[MLP] Cloudbreak II: Towards the sun

[BlasTech]

"Only from the heart can you touch the sky." - Roomy

Cloudbreak

A game of Fallout Equestria

STARRING
STARRING
Amish Pirate as - The Scrapscallion (The Driver)
Balmas as - Starlight Glimmer (The Hardholder) (Now as The Corrupted)
Elanorin as - Milliway (The Savvyhead) (Now as The Faceless)
Thanqol as - Luminark (The Hoarder) (Now as The Hardholder)

OOC Thread 1
IC Thread 1

[BlasTech]

WAIT NO CRAPDAMMIT NO

No, this will not do at all. The images--how did they even do that thing with the weathervane?--are seared in her skull. She doesn't want to think about her child like that, doesn't want those kinds of images, and suddenly wishes she actually knew how to shut this thing down.

No, no, nope, not gonna think about that. Time for some healthy, age-old technique of repressing it deep in her soul and never once ever again mentioning it.

Yeah, good luck with that Administrator. The link you two share is open and flooding you with sensations.

Sweaty, steamy salacious sensations.

So many.

Sensationssssss.

Give me an act under fire to keep your cool as all this emotion ploughs into your head.

Joke’s on her, she didn’t get to see a masterclass. She didn’t get to see what she was missing, so there. Guess nopony gets to walk away happy, right? He was pissed, she was deprived, and Camber…

Well. Screw Camber, anyway.

[Rolling for Moment of Intimacy: 1 + 3 + 3 = 7 Which would be -1 Hx with General Camber, and she'd get +1 Hx with Scraps, but unfortunately she's an NPC. I'm good with however you interpret that.]

Tell me Scraps, are you carrying anything on you that you value? I mean, in a way that's more than the caps it cost you to buy or the time to procure?

What do you have on you, that holds real sentimental value?

The Scrapscallion stomped to the nearest terminal, jammed the audio recorder into the slot, and fired off a message to the rest of the Enclave fleet. No attempts at hiding this time; they were playing the role of a panicked grunt who’d just seen something she shouldn’t have. In went the auth codes. In went the panicked message. Help, help, General engaging in illicit kiss crimes, they’re onto me, I don’t know how long I have, help, etc. Send. Invasion: Postponed.

“We got a job to do.” He growled, marching for the prison. “C’mon.”

You make it out of the Administration wing and reach the outer gates to the prison section by the time the alarms start to blare. The guards standing there pull out radios, before abandoning their posts to run into the admin section.

It seems your transmission has caught the attention of somepony important. Leastwise, somepony with the pull to override whatever orders the pegasi had. With them gone, the gates yield quickly under your lockpicking skills - opening up to a large chamber with rows and rows of dank, dark cells. The smell of unwashed ponies, halitosis and other unsanitary conditions pervades the air. Many stand empty, but wastelander ponies occupy several, lying on the ground or on concrete cots huddled under tattered blankets.

The sound of hoofsteps gives you enough warning for the Pegasus to pull you up and into the darkness and safety of the upper catwalks. Shortly after the two of you touch down, a guardpony rounds the corner of the cells where you'd been. From your new vantage point, you spot another patrolling a different corridor. Two more stand guard at a pair of doors at the far end and, even as you watch, the doors open and another pair of guards enter, escorting two more prisoners, clad in thick grey robes, who are deposited in a cell down at the far end.

What do you do?

Luminark feels fantastic.

So much tension comes off his withers, rolling from him in waves. He can't remember ever being this relaxed, ever having a moment away from the constant grinding tension and paranoia. A few times he'd felt like he'd almost forgotten it but... this was the only time when he felt like he'd done something about it. Just for a minute he felt like he could trust things again... cautiously, perhaps, but it felt possible. He was even like 60% sure that the binding would hold and not unleash a terrible Id monster upon the world - and those were pretty good odds when you thought about it!!

"Minister Rarity!" he said brightly. "Lovely to see you again! Next duty on my list is bringing this place back to Equestria. It's going to be a bit of a tricky spell - do you know anything about necromancy, by chance?"

"I … might know a few things." replies Rarity, looking at you askew. "I must say, that's not the kind of question one typically asks in polite company."

Meanwhile, the olive coated pony stands up, staring around in a semi daze.

"Who are you? What is this place?" he asks, before pausing and scratching his head.

"And … who am I?"

What do you do?

"Oh... nothing..." Milliway said as she began to scrutinise screens and tap on controls.

"Just, uh, checking your diagnostic logs. I had a small incendiary incident earlier... small explosion... nothing major. Just checking it hasn't burned any of your circuits or... anything..."

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap.

[Rolling to Read A Sitch: 4+5+0=9 What should I be on the lookout for?]

Glowing words scroll across the screen.

Synccomp root access granted. Diagnostic underway: root kernel CrE5H4|2D.exe operating … … 100%, fault error diagnostics nil. Rootkit scan complete. Gestalt #C4D4|VC3 integrity OK. Memory checksum passed. Backup test … effective. Diagnostics complete: no errors found.

Whatever is the problem, it doesn't seem to be with the systems or with the crystal heart. House, such as he is, is operating correctly. Which means, if the problem isn't hardware, or software … that leaves only one place the problem could be.

It's a problem with House himself. In the sense that any pony can have a problem that weighs on their mind, that can distract them and make them act in a different way than normal.

You need to be on the lookout for that.

[Thanqol]

"I … might know a few things." replies Rarity, looking at you askew. "I must say, that's not the kind of question one typically asks in polite company."

Luminark gave her an odd look. "Oh! Well that confirms you're not a figment of my imagination - I could never come up with such an exotic social cue. My mom is Department Head of Necromancy, you see..."

Meanwhile, the olive coated pony stands up, staring around in a semi daze.

"Who are you? What is this place?" he asks, before pausing and scratching his head.

"And … who am I?"

What do you do?

"I'm Adm - Luminark, this is Minister Rarity, this is a psychonecromantic manifestation of a polyaspected spirit-mind that has been sculpted into a recreation of the town of Ponyville, and you are a merger of one of the spirit-mind emanations and an aspect of my own damaged psyche, hopefully producing an entity with enough free will and coherence to act as a distinct entity," Luminark said helpfully. "But if you need a name, Olive Drab would be easy to remember."

[Balmas]

Yeah, good luck with that Administrator. The link you two share is open and flooding you with sensations.

Sweaty, steamy salacious sensations.

So many.

Sensationssssss.

Give me an act under fire to keep your cool as all this emotion ploughs into your head.

[Yeah, that's a [6], thanks to the -2 cool.]

[Elanorin]

Glowing words scroll across the screen.

Synccomp root access granted. Diagnostic underway: root kernel CrE5H4|2D.exe operating … … 100%, fault error diagnostics nil. Rootkit scan complete. Gestalt #C4D4|VC3 integrity OK. Memory checksum passed. Backup test … effective. Diagnostics complete: no errors found.

Whatever is the problem, it doesn't seem to be with the systems or with the crystal heart. House, such as he is, is operating correctly. Which means, if the problem isn't hardware, or software … that leaves only one place the problem could be.

It's a problem with House himself. In the sense that any pony can have a problem that weighs on their mind, that can distract them and make them act in a different way than normal.

You need to be on the lookout for that.

Wow. So this is a... a... like a... social problem?

Milliway continued to tap on controls despite having realised there was nothing for her to find on the screens among the subroutines or reams of code.

She had no idea how to handle social problems. Now if he'd gone crazy and started shooting at her we'd be fine. Emotions...

Her one attempt at any kind of relationship had ended in complete heartbreak and, let's not forget, exile and death. To suggest that the notion of applying some kind of attempt at Friendship here was making Milliway nervous was a gross understatement. She couldn't be his shoulder. She couldn't just sit here and, like, talk about his problems. She'd mess it up. Bungle it catastrophically, and he'd hate her, possibly die.

House was too important to die.

"All seems to check out fine," Milliway said with a fake smile for exactly nopony's benefit. "No... problem here."

"You're... all good, House." She backed away from the controls with unsure steps.

You can't just leave.

So she stopped, four shaky backwards steps away from the controls.

And had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Say something!

"So... uh... is there... anything... I mean- If you- that is, I can, if you want, but I don't have to, just if you wanted to I don't have anything better- not that you're not important- but you know not like crazy stalkery impor- I mean just as a favour- not that you'd owe me or that it's out of my way or- but I don't mind- I can... like right here?"

[TheAmishPirate]

Tell me Scraps, are you carrying anything on you that you value? I mean, in a way that's more than the caps it cost you to buy or the time to procure?

What do you have on you, that holds real sentimental value?

A twisted and blackened ignition key.

It used to go to the Pergrine. The first one. Back before it was his. Back before it even was the Peregrine. It didn't live long after the transition, but. Y'know. You never forget your first, amirite?

The Scrapscallion keeps it in one of the inner pockets of his jacket. A pocket that he rarely unfastens or opens.

You make it out of the Administration wing and reach the outer gates to the prison section by the time the alarms start to blare. The guards standing there pull out radios, before abandoning their posts to run into the admin section.

It seems your transmission has caught the attention of somepony important. Leastwise, somepony with the pull to override whatever orders the pegasi had. With them gone, the gates yield quickly under your lockpicking skills - opening up to a large chamber with rows and rows of dank, dark cells. The smell of unwashed ponies, halitosis and other unsanitary conditions pervades the air. Many stand empty, but wastelander ponies occupy several, lying on the ground or on concrete cots huddled under tattered blankets.

The sound of hoofsteps gives you enough warning for the Pegasus to pull you up and into the darkness and safety of the upper catwalks. Shortly after the two of you touch down, a guardpony rounds the corner of the cells where you'd been. From your new vantage point, you spot another patrolling a different corridor. Two more stand guard at a pair of doors at the far end and, even as you watch, the doors open and another pair of guards enter, escorting two more prisoners, clad in thick grey robes, who are deposited in a cell down at the far end.

What do you do?

Ugh.

Why did there have to be guards? Who put guards inside of a prison nowadays? Didn't they know all the best plans involved sneaking prisoners out right under guards' noses, which didn't work if their noses were here the whole time! And speaking of noses, this place stank! The worst! The Scrapscallion shrank back against the Pegasus' chest, to dilute the prison stink with Pegasus stink. Which, by default, stank a heck of a lot less.

Ughh. How were they going to get through this one?

[Rolling to Read a Sitch: 3 + 3 + 2 = 8 Where's my best way past?]

[And, because the time is right, I'm also going to roll an unintentional Seduce on the Pegasus. I want her to get curious about Scraps. Maybe fall more towards the masterclass side of the equation, and thinking about enrolling when this is all done. 6 + 5 + 1 = 12]

[BlasTech]

Luminark gave her an odd look. "Oh! Well that confirms you're not a figment of my imagination - I could never come up with such an exotic social cue. My mom is Department Head of Necromancy, you see..."

-==-

"I'm Adm - Luminark, this is Minister Rarity, this is a psychonecromantic manifestation of a polyaspected spirit-mind that has been sculpted into a recreation of the town of Ponyville, and you are a merger of one of the spirit-mind emanations and an aspect of my own damaged psyche, hopefully producing an entity with enough free will and coherence to act as a distinct entity," Luminark said helpfully. "But if you need a name, Olive Drab would be easy to remember."

"Olive ... I guess that'll work" replies Olive, with all the certainty of the newly named psyche-spawn that he is. Rarity, meanwhile, gives a generous smile and trots forward till she's standing beside you.

"Welcome to the land of the existent, darling!" she says, beaming and beckoning him forwards. "Do come with us, we'll make sure you're well taken care of - what are we going to do with him?"

That last was a hurried whisper out of the corner of the mouth.

Well, congrats Luminark - you've now created life from nothing more than emotion. What are you going to do now?

[Yeah, that's a [6], thanks to the -2 cool.]

Well, if nothing else, you can at least say you now know a specific pegasus a bit more than you ever wanted to.

Not that that's much of a consolation.

By the time you regain your senses, right after Scraps' target gets tazed and after he finishes putting out the fires, you realise you're staring into the eyes of a corpse.

Wait, no, not a corpse - those don't blink and look at you as if they've seen a ghost - it must be a ghoul.

You get a second to realise that he's looking at you through a thick security window before the ghoul jabs a hoof at something out of sight and thick blast doors seal off both ends of the corridor you're in.

There's a hiss of seals pressurising, before a gravelly voice crackles over a nearby speaker.

"Hello there!" it drawls "'Mind tellin' us what you're doing down 'ere?"

What do you do?

Wow. So this is a... a... like a... social problem?

Milliway continued to tap on controls despite having realised there was nothing for her to find on the screens among the subroutines or reams of code.

She had no idea how to handle social problems. Now if he'd gone crazy and started shooting at her we'd be fine. Emotions...

Her one attempt at any kind of relationship had ended in complete heartbreak and, let's not forget, exile and death. To suggest that the notion of applying some kind of attempt at Friendship here was making Milliway nervous was a gross understatement. She couldn't be his shoulder. She couldn't just sit here and, like, talk about his problems. She'd mess it up. Bungle it catastrophically, and he'd hate her, possibly die.

House was too important to die.

"All seems to check out fine," Milliway said with a fake smile for exactly nopony's benefit. "No... problem here."

"You're... all good, House." She backed away from the controls with unsure steps.

You can't just leave.

So she stopped, four shaky backwards steps away from the controls.

And had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Say something!

"So... uh... is there... anything... I mean- If you- that is, I can, if you want, but I don't have to, just if you wanted to I don't have anything better- not that you're not important- but you know not like crazy stalkery impor- I mean just as a favour- not that you'd owe me or that it's out of my way or- but I don't mind- I can... like right here?"

Silence is all that greets your words for a good long while. Long enough for you to sit on the floor, tail wrapping around you, and let out a single, awkward, cough that echoes for an uncomfortably long time through the vast under chambers of the Library.

Some time after it dies away, House finally speaks.

"Milliway ..." he starts, hesitantly as an AI can possibly sound. "I - don't know how to ask this without it seeming rude. And I don't want for it to be rude, but -"

"Do you know why we are friends?"

What do you do?

A twisted and blackened ignition key.

It used to go to the Pergrine. The first one. Back before it was his. Back before it even was the Peregrine. It didn't live long after the transition, but. Y'know. You never forget your first, amirite?

The Scrapscallion keeps it in one of the inner pockets of his jacket. A pocket that he rarely unfastens or opens.

I'm sorry to say, that the key is gone.

When you next inspect it, you'll find a hole, burned by a piece of unusually-flammable whipped cream (Now with 650% more trabaloxyene, for all your food preservation needs!).

There's only one place it could've fallen - back with General Camber. She's probably got it now.

Ugh.

Why did there have to be guards? Who put guards inside of a prison nowadays? Didn't they know all the best plans involved sneaking prisoners out right under guards' noses, which didn't work if their noses were here the whole time! And speaking of noses, this place stank! The worst! The Scrapscallion shrank back against the Pegasus' chest, to dilute the prison stink with Pegasus stink. Which, by default, stank a heck of a lot less.

Ughh. How were they going to get through this one?

[Rolling to Read a Sitch: 3 + 3 + 2 = 8 Where's my best way past?]

After watching for a few moments, you realise that aggressive stealth is probably your best way past.

The guards aren't following good procedures in their patrols. For example, each of the sentries walking the floor is out of sight of his compatriots for a good few minutes. They're not even looking up - clearly expecting any attacks to come from grounded ponies, but making them easy pickings for those up in the rafters.

Once the floor patrollers are taken care of, that leaves only the two guards by the double-doors that lead further into the prison area. It'd be tricky, but a co-ordinated attack from above would deal with both of them.

All in all, you'd be acting under fire to do this without being seen - but it'd be possible. The main risk is if any of them get off an alarm. Then who knows how many Pegasi you'd be facing.

[And, because the time is right, I'm also going to roll an unintentional Seduce on the Pegasus. I want her to get curious about Scraps. Maybe fall more towards the masterclass side of the equation, and thinking about enrolling when this is all done. 6 + 5 + 1 = 12]

Being carried up by the pegasus gives you an additional benefit - you can hear her heartbeat.

Now either she's a lot less fit than you'd expect a pony who flies all the time to be.

Or there's some other reason that her heart is racing right now...

Anyway, what do you do?

[Balmas]

Well, if nothing else, you can at least say you now know a specific pegasus a bit more than you ever wanted to.

Not that that's much of a consolation.

By the time you regain your senses, right after Scraps' target gets tazed and after he finishes putting out the fires, you realise you're staring into the eyes of a corpse.

Wait, no, not a corpse - those don't blink and look at you as if they've seen a ghost - it must be a ghoul.

You get a second to realise that he's looking at you through a thick security window before the ghoul jabs a hoof at something out of sight and thick blast doors seal off both ends of the corridor you're in.

There's a hiss of seals pressurising, before a gravelly voice crackles over a nearby speaker.

"Hello there!" it drawls "'Mind tellin' us what you're doing down 'ere?"

What do you do?

"Oh thank goodness, staff." She laughs as she hauls herself to her feet. "Frankly, I didn't anticipate that the Ministry of Morale would still be operative, much less that pre-war employees would still be manning their posts. Starlight Glimmer. Administrator, Ministry of Arcane Science. Here to collect a sample of the cloud currently affecting the facility."

A thought occurs, and she squints at the ghoul. "...are you the only one left?" Please. She's already had her mind violated once today, and it would do no end of good for her sanity to find out that the Pink One is not here.

[Thanqol]

"Olive ... I guess that'll work" replies Olive, with all the certainty of the newly named psyche-spawn that he is. Rarity, meanwhile, gives a generous smile and trots forward till she's standing beside you.

"Welcome to the land of the existent, darling!" she says, beaming and beckoning him forwards. "Do come with us, we'll make sure you're well taken care of - what are we going to do with him?"

That last was a hurried whisper out of the corner of the mouth.

Well, congrats Luminark - you've now created life from nothing more than emotion. What are you going to do now?

"Give him a job?" said Luminark in response to the Minister's whisper. "Not like I'm overflowing with qualified applicants. If you would, though, I was in the midst of drawing this place back to reality and I'd appreciate your help in making it so."

[Elanorin]

Silence is all that greets your words for a good long while. Long enough for you to sit on the floor, tail wrapping around you, and let out a single, awkward, cough that echoes for an uncomfortably long time through the vast under chambers of the Library.

Some time after it dies away, House finally speaks.

"Milliway ..." he starts, hesitantly as an AI can possibly sound. "I - don't know how to ask this without it seeming rude. And I don't want for it to be rude, but -"

"Do you know why we are friends?"

What do you do?

Milliway blinked. And in the blink of that eye her insecurities flared up like an anaphylactic shock. Her breaths became shallow and irregular, she suddenly felt hot and fidgety, her hooves went clammy and her entire mind swam with fear that the one single real relationship she still had was about to end in her now trademark catastrophic... well... catastrophe. This wasn't just any kind of feelings talk, which would have been bad enough. This was a talk about their feelings. This was a bona fide 'we need to talk' talk!

That coupled with House starting with 'I don't want to be rude, but' (the twin brother of 'no offense, but') there was really only one track available for Milliway's mind-train to hurtle down.

Does he not want to be friends with me anymore?

"Uh..."

Did he ever want to be friends with me?

"Well I..."

Are we friends?

Were we ever friends?

Was it just me?

"I mean, we... uh..."

Has he just been polite all this time because... of programming?

"...well, we... work together."

In the far distance of the waaaaaay back of her mind there was a tiny spark of pride at the awareness this conversation was showing, the extent to which House has clearly grown, but it was difficult to see in the thickness of all the foggy dread and discomfort.

"...like a sort of... team... that..."

"...works."

"Don't we?"

[BlasTech]

"Oh thank goodness, staff." She laughs as she hauls herself to her feet. "Frankly, I didn't anticipate that the Ministry of Morale would still be operative, much less that pre-war employees would still be manning their posts. Starlight Glimmer. Administrator, Ministry of Arcane Science. Here to collect a sample of the cloud currently affecting the facility."

A thought occurs, and she squints at the ghoul. "...are you the only one left?" Please. She's already had her mind violated once today, and it would do no end of good for her sanity to find out that the Pink One is not here.

"Sorry lady, we ain't MoM employees, we just live here." replies the voice. "Name's Rebar and y'all have to forgive us if we don't open the doors. A lot o' ponies have come down here since the Sunderin', and none o' them have been what you might call social."

"If y'all just after Pink Cloud, you can just mosey on back up to the surface. There's plenty of it around and you don't need to go bothering us to get it."

As he finishes, the airlock door back to the surface hisses open.

What do you do?

"Give him a job?" said Luminark in response to the Minister's whisper. "Not like I'm overflowing with qualified applicants. If you would, though, I was in the midst of drawing this place back to reality and I'd appreciate your help in making it so."

"Very well." replies Rarity. "Olive, do be a dear and help finish the stocktake of the Boutique there - you'll see where I've started sorting the fabrics we have to hoof. Just keep doing that until we get you."

"Now, to business!" she declares, once Olive has wandered off. "I promised I would help, and with Celestia as my witness I do not intend to fall at the first show run!"

"First, I must ask - Have you ever done something like this before? Bringing a place of the immaterial back to the physical world?"

Well, have you?

Milliway blinked. And in the blink of that eye her insecurities flared up like an anaphylactic shock. Her breaths became shallow and irregular, she suddenly felt hot and fidgety, her hooves went clammy and her entire mind swam with fear that the one single real relationship she still had was about to end in her now trademark catastrophic... well... catastrophe. This wasn't just any kind of feelings talk, which would have been bad enough. This was a talk about their feelings. This was a bona fide 'we need to talk' talk!

That coupled with House starting with 'I don't want to be rude, but' (the twin brother of 'no offense, but') there was really only one track available for Milliway's mind-train to hurtle down.

Does he not want to be friends with me anymore?

"Uh..."

Did he ever want to be friends with me?

"Well I..."

Are we friends?

Were we ever friends?

Was it just me?

"I mean, we... uh..."

Has he just been polite all this time because... of programming?

"...well, we... work together."

In the far distance of the waaaaaay back of her mind there was a tiny spark of pride at the awareness this conversation was showing, the extent to which House has clearly grown, but it was difficult to see in the thickness of all the foggy dread and discomfort.

"...like a sort of... team... that..."

"...works."

"Don't we?"

"I guess we do" replies House, slowly. "But I just can't remember."

"Everything before that day you found me in your workshop is ... well, it's not a blur. It's just not there."

"I mean, I trust what you've told me about who I am and what we do together. But you never really spoke about why you created me. And ... well ... I'd like to be your friend. But ... I don't know why you'd want to be mine."

"It's not like I do much more than any other computer script could do - or even an actual pony like one of the Disturbance Prevention Squad."

"It's all just been so confusing. Since that day. I've tried to take everything in you've said, and do what I think I'm meant to do, but it just feels a bit ... artificial. Do you know what I mean?"

[Elanorin]

"I guess we do" replies House, slowly. "But I just can't remember."

"Everything before that day you found me in your workshop is ... well, it's not a blur. It's just not there."

"I mean, I trust what you've told me about who I am and what we do together. But you never really spoke about why you created me. And ... well ... I'd like to be your friend. But ... I don't know why you'd want to be mine."

"It's not like I do much more than any other computer script could do - or even an actual pony like one of the Disturbance Prevention Squad."

"It's all just been so confusing. Since that day. I've tried to take everything in you've said, and do what I think I'm meant to do, but it just feels a bit ... artificial. Do you know what I mean?"

"Well... I'm not surprised you don't remember much before I found you. You were... incomplete. Lots of different parts from... different places... different functions... got my hooves on this... flying... vehicle... thing, from Outside. It was crashed, battered to hell, and labelled scrap to be destroyed but it was a goldmine. Taking it apart was an absolute blast. I mean, it had all kinds of strange upgrades and foreign parts. And I don't even know what the enormous bank in its hold even was but I found almost all your central processing units there."

If he wanted to know where he came from, that she could share. That was tech talk. Tech talk was safe.

"I didn't really plan on making you. Or even know what you'd end up being. It was just... I saw these completely unconnected separate... unrelated parts on my floor and... I suddenly I imagined a new whole. It took me months to get you functional, and even then, you didn't really take off until I hooked up that heart crystal. I had no blueprints. No plan. No real objective. I got it wrong more times than I could count. Burned off my own tail at least once. Trial, error. Lots and lots of error. But somehow you let me know when I got it right and... yeah. Then you were there. And..."

Her tail twitched, sweeping little twitchy sweeps across the floor back and forth. She gave another single cough in to the empty silence. She was running out of easy emotion-free facts to share.

...but it just feels a bit ... artificial. Do you know what I mean?

Artificial.

That word felt uncomfortably close to a concise summary of all of those hurtful words that had come out of Luminark's mouth when she'd tried to... or what had been in Scraps' eyes after she...

Princess, was she even capable of anything truly Real?

She looked at some of her many prosthetics, the shard of the heart crystal fused to her chest, and wondered if somewhere she had crossed a line without ever realising it. Maybe she had become more machine than pony. Was it her death? Had she come back, not quite living?

Or did it happen long before even that?

"I'm sorry... I never intended to be... artificial..."

[TheAmishPirate]

I'm sorry to say, that the key is gone.

When you next inspect it, you'll find a hole, burned by a piece of unusually-flammable whipped cream (Now with 650% more trabaloxyene, for all your food preservation needs!).

There's only one place it could've fallen - back with General Camber. She's probably got it now.

Thankfully, like most losses in the Scrapscallion's life, he isn't too bothered by it, primarily because he's not even aware of it.

And with any luck, he never will.

After watching for a few moments, you realise that aggressive stealth is probably your best way past.

The guards aren't following good procedures in their patrols. For example, each of the sentries walking the floor is out of sight of his compatriots for a good few minutes. They're not even looking up - clearly expecting any attacks to come from grounded ponies, but making them easy pickings for those up in the rafters.

Once the floor patrollers are taken care of, that leaves only the two guards by the double-doors that lead further into the prison area. It'd be tricky, but a co-ordinated attack from above would deal with both of them.

All in all, you'd be acting under fire to do this without being seen - but it'd be possible. The main risk is if any of them get off an alarm. Then who knows how many Pegasi you'd be facing.

Ooooh, now you're talking! It's time for one of the Scrapscallion's favorite games: Fishing For Dumb Guys. Here's how it works:

1) Wait until a dumb guy sentry is alone.

2) Have the pegasus swoop down, clap a hoof over their dumb mouth, and swoop back up to the rafters, where...

3) The Scrapscallion will bop them with the shocky stick.

4) Tie up and pile up their catch on a nearby rafter.

5) Repeat until no more sentries.

Then for the last two, something special: The Pegasus drops a big length of chain on the two of them, and the Scrapscallion pokes the other end of said chain with the shocky-stick. Double shock, double knockout, the room is theirs, and they can get on with the rescue.

[Rolling to Act Under Fire: 5 + 3 + 4 = 12]

[Thanqol]

"Very well." replies Rarity. "Olive, do be a dear and help finish the stocktake of the Boutique there - you'll see where I've started sorting the fabrics we have to hoof. Just keep doing that until we get you."

"Now, to business!" she declares, once Olive has wandered off. "I promised I would help, and with Celestia as my witness I do not intend to fall at the first show run!"

"First, I must ask - Have you ever done something like this before? Bringing a place of the immaterial back to the physical world?"

Well, have you?

"Sort of," said Luminark. "I've always grounded psychic fragments in physical things before - brought back a ghost and put it into my own body, for instance. I could... hmmmm."

Luminark's first plan had been to animate a bunch of corpses, which had... upsides and downsides. A ghost plus a corpse was a functional if long term unsustainable pony. But what if...

"Rather than mass-possessing dead bodies," Luminark said slowly. "What if I mass possessed a raider tribe? It'd be a two birds with one stone kind of move. Remove a violent and unreasoning gang from the wasteland and get a well armed and secured stronghold at the same time? What could possibly go wrong?"

[Balmas]

"Sorry lady, we ain't MoM employees, we just live here." replies the voice. "Name's Rebar and y'all have to forgive us if we don't open the doors. A lot o' ponies have come down here since the Sunderin', and none o' them have been what you might call social."

"If y'all just after Pink Cloud, you can just mosey on back up to the surface. There's plenty of it around and you don't need to go bothering us to get it."

As he finishes, the airlock door back to the surface hisses open.

What do you do?

They're squatters, and so in theory, she should by rights just tear down the window, ooze on through, and take what is already hers. But there's no sense in starting an unnecessary fight. So, for now, she's going to keep them talking while she scans the area. Surely there's gotta be some way through here that wouldn't occur to a normal pony--an air vent, murder holes, if nothing else a drainage ditch she can squeeze through. Failing that, surely there must be something he wants, yes?

[Read a pony 9. How could she get him to let her pass?]

"You'll have to pardon my ignorance of local parlance, but I've been caught up in an experiment for a few--let's see, carry the two--yes, it has to be a couple centuries. Sundering?"

[BlasTech]

"Well... I'm not surprised you don't remember much before I found you. You were... incomplete. Lots of different parts from... different places... different functions... got my hooves on this... flying... vehicle... thing, from Outside. It was crashed, battered to hell, and labelled scrap to be destroyed but it was a goldmine. Taking it apart was an absolute blast. I mean, it had all kinds of strange upgrades and foreign parts. And I don't even know what the enormous bank in its hold even was but I found almost all your central processing units there."

If he wanted to know where he came from, that she could share. That was tech talk. Tech talk was safe.

"I didn't really plan on making you. Or even know what you'd end up being. It was just... I saw these completely unconnected separate... unrelated parts on my floor and... I suddenly I imagined a new whole. It took me months to get you functional, and even then, you didn't really take off until I hooked up that heart crystal. I had no blueprints. No plan. No real objective. I got it wrong more times than I could count. Burned off my own tail at least once. Trial, error. Lots and lots of error. But somehow you let me know when I got it right and... yeah. Then you were there. And..."

Her tail twitched, sweeping little twitchy sweeps across the floor back and forth. She gave another single cough in to the empty silence. She was running out of easy emotion-free facts to share.

Artificial.

That word felt uncomfortably close to a concise summary of all of those hurtful words that had come out of Luminark's mouth when she'd tried to... or what had been in Scraps' eyes after she...

Princess, was she even capable of anything truly Real?

She looked at some of her many prosthetics, the shard of the heart crystal fused to her chest, and wondered if somewhere she had crossed a line without ever realising it. Maybe she had become more machine than pony. Was it her death? Had she come back, not quite living?

Or did it happen long before even that?

"I'm sorry... I never intended to be... artificial..."

"It's okay, Milliway" assures House. "I wasn't speaking about you. Only myself."

"If anything, your friendship has been … comforting. It's like, it's nice to feel like somepony at least knows something about me that's worth well, something. Even if I don't know anything about myself - anything real I mean."

Did you want to read a Pony (Or sentient AI as appropriate).

Thankfully, like most losses in the Scrapscallion's life, he isn't too bothered by it, primarily because he's not even aware of it.

And with any luck, he never will.

Yeah. Too right!

'Cause this universe is never that cruel, right?

Ooooh, now you're talking! It's time for one of the Scrapscallion's favorite games: Fishing For Dumb Guys. Here's how it works:

1) Wait until a dumb guy sentry is alone.

2) Have the pegasus swoop down, clap a hoof over their dumb mouth, and swoop back up to the rafters, where...

3) The Scrapscallion will bop them with the shocky stick.

4) Tie up and pile up their catch on a nearby rafter.

5) Repeat until no more sentries.

Then for the last two, something special: The Pegasus drops a big length of chain on the two of them, and the Scrapscallion pokes the other end of said chain with the shocky-stick. Double shock, double knockout, the room is theirs, and they can get on with the rescue.

[Rolling to Act Under Fire: 5 + 3 + 4 = 12]

Three quick zaps and four slightly-charred pegasi later, and you're all alone amongst the cells and semi-conscious prisoners. Your companion wedges the doors deeper into the prison shut using a nearby prybar - lest anyone think to interfere with the prison break.

The cells themselves are easily opened - thanks to keys found on one of the guards. The prisoners within start to stir, and before too long you have a motely dozen or so ponies in tow. Including the rag-cloaked pony you'd been looking for.

"Oh thank - thank the princesses." says Dirt, as he stumbles out of his cell. "Thank you so much for the rescue."

What do you do now?

"Sort of," said Luminark. "I've always grounded psychic fragments in physical things before - brought back a ghost and put it into my own body, for instance. I could... hmmmm."

Luminark's first plan had been to animate a bunch of corpses, which had... upsides and downsides. A ghost plus a corpse was a functional if long term unsustainable pony. But what if...

"Rather than mass-possessing dead bodies," Luminark said slowly. "What if I mass possessed a raider tribe? It'd be a two birds with one stone kind of move. Remove a violent and unreasoning gang from the wasteland and get a well armed and secured stronghold at the same time? What could possibly go wrong?"

"Oh my. Mind controlling so many ponies would be horribly unethical, immoral and a tiny bit gauche."

"Not to mention you'd need a significant amount of magical power - but once you had that you could theoretically possess any community, at least temporarily."

She paused, and coughed.

"Which would, as I said before, be terrible."

"That said, there might be another option." she continued. "One that requires less power - you'd be able to bring this town back to the material world, as well as many pony-psychie melds you can do. All you'd need is a conduit, and it may be that I know where you can find one."

What do you do?

They're squatters, and so in theory, she should by rights just tear down the window, ooze on through, and take what is already hers. But there's no sense in starting an unnecessary fight. So, for now, she's going to keep them talking while she scans the area. Surely there's gotta be some way through here that wouldn't occur to a normal pony--an air vent, murder holes, if nothing else a drainage ditch she can squeeze through. Failing that, surely there must be something he wants, yes?

[Read a pony 9. How could she get him to let her pass?]

"You'll have to pardon my ignorance of local parlance, but I've been caught up in an experiment for a few--let's see, carry the two--yes, it has to be a couple centuries. Sundering?"

"'Bout a month or two ago - it's what we locals call it. Those Grand Pegasus Enclave ponies swooped down out of the clouds and blasted the entire Canterlot City off the side of the mountain which led to this 'ere pile o' rubble that we now call home."

"Somethin' about these pre-war buildings tumblin' down out of the Pink seems to attract a certain kind of pony and we want none o' that in here."

Glim Glam - reading between the lines of all this, you realise that he's basically giving the standard gate-guard speech of any wasteland settlement. A much more Southern variant on the "who goes there" that the Friendship Patrol is trained to give to anyone walking too close to the bunker (and also lacking the subsequent shooting/bludgeoning and capture for scientific experimentation).

If you can convince him of your bona fides, or at least that you won't cause any trouble and actually have reason to enter, then he might let you through. In other words, you'll need a manipulate roll.

[Thanqol]

"Oh my. Mind controlling so many ponies would be horribly unethical, immoral and a tiny bit gauche."

"Not to mention you'd need a significant amount of magical power - but once you had that you could theoretically possess any community, at least temporarily."

She paused, and coughed.

"Which would, as I said before, be terrible."

"That said, there might be another option." she continued. "One that requires less power - you'd be able to bring this town back to the material world, as well as many pony-psychie melds you can do. All you'd need is a conduit, and it may be that I know where you can find one."

What do you do?

Luminark didn't really see what was wrong with dropping a necromantic hellbomb into the heart of a raider town. Not because he wasn't a moral pony - this is more of a case of a moral compass going to war with the upbringing it's got.

Still, though. He only had maybe two real ponies with him right now and if one of them had weird hangups about using necromancy to solve problems despite being the modern founder of the discipline it was probably better to go along with it. There was something about that in one of the friendship books he'd read.

"Certainly," said Luminark smoothly. "What did you have in mind?"

[Elanorin]

"It's okay, Milliway" assures House. "I wasn't speaking about you. Only myself."

"If anything, your friendship has been … comforting. It's like, it's nice to feel like somepony at least knows something about me that's worth well, something. Even if I don't know anything about myself - anything real I mean."

Did you want to read a Pony (Or sentient AI as appropriate).

[Certainly. Rolling to Read A Sentient AI: 2+4+0=6 Asking 1 anyway: What is House really feeling?]

The relief on Milliway's exposed face was obvious, that is, if there had been anypony here to see it.

"Well... you do know some things," Milliway said, feeling a little bit better and therefore brave enough to attempt a there there pat on his non-existent back. "You... know that you have a friend. A-and I told you how you were made and... well... uh... your... favourite... colour..."

[BlasTech]

Luminark didn't really see what was wrong with dropping a necromantic hellbomb into the heart of a raider town. Not because he wasn't a moral pony - this is more of a case of a moral compass going to war with the upbringing it's got.

Still, though. He only had maybe two real ponies with him right now and if one of them had weird hangups about using necromancy to solve problems despite being the modern founder of the discipline it was probably better to go along with it. There was something about that in one of the friendship books he'd read.

"Certainly," said Luminark smoothly. "What did you have in mind?"

"As I said before" says Rarity, inspecting a hoof. "Breaching the walls between reality requires a significant investment of power. Or, if one is lucky enough, a link between something that is here, and something that is in the material world."

"Are you familiar with the concept of a Soul Jar?"

[Certainly. Rolling to Read A Sentient AI: 2+4+0=6 Asking 1 anyway: What is House really feeling?]

The relief on Milliway's exposed face was obvious, that is, if there had been anypony here to see it.

"Well... you do know some things," Milliway said, feeling a little bit better and therefore brave enough to attempt a there there pat on his non-existent back. "You... know that you have a friend. A-and I told you how you were made and... well... uh... your... favourite... colour..."

"Is it blue and white?" replies House. Whose voice sounds almost plaintive.

[TheAmishPirate]

Three quick zaps and four slightly-charred pegasi later, and you're all alone amongst the cells and semi-conscious prisoners. Your companion wedges the doors deeper into the prison shut using a nearby prybar - lest anyone think to interfere with the prison break.

The cells themselves are easily opened - thanks to keys found on one of the guards. The prisoners within start to stir, and before too long you have a motely dozen or so ponies in tow. Including the rag-cloaked pony you'd been looking for.

"Oh thank - thank the princesses." says Dirt, as he stumbles out of his cell. "Thank you so much for the rescue."

What do you do now?

“Can the party ‘till we’re home free.” The Scrapscallion grunted at the prisoner, keeping him out of stank range. “Just keep quiet, do what I say, and we’ll get you out of here, capiche? Capiche.”

A small, underfed bit of self-awareness noted that, usually, Fishing for Dumb Guys put him in a much better mood than this. Weird.

At least this was the super easy part. Everybody who tells you otherwise? Not being creative enough. The base is on alert, there’s patrols about, what’s the best way to go undetected?

Answer: Do a job that nobody else wants to do. And what’s a job that nobody else wants to do?

Answer: Moving heavy crap. The bigger and more awkward, the better. Somebody sees a pair of guards hauling some big, nasty boxes around? Their only thought is, “Boy, I’m glad that’s not me, and if I pretend I never saw them, then I might not get drafted into helping.”

It takes some doing, but an old Vault like this was never short on crates and carts. Plus, they had got a bunch of unconscious guards who’re more than happy to donate some uniforms to the cause. Before long, a dozen prisoners, a few unconscious guards, and two operatives had magically transformed into two unfortunate grunts - one of whom was clearly covering their wings under a jacket - and a cart weighed down by some truly gnarly boxes. The ones you gotta have at least two ponies to lift, and a degree to navigate around a tight corner.

Thus rendered invisible, all they gotta do is walk to their exit, and bail.

(Why are they taking the guards, you may ask? Added bonus. A bunch of prison guards all disappear, along with all the grounder prisoners, right when words leaks out about an illegal grounder smooching ring? Veryyyyyyy suspicious.)

[Thanqol]

"As I said before" says Rarity, inspecting a hoof. "Breaching the walls between reality requires a significant investment of power. Or, if one is lucky enough, a link between something that is here, and something that is in the material world."

"Are you familiar with the concept of a Soul Jar?"

"Imbuing an item with a fragment of a pony's soul to imbue it with supernatural abilities?" said Luminark. He was embarrassed to admit he knew about this topic more from bedtime stories (Ooky Spooky's bedtime stories being both intense and cautionary) than from academic literature. "I've heard that it's insanely dangerous. But I also know that some ponies can do it multiple times - Archmage Glitterjelly the Proud," his voice dropped a little, as though imparting a great secret, "was said to have cut their soul into four pieces!!"

[Balmas]

"'Bout a month or two ago - it's what we locals call it. Those Grand Pegasus Enclave ponies swooped down out of the clouds and blasted the entire Canterlot City off the side of the mountain which led to this 'ere pile o' rubble that we now call home."

"Somethin' about these pre-war buildings tumblin' down out of the Pink seems to attract a certain kind of pony and we want none o' that in here."

Glim Glam - reading between the lines of all this, you realise that he's basically giving the standard gate-guard speech of any wasteland settlement. A much more Southern variant on the "who goes there" that the Friendship Patrol is trained to give to anyone walking too close to the bunker (and also lacking the subsequent shooting/bludgeoning and capture for scientific experimentation).

If you can convince him of your bona fides, or at least that you won't cause any trouble and actually have reason to enter, then he might let you through. In other words, you'll need a manipulate roll.

Starlight nods understandingly. "Ah, a reasonable concern. Were the surface-dwellers to learn of my home's location, we'd surely have to deal with scavengers looking to take it apart for a quick bit. But surely a settlement such as yours must do business with the outside? Perhaps I could perform some much-needed repairs or recharging of magical gems in exchange for access to your humble home?"

[9 on manipulate.]

[BlasTech]

“Can the party ‘till we’re home free.” The Scrapscallion grunted at the prisoner, keeping him out of stank range. “Just keep quiet, do what I say, and we’ll get you out of here, capiche? Capiche.”

A small, underfed bit of self-awareness noted that, usually, Fishing for Dumb Guys put him in a much better mood than this. Weird.

At least this was the super easy part. Everybody who tells you otherwise? Not being creative enough. The base is on alert, there’s patrols about, what’s the best way to go undetected?

Answer: Do a job that nobody else wants to do. And what’s a job that nobody else wants to do?

Answer: Moving heavy crap. The bigger and more awkward, the better. Somebody sees a pair of guards hauling some big, nasty boxes around? Their only thought is, “Boy, I’m glad that’s not me, and if I pretend I never saw them, then I might not get drafted into helping.”

It takes some doing, but an old Vault like this was never short on crates and carts. Plus, they had got a bunch of unconscious guards who’re more than happy to donate some uniforms to the cause. Before long, a dozen prisoners, a few unconscious guards, and two operatives had magically transformed into two unfortunate grunts - one of whom was clearly covering their wings under a jacket - and a cart weighed down by some truly gnarly boxes. The ones you gotta have at least two ponies to lift, and a degree to navigate around a tight corner.

Thus rendered invisible, all they gotta do is walk to their exit, and bail.

(Why are they taking the guards, you may ask? Added bonus. A bunch of prison guards all disappear, along with all the grounder prisoners, right when words leaks out about an illegal grounder smooching ring? Veryyyyyyy suspicious.)

Well, it's a good idea. Fortunately, with the base on alert, nobody is too keen on interfering with a pair of guards on a mission.

Unfortunately, even with the base on alert, Enclave security isn't lax enough to let you just waltz out of here with your cargo. You can see guards at stations along the front gate, and a squad watching the landing pads. Even the patrols around the fences seem on alert.

The Applejack's Rangers are still out there though, waiting for a signal.

What do you do?

"Imbuing an item with a fragment of a pony's soul to imbue it with supernatural abilities?" said Luminark. He was embarrassed to admit he knew about this topic more from bedtime stories (Ooky Spooky's bedtime stories being both intense and cautionary) than from academic literature. "I've heard that it's insanely dangerous. But I also know that some ponies can do it multiple times - Archmage Glitterjelly the Proud," his voice dropped a little, as though imparting a great secret, "was said to have cut their soul into four pieces!!"

"Oh … yes, of course" replies Rarity, coughing lightly into a demure hoof.

There was a moment of silence. Mostly so the universe could register the name "Archmage Glitterjelly", consider it for historical accuracy, and move on quickly.

"In my time studying Necromancy, I became rather adept at the creation and imbuing of soul jars." she continued "I hardly had a choice to learn, to tell the truth, but in the end it was my choice to use that knowledge. For that I have no regrets."

"What I am saying is that there may be one or two soul jars of my own, still resting in the wasteland. We can use those to provide an anchor for the spell. Me on this end, and the fragment on the other."

"I. Can be your conduit."

What do you say?

Starlight nods understandingly. "Ah, a reasonable concern. Were the surface-dwellers to learn of my home's location, we'd surely have to deal with scavengers looking to take it apart for a quick bit. But surely a settlement such as yours must do business with the outside? Perhaps I could perform some much-needed repairs or recharging of magical gems in exchange for access to your humble home?"

[9 on manipulate.]

"Ah see you get mah point." replies the voice. "Alright. How about we make a deal. We could use the help of a pony of your … nature. You agree to that, an' I'll let you in"

"Whaddya say, miss. Do we have an understandin'?"

What do you do?

[Thanqol]

"Oh … yes, of course" replies Rarity, coughing lightly into a demure hoof.

There was a moment of silence. Mostly so the universe could register the name "Archmage Glitterjelly", consider it for historical accuracy, and move on quickly.

"In my time studying Necromancy, I became rather adept at the creation and imbuing of soul jars." she continued "I hardly had a choice to learn, to tell the truth, but in the end it was my choice to use that knowledge. For that I have no regrets."

"What I am saying is that there may be one or two soul jars of my own, still resting in the wasteland. We can use those to provide an anchor for the spell. Me on this end, and the fragment on the other."

"I. Can be your conduit."

What do you say?

"I will humbly accept your guidance, Minister Rarity," said Luminark. Before he'd been focused on merely being polite, but this was a different tone to his voice now - he was being formal. When one agrees to take spellwork direction from another unicorn then - the books say - there is no room for conflict. The apprentice must subordinate to the master in all ways for any discord between magicians opens the door to enormous peril.

The other part of it was nerves. He was nervy! He'd never even participated in magic this big before. He was a theory pony, and the idea of actually participating in a ritual...

He needed all the help he could get.

[BlasTech]

[Certainly. Rolling to Read A Sentient AI: 2+4+0=6 Asking 1 anyway: What is House really feeling?]

The relief on Milliway's exposed face was obvious, that is, if there had been anypony here to see it.

"Well... you do know some things," Milliway said, feeling a little bit better and therefore brave enough to attempt a there there pat on his non-existent back. "You... know that you have a friend. A-and I told you how you were made and... well... uh... your... favourite... colour..."

"Is it blue and white?" replies House. Whose voice sounds almost plaintive.

[Sorry, forgot I'm meant to still answer on a miss under the new rules]

House is feeling anxious. No, wait, that's not strong enough.

Things are wrong in what passes for his mind; he's feeling like there's something missing, that there's something not right. He's feeling like there's something just out of reach, just out of sight around a corner. Something that should be there. A memory, or a concept or feeling. If he can just find it, just catch the barest glimpse, things will make sense again.

And will all of this fuelling a desire to know the answer to your question, he's feeling desperate.

What do you do?

[Balmas]

"Ah see you get mah point." replies the voice. "Alright. How about we make a deal. We could use the help of a pony of your … nature. You agree to that, an' I'll let you in"

"Whaddya say, miss. Do we have an understandin'?"

What do you do?

"Hmm," Starlight nods, and pretends to think. "Gee, an open-ended request and a hesitation on my... nature. I'm sure it's innocent and nothing ill can come of this."

She gives a winning grin at the ghoul, and taps her hooves. "Means yes."

[Elanorin]

"Is it blue and white?" replies House. Whose voice sounds almost plaintive.

Oh.

So not grey and white?

"Sure, those are..." Luminark's colours, "...colours," Milliway made herself say, feeling embarrassing levels of neediness rising from seemingly nowhere.

Not even pink and white? Like I was before?

House is feeling anxious. No, wait, that's not strong enough.

Things are wrong in what passes for his mind; he's feeling like there's something missing, that there's something not right. He's feeling like there's something just out of reach, just out of sight around a corner. Something that should be there. A memory, or a concept or feeling. If he can just find it, just catch the barest glimpse, things will make sense again.

And will all of this fuelling a desire to know the answer to your question, he's feeling desperate.

What do you do?

Concern for House's state of mind was a distraction that she needed, even if she wouldn't go so far as to call it welcome. She felt responsible for his wellbeing. She was feeling responsible for an awful lot lately, and while some of it was perhaps less justified, House was her creation, if he was hurting it was nothing but her responsibility.

She had no idea where to start, she thought she'd thought of everything when she built him, just the fact that he's grown this self aware was kind of proof that she'd even outdone herself. But clearly something was... maybe he just needed a hug. Maybe she was the one needing a hug. The fact that there was nothing but a column of cables available to hug sparked an idea in her head.

"House... do you want a body?"

[BlasTech]

"I will humbly accept your guidance, Minister Rarity," said Luminark. Before he'd been focused on merely being polite, but this was a different tone to his voice now - he was being formal. When one agrees to take spellwork direction from another unicorn then - the books say - there is no room for conflict. The apprentice must subordinate to the master in all ways for any discord between magicians opens the door to enormous peril.

The other part of it was nerves. He was nervy! He'd never even participated in magic this big before. He was a theory pony, and the idea of actually participating in a ritual...

He needed all the help he could get.

"Very well then." intoned Rarity "Take my hoof."

The two of you sit on your haunches, facing one another with eyes closed, your hoof in hers.

"I want you to think back, to when you first cast a spell." she says. "Not necromancy, but back to when you first recall using magic."

Luminark. Think back, tell us what that felt like, and Open Your Brain.

"Hmm," Starlight nods, and pretends to think. "Gee, an open-ended request and a hesitation on my... nature. I'm sure it's innocent and nothing ill can come of this."

She gives a winning grin at the ghoul, and taps her hooves. "Means yes."

"All right" replies the ghoul, who taps something off panel.

The airlock gives a mighty hiss, before sliding apart in an appropriately dramatic reveal of …

Well, a pile of junk really.

The "community" that the ghoul spoke of was rather ramshackle. It looked like what would be left of a high-tech laboratory if a giant had picked it up, shaken it vigorously, and then been inhabited by homeless squatter ponies. Given what he'd been saying earlier about the installation falling off the side of the mountain, it probably wasn't a completely inaccurate description.

Other ghouls poke their heads out of the rubble, eyeing you with something approaching apprehension and curiosity.

What do you do as you walk through this township? Do you strike up a conversation, or do you try to scope out the area?

She had no idea where to start, she thought she'd thought of everything when she built him, just the fact that he's grown this self aware was kind of proof that she'd even outdone herself. But clearly something was... maybe he just needed a hug. Maybe she was the one needing a hug. The fact that there was nothing but a column of cables available to hug sparked an idea in her head.

"House... do you want a body?"

There's a moment of silence, and you get the distinct impression that you've caught him off guard.

"Is that, something you can really do?" he asks.

What do you say?

[Thanqol]

"Very well then." intoned Rarity "Take my hoof."

The two of you sit on your haunches, facing one another with eyes closed, your hoof in hers.

"I want you to think back, to when you first cast a spell." she says. "Not necromancy, but back to when you first recall using magic."

Luminark. Think back, tell us what that felt like, and Open Your Brain.

Luminark, like any unicorn in his situation, tried to raise the sun.

It did not matter that he had never seen it! That wasn't the point! The point was that it was possible that you were the re-incarnation of a perfect pony princess unless proven pedestrian, so he'd filled his room with diagrams of the sun and all the books he could get regarding sun-related things, and a little monitor for the solar mana collectors on the rooftop. He'd drawn all the protective rituals and circles in clumsy foal handwriting. He'd taken a deep breath. He'd given his blank flank a meaningful and determined look. And then he'd started to cast the spell.

It had resulted in an absolute splitting headache and a wailing, tear-eyed run to mom. It was bad enough that he wasn't a princess, it didn't need that much pain to go with it! Frankly it was unfair and terrible and he hated the sun for being so mean.

But he remembered, if fearfully, the connection. The heat and weight and immensity. The feeling like the whole world was balancing on the tip of his horn and he just needed to let the magic run down and around the spiral grooves. Magic was always something to flinch from that day onwards to Luminark, and he couldn't quite conceal his tremble as he began to tap into it.

[Open Your Brain: 8]

[TheAmishPirate]

Well, it's a good idea. Fortunately, with the base on alert, nobody is too keen on interfering with a pair of guards on a mission.

Unfortunately, even with the base on alert, Enclave security isn't lax enough to let you just waltz out of here with your cargo. You can see guards at stations along the front gate, and a squad watching the landing pads. Even the patrols around the fences seem on alert.

The Applejack's Rangers are still out there though, waiting for a signal.

What do you do?

How's this for a signal?

All those losers out there, guarding their dumb base or whatever. Pop quiz! What's the one thing they're not looking at? Did you say 'their dumb base?' Ding ding ding, we have a winner! You've solved the mystery of "why these dumb losers are dumb and losers and bad at their jobs, which is great for The Scrapscallion, and anybody the Scrapscallion is currently chilling with." Your prize is: You get to watch the Scrapscallion dunk on a few more of these dumbos.

It's easy. He and the Pegasus are gonna just make their way through the ranks, conga-line style, zapping or punching guards as need be. And since they're all looking out there, they won't notice what's going on until it's their turn to be zapped. And if anything goes wrong, there's a bunch of Rangers out there ready to pick up the slack.

[Not sure if this requires another Act Under Fire, but if it does: 1 + 4 + 3 = 8]