they aren't the stupid ones trying to get in first. Timing can be tricky, but she can always make an example of the first one to pull ahead of her.

Thunderhead whistles piercingly three times, and Barnstormers drop whatever they're doing and start bundling their gear onto bikes. She saunters off towards her own cycle after assigning a couple of pillions to take care of Zip and Wing-Blade's rides, letting them know that the gang is going to be back, and soon, and those bikes better be untouched and exactly how they are now. Finding an old scrap of crumpled paper amid the debris of the encampment, Thunderhead grabs a hunk of charcoal from one of the burnt-out cooking fires and scrawls messily on the scrap, lip-writing a message before tucking it into one of Wing-Blade's saddlebags.

GUN DEEL IN UC. GON SHOPING BAK SOON

Shopping, she thinks to herself, and chuckles. As if.

Within five minutes, the sound of thunder is rumbling towards Canterlot's Undercity. The Barnstormers are moving out.


What's happening?

Well, there's something a bit more immediate; there was a biker gang coming up from the south side, coming up the mountain the same way as the train. The sound of the steam engine, however briefly, was nearly overcome by the sound of thirty hot rods thundering up the mount. Some people could compare the situation to that of a whale being flanked by a school of sharks. Others could probably even find a sort of serenity in the situation.

And then that Flitterbug moron decided to forget was a turn was. Either he was drunk or he finally drank away his last two brain cells last night, but he kept going straight when approximately everyone else turned, and if somepony didn't do something right about now, the one guy who carried grenades on him in the whole gang was going to drive right into the train.


"Well ya, I am. But I'm also in the lookout for potential improvements so here's what I'm offering. Help with the guarding business since looking at your escort over there, you'll probably need it. In exchange, I can also see what the merchant has on stock." Now that she didn't have to hide anymore, Lead had free reign to scratch her ear. Which she did, with one of her hind legs.

The priest's bodyguard seemed pretty annoyed at the comment, but the priest didn't seem too phased by her oddities. In fact, he just smiled.

"If you leave now," he replied, "You will be able to live, friend."

[Thanqol]

Well, there's something a bit more immediate; there was a biker gang coming up from the south side, coming up the mountain the same way as the train. The sound of the steam engine, however briefly, was nearly overcome by the sound of thirty hot rods thundering up the mount. Some people could compare the situation to that of a whale being flanked by a school of sharks. Others could probably even find a sort of serenity in the situation.

And then that Flitterbug moron decided to forget was a turn was. Either he was drunk or he finally drank away his last two brain cells last night, but he kept going straight when approximately everyone else turned, and if somepony didn't do something right about now, the one guy who carried grenades on him in the whole gang was going to drive right into the train.

Ah, just the ponies she had been thinking about seeing. Warts and all.

Earthquake grabbed the controls and slammed on the brakes, trying to bring the train up short of smashing into a drunk explosive.

[Pokonic]

Ah, just the ponies she had been thinking about seeing. Warts and all.

Earthquake grabbed the controls and slammed on the brakes, trying to bring the train up short of smashing into a drunk explosive.

[Roll Hard]

[BlasTech]

She paused, and looked at Con with slightly narrowed eyes. She didn't look like she was suspicious, but it seemed like she was now considering him as a pony with influence, as opposed to a pony who just seated her and was getting her drink order.

"Imposing?" she asked, sounding more like she found Con's notion funny, as opposed to a being a serious statement about a serious stallion, "Well, when does he usually come around? I'd be happy to give you your share, if you help me out."

As she was sitting up at the table and he was quite close, Con could tell a few things about the mare. For one, although the dress hide it well and her cabbage patch doll-like features did it better, he would easily notice that her legs had the muscles to go along with the oil stains and, the word 'stout' would probably describe her far better than 'soft'.

Sure, she was way better kept than the average pony who worked for a living, but if one throws a mechanic in a suit one still has a mechanic in a suit. On that note, she and her minotaur friend were probably equally unsuited for their respective outfits, however good they disguised themselves.

[Manipulation probably isn't necessary, because Con's bargain is perfectly reasonable, but seduction could smooth things over/be hilarious]

Now now, Con is a charmer, but he's a principled charmer. He might be willing to play the heartstrings from time to time, steal a kiss from a pretty mare, but he wouldn't charm a pony just for the sake of smoothing over a business deal.

"I prefer to deal in favours and information, but if that's not to your liking then a cash payment is acceptable instead. It's the great business of Le Grand's after all! Where ponies can meet and deals can be made." he said, smiling as he talked up his pride and joy.

"Ironshod usually comes in on Wednesdays, so if you're able to come down then I'll see about sounding him out for a meeting?"

[Thanqol]

[Roll Hard]

Roll Hard for what? I don't think I'm Going Aggro or Seizing by Force here. Is this a custom move? What are the consequences of success and failure?