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40641768 No. 40641768
#Open #Canon: The Unikon #Adventure #Dark #Violence #Ponies #Semi-serious

It has been a week since the lands fell to ruin.

The most sacred land among the united tribes was sullied by an Equestrian settlement, known then as Twilight City, suddenly erupted one frosty morning in an endless array of strange demonic spirits, known only to the tribes as the Wendigo.

Just as it was thousands of years ago, the Thunderbird tribe began the long, arduous task of containing and quarantining of the accursed beasts, blanketing the Unikon territories in a permanent winter.

The bears used their abilities to attempt to keep the land healed of the taint that spewed forth from the now desecrated Source, hoping to maintain the natural order as it was.

The wolves took to battle to confront the wendigo, despite knowing well enough the curse they would have to endure, the allure of power that would be strong.

As for the pony settlers, many fled to the south towards the mining settlements of Celestia and Luna, both sister cities now encased in massive walls of stone and lumber. The only things in and out of the settlements now were the occasional armored train, carrying food, mail, and supplies alongside the usual transfer of refugees and soldiers. They had lost contact with the small mission station near Twilight City, the fates of the 100 souls stationed there now unknown to the outside world.

The taint of the Wendigo now held several of those that came in close contact with them in its allure. This taint would soon spread outwards, leaving the territories back south, straight for the home nation of the Buffalo... and the heart of Equestria.
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>> No. 40642079
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"When the accursed arrives, brethren. Send them back into the abyss!. Their hearts are black and their bodies rot. They shrivel in the presence of the warrior's spirit!" roars a tall and bulky looking wolf, his armour looking to be a size too small for his hefty frame.As he shouts to the night sky, holding aloft a banner to his tribe, the entire wolven line erupts into howls and cheers. Thousands upon thousands of sons, husbands, and brothers from across all tribes have come together into a single legion; the living wall of fur, flesh, and steel stretching across the narrow valley pass that separates the last of the Unikon from the rest of the world. Banners from countless tribes stand tall over and behind the battle lines, their icons fluttering with a silent power from the icy winds brought forth by the Thunderbirds of the High Mountains.

Across, just hundreds of yards away, march the twisting and black affliction of the Wendigo. Dark forms, both familiar and not claw and lumber their way out from the once pristine and green forests into the clearing below. The creatures snarl and howl, the gruesome parodies of their former selves crying out through the valley below.

From the center of the Wolf battle-lines stood the small fortress that was the Warchief's encampent. From here the regent for the aging Warchief Brav Ironclaw commanded his forces.

"Warchief Ironclaw." The tainted scar has reached the mouth of the valley." spoke one of senior commanders of his Great Legion, extending a battle worn arm across the hide map which sat upon the table.

"We have no further to flee and have not heard anything from either the Bear Clans or Thunderbirds. It is suspected that they have either fallen or sought refuge with the four-legs." he continued, folding his arms across his chest.

The Warchief snarled, his remaining right eye tracking across the battlemap and then to his commanders.

"It seems our options are little. Send for runners to their last known encampments. And one for the Four-Leg clan." the Warchief ordered, his growl low at the end of each of this words.

"The four-legs, warchief? You do not suppose-"

"Watch your tongue, Scarhide." the Warchief said quick to cut off the aged and grizzled wolf.

"I share your hatred as much as any one else, but, survival is what is paramount. If we cannot pass through words alone then let it be through sword and blood."

Commander Scarhide retracted, a scowl now across his elder features as he held himself back.

"Very well, Warchief. My runners will be dispatched right away."

"Now, we must prepare the tribes to move....."

"Ignite missiles! Catapults, loose!" screamed a centurion over the moans and screams of the charging demons, the siege-engineers lighting ablaze the pitch-coated stones and bolts which sat in their weapons. Moments later the entire battery of well over twenty of these towering contraptions let fly their payload, their shots sailing like comets into the advancing wave of death that approached.

"Shiiiieeelld Waalll!" bellowed the General which stood overlooking his troops, only feet behind the very front of the fighting. Echoing commands rolled on down the line as they passed the word, a great thunderous clashing of wood and steel rumbling along the mile long front as they raised and interlocked their tower shields.

"Now hold them back!"
>> No. 40642318
They came like a looming shadow, calling at them like elks, but snarling like rabid dogs. The stench of rot and sulfur filling the air around the amassed army of the ethereal plain, the wildlife around them growing gnarled and vicious.

The wendigo spoke not a word, the bleached white deer skull glaring at the amassed warband with empty sockets burning a bright red light in each, yellowed teeth grinning at them. A bony arm and hand arose, a slender finger pointing at them as the tide of the damned surged forward, slowed by the frost and snow at their feet.

They snorted and whined, chattering along as they advanced on the line of defenders, unmoved by their comrades falling to the bombardment. Tattered Equestrian uniforms, shattered segmented wolf armor, bear chain mail, and even the headdress of a thunderbird were seen among the approaching foe, former brothers in arms now twisted and maimed in the wendigo's own ghastly image.

They rapidly began to close the gap amidst the brutal bombardment of the trebuchets and catapults, flames futilely enveloping the tainted masses. Their antlers and broken bodies crashed into the barriers, more savage than sentient now.

Last edited at Sat, Oct 4th, 2014 02:03

>> No. 40648101
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Snow and ice fell heavily on the Unikon & Ponyville Rail line, the massive locomotive tailor made to pull up the hefty grades rumbling along, smoke and steam billowing out into the cold air as it and the train it pulled gradually journeyed north. Passengers looked out at the snow drifts along the tracks, trees zipping past as soldiers walked up and down aisles, inspecting windows and glaring through the foul weather to see if there was impending danger.

A donkey soon entered the car, conductor's cap tilted up upon his head, teeth biting down on tickets to punch them. He even had a pair of small spectacles sitting at the end of his nose, looking carefully at every ticket before punching them.

"Attention, Fillies and Gentlecolts. We'll be arriving in Celestia town shortly! Please have your luggage ready to disembark, and make sure that you have all your belongings on you before exiting the train. I like to thank you on behalf of the U&P for choosing us for safe travels to the Unikon Territories. I will also like to remind you to follow the laws of the town and not to venture outside of the city walls during your stay in the territories. Thank you again, and have a safe journey home."

The screeching of brakes was heard up and down the hefty and heavily loaded train. The blast of the whistle ripped through the silence, and the bell began to toll as the train began to come to a slow and complete stop. The doors were carefully opened, cold air biting into the usually warm cars.

This was the Unikon Territories, held by the Kingdom of Equestria. And boy, was it colder than hell freezing over.
>> No. 40648278
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Truthfully, Coal had no idea what he was doing. He wasn't sure why he was being moved from one city to another, it was something about logistics. Too many fugitives, too little who could actually work. Celestia must be taking the brunt of it, but Coal had no idea. He was a simple miner after all, and he'd like to remain so

He flicked his cigar lightly towards the window, a small frown of concentration as he saw the ember ashes get swept up by the snowstorm. The small slit towards the cold outside ruffled his black coat and old colt's cap, and on instinct he pulled it on tighter. The thirty year-old looked at least fifty in the getup, but he liked it that way; made him look like he knew more than he did. Less questions that way. Kept out that constant cold, too.
Most of the journey transpired this way, gazing outside the window in boredom and finding the majority of the entertainment in the contrast between his cigar and the monochrome outside. If he looked elsewhere, he might lock eyes with one of those intimidating soldiers.

But before he knew it, they'd arrived with a squeal of brakes and the wail of a pipe. Dusting ash off himself, he gathered his things - a single, comically small, leather suitcase filled with clothes - and stood before the exit to the vaguely foreign city with a scowl not far off from his expression, muddled only slightly by the handle in his mouth as his eyes squinted like Silvester Stallion. He figured that he might spot something he could help with along the way, and if he was so direly needed, then someone could find him themselves. Maybe the Administration office would be a start, but hell if he knew where that was. With his tiny suitcase swinging in his jaw, he joined the bustle.

Last edited at Fri, Oct 10th, 2014 10:20

>> No. 40648558
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The train platform bustled with activity for those departing. Soldiers formed up in designated spots, filing towards the barracks quietly, massive grey overcoats enveloping their brilliant crimson and violet uniforms they wore, kepis sitting on each of their heads, and rifle devices strapped upon their backs. They marched off. A line of miners shuffled toward the next platform over upon the pedestrian bridge, the narrow gauge locomotive simmering as it waited to haul ponies, mules, donkeys, and equipment towards the Celestia mines, several massive stallions working on loading crates, and emptying out hopper cars.

The town of Celestia was, on all accounts, an impressive place. The streets were well lit, and ponies hustled and bustled up and down streets, carriages and wagons rolling to and from the station to deliver visitors and supplies every which way. Mane Street was probably the busiest section of the city, ending at the station down below and leading up to the modest mayoral home at the other side of town. Aligning the streets was the saloon, the shops, post office, a few restaurants, the bank, armory... It was a bit lucky that the administrative mining office was just near the station.

In front of the line where a few ponies and mules had lined up was a three legged young colt who was bickering up a storm with whomever was in the window, a snarl upon his young face. He was covered head to toe in dust now being snowed upon, his nose and mouth free of debris, and his eyes outlined with that of goggles. Upon his back were a saddlebag, a crate marked "Unikon Mining Co.", a simple lantern, and a pick.

"Look, I don't care HOW late the trains are running! I've been waiting for my pay for two weeks now, I'm not going to starve out here! I'm sure the bank would be willing to give YOU guys a loan, you can afford it!"

It seemed he was there a while, a few of those behind him beginning to grumble as they shuffled home, about sick of the snowfall.

Last edited at Fri, Oct 10th, 2014 15:40

>> No. 40648573
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"Slay their darkened souls! Drive them back!" shouted the wolf General, raising the battle standard of his clan high into the snow whipped air as the tremendous mass of rotting and black flesh slammed into the wolf legion's lines. The wall of shields bent like a great branch of an oak in a fierce gale, the muscle and primal courage of the canine warriors holding against the blackened tied which sought to drown them.

"Now, first rank, thrust!" the Field General commanded with a great roar, the line moving in near perfect unison. Their arms shot forth like an arrow, their short swords driving into the bodies of the corrupted soldiers before them.

"Archers! Ready missiles!" shouted the Field General again, sweeping his arm for all to see. A succession of confirming shouts rolled all along the deep lines of wolven warriors, the subordinate leaders issuing out command all along the line.



A poncho clad colt sat not too far off from you, his back strapped down with bags and his eyes obscured by a wide and flat brimmed hat. As you and the rest of the passengers rise from their seats to leave the train, this particular individual lightly bumps into you as they move to leave.

"Whoops, didn't mean for that." he quietly says to you, a white stick protruding from between his lips. He give a small, but welcoming smile as he looks up to you, a set of hazel eyes set in a young, if not slightly worn face.

"New to this side of the kingdom too I take it?
>> No. 40648585
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Chop took a moment to survey the gringo, eyeing him up and down a bit before nodding noncommittally, keeping his eyes to the road and taking in the many sights with great impassiveness. With his mouth half-muffled, he spoke slowly and deliberately.
"Something like that. Unikon requested ah transhfer. It's just parta' politics."

In his nonchalant search, he caught sight of one of those ostentatious uniforms, saying with a dull murmur and a nod of his head in the right direction.
"And tha' army, by the looks of things... You'll be seein' a lotta' those around."

It wasn't long to find the Admin building, a blessing and a curse as already there seemed to be a riot. One of the young'uns was flying piss-and-vinegar at the paymaker. Pulling down his cap further with a nudge of his hoof, it seemed like it was time to put in the boot. He put down the suitcase and gave the stranger a curt nod.

"Alright. What seems to be tha' situation here?" He said with an authorial tone, bringing himself up to his full height. He trotted up to the Stump and looked between him and the kiosk in neutral disdain.

Last edited at Fri, Oct 10th, 2014 17:03

>> No. 40648598
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"Yeah, there's been too many of the Princesses 'finest' trotting around here. But what can you do? Frontier and all. Once I get out of the city here I'll have a lot more reign, I'll tell you what." replied the young colt, now moving alongside his fellow train-goer to the admin office to finish their check-in to the town. The two come to see this one hobbled looking pony in a savage argument with whatever poor worker was on the other side of the booth, the dusty and snow sprinkled pony giving the civil servant a certainly stern talking to.

"Uuuh, best not to get involved I think. None of our business, right?" nudges the poncho wearing colt, one side of his mouth clenched shut to keep the pale colored stick between his teeth. A subdued look of worry was over his face as he spoke, the young stallion trotting to the side to try and pull away the now growing crowd.
>> No. 40648620
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The elderly unicorn within the kiosk looked back with a bit of a rather stern, yet calm demeanor, eyes behind rather cleaned spectacles, a pencil thin mustache just under his nostrils.

"Well... as I was telling Mr. Digger here, the Unikon Trading Company cannot rightfully pay its workers during time of war and emergency, as all of our funds have gone to paying for sending for regiments to fight off the natives and whatever ghastly thing they've unleashed."

"And I'M telling him he and the damn company mine out enough gold and silver from the Celestia and Luna mines to be able to pay us on time! They practically paid to drag out the whole army out here! All they're missing is the damn Royal Guard!" The three legged pony snorted and stamped on the ground.

"Now see here, young colt! The Unikon Mining Company does right by its workers, and will pay with a bonus come next pay day! Now go on about your business before I have the sergeant called over to pull you away!"

The colt snorted and stamped once more before hobbling off down the street towards the saloon, grumbling on.

The unicorn shook his head, looking out the window of the kiosk. "So... how may I help you fine gentlecolts?"


Powder, shot, and arrows smashed into the oncoming wave of the accursed wretches, their bodies slamming into the formation like the tide upon the rocks. Teeth gnashed, bones rattled, and the odd hiss of chattering and inhuman wailing filled the air around the defenders. They pushed on, stepping and stumbling over their fallen, the creatures moving sluggishly through the ice and snow.

Lightning ripped through the skies above the formation, the thundering flap of a lone thunderbird seen above, twirling and dancing in the air above them, forming small tempests to quell the tide below. Several of the creatures below took notice, beginning to throw themselves into the air towards the new threat.
>> No. 40648682
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"UURAAAAH!" screamed the near uncountable numbers of wolf warriors slashing and smashing back against the Cursed which beset them. With unholy strength the equally as infinite creatures grasped and clawed at the canid soldiers, their wooden shield rotting and blades and armour rusting at their touch. Some sections of line were completely torn out by the demons, being hurled into the ravenous jaws of the waiting dead. Still they fought even in the face of certain death, their flesh rotting from their bodies even as they swung their final blows. Though not yet deterred, more warriors moved up from the subsequent lines to fill the gaps, their shields and spears rising like the rushing waters of a great flood.

"Never relent! Your ancestors stand with you, brothers!" shouts the Field General as he raises a hefty looking and crudely made matchlock, the hammer striking the powder as he pulled the trigger. A great and sharp roar belched from the weapon, a scattering blast of metal raking through the crawling lines of the shambling dead.

Elsewhere, at the command tent...

"Sire, our lines hold but there is no telling for how long. Their magic only grows stronger, and even the recently fallen rise to assail their former kin." speaks one advisor, the elder and grizzled brown wolf speaking quickly to the young Warchief. Others too piped in, the Tent soon filling with a calamitous chatter of warnings and urgings. This all swirled around the ears of the Warchief, his teeth gritting as his single eye shut in frustration. His rage boiled in his chest, the arguing and 'advice' proving to annoy more than aid.

"ENOUGH!" he shouts, slamming a set of gauntleted hands onto the fur lined table.

"I will take to the field myself." the tent fell silent as all eyes locked upon him, a few of the other Wolf Commanders standing mouth agape at what had just been said.

"What few allies we have retained in the Thunderbirds can only do so much, it seems, by the looks of these reports. It is imperative we rally what forces we have left and withdrawal.

"And Withdrawal to where, young Warchief? There are no strongholds left for us to retreat to." growled the elder brown furred wolf again. "Unless you sugge-

"I decree that we seek aid and asylum with the four-legs, yes. Failing that we break through by force. It is our only chance at salvation for our people! Now go to your Clans. There is no room or time for debate."

With an almost suspicious grin the poncho-clad colt pushed his way to the front of the Kiosk, nudging his new found companion up with him.

"Oh just checking into the registry here. Looking to stay here in this lovely winter retreat you all have set up."
>> No. 40648934
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Coal spared barely a glance for the bounty hunter, but it was no less lacking in sharpness for it. He watched the two natives argue with a furrowed brow, one which only sunk further as the stump limped away in resignation. With a cross between dismay and subtle disgust, he approached the counter reproachfully, pointedly ignoring the niceties traded between the other two.

"Unikon not paying their workers now?"
>> No. 40649214
The unicorn frowned at the one butting into the conversation.

"Don't you start up with this, too. I've already explained that all the money is going to keep the tribes and those... things they've unleashed on us." He frowned as he looked at the pair. "I'll have you know the pay cut is affecting me too, and quite frankly, that is the least of our concerns here. Do you think this weather is natural this time of year? Those blasted Thunderbirds have made it nearly impossible for any pegasi to take flight, I'm not even entirely sure what they're up to with these blizzard conditions. Last week, it was cool autumn days with the occasional snow, now we're being buried in the slush." He was getting notably irritated.

He cleared his throat, straightening up slightly. "Now then, any more questions, or must I endure yet another tribunal over late wages?" He leaned down away from sight for a moment, emerging later to set down a folded map and a stack of papers, his hoof still over them as his eyes rested on the two, brow contorted in a frown.

Last edited at Sat, Oct 11th, 2014 09:24

>> No. 40649562
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"I don't see how the weather is related to our pays." he said frankly, matching the accountants disposition, meeting his gaze sternly. A pause lingered for just a little too long to be dismissed as he shifted his stance slightly.

"Coal Chop, Luna city, mine Clavius. Awaiting assignment, or something like that. The letter I gots was vague on that front. Any way I can speak to a higher authority?"
>> No. 40649643
The Unicorn looked back rather coldly, sliding his spectacles back up the long nose of his, the lenses enveloped in an aurora of magic as he closed his eyes.

"Ah, the new transfer then... I'm not sure how the clerks in Luna City ran things over there, but you're in UMC's Headquarters now. If you REALLY wish to bother with the management, their offices are located just down Mane Street near the Bank, though I'm afraid they're closed for the evening. You can feel free to wait a few moments while I look for an opening in housing."

He turned around, fiddling with filing cabinets as folder after folder floated up, then back into place, his horn glowing. "Chance, Cherry, Chip... Ah, here it is, Chop." The folder pulled itself out and landed delicately on the Kiosk window's sill, a set of keys and an elegantly written check laid out. "Now the-"

The boom of a cannon was heard along the wall, along with a few sporadic shots. It died down quickly as soon as it began, one of the soldiers along the wall shouting something about flea-bags. The unicorn blinked slightly in surprise, then shook his head, going back to what he was doing.

"... now then, your new housing will not be ready until tomorrow evening. We've had to cover the costs in renting out a few rooms permanently in the saloon to accommodate for the few transfers from Luna. Your hazard pay and your last paycheck from the Clavius mine was sent here ahead. You may have that cashed at the bank tomorrow morning. You will be working at the Prometheus Gold Mine, come by tomorrow morning to pick up your equipment here. The train to the mines leaves Platform 2 at the posted times on this schedule, depending on what your shift supervisor gives you. Management's offices do not open until 9am, you may bug them there if you so wish." He looked on at the two of them. "... Also, I wasn't aware that the company now offered lackeys to miners."

Last edited at Sat, Oct 11th, 2014 14:04

>> No. 40649644
"Thunderbirds, eh? And what if somepony managed to make those bird-brains disappear?" said the cold with a grin, leaning closer into the snow swept countertop. His hooves sat atop the drenched wood with a clatter, his eyes ablaze with a certain hunger, most likely for bits.
>> No. 40649670
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Chop's stoic countenance broke as he flinched at the sudden explosion, cap practically flying off his head along with his eyebrows. Much of the continued rabble from the kiosk was forgotten as Coal owlishly stared towards where the sound had come from, blinking repeatedly. Those canons were close. Real close, not like in Luna. A gust of wind that tugged at his coat reminded him to keep it close, and slowly his attentions shifted back.

He managed to pick up most of the information. Sort of. He thought he heard something about no housing, but then he heard saloon, and that sounded great.

It was right as he grabbed the keys and the cheque that he was caught off-guard by the final question, as the kiosk person hadn't really established himself as a question-sorta asking pony. Chop swiftly shook his head with a great deal of insistence.
"He's not with me."
As he backed off, he pulled a subtle face towards the bespectacled one, one mildly amused - even slightly sympathetic. With that small smile he regarded the bounty hunter and his ridiculous poncho and wondered how long he'd last before his limbs turned to popsicles. Then he started to trot away, right towards that saloon. He hoped it was a good one, he could do with a drink. He had a feeling he'd need a lot of those here in Celest.
The stump might make for good company, too.

Last edited at Sat, Oct 11th, 2014 14:37

>> No. 40649684
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The unicorn looked at the eager pony with nothing more than a rather bemused smirk, shaking his head as he laughed. "You... take on the Thunderbirds yourself?"

He leaned out the window just as the other pony turned to head off towards the Saloon. "... Are you aware of how big those creatures are? How much power they can muster? Do you think the storm displays by the Thunderbolts are even more impressive than by creatures who's very wings spark and glow with the very lightning of the storms? Oh, these creatures aren't like anything from down south, my friend. And they are bigger than we are, MUCH bigger. Could probably rival the size of a full grown dragon. And their voices... boom like thunder. Oh, I guarantee you, if anyone was to disappear, it'd be you..."

With that, he handed over the visitor's information and basic laws of the Unikon over towards the bounty hunter before shutting the window of the kiosk for the night.

Thunder and lightning boomed above, all the local ponies looking up worriedly and instinctively.

There, a massive outline in the clouds, lightning arching across its massive wingspan. It glided slowly over Celestia, flapping once more, thunder booming, lightning arching across the skies. Brilliantly glowing blue eyes looked down upon the town as the massive avian circled overhead once, twice... Turning slowly away, flapping and heading off towards where the land began to die and wither, where the dim light of the moon shone an eerie green.

Last edited at Sat, Oct 11th, 2014 14:56

>> No. 40649687
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Coal Chop looked up at the crackling static, saw the giant electric bird, and then continued to walk forwards with a complete deadpan expression, passing by the townsfolk who stood and gawped. It was at this moment that Coal knew that this was not going to be easy, or even simple. The town was sitting on an electric furnace. What a pain.

He marched into the saloon, and past any fancy description of the place, and went straight for the bar.
"Whisky, please."
With his displeased expression, he scanned around for his three-legged friend. He seemed like an easy sort.

Last edited at Sat, Oct 11th, 2014 15:11

>> No. 40649801
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The mare behind the counter nodded, getting to work on pouring him a drink. She turned away to pull the bottle off the shelf, frowning slightly.

"I'll have to go get a fresh bottle below, I'm sorry for the wait, sir." With that, she trotted off towards a door marked "Cellar", disappearing down the steps. The saloon was scattered with a few stallions and mares, mostly enjoying a quick evening drink and small bite, or chattering around the massive gaming table, the faded green felt upon it laden with chips and poker cards.

Most seemed like miners or soldiers, the mares probably either waiting for husbands and loved ones, or probably "waiting for work", as most things would usually go in the frontier towns.

Hobbling down the stairs was the three legged colt, cleaned up, his back laid down with bedsheets and cleaning supplies now. He looked over to the bar counter, seeing the mare come back up.

"Mom, I got the rooms cleaned out. Some idiot burnt a hole in one of the sheets again, had to replace it..."

The mare frowned as she set the bottle down next to a shot glass. "Figures... Go ahead and send that to the linens anyway. I could probably use the fabric to make something else. Your dinner's ready in the back, sweetie."

The colt smiled, hobbling off towards the back room, slowing down as he looked at the stallion sitting at the counter.
>> No. 40650397
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Coal managed a friendly wave towards the stump, but made no further effort to coax him into a conversation. He couldn't very well deprive a son of his meal and the hard work of the one who made it for him. Wouldn't be right, so it was shortly after his wave that he shuffled in his seat to face the bartender. Before grabbing the bottle, he grabbed his cap and gave it two quick raps under the counter to knock the snow off it before placing it next to the bottle. It wasn't like the hat hid much, as he was entirely without a mane on his head. He gave his dome a scratch and then set about pouring the glass. A small smirk played on his lips as he poured the auburn liquid.

"That happen a lot? Folks burning holes in their beds?"
>> No. 40650417
"More often than I'd care to count nowadays. Sure there was an occasional burn or two that happened, but since Twilight City was abandoned, it's been happening more often."

Digger disappeared into the back to eat, his mother wiping off the counter. "You're not wearing a uniform or a suit, so I take it you're new in town. Don't mind me prying into it a bit, I like to get to know anyone that comes in." She granted a warm smile, tossing the rag over her back.

"Welcome to Celestia. This here's the Singing Canary saloon. I'm Shotglass, owner and proprietor of this place. I offer rooms if you want 'em. Don't play by my rules, my man's the one leading the militia here. He's a miner by heart, so he can deck most anyone with a kick."

She gave a slight grin, nodding to the back room. "The three legged pony is my pride and joy. Everyone in town took to calling him Digger."
>> No. 40650438
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Lotta information, but he managed with a few nods.
"He seems like a good man."

For a moment he was caught in some indecision, as he glanced at the glass and back towards the bartender, wondering in which order would be prefered. He never was one much for the social graces.
"I'm from Luna, Coal Chop. Pleasure making your acquaintances, Shotglass."
The hoof that hovered around the glass stretched out over the counter in an open invitation. It seemed like being on good terms with the Canary would be good down in the mines, as he would give a firm shake.
"And I would ask for a bed to stay ins, but Unikon already covered that."
He flipped the hat on the counter, revealing the cheque and the keys underneath. He smiled gently.

Last edited at Sun, Oct 12th, 2014 10:28

>> No. 40650674
"Ah, transfer. You're room will be 101. Don't let the number fool you, first two designate the floor and separate it from the room number." She gave a slight chuckle as she leaned over to shake his hoof. "Be prepared to stay there for a long while, they never have housing ready on time."

Digger came out from the back, setting himself by the counter as a bottle of cola was set before him by Shotglass. He looked over towards Coal, brow furrowed as his mind ticked.

"You were out by the administration office, right? Hope that the teller didn't give you a bad deal." The young colt looked forward with a frown. "He's a real jerk."

"Now Digger, he's just doing his job. Not like we're doing too bad for money, sweetie. If he's late on pay again, I'll just how up the process for what he orders in here. "
>> No. 40650689
(*hike up the prices. Stupid phone)
>> No. 40650911
File 141314878290.gif - (737.12KB , 250x300 , like the sun.gif )

"It's hard times all around." He said with a shrug, defending the surly kiosk. "He's just following orders, like the rest of us all."

He picked up his glass in a gesture he saw the unicorns do, but it was a lot trickier without them fancy telekinesis. The shot glass stood in the center of his hoof like a dainty little flower, and he nodded appreciably towards the two.
"To hard times."

Carefully he brought it up to his snout and downed the thing in swift order. His neck trembled slightly as he shifted his jaw, considering the powerful flavour until finally he broke out into a wide, beaming smile.
"This is some damn good whiskey, ma'am! Whereabouts you procured it?
>> No. 40650939
"Oh, that? It's locally made." Shotglass carefully turned the bottle around, the label depicting a rather long railspike being slammed into the ground by a massive hammer. Above that, the words Steel Driver were depicted in bold letters.

"Town got tired of paying taxes to import it in, started making our own when they were still laying tracks. If you want, I can give you a bottle as a welcoming present."

Digger looked at the one next to him, blinking at how he held the shot glass in his hoof like that. "... I wish I could do that. I can't even balance an apple on my nose." He gripped the cola bottle opening with his teeth, tossing his head back to gulp it down before setting it back down onto the counter.

Another stallion walked in, heading over to the cork board near the bar, several rolled up papers in his saddlebag. He pulled one out, holding it against the wall with one hoof as he went to go for a nail in the other bag. It looked like an assortment of recruitment posters, wanted posters, and local news he was posting up, nothing that really seemed to stand out to anyone along that wall of already pinned up papers.
>> No. 40651202
It had been some time; but the Bounty Hunter from before had found his way into the quietly bustling saloon. With a shiver he shakes off the thin layer of snow that had accumulated over his shoulders and hat, the powdery frozen dust scattering over the floor near the entrance. He gives the area a quick look around before trotting forward, seating himself at a vacant table near the bar, taking distinct care to keep his back against as many walls as possible.

Back at the icy front.....

Screams of the taken and wounded mixed with the clatter and shouts of battle, the lines of the wolf warriors gradually retreating as it bent in the shape of a crescent, the attacking Cursed enveloping the Great Legion. The broken bodies of the slain wendigos seem to shape themselves and fuse with others, their twisted forms becoming something even more sinister and grotesque as they rejoin the battle. Only after repeated and heavy strikes do they stay down; if only to keep them from re entering the current battle.

"So, does it still count for score if I slay the same beast twice, Arminius?" shouted one blood soaked wolf as he hoisted his battle axe for a great swing, the blow cleaving through several of the monsters, the blade entering the side of the heads of many, the end of his swing slicing through the jaw of the last.

"Now that has at least to be five!" he cheerfully calls to Lucius, a fellow of his standing a few men to his side, his shield raised high as he and his unit held back a charging tide of Wendigos.

"You impudent gloryhound! Your score will mean for naught if you are found dead!" he replies over the shrieks of whistles and barks of commands, his gladius shooting out to the side and shattering the leg of a once proud bear tribesman, the rotting hulk toppling over and crushing a group of decayed equestrian soldiers readying to throw themselves into the shield-wall.

"Companies Five and Seven fall back! Rangers will cover the advance!" screams a towering Centurion, his mud caked and tattered cape fluttering in the ever strengthening gale brought on by the Thunderbirds. Seconds later he takes a narrow wooden whistle in teeth and blows, the high pitched shrill signalling the command.

With a collective grunt and a shuffling of shields interlocking, the legionaries tighten up into a square formation and begin to march backwards, their spears and swords striking at the Cursed which poured onto them like a black and ichor ridden tide.

Back near the center of the roving warband, moved the Warchief and his retinue.

"It is suicide, Sire. As noble as your intentions are it is too great a danger to your life to enter the battle." pleaded a plate armoured wolf who strode alongside the young Warchief, his silver-grey fur almost shining in the moonlight. He looked to his Warchief, the young wolf's single eye locked ahead as he walked seemingly unfazed by his advisor's words of the outcomes of his own demise and its consequences.

"You recall what happened last time you let your bravado supersede your logic." states the older wolf, his voice turning more gravelly as he looks at the brass plated eyepatch which was latched over the Warchief's right eye, a pale blue sphere dimly glowing in its socket.

"It's more than bravado and a lust for blood, Gaius. It's about my own blood's honour, and worthiness to take my father's place." he replied, his voice low. He sounded equally as concerned as the worried Gaius, the way he spoke carrying a great weight with it.

"That, and I am one of the only few who can operate this beast." he says with a growl, the churning pistons and the belching of exhaust pipes nearly drowning the two out.

"War-Smith!" shouted the Warchief, the raven furred wolf stopping at the looming juggernaut of iron, its great prow bearing a rudimentary and crude effigy of a wolf's head and jaws. It was further lined with jagged spikes around the sides and base of its hull, any points not a firing slot or a turret protruding with something sharp.

"Yes warchief!" responded a snarling voice as a soot and oil stained wolf crawled out from a hatch, a pitted wrench cluched in his teeth. He rolled and leaped out onto all fours before the Warchief, his tail bouncing back and forth as he peered up at his leader through a set of large orange tinted goggles.

"How soon before this thing can run?"

"The better question to ask his, how soon before it decides to break down?" replied the War-Smith with a wheezing cackle.
>> No. 40651858
File 141323630471.jpg - (72.73KB , 640x360 , Wendigo.jpg )
A strange shimmer was in the back of the mind of the Warchief, an uncomfortable heat settling down around him.

Do you fear your feral nature, warchief? Do you so loathe your ancestry, your ferocity in battle, that you must now fall in line with the very same four legs that unleased that plague upon the land?

Your ancestry was ferocious, an elegant people of swift and ruthless efficiency... why do you turn your back on it now? Why depend on the mechanisms that now enslave the four legs?

You know it in your heart that this is the wrong way to go about it, warchief... Fight tooth and nail, meet the ferocity of this plague with your own ferocity...

Become what you know you are...

The battle seemed to be slowing as the onslaught began to diminish slightly, the rest of the tide lumbering to keep pace with those in front, the gales of the Thunderbird keeping them at bay for now.

In the trees, the bleached skull of a deer seemed to stare at the warchief, the slender figure standing among the shadows seeming to phase in and out of reality.
>> No. 40652959
File 141332058029.jpg - (433.62KB , 1280x1706 , floating shack.jpg )

Sorry about the belated response!

Coal blinked a couple times, eyes widening slightly as he stared over counter.
"Oh. That... That sounds excellent, madame Shot. I uh... Thank you."
In his surprise he acted awkward, coughing upon finishing but unable to mask the large grin he had. He never did know how to handle generosity, 'specially when you were used to a place like Luna. If Celest was kindly like this, might be alright - canons and soldiers and electric birds be damned.

The comment from Digger shifted his attentions back to the glass, and he gently pushed it onto the counter with his left hoof.
"It's a lot easier when you have two hooves, see?" He smiled sympathetically, cocking his head in his direction. "How'd you lose the arm? Get pinned under a collapse? Lotta folk back home went that way."
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the two new guests. The poster boy didn't hold much interest for him, and neither did the bounty hunter - Chop doubted he had much in common with a colt in an odd-looking dress - and so he remained fixated on the Stump, curious to hear.

Last edited at Tue, Oct 14th, 2014 14:10

>> No. 40653170
Digger looked at his stump, then back towards the other stallion. He seemed a bit upset at first, then nodded. "Fifth day on the job. Tommyknockers were going nuts hammering the walls to warn us. I only just made it out before a sport beam came down. Bam!" The young colt slammed his lone hoof upon the bar top for emphasis. "Metal brace on it severed me from my limb. Buried in the number nine shaft of the Prometheus."

He looked forward with a frown. "They wanted to fire me on the spot being a liability. I told them i was keeping my dad's spot for him till the whole business with the tribes blew over."
>> No. 40653800
File 141339944059.gif - (51.24KB , 192x224 , pondering.gif )

Chop regarded the young miner with a slightly tilted head, looking more thoughtful than concerned.
"You're awful young to be working. Even without the damage I could see why the board might think that..."
The train of thought didn't go much further than that, but it didn't seem to leave its station either. His brow furrowed even more, if possible, but he spoke slower and quieter - almost as if commenting to himself.

He shook his head, dispelling the picture of a premonition in his head. Have to stay clear of nine.
"Sorry to hear about that kid; you must be doing your old man proud. With dedication like that, n' all."
>> No. 40654430
The young colt nodded with a small grin on his face. "He actually trained me how to. I got enough force in my back legs to shatter ore from the rock." He seemed to beam at that last comment. "I may be short one, but I got it where it counts."

"He's right, though. You're too young to be mining in Prometheus, of all places. Can't you ask to transfer to another mine? Maybe Regality needs help in the administration office." His mom didn't seem to find fault in butting in to the conversation.

"Ma, I told you, I'm not some two bit office pony. Miss Regality is nice and all, but I'd rather be down below where dad should be."

Shotglass rolled her eyes. "I sometimes wish you inherited my brains, not just my mane color... you sound just like your father."
>> No. 40664336
The Warchief felt a shiver crawl through his spine, his body shaking to try and throw it off, as if it were some forest lurker spider. An an uneasy, as well as a feeling of disgust and anger pooled in his gut, an innate sense he just could not seem to shake. Something made him feel that this as a whole was wrong and destructive to tradition as it was to the enemy. This thing was unnatural, the bone and flesh of the earth torn and bent to create nothing seen of this world. A device used to smite his own kin as well as poison the land itself. Its fiery breath chocking the sky, its blood infecting the rivers and ground. He paced up and down the side of the bulky landship, his single working eye tracking across the darkened metal hide that was its hull.

"Victory at any cost, yes...But what would they thing?" he quietly pondered as he stopped at one of the access ladders to the main deck, now looking up at the command bridge at its centre, his own clans flag whipping in the arctic winds along with the other wolf clan heraldry.

"I wonder if there is another way."

"Another way for what, Warchief?" said a grizzled voice, one that sounded as if a bolder were being raked across jagged and stony ground. The Warchief snapped his head in the direction of the sound, a slight startled by the sudden hand over his shoulder. It was nothing more than one of his senior advisers, and long time family friend, Gaius of the Tearing Fang. Somehow he had slipped out of the his sight during the inspection with the various engineers.

"Oh, this. All of it. Weapons of the enemy we use, Gaius. Same ones that slay our kin in droves. Do you not think it is unnatural to use such things? Pollute our own heritage with the inventions of outsiders no less?"

"Tell me, Warchief. Are casting swords, out of the metals drawn from the earth itself unnatural? I too do recall the histories mentioning our people gaining such knowledge from the Thunderbirds many summers ago. But you do not regard wielding the blood of the earth in your paw, nor wearing it upon your body."

The Warchief's face twisted in thought at Gaius' words, a subtle glare of frustration forming on his face.

"This leviathan here, my friend, is hardly a comparison to an honest axe or sword is. We honour and give thanks to what we are given, and return what we borrowed in our deaths. These four legs have not any the traditions and unabashedly take and discard the land's gifts as they please."

"What if that sword you wield, Warchief. Your grand father is long dead, and yet that was still passed to you. Should it not have been given back to the earth as you had said?" responds Gaius with a smirk.

"Now before you respond with such things regarding to pragmatism and reason; yes, there is a great necessity in using these weapons. That, and you could still see this beast here as a sword in a different form. Still a tool, and one lent to us by the earth. But do not mire yourself too deeply in the soil of the past, Warchief. You might not get out."
>> No. 40713312
File 141808176971.png - (232.53KB , 960x1200 , IMG_0331.png )
Sorry for not mentioning it sooner but British really got tied up with shit. If that one guy is still around, I can take over as the general DM/Thread leader
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