"Ow. I'm mean just ow. Does my head hurt now. And look at my hoof! I don't think it's supposed to be in this position..."

Stated the former investigating detective Oswald while holding his head with his hooves, while standing on the floor of the building they were currently hiding. Falling into the ground with your head first does that to most ponies. It gives you horrible headache. His left fore hoof was also broken. Thats what you get from jumping down from the third floor of the building. All and all, he was in a pretty bad shape now, but he supposed he should be thankful just to be alive by now. At the moment he was concentrating on his pipe, which he had, in the current situation where he had run out from cigarettes, taken out from his pocket. He particularly enjoyed the cool smoking satisfaction of his pipe.

"Ooh bugger... Are we in a bad shape or what. What's our next move sergeant?"

He was, of course, talking to his current compatriot, and a brother-in-arms, the trusty sergeant called Rayne. Rayne had interrupted Oswald from his scavenging of the local trash bins to inform that they had a mission to do. Oswald had long since forgotten what that mission was supposed to be, but a nasty encounter with the fearsome mutant-worm-bastard creature had caused everything to fuck up, and now they found themselves in the premesis of this building. All in the days work apparently.

>>38665034
Hazel wrapped the coat - a slightly morbid fur garment he nicked from Blackburn's wardrobe - tighter around himself to cover up as much of the purple glow emanating from his body as possible. It had a hood, fortunately (This was in fact why he had selected it), and he'd wrapped some cloth around his head to further reduce exposure, but the gap where his eyes looked out from still emitted a band of light.
"We shou de'art er ome." In what was probably a mercy for the other two, his complaints had been well muffled by his wrappings. "Ziss is fooish. Ze ony 'ing we aff een to equa the creecher e fo'oh in terrr o far is ze carnvl i' z just pnnetrtd. 'e aff ott evin coss to b'leev i' will eed uz tword are gole! Ze Coil c'n sirly ake ore uus 'v our nfourmshn zan are crpses!" His tone suggested displeasure, but aside from that it was really anypony's guess what he was saying (Though not really a hard one to make).

How do you write out 'muffled by a scarf'? Screw up words randomly. Cookie to whoever translates successfully.

>How such a messed up pony survived in the place was anyones guess, perhaps the creatures sensed his madness and saw him as a kindred spirit. Or maybe he is very lucky, or skilled.
>Probably just lucky but there he is, wandering down the street towards the fairground and the group he thought he had lost.
>For a moment his hopes soared. then he remembered where he was and what had happened so far and his spirit plummeted like a newborn sparrow, pushed from its nest before it learned to fly.

It was shaping up to be a rather stupid idea by this point.

They'd successfully managed to evade the war, and all the nastiness associated with conflicts of such scale; which included, but was not limited to: random explosions, gunfire, crossfire, artillery, zombies, dark lords, ominous portals and malevolent timekeepers. And before then, their team had been routed, ponies were lost and never found again, their mission had been a failure, and their current attempt at finding a way home was proving to be a debacle as well. And the day still wasn't over. Onjage was hungry, tired, and disgruntled beyond belief. Some beer and feminine company sounded absolutely terrific, and this was Onjage; a prude when it came to such things. It was a passing desire he was sure, but still, he found himself practicing mental lines for if he should return home to find Alma in from a mission as well. This was undoubtedly the Fall still wokring it's way out of his system, but still, he did suspect she wanted more than friendship, even before travelling to the district that exuded sensual discrepancy. It was nothing so direct of course but subtle hints here or there. Saying he was the only one she could trust. Asking for him. Asking her to see her wounds, when there were full well more qualified ponies to do so. Or perhaps this was just horomonized speculation; those things didn't necessarily mean anything, and at the very least only suggested she figured Onjage as an agreeable associate, as those could be hard to come by, even back at home base. But was it so wrong? To think as he did? It would be to their mutual benefit, surely...

Onjage grimaced then. The accursed Fall. He should be doing away with such thoughts, and simply be grateful he didn't have to shove one of his companions off his hind-leg as they traveled. Soon his thoughts would be free of of magical molestation, and everything could go back to normal. Or at least bear the semblance of normalcy. Close enough.

And his frown worsened - it was idle thinking like that, that got ponies killed. He needed to pay sharper attention to his surroundings, or he was liable never to get home. And to that affect, he did examine his surroundings as he came to focus on the task at hand. Strolling up to the iron gate their silent friend has passed through, he gave it a push, not really expecting it to be unlocked, but it was worth a try.

He also took a good look at how tall the gate was, and the surrounding fence/walls, to perhaps see if he could lift one of his companions over.

And finally, he cast his eyes skyward, to determine the time of day. The thought of being lost during the night hours of Shadowfall unsettled him to no end.

And for all of this, he says nothing.

>>38690660
The gate has definitely seen better days: given how rusty, spindly, and bent-up the poor construct is, it was probably placed there more for the message it sent, rather than any actual protection. You could probably knock a decent-sized hole in it with a two-by-four, or a bit of old pipe, or Hazel. However, doing so would surely be noisy; and while throwing one of your companions over before leaping over yourself would be much quieter, it also puts an eight-foot fall and a small chance of losing your colthood on your plate. Either way, it's a sure fact that, if you wish to follow your erstwhile companion to wherever he means you to be, you'll have to find some way over or around.

Hazel's jacket seems thick enough. He probably wouldn't feel much if you used him as a club or a means of cushioning your fall.

>>38698971

Hmm.

"...I S'pose I could lob one of you over there. Bit of a drop though. Rather avoid that if possible."

He gives the rusted bars their bipedal friend slipped through another discerning glance. They looked fairly weak, and had certainly not been cared for in a long while.

With a shrug, he grips one of the bars with both of his large-scale hooves, and attempts to see if he couldn't bend it, an attempt to make an opening; for one of his companions, at least.

A: 5

>>38699490
>>38698971
>The probably now insane colt wanders over quietly and looks past the gate. He speaks very softly, almost as if to himself.
it is a little cold for a day at the parks.
Perhaps another day, when the clowns aren't there.
>He then turns to his large compainons.
Were we not going back?
It is a little late to be going to the fair.

>>38699729

He couldn't help but jump and swing a hoof blindly behind him at the sudden voice; but luckily Onjage was tall enough that the mindless, involuntary hoof only hit the air above the zebra's head, where it continued on until gravity bid it to cease. It was over in the matter of a moment, though, and soon enough his brain finally registered who it was, letting him relax.

"FUCK you. Don't sneak up on me like that again. God dammit."

"...And how'd you even find us? What the Hell happened to you?"

>>38699787
>He straightens up, having ducked on instinct.
I didn't sneak, I just walked up.

Po pollo me baso.
I was there, and then I was here.
>He shifts away from the colt.
Don't yell.
There are things here that would love to have you for dessert.

>He shudders and checks to be sure his blades are still there.

Why are we here. Did you not find what were where sent to find?

>>38699898

"I bet," he grumbles to the dessert comment, before turning his attention back to the gate..

"Ask tweedledee or tweedledum, here. I'm a bit busy at the moment," he manages, the last word sounding more like a grunt as he again pulled on the bar.

>>38699898
One of those things gives a muffled sigh. "Oui phond nuthng. Isted reallilance islf eecame anifst aye way 'v th' gianss 'lann, itch consiss 'v "holo th' trrir vatar"." He peers up to the top of the gate. This causes a soft, thin band of purple light to glint off of the twisted metal. "Ind ow vee sik intress tu oror's ohn carnniv'l 'at oui mai contenoo vollowng sid 'vatar." Now his gaze goes to the zebra, and being wrapped entirely in cloth except for that slit of eery light at eye level it is likely not to the zebra's satisfaction. "Ooh ar pert 'v 'e deem furs scent, yus?"

Still working on how to phonetically represent 'muffled as fuck'

>>38699729
Blowhard abstains from comment, though he does nod. He drops into a kneeling position beside the gate as Onjage opens it up, on the off-chance that an irritable sort with an automatic weapon is lurking somewhere in the carnival. Why such a creature would be there, or why it would have a beef with them, he cannot say--but it's better to be a paranoid neurotic freak than dead, as far as he's concerned.

>>38699922
With a pained *squeak*, the bars twist to the point where you could easily fit through it. The noise was really quite uncomfortably loud: and if not for the far more pressing matter of the war going on over the next hill, you'd probably have a few prying eyes coming after you. Fortunately, at least for the moment being, it's just you, your friends, your "tour guide", and a whole mess of abandoned carnival.

>>38712260

The giant takes a single step back, stealing the moment to admire his handywork. Or hoofywork. Hoofedwork? Eh, he was satisfied with the job he did, nonetheless. All four limbs back on the ground he motions at the opening with his head, inviting his companions through the opening.

"In you go, gents. One at a time; and do tell us if there is a machine gun nest or something on the other side? Or a similarly upsetting object?"

>Dark Star cringes at the noise and hisses at the giant.
Do you want to die?
Do you want to be eaten?
Do you want to be raped to death and have your flesh used as a cloak?
If you do, then go, yell, stomp around.

>He looks around.

I suggest you endevour to be quieter in the future.

>He lifts off the ground and flies over the wall, a few feet over from the fence

>>38713660

"We seemed to be doing just fine before you showed up, thanks though," he says, without bothering to look up at the pegasus. What was done was done.

>>38712282
"Laugh it up, Chuckles. Laugh it up."

Blowhard was not well-educated in the tactical etiquette of rusty wrought-iron fences; but given that he could think of few (if any) conventional military doctrines that made even the most cursory note of them, he felt that this was an acceptable breach in knowledge. Of course, said gap in knowledge was a gap all the same; and given how prevalent rusty wrought-iron fences must be in a Gothic hellhole such as this, there probably is something devoted to occasions just like this--or at least there would be, if he was in charge of keeping the archives in the Coil. He made a note to research this further when and if they returned home...

"Alright...seems...safeish, I guess?"

That was a lie, of course. But they'd been looking through a wrought-iron fence, and he didn't envision anything popping out of the ether. He took a knee by the entryway and waited for his allies--or rather, Ally and Stress Relief--to pass through after him.

>>38713660
>>38718320
This section of the fairground is, as it was two seconds and two steps ago, deserted. There's not a clown, juggler, singer, or deep-fried oreo stand in sight--and thank goodness for that.

The notable constructions are few and far between: indeed, they are notable for simply being there and being in relatively good condition. They are, unsurprisingly, fairground attractions--what is surprising, however, is that they're barely removed from what you'd see at such a place back home. In the distance, there is an inky Ferris wheel, that is adorned with a number of deep violet hearts; but half a minute's walk away is the "Haunted House Of Mirrors", in all its quaint semi-alarming stupor. There is a selection of rickety midway games scattered about the place, and a lone forlorn future-telling machine that may or may not have been made with the severed head of some unfortunate pony from the past.

The largest of the attractions, and the ones where your guide seems inexorably bound, is the big top a few hundred yards away. The route is, fortunately, more or less clear; it's as easy as a straight line to follow after him.

>>38718772
>>38718320

Onjage had a slighter harder time of squeezing through the gap, though it wasn't all to blame on his girth alone; he still had to carry everyone's ammunition, as well as his melee weapon. But, stubbornness and brute force prevailed, and he soon found himself on the other side, albeit with a rust colored stain on either side of his cloak.

Taking note of their impromptu guide, he wordlessly begins to walk after him, just as they'd done all day so far. Another set of unusual surroundings to him.

>>38718952
"Iz 't sew moch 'ou ahsk tht oo sees ollwng 'e tearrur or 'ong eniff zat ayem 'ot leff eehide?" Even if you didn't catch a word of that, it's not terribly hard to guess what he's shouting at the departing giant. Still, it's with little rush that he carefully steps through the gap in the bars, ensuring he doesn't tear or unwravel any of the considerable amount of clothing wrapped about his luminescent body. Luna it's hot.
He manages without much trouble - seeing as even with the added bulk of clothing he's the smallest of the three - and is soon back to following Onjage. As per usual for this trip he mutters various complaints, but they'd be hard to make out unimpeded and with the added muffling it's basically a lost cause.

Getting closer

>>38718952
>>38719356
The dreary darkness of this rusty carnival is, in the city's enigmatic way, charming. Beneath the light of the full moon and the gentle touch of the breeze, the faded reds and greens of the dilapidated tents are as a host of weary dancers, who yet fight to their last to finish their performance. This was the sort of salute Celebration would have received on her way down the palace grand--though hers would be far less decrepit.

A fresh cloud of dust rises from the attractions as you past, as if your very presence is disturbing their slumber--nay, you are all but giving them life once more. The effect is rather disquieting; and the poetry of you causing something disturbing by disturbing something else entirely might be appreciated, were it a better time and crafted by a better poet. As it is, the entire scene is devoid of any such artistic designs, which is probably for the best all said and done.

The entrance to the big top is just a touch on the mournful side. The two great white flaps have been muddied and otherwise weather-beaten, and now they are an off-putting grayish pallor. The exuberant reds and oranges that had once made this place the belle of the ball were similarly reduced, and now the brightest color of all was an interestingly red shade of rust. The old ticket-takers' booths and podiums have been removed, rotted through, or tipped over for no particular reason. Even in Shadowfall, a place of joy (such as it is) fallen so far past its prime is distinctly melancholy.

Inside the circus tent, things are scarcely livelier. The only light comes from the two dozen candelabras strategically spread about the ring; and while it's not much, it is sufficient to trace the crumbling walls and the first few rows of desiccated seats. This place must have seen crowds of a thousand or more, at the least...

The only living beings in the tent besides you and your guide are...less than desirable. It doesn't take long for you to place the ringmaster: she is the enigmatic vampire you briefly encountered during your initial deployment. Her guns are still strapped to every appendage, and she is enjoying her "clothes" far more than seems healthy--but beyond that, she seems to be having a good time.

How she is doing so is anyone's guest, given her company. Around her podium, with the telltale slouch of complete docility, six massive hairy beasts pace. What you can see of them makes you wish you hadn't: for their ears are overlong; their claws and teeth serrated and yellow; their fur a scraggly mat rife with pustules; and their eyes an unnaturally luminescent green.

As your guide leads you inside, he nods to the ringmaster and slips into the shadows of the big top. You can feel him watching--but you can't quite place where.

The vampiric ringmaster claps her hooves, and her "pets" instantly fall into a sit. She scratches the nearest one's ears as she steps off her podium--her horseshoes make an interestingly powerful sound with every step she takes towards you.

She stops about ten paces away and raises an eyebrow.

"Didn't I tell ya'll not to come back round these parts?"

There is no trace of hostility in her voice. Bemusement, perhaps, and maybe just a little bit of impromptu flirtatiousness, but nothing at all to suggest aggression or even disapproval...

>>38728656

Holy damn was that a pretty pony.

For a moment he was dumbstruck, for she'd addressed them like they'd met before, but he was certain if he had, that he'd remember it. After a further moment of internal deliberations, he concluded that she must have directed that comment towards the old man, the glow stick, and he-who-sneaks-up-uninvited. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was impossibly stupid, but that did make him jealous to a small extent.

It was after this did he begin to register the other attributes of this stranger, besides the shapeliness. The 'clothes', and the firepower. He supposed the latter should surprise him. Now that he thought about it, the absence of obvious means of self-defense would have been more suspicious, if not worrying to the extreme. A gun was something a threat at least understood. The beasts behind her though, did cause the giant some serious concern. Frightening in their own right, but in the context of the circus environment made them...worse? Almost as if they had a reason to set them upon their small band - entertainment.

He would try to be friendly. He didn't want to die in a circus.

He takes a second to examine how his companions would react, before that little bubble of testosterone-backed resentment resurfaced, and he turned his head back to the stranger with a small smile.

"Ah, evening mam. We're just uh...a little lost, that's all."

"And I don't think we've met before - I'm Onjage, it's nice to meet you," he concludes, Alma seeming forgotten for the moment.

>>38728656
"Phck mii." Hazel isn't, as a rule, terribly opposed tk the kdea of vamponies. For rather obvious reasons he in fact finds their way of 'life' alluring, and would sign up for it in a second. But he wasn't stupid either, and knew he was far more likely to end up a meal or slave than a 'peer'. The only reason he didn't take the precaution of putting his hoof to Rah's hilt was he didn't think it would make much difference.
Okay, two reasons: before, when in the throes of cannibalistic ecstasy, Hazel hadn't paid much attention to the creature's beauty. But under current circumstances it's all he can do to avoid propositioning the monstrous predator right then and there. Luckily a lifetime of repressing instincts in public allows him the decorum to pull the wrappings down from his face (Revealing yet more of his glowing form, but not much point trying to hide now) and introdice himself like a civilized pony.
"Once again we are present before the elegant executioner: a situation as pleasing as it is perilous. I do not believe proper introductions were made when last we met. I am named Hazel, and yourself?"
A little ostentatious, perhaps, but certainly more diplomatic than 'Your people give me indigestion.'

>>38728656
This was why it paid off to prefer colts. He had a full view of it now: scantily-clad heavily-armed seductress who apparently had a thing for dogs. Maybe it was his paranoia (or, as he preferred to call it, his "keen awareness") mingling with the recent experience in Fall; or perhaps it was just his frustrated imagination capitalizing on Onjage's recently-acquired role as the beast of burden; or maybe it was just his born intuition. Either way he had a rotten feeling about this mare, and he was dead sure that she was gonna have his two more classically-minded companions strapped up in chains and locked in her potion dungeon or whatever this sort of mare amused herself with.

He'd make sure to come to their rescue when the time came, if only for a chance to see Onjage done up in that sort of outfit.

Of course, there was always the off-chance that she was hiding something under her garments. That would be problematic. But at least "she" had an accent that was perfectly understandable, for a change.

"We're hard of hearing."

He taps his left ear to prove the point.

"But here we are now."

>>38730582
The vampony rolls her eyes and smiles in a wolfish way--"wolfish" in the sense that you can quite clearly see her fangs, and what may or may not be caked blood on them. This isn't surprising in any stretch of the word; and to anyone else it would probably be worrying, but to someone like you it's akin to the subdued glee that comes from passing a stranger who happens to be wearing a Tee shirt branded with your favorite television show.

"We all lost 'round here, sugar."

A creature like her is, at first sight, going to regard a stallion as one of two things: Food, or a..."plaything". When she looks at either of you she licks her lips and seems to have trouble looking away from one particular body part: but given that she prefers Onjage's flank and your neck, its clear which one she's slotting you up for.

"Ya'll dun had a bite of some Dawn-types, I see..."

>>38734556

The giant blinks, casting his shorter companion a quizzical glance. Had he missed something?

He suddenly recalled that bag Hazel had thrown in his....we'll say, 'urgent removal' from the top floor of the building. He hadn't given it much though at the time.

Or it still could have just been a sack. Who knew. But regardless, the thought was kinda morbid. And if true, his opinion of Hazel just fell drastically.

He decides to wait in silence, looking between the two of them.

>>38734556
"A bite and more." He returns the grin, complete with small bits of vampony still stuck between his herbivorous teeth. "The main course started well but ended poorly, so I am afraid it shall not be a dining experience repeated." A shrug. "But one cannot try new things without accepting risk." He removes the socks covering his forehooves, both so he can cool down and to give him a bit more dexterity. Not that it would help much. "Such risk is also taken when going forth to the unknown as 'we'," he glares at Onjage for just a moment "have decided to do. Would you grant a kindness by telling us where it is we have wandered into?"

>>38736165

Oh God, that's disgusting.

Assuming he ever got back to the coil, he would do his best to find someone else to work with. It was all he could do from visibly curling his lips in disgust, and shoving the gross little cretin away from his person. BUT - he figured their enchanting vampire stranger might take offense should he react that way, so instead he simply looks up, shaking his head just so slightly.

He could only hope she didn't not take offense to that fact this pony had eaten her kin.

The whole situation just got terribly awkward.

>>38731329
The vampony stares at you with graciously-reserved disgust. She sniffs the air and rolls her eyes before turning away from you.

"Ya smell like a queer-type pony. I'll have none of yer words while a real stallion's about."

Ow.
Burned.

By somepony with a cutie mark that looks like this.

>>38736165
She curls her lip at you and shakes her head no.

"That's real nasty, sugar. Real nasty indeed. I thought ya'll ponies didn't do stuff like that..."

She sighs and shakes her head. Evidently you are not doing much to convince her that you have any place outside the stockyard.

"Y'alls in the fair, sugar. Where else would ya be?"

>>38728738
Onjage, though. She seemed to like him. She smiled and seemed just a tiny bit more sociable when she looked his way. She moved just a bit more openly, and she was just a bit less shift-eyed--if only because said eyes were locked on his flank.

"Ya'll found now, big guy."

She spins in place, kicking her hind legs up just a bit as her rear end faces him. If this were a panel in a comic book, the space above Onjage's head would be dominated by a massive block-lettered "SPROING!"

"The name's Banna. And who're you, dare I ask?"

>>38736482

Whoa.

His tail swishes back and forth seeming of it's own volition as the rest of him goes rigid; his cheeks redden as his eyes shrink. His smarter, more cynical side was warning him that this was likely just a ploy to destroy him in some manner. And that it wasn't beyond this place, this Hell, to have her lady-parts lined with teeth or some other horror. But naive optimism wasn't to be quieted just yet. It would likely wisen up soon, but for now, it ruled him.

"Ah, uh, On, Onjage. Mam."

"You, ah, uh, sure are uh, light on your hooves there..."

>>38736482
"Home?" He suggests while glaring at Onjage. "Safe, perhaps? At least to the extent one can be?" The glowing pony snorts, then switches his amber gaze back to Banna. He feels a small pang of jealousy that the giant has her lust, but only a small one. They might share similar tastes, but he is a fox standing across from a wolf: even in his current state, lust is not the overriding instinct. "Most do not partake in such cuisine, no. But in a place such as this..." He waves his hoof in gesture to the city beyond the canvas and takes the opportunity to surreptiously scan the rest of the big top for exits and dangers. "Is it surprising to meet the damned?"
Hmm. This is hell, those are hellhounds, and he is standing across from Lillith. At least if this is where he dies it will have some poetry to it.

>>38736540
"That ah am."

The silky vampony mare faces you directly now; and despite a little grin and a mostly-inoffensive kick of her hind right leg, she keeps her decency. She sits on her haunches now, evidently convinced either that you were no threat or that you were no danger. She shoots a curious glance into the stands and thinks for a moment--she is evidently satisfied with what she may or may not see, for she simply shrugs and begins licking her forehoof like an overgrown dominatrix cat.

"Already know yer name, Sugah. I asked who ya are. Where ya from, whatcha doin, who ya workin' for? Who is Onjage?"

>>38738215
She rolls her eyes at you. She's not one for your poetry, evidently.

>>38739338

In a moment he takes her lead, taking a seat himself with a great sigh; he didn't mind an excuse to rest his legs after the long day he'd day; it didn't help he was carrying a mountain of ammunition, and a freakishly large beating stick either. He didn't much care if he got bitched out for taking a load off for a minute; they could carry their own shit if that was going to be their attitude.

And of course, he didn't need any excuses to sit next to her, either.

"Who is Onjage? A very, very tired ammo cart, who can't find his way home."

The glares from Hazel regardding the 'lost' bit had gone un-noticed for the time being. His attention had otherwise been occupied.

"Though I think my friends here will get mad at me if I tell you much more," he concludes, nodding in the direction of his companions.

"Besides, I think you're a lot more interesting," he adds, grinning sheepishly.

"Whose Banna?"

What a romantic.

>>38739338
>>38739586

Hazel remains standing. If the giant wanted to put the moves on her, that was his business. So far as he was concerned she could have him for as long as it took her to grow bored or hungry and he'd just be on his way. Whichever way that was. They were no less lost than they'd started, except now their intrepid leader had brought them to a predator's den. No, this wasn't a sign of staggering foolishness at all. The way things were going he'd have been safer making his way back alone from Fall.
He briefly entertains thoughts of killing the two, feasting upon their flesh, and reporting their tragic deaths at vampony hooves to his superiors back at the Coil. As cathartic a fantasy as it is, the dozen or so problems with making it reality curb his murderous intent.
With the wolf's attention diverted to the unwitting buck, the fox takes stock of his surroundings.
By pure instinct, he designates Blowhard as a badger.

Per: 4

>>38739586
"Ammo cart? Ya'll don't look like a cart to me."

She licks her hoof again and scratches her chin as you ask your question--evidently, she didn't have an answer prepared for that one. The earnestly-invested look in her eyes suggests that your semi-charming introduction really scratched her sweet spot--maybe she just likes the Southern gentleman type? Or maybe she just likes them big and upstanding...

"Banna is a very tired Noon Court vampiress, who just lost her brother in a bombing. She is currently wonderin' what to do with these pony-types what wandered into her house--for ya'll don't smell like vamps up close--and wonderin' if that sickly green one tastes as bitter as he looks. But she's less interested in killin' an' devourin' him than she'd normally be, since her dear survivin' brother saw fit to bring him back home.

"Maybe ya'll could help her decide there."

>>38739847
It's a big top, and it has definitely seen better days. Beyond what you've already seen, you can make out a rotted rope and a crumpled trapeze set, as well as a few...interesting...splatters on the floor. The patterns suggest multiple instances of bloodletting, and the aging on several implies that this has been going on for years. The favored pattern is twin incisions into a major artery, likely the neck--this has happened roughly six times.

Oh, there's also the massive ten-legged six-fanged insectoid hell-beast clinging to the nearby pole, unless that's just a hallucination brought about by a combination of stress and sleep deprivation.

>>38741345

He assumed, hastily, she meant brother in arms than she did blood kin, as he didn't much want to dwell on the implications of that statement. And aside from her comment towards Hazel (which he mostly considered an idle threat - at least, for the moment. That accursed naive optimism...) he was learning some potentially useful things. For one - that their 'guide' didn't work for the coil at all, and was in fact one of the agents sent out by the court. Or perhaps he was a double agent? Regardless, his non-hostile nature in the house earlier that day had since been misinterpreted by the giant. So following him had naturally proved to be a mistake.

Well.....no one had any other ideas....right?

And beyond that telling revelation, she seemed a nice pony-eating creature of the night. And while she did represent a foreign faction to at least some degree, he felt a little honesty may prove helpful. After all, she just confessed the faction she served - though perhaps because it was blatantly obvious, but still. And her brother had quite blatantly over-heard their dialogue over who the mysterious fear's identity was, and could likely tell Banna whom this party belonged to anyway. If anything, it could serve to expand the relaxed dialogue that had begun to develop.

And maybe he could get the Shadowfall equivalent to her phone number.

"Guess we got something in common then, Miss Banna. Sorry to hear about...you know."

"And about that wandering in here thing - funny story that. Looks like we confused your brother for one of our guys, and we sorta...followed him, hoping he'd take us back home. Guess it's safe to say that was a terrible idea, and we're even more lost than we were before."

"That's not to say we didn't find anything of value," he adds with a small dip of his head in her direction, the same sheepish grin on his face. It was so cheesy, but he couldn't stop himself.

"If we're uh, bothering you, you could point us in the direction of the coil and we'll get out of your hair."

Someone had to know where that was, right?

And all the while as he talked, his eyes wandered when they felt they could do so unobserved by the pony they so shamelessly explored.

>>38741435
'*We* mistook the Fear for a brother in arms?' This lone, scathing thought is really all Hazel has to add to the conversation. He opts not to verbally contribute it.

>>38741435
Banna listens closely to what you have to say--her only motions are trading which forehoof she's licking and scratching her left cutie mark. After you're finished, she cocks her head and stares at you, one ear flopped over and one erect--she is, no doubt, wondering how in the hi-diddly hell you managed to mistake a spidery biped in a flasher jacket for one of your own. Her second ear stands up as you namedrop The Coil--in time, personal experience will probably teach you that doing such a thing is amazingly unwise in most cases.

However, your luck holds true this time; and aside from a slightly agitated tail-twitch, she remains calm.

"Coil?"

She rubs her chin.

"Well, that makes things rightly interessin'."

She shoots another look into the stands--she shrugs and clears her throat

"Tell me, Misser Onjage. How devoted are ya ta the status quo?"

>>38746557

Well, she hadn't killed him yet, so that was good. Yet even with the signs of tension, of recognizing the name of an enemy, an enemy he served, he could not seem to contain this strange strain of honesty that forced its way out from his body. Now that he'd started, he couldn't stop.

"...You wanna know the truth, Miss Banna?"

"I hate the Coil."

"My devotion is to my friends - I will fight and die for them, and only them. I could not give one iota of a flying fuck for their political agenda or militaristic gains."

"Through unfortunate circumstance, they've strong-armed me into servitude, and I regret it was, and is, an offer I can not presently refuse.

I don't know how most folks find themselves here, in Shadowfall, or for what reason. But I woke up in this city two weeks ago, locked in a basement, tied up, to be eaten by my jailer momentarily. And...I will skip the unnecessary details, but we were happened upon and rescued by agents working for this Coil.

Ignorant, lost, and without a means to protect ourselves, we accompanied them home. And after a trial for our lives, we were adopted into the system, barring we would work for our protection, shelter, and food. We did not have much choice but to accept. For the other option remained wandering aimlessly in a hostile new world, no doubt awaiting a swift death.

That remains my current predicament.

Even before I was consciously aware of my new environment, this place had already begun to make me their enemy."

He leans a little closer, speaking in a hushed tone.

"I want to go home, so I can see my friends safely there, safe and sound. That's all that matters to me."

He falls quiet for a time, examining her face for her reaction. He did not know if he could relate to her, as a pony, or if her new nature as a vampire had all but shrugged off such notions of person-hood. But it had to be there somewhere. That could understand such things, as loyalty to ones friends, camaraderie. He was certain even her kind could know loneliness, and the value of a friend, of finding some manner of meaning in the presence of another.

He had a moment to reflect why he was telling her this in the first place. Yes, she was astoundingly beautiful, but the more she spoke, the more he felt like there was a decent person in there too, somewhere. That must enjoy to some extent the company that wandered into her house, that carried with them seemingly harmless intentions - how often did that happen in this city? Rarely, if never. How he came to this conclusion about her person? He didn't know.

But even beyond that, her beauty, and her person, was the fact she was, for all intents and purposes, foreign. Someone he could talk to with an outsider's perspective in, someone who could give him an opinion, an opinion that he couldn't get from his friends, or the coil. There would no doubt be a bias, but it was a different bias. A fresh one. Removed and unadulterated by the people who comprised 'home.' And that made it exotic and intriguing to him like nothing else.

When was he going to get a chance like this again? To talk like this? Not as enemies, but as two people from two walks of life? All of this drove him. He found himself wanting to be her friend as much as he wanted her in less platonic ways.

He opened his mouth to whisper something, but falters, unsure what to say. His expression mostly remains neutral, but the signs of concern are present; the ever-so slight frown of the mouth, and upturned eyebrows. He hoped what he saw in her was true.

>>38746705
Well, they're dead. Onjage might get out of this alive, or perhaps even undead (Stupid lucky sonuvabitch), but Hazel and the "queer-type" sure as Luna's concealing night hadn't gained any of Banna's respect or interest. Beyond food. Hazel knows what happens to ponies that gain that sort of interest all too well.
He nudges Blowhard, and juts his chin out in the direction of the hell-insect that may or may not exist. "Do you see what I see?"
There's a good chance they won't be killed here, or at least not in front of Onjage. If Banna doesn't like her toys moping about the place then she'll likely send the two of them off to 'return to the Coil'. They wouldn't even make it back to the iron gates before being attacked, if that was the case. Low odds of survival there. Then the image of all those lovely, bullet-ridden corpses comes to mind... And her greeting them at the stairs without a scratch on her.
Maybe being 'ambushed' was the best option. Even if letting the badger know will be difficult when surrounded by wolves of such fine hearing.
He peers into the stands where Banna keeps looking, hoping for a glimpse of what may be their assailants.

>>38747790
Autofail
You see nothing in the darkness, save the momentarily-visible phantasms of the long-vanished crowd. That, too, is probably a product of your own unstable mind.

Or ghosts. Which, given the way of this city and creepy carnivals in general, wouldn't be that much of a surprise.

>>38746705
She thinks for a long moment. She shoots a few more curious glances into the stands; and in a display that is equal parts vulgar and impressive, she hikes her hind leg up and starts licking the inside of her thigh, much like a cat. While this does afford you the whole view, it's not quite as overt as her kick was. How anypony can be that flexible is anyone's guess, but it goes without saying that she's had lots of...practice, as it were.

After a few awkward moments, she lifts her head back up and licks her muzzle.

"Home..."

She pauses for a moment.

"You know, Mr. Onjage...you seen this little commotion that's going on right around now. This...war.

"Ya'll know it's just the continuation of something that's been going on for a very, very, long time. A cold war between The Midnight and The Noon...that near everyone had an interest in keepin' alive. That includes your bosses.

"But while ice stays cold, fire eventually burns out. If you understand where I'm going."

>>38751978

"...I think so," he answers, after a moment - a moment he took to clear his head from those naughty, naughty thoughts. It was nigh impossible to keep a decent line of thought when she was doing...that. He almost didn't even register she was speaking to him again for a little bit. Holy Hell was she flexible.

Was she trying to get him to squirm? Either way, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"But I uh, wouldn't mind listening to you talk a little bit more, explaining it to me just in case. Your voice is as lovely as you are."

>>38747790
Blowhard doesn't respond for a moment--had been watching the display before him with all due interest--both the mare and Onjage. If he was red meat and cheese, and she was wispy white bread, he would very much like to be lettuce and tomato some day. Maybe some day, when a gentle and loving god smiled upon him and made the stallion more amorous than normal...

He looks over to Hazel, and then to where he's pointing.

"A star, a star, dancing in the night?"

>>38751995
She smiles at you and winks. Maybe she's big into the "tall, dark, and easily hypnotized by poontang" type.

"You're a charmer."

She switches to her other leg, and licks just a bit more slowly this time.

"What I'm gettin' at here is simple. This war...it's eventually gonna burn itself out. The courts ain't meant for direct engagement; inside a cycle or two, this will all be over and these two big powers are gonna be in ruins. And what that means is, no more cold war. No gangs, no extortion, no spies no more."

She begins nibbling on her back hoof.

"But see, there's economy in keeping them alive and scared. So everyone's gonna try and do that. If, when you go back home, you manage to 'convince' your bosses that their best interests lie in letting this fire rage...

"See how that works out now?"

>>38752035

He had to cover his redding face for a moment, when her sliding tongue switched sides. He was gonna go nuts sitting here if this went on much longer, that didn't result in anything. Oh the horror!

But, when she begins to nibble idly at her hoof, was he able to pay attention in earnest, clumsily disguising the previous motion as him itching the bridge of his nose, at some invisible irritation.

"I could tell them whatever you want, hon, but I have to get home first, to do that."

He snorts.

"Well, 'home,' not in the earnest sense. The spot where I go to not die, being more specific."

He falls quiet a moment, thinking; his expression thoughtful, but still quite red.

"...Is that all you'd ask of me?"

>>38752052
She finishes tasting herself and rolls over onto her back. She stretches out, rolls over once more, and stands up. She's quite through with relaxation.

"Just one other thing, Misser Onjage."

Her tail and ears twitch nervously.

"Big brother likes you. An Ah like you too. Ah want some way to contact you."

>>38752064

Was he supposed to give her his phone number? Was that how this was going to work? Maybe it worked differently here.

But she liked him. And that was a-okay.

He doesn't stand up with her, as he was still very much enjoying the act of sitting after a long day.

"...What do you suggest?"

>>38752019
>>38752035
>>38752052
>>38752064
>>38752081

Good news: The odds of them all dying just went down significantly.
Bad news: He's going crazy.

The intricacies of what she was suggesting aren't so much lost on him as they're politely informed that he doesn't really need them. If the others had been briefed on who exactly the Midnight and Noon courts were then the same courtesy had not been extended to him, and honestly he doesn't much care. Finding himself slapped in the middle of a city full of new and interesting flavours to try (Recent experience having done little to dissuade him), he has zero intent of focusing on anything more complicated than whatever task the Coil asks of him. So long as he has a den to drag his kills back to, the rest is insubstantial.

That the safety of his den might be threatened by these political shenanigans never occurs to the butcher, whose thoughts now chiefly concern how quickly he's going insane, and whether they might find something to snack on while traveling back to base.

>>38752081
She shrugs and scratches her chin. She looks into the stands once more and nods contemplatively. She paces in circles and, after a few long moments, holds her hoof in her air and the universal "Eureka" symbol. She leans in and lowers her voice, so that the others cannot hear. She's so close that you can feel her breath whistling around your ear...

"A signal. An' a place an' time. If'n I wanna talk to ya, I'll have a deliveryman bring ya somethin' at home. And if you wanna talk to me, leave a charcoal drawin' of a banana, peeled or otherwise, in the alleyway next to Barnum's Books--I'll have big brother come an' see every 3 days. Then, affer we get each other's message, we meet up inside the book store eight hours later. Tell yer friends if ya want."

She pulls away now.

"Sound good?"

>>38752141

He tingled slightly at her proximity and delicate whispered words - but belaying that, there was a small, muted feeling of dread; that the conversation might soon be drawing to a close. And he was going to be walking all the way home, with nothing to show for it but aching legs and a bad attitude. This day just wasn't going to end...

"Sounds good to me, Miss Banana Banna," he replies, the stupid grin on his face.

"..I uh..." he begins again, after a moment, "...w're not in uh..."

How to phrase this?

"...We're not in any rush to get out of here, you know. We've had a long day..."

>>38752160
"Hm..."

She frowns for a moment, and her ears twitch. She scratches her chin and goes back to nibbling on her hoof. She is a mare of many nervous tics, evidently--but at least these are far more endearing than they could be. She doesn't bother looking into the stands this time, and after roughly thirty seconds she licks her lips and nods.

"Y'all can stay here a spell, then. We got a few rooms, an' a few beds for when the family drops in...don' mind the dogs none."

She yawns and begins walking away at a leisurely pace.

"We ain't got much to eat...after me, if ya would."

She flicks her ta--whoa.

She...flicks it...to punctuate her statement.

>>38752171

He didn't need to be told twice. It was as if his material burdens became suddenly disappeared, and he was back on his hooves immediately, getting himself alongside her as quickly as he was able.

The Onjage that clambered out of the cart earlier that day, would have looked at the Onjage now, doing something so reckless as this like he was a goddamn fool. And the more present version would likely shake his head with a knowing grin, believing his chosen way the best way.

But they were both fools.

>>38752178
Banna was, beyond all shadow of a doubt, the prettiest thing in this run-down hole. The faded canvas is nearly torn in some places, and the requisite glaze over the concrete is badly-chipped. At least the floors aren't dusty, thanks to the frequent use they endure.

The "dogs" growl at you as you pass, but they are silenced with a quick stamp of Banna's hoof. The faint scent of rotted flesh is carried on their breath, but that's to be expected from carnivores who would be more interested in mutilating a toothbrush than using it. Up close, they almost resemble diamond dogs. Hideously mutated diamond dogs, perhaps, but the resemblance is there. The slitty eyes, the massive teeth, the pronounced nostrils, the hunched posture...maybe they are from back home, and just went feral sometime along the way.

...Can ponies go feral?


Your "bedroom" is secreted away under the bleachers--and it is nothing more than a quartet of mattresses, all of which are suffering mild water damage, and a single oil lamp to share. There's a few ratty blankets and a pair of pillows--it's hardly luxury, but it will get you through a nap and let you wake up without wishing you were dead. And at least one of them is big enough for...fun.

"Here ya go, Sugah. Hope it's alright for ya."

>>38752171
Blowhard squints at the retreating posterior and reflexively reaches for his gun. After determining that it was still there, he grits his teeth and shakes his head slowly. Onjage was going to get them murdered over poontang, wasn't he. Just like a jock, that one. It was simple enough, he guessed--the country belles were such gentle creatures, even here--but he hadn't lived to his ripe old age without being at least mildly paranoid of everyone and everything.

He turns his head towards Hazel and grunts.

"Hey, Lemons. Does this set off your 'oh shit' meter too?"

>>38752204
Hazel shakes his head, clearing thoughts of the brown giant's dismembered and uneaten (Lest he catch some sort of brain-devouring parasite) corpse strewn across the tent floor. He turns to Blowhard, and says in a shocked tone: "A greater fool I've yet to meet." He looks around the tent, at monsters both real and imagined, and comes to a decision. "I am not the most monstrous of beings here, nor even close to. Even if one does not wish us harm, what is that to say of the others?" He looks back at Blowhard, with a pleading gaze. "Might we leave this place, and the giant to whatever fate he shall meet? Preferably towards Coil, but even our primary mission seems by comparison now less dangerous than a night under these canvas shelters."

>>38752203

Anything sounded alright when she was standing right there - and he almost said as much, but THAT was just too cheesy, even for him.

"Just fine, mam. Just fine indeed," he answers, letting the ammunition fall to enunciate the point.

"Some hospitality and good company seems hard-up around here - its rather refreshing."

>>38752209
Blowhard shakes his head and rubs his temples. With Onjage already vanished under the bleachers in the company of the vampiress--lucky bitch that she was--it was a bit too late to try and dissuade their companion. Even so, he had his point: it had been a long bloody day, and they couldn't keep going forever. More than that, he was tough shit in a fight, he was carrying the ammo, he was one of the few remaining members of their team, and--most importantly--he easily had the best flank for miles around. It didn't sit well with him, to leave Onjage for dead.

"Alright, alright..."

What was it he'd once been told..."You're the guy who makes the calls nobody else can"? Something like that. Son of a bitch, he missed the days when he had someone to tell him that when his resolve was wavering.

"I don't think we should leave him, but it's just stupid to follow her into her rape-and-murder dungeon or wherever. I say we scram and bunker down in one of the old buildings, for maybe half an hour or so. Then, if we haven't heard his agonized death wail by then, we get him out of there and get the hell out, and back home. Gives us time to rest up, too.

"You with me there?"

>>38752211
"Perfect."

She yawns and stretches her forelegs out, her tail twitching erratically as she does. Her yawn affords you a rather excellent view of her teeth--and dainty and gentle as she is, she's still a vampony. Her fangs are long and sharp, but devoid of any fresh blood...maybe she's one of those new-age types who likes tofu, or whatever the young people eat.

She gently kneads a mattress with her forehooves and smiles at you.

"You don't need any...company, do you?"

Oh, snap.

>>38752217

"...Maybe I do," he replies, his grin a little more confident this time.

Some seconds later, the hilariously large beating stick, and the similarly sized bladed hand-cannon , and the dusty as Hell cloak joined the ammo on the floor. And Onjage followed shortly after, though his journey to the floor was intercepted by one of the mattresses, where he takes a moment to stretch, rolling on to his back, giving it a good pop.

"I hope that ins't going to be a problem."

>>38752215
No. No he is not. Hazel's survival instincts are purely that of prey, and they are surrounded by predators greater than him on his worst days. Nothing short of 'gallop until it's over the horizon' with perhaps a dash of 'lighting it all aflame as we go' for distraction would gather his support. But he also knows what his odds of survival are alone in the City without a sure way of getting back to the Coil.

"Thirty minutes to long hand's tick," he seethes. A watchful eye is kept on the group of canines which without their mistress present a less known threat while he walks to the exit. Not that every sense isn't on the alert to try and detect anything swooping in on them from the darkness.

They are all going to die. For some reason that phrase seems familiar to him, though he can't remember thinking those words exactly anytime in the recent past.

>>38752223
"Far from, Misser Onjage."

With a flirtatious giggle, Banna drops onto your mattress--onto her haunches--and begins grooming herself again. With a forehoof, she begins softly stroking your belly--somehow, it hits all of your sweet spots at once, and you can literally feel the tension evaporating from you. After a long moment she pulls herself up onto you and gives herself one more lick--before she looks to you and smiles.

"Give a lady a hand, tough guy?"

>>38752224
Blowhard follows after him, scanning the room with such frequent and erratic motions that he fancied himself a rather excitable hummingbird. When they reach the exit, he throws one final look into the darkness.

"If he gets it on back there, you are going to feel like such a moron."

>>38752230

"Well since you asked so nice."

Lifting his head off the ancient mattress, propping himself on his elbows, he goes for a kiss, seeing if he couldn't tame that over-active tongue of hers.

>>38752236
"An army of young might be raised from this night, and never would it occur to me to regret this decision," Hazel retorts. The pony who owned a butcher shop and killed several of his fellow equines back in Equestria reflects that his companions are all nutters.
He takes a moment to put his socks back on and pull the wrappings up again over his snout, minimizing the exposed glow once more to a thin band around his eyes. While he is still several degrees of magnitude removed from 'stealthy', at least he isn't so luminescent a meal as he could be. With what little comfort that provides, he begins searching the carnival for a likely spot to hide.

>>38752242
She obliges you there--and you can't tell if it's just her mouth, or the residual taste of her skin, but whatever it is it distinctly tastes of moonlight, gently blended with strawberry jam. Her touch sends a mild electric jolt throughout your body: it starts at the mouth and explodes throughout you, until that gentle tingle blankets you entirely. She gently pushes you over onto your back, and you find your eyes slowly closing as her hoof slowly runs through your mane...

The next thing you know, you're blinking awake an indeterminate amount of time later, in a bittersweet mental state: groggy, confused, sore, warm, and strangely satisfied for some reason you can't quite place. More than that, there's an odd, mildly burning chafe around your neck, which is accompanied by a barely-perceptible weight--it almost feels like you're wearing a...leather collar.

Kinky.

>>38752253
It's an old broken-down carnival: you can lay your head damn near anywhere. A haunted house, a concession stand, the hall of mirrors, the carousel, under a bit of old tarp...

>>38752336

Totally worth it.

This, right now, was the first time he felt good in Shadowfall. Not just relaxed or safe, but genuinely satisfied. The details were blurry, but honestly, that didn't matter, he didn't care one bit. All he knew, and all he wanted to know, is that he felt great. Suddenly, everything wasn't so bad, and he could meet it all with a good attitude.

He slowly sits up, resting his back against the wall, taking a moment to look at the collar around his neck. He'd had a few wild one night stands, but he was pretty certain this one took the cake.

Why was he proud of that?

He grins, lifting his hooves to remove it, setting it aside once it was off, his hooves testing the flesh that had once been underneath it. A little tender, but nothing he was going to lose any sleep over. If anything, a little reminder for when Shadowfall started looking hopeless again.

Spying Miss Banana Banna laying on her own mattress adjacent to his own, he took the opportunity to reflect on the implications of her 'sugggestion,' while his eyes rested on her back. His 'mission' seemed on the surface quite harmless, and in all likelihood, fail to result in anything. He was a grunt. He was a two week old grunt. He was not compensated for his opinion, or his professional tactical and political advice. He was compensated for doing the dirty work, and managing to come home safe to receive it. And not only that, but it seemed he could 'don't and say he did,' but looking at it from a different perspective, he decided against that. It reminded him of a book he'd read some years ago, where three great powers created a perpetual state of war in order to control their respective populaces. It wasn't a happy book. So, he would do his part. He'd suggest it when he was able, and that was it. That didn't exactly make him a conspirator, and he didn't much fear repercussions of it - it was benign.

But, that was something he was going to worry about later. Because right now, he felt good. An affectionate, contented smile on his face, he quietly crawls over to her own mattress, and laid down next to her, closing his eyes.

"I'm not sure I wanna go home after that," he whispers.

>>38752336
Standing in a building full of reflecting surfaces seemed a poor way to hide (Particularly if the legends about vamponies and mirrors were true), so that's out. The carousel is also out, since hiding amongst all those ponies done up in saddles and harnesses strikes Hazel as... Wrong. This isn't new: for some reason he'd never really understood the reason for the leather bindings. What was the purpose of a saddle, anyway? He could think of a few, and they were all filthy. The concession stand is too small and old tarps too dirty for comfort. Which left only one logical choice. "Ths wey." The Haunted House is, obviously, the safest place for them to hide.

Obviously.

>>38753371
Banna yawns and quietly lays one forehoof on you.

"This ain't no place for pony kind. Ya'll best.

She had already donned her outfit once more--evidently, she didn't care for conversational ventures of the pillowy inclination, or for the proliferation of good feelings that comes from the tenderest of interactions. Had you not chosen to try your hoof in her own dwelling, you may have woken up to discover that she was what could be termed (for fear of getting old and familiar tunes stuck in your head) a Farewell Female. That being said, she's here now and shows no inclination to leave.

"Make sure I see ya again, hear?"

...On the plus side, you no longer feel Fall's peculiar charm crawling up your spine. Silver linings and all.

>>38753568
Calling it a "haunted house" may be a bit generous of you. The building is, like every damn thing in the place, broken-down and boarded-up. Even in its prime it wasn't much of anything: a long, low building that only just rose to a single story. It runs for about fifty meters long and ten meters wide--you're standing on the short side. The sign above the door is too weathered to read, and the velvet carpet that leads into the door (which has, rather crudely, been built in the shape of a vampire's mouth) probably didn't see so much as a broom when this place was active; and that's especially telling, since it probably needed a rake.

The first room is rectangular--and, setting the tone for the rest of the place, dark and claustrophobic. The only light available is a single candle which burns some fifteen feet away. You can just make out two small doors--one to your left, one to your right. You'd best choose one wisely and quickly, if you want to get deep enough inside to be spared some creature's maw.

>>38761638

"You bet, Miss Banna."

He's quiet for a time after that, content to lay there with his eyes closed for a good while, relishing the chance to rest after such a day. And it still wasn't over yet; as soon as he got some directions to the Coil from somebody, a long walk awaited the small party - though it could wait for a catnap. He was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who wanted a break for a bit, and she'd extended the offer of a room to his companions as well. While he did not wait around to see if they took her up on the offer, he was pretty sure that's what they were doing. And even if they weren't, well, Onjage was. And he didn't really care otherwise. Not now.

Embracing his bedtime companion in a light hug, and resting his nose in her mane, he prepares himself for a nap; a long journey awaited him soon.

>>38761638
Over the years, Hazel had naturally gotten a goodly amount of experience sneaking around in the dark. The darkness obscured him, kept him hidden from those wanderers he'd made the focus of his unnatural attention. It kept him safe. It kept him fed. He'd come to find it soothing. But these aren't the alleys of his hometown, and now he plays the role of wanderer. The sense of safety has been replaced by one of vulnerability, and it is only common sense which keeps the pony from reaching for his headlamp. In such times, even a creature such as Hazel will try to find comfort in those around him.
"Hav yu mch expeerens in travrsng th darknss?" His voice is low to avoid drawing attention, but he seems to have gotten better at making himself understood through the wrappings. "Mch ov mie ohn time bck 'ome wz spnt pst dusk. It wz allways th darkr S'str I flt closserr tu."
He cautiously approaches the left passage, eyes peeled and ears perked for any movement. He fully intends to draw weapon if he hears a moth fart.

Per: 4

>>38761838
"A haunted house...gee, why don't we just go fuck in the woods, while we're at it?"

Blowhard stops at the door to the "haunted house" and presses himself up against the wall. He takes a quick peek inside before he turns his vision outward, to the rest of the carnival. Surely there has to be some hiding place that isn't so ass-numbingly retarded...

"...Enough. I prefer not to, though."

After a moment, he steps backwards onto the carpet and drops to his hind knees. The motion is uncomfortable, but it projects the illusion of proficiency while minimizing the amount of him that some jackass sniper might take a potshot at.

"A lot of time in the darkness, eh?"

He watches him carefully. He hadn't forgotten Hazel's taste for flesh just yet.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that whatever you did back home wasn't entirely legal."

>>38762025
"There are less superfluous things than legality, and greater laws than those judges enforce." Hazel crouches low enough to the ground that his belly nearly touches the carpet, but his movements remain fluid. "That which hungers, hunts. That which knows not the danger, is consumed. These are laws of nature. They need not enforcement, for none can violate them." He doesn't glue himself to the wall and peek around the doorframe; that would silhouette him too easily to any in the next room. Instead he stays in the area beyond that which the room's occupants would mentally identify as their area's portal, having learned some time ago that perception was far more psychological than physical. A few feet from the threshold, he peers into the next room. "I think such reality is also known to yourself; that some rules must be obeyed even when they violate all others. Am I wrong?"

Stealth: 3
For the hell of it.

>>38762043
Blowhard inwardly curses, using most of his sailor's dictionary in a silent storm. He'd met some oddball types, but seriously? This was a first, thankfully. In another time and place, he would've turned his gun on his "comrade" without a second thought--but fate's callous mercies had bound their survival together, for the moment being.

Actually, come to think of it, Banna's tent wasn't that far away. He could easily leave Hazel for dead, and maybe realize his tomato-and-lettuce-based designs while he was at it.

Or he could fucking die, either at her hooves, the claws of her dogs, or the hooves of a mind-slaved Onjage. Neither was appealing, unless the latter-most had some previously-unrecognized aptitude for full-body binds and attacks utilizing the pelvis. He wouldn't mind dying that way.

Unfortunately, he didn't think he was that lucky.

"So you killed ponies and ate them. Great."

He points his gun on the doorway, following Hazel's lead. For once, he was willing to let someone else get shot and/or stabbed first.

"...Maybe just a little bit, yeah."

>>38762052
Hazel isn't particularly perturbed by the other's assessment. He hadn't really spoken to anyone else about this before, but he'd never been in a situation where another knew and didn't immediately attempt some sort of 'justice'. The reaction is predictable.
"These desires were not requested. They were bestowed by means natural or divine."
Explaining is probably pointless. It's so easy for others to judge. Good, evil, draw the lines and place ponies there according to what offends you. Simple.
"Were the pressures placed upon you requested? When two paths of evil faced you, did you revel in the choice?"
He hungered. He desired. Nopony else did. How could anypony else judge him without that context? In ignorance. A standard state of affairs for them.
"Should you explain such actions to one free of such trials, would their judgement strike you fair?"

>>38762065
Blowhard shrugs. His paranoia was, of course, working overtime--but it did that even when he was retired back home. Some things never changed, at least.

"We all have our callings. You eat ponies, I fuck stallions. Somewhere back home, someone took offense to that.

"I ain't judgin' until you start licking your lips at me."

Ha ha ha, what the Hell was he even saying?

>>38762087
"Your acceptance overwhelms." His slightly poetic accent obscures sarcasm a bit. Not much. "Your safety is not in jeopardy. This place teems with those who would pose danger; I need not prey upon ponies who would alive do me more good than dead."
A few exceptions spring to mind, but as his current companion is not among them he doesn't feel the statement to be unnecessarily deceptive.
"I've found that when a pony is offended, reason departs. Offense seems to most as a license to do as they wish rather than as they should. What did this someone wish?"

>>38762096
"What does any of the nebulous "they" do when "they" encounter a lifestyle that "they" do not care for?"

He let that statement hang--it was, in his eyes at least, enough.

"...Why'd you start...you know?"

>>38765080
What a silly question. "I imagine much the same reasons as those which led you to stallions' beds." After a moment he concedes that further revelation is due. "My town of birth is as much a place of griffons as it is of ponies. The hybrid race is not of hunters solely comprised, but I did not lack for fellows when it came to small game's hunt." Hazel's attention wanders to the past for just a moment. Before the City, before he even took up the butcher's apron. Golden eyes, sharp talons, ruffling feathers. His friends in youth. Truv's witty jokes. Gerrit, friendly but mad even by Hazel's standards. Lyrri, the apex huntress...

And just like that his mind returns to the present, snapped away from the memories by defensive reflex. "When small game's thrill dulled, I sought prey of a more exciting sort."

>>38766069
>>38765080
When a rabbit you prey, easy is life.
When a rabbit you are, easy is life.
When a lion you are, easy is life.
When a lion you prey.....

>Dark Star looks up at Hazel, his eyes only half focused on the colt.

Eat a rabbit and be fed for a day.
Eat a lion and be fed for a week.
Live with the lions and be fed eternally....
>The striped pegasus shivers and looks at the larger brown stallion.

....That is much less wasteful....
To hunt and eat what you kill.
>The pegasus shivers again.
Ohn tammo ahn wast.

>>38762043
The left passage is, as far as you can tell, quite deserted. The air is stale and moist, and the tattered red carpet is plagued by a rising damp. most of the passage is dark, but in the light of the candelabra you can clearly make out the telltale marks of water damage--this, coupled with the musty stench of airborne mildew, makes it plain that nobody with anything resembling standards (Or perhaps, simply nobody with anything resembling a budget) has been this way for at least half a year.

You chose wisely, then.

>>38767837
>>38769046
Since the poem doesn't seem to have more than a superficial relevance to the conversation, Hazel just remarks with: "Then hunger will never curse Onjage again." He suspects that the flying Zebra might be a bit mad, and this does little to relax him. The apparently empty corridor does, though, so it's with only slight trepidation that he starts down that route. The rundown building feels to him like a fairly adequate place to lay low, so by his reasoning the only creatures that might inhabit it would be those that feel the need to hide. Thus, even jf they do run into something, it should be something fairly low on the food chain.
Probably.
A thought strikes him. One he does not much care for. "Blowhard. How many rounds do you carry?"

Perhaps it was the exhausting day, filled with an unhealthy amount of misfortune, or perhaps it was the company he found himself in, the lovely Miss Banna held against his person; but whatever the reason, he was fast asleep in mere minutes.

It was a peculiar dream. A dream presented like it was reality, yet the omniscient knowledge of certain things was quite present, as they sometimes are in dreams. Simply knowing what was going to come next when all around you were surprised, or if presented with no direction, you still somehow manage to walk the right path.

He sat a table. A simple, wooden, ancient thing, the only feature to grace its surface besides the aging grains were countless rings where mugs or tankards rested for too long. To the left of him, was the lovely Miss Banna, though her expression was neither playful or happy. Directly across from him, the Grandmaster himself sat. With a smug grin, and his legs crossed and resting on the table. His spurs bit into the rotting wood. And to the right, Blowhard was there. He seemed fearful and uncertain, and kept looking between them as if anticipating a shootout at any moment.

Why they were all there, in the featureless room, sitting at a table, none of them knew. Onjage did. It was his dream, after-all. The premise was simple. He had to pick one. Each represented something, something important. The decision was so clear, and yet it wasn't. He knew what he wanted, but there were obvious and immediate consequences no matter who he chose. Choosing any one of them over the other two, would dissatisfy a majority. Unbalance.

The Grandmaster, and his Coil, represented safety. Relatively speaking, of course. He would be fed, armed, and housed, but have no freedom. The essential components of survival, but not happiness.

Miss Banna represented a strange new streak in Onjage's spirit, of reckless adventure. While significantly increases his chances of death, choosing to live in such a fashion, he would at least enjoy it while it lasted. Doing what was fun, and doing what felt right. The romantic ideal of finding something better; but not without undue risk. But was it a worthy gain, for such a risk?

And lastly, Blowhard. Perhaps more than the other two, it represented himself, as much as it did represent the Pony sitting there. The most real, the most relatable. They were in Hell, and Hell was a terrifying place. It was rife with uncertainty, and the opposite of blissful ignorance - they horrifying unknown. And by chance, his comrades were facing it together. Camaraderie. Friendship. Bonds, tentative now but would inexorably grow in time, that would supersede the ties to everything else. To the Coil, or his own hopelessly deluded dreams.

Yet picking just one could not, and would not, satisfy Onjage. He needed what each had to offer. And he could not obtain them with such an absolution.

And so he made his own decision. He made a new solution. A solution so clear and vivid in his lucid state he was shocked he had seen it earlier. And upon the moment the thought was created, he knew it was the right choice.

Rising from the table, he gave each a final, silent acknowledgement, before turning and walking away into the surrounding darkness.

His hoof mindlessly and softly stroked miss Banna's chest as he dreamed.

>>38770924
Your slumber abruptly ended, for the actions of an outside force. It was like being slapped awake by a downy scented handkerchief, in a way: for Banna, in a display of her curious athletic prowess, had dislodged himself from you and taken a seat at your head--or rather, partially on it. Her silky and spindly bones were digging into your neck--her left hind leg. Her right leg was braced against the ground, and her tail was draped over your head: that distinctive blend of honey, raspberries, and vinegar could've caught attention for miles around if she wanted, but for right now it was all yours.

If she had been applying just a little more force on your neck, this would've been a rather difficult pin to escape: but given how gently she perched on you, she was clearly trying to give you pause before getting up, rather than forcing you down. The guns on her forelegs were trained on some unseen object in the darkness beyond the bleachers--but given how frantically her ears twitch at it, it's probably a point in your favor that you can't see it.

"Easy, Misser Onjage...stay down, don't say a word."

When she speaks, she whispers. Something very rotten indeed must be going on, just beyond the corner of your vision.

"I don't think it's nuthin', just settle."

>>38770786
It's darker than Nigthmare Moon's asscrack in here: you would be well-advised to light the place before venturing forth, lest you face the twin terrors of your own physical ineptitude and the local grue.

>>38770960

Even after blinking ten times, he was not entirely sure where he was, or what was happening. Wherever he was, it was darker than he remembered...

But he recognized Miss Banna's voice, and the hushed urgency there. Upon registering what it was she said, he complies, and remains silent and motionless.

>>38770967
For several seconds, the darkness and quiet are undisturbed, save by the distant rattle of automatic weapon discharge. With a gentle *click*, the hammer of one of her guns pulls back, and she sharply inhales. The tension in the room is nearly as heavy as her scent, and her hold on your neck loosens ever-so-gently: likely her preparing to spring to battle. From beyond the bleachers, one of her dogs growls threateningly...

After roughly ten seconds, someone knocks on the ground a few meters out of sight: three times in a row, loudly. Shortly thereafter, a male's voice--gravelly, macho, and affected with a thick low-Southern accent--speaks up:

"Is thur a Doccer in da hus?"

Banna sighs and rolls off of you. She stands up and answers the stranger:

"Naw, but I goddim on the wire."

She motions for you to get up as a heavy black stallion--hidden from the world by a duster coat and a ten-gallon hat--steps inside and leans against the tent walls. He looks at you and gives a little "ooh".

"I see ye gotchersulf anodda pet, Bans."

She snorts and responds curtly:
"Stay classy, Bri. Stay classy."
She rolls her eyes and squats in a corner of the room, where she begins tending to an old brass kettle. After a moment, the mysterious "Bri" looks in your direction and speaks:

"'Ow d'yew take yer tea, big feller?"

>>38774926

The silence and tension was nerve-wracking - as lovely as the view was, it was not likely to aid him in the coming battle. But fortunately, it never came, and as Miss Banna rolled away, he manages a sigh of relief, standing up to his full, terrible height - it was rude after-all to keep a seat when a guest arrived.

Before he had much chance to offer anything to the conversation, words had already been exchanged Pet? Hmm. Well, that explained the collar anyway. He must be well aware of her sexual habits.

"However you'll give it to me's fine." he says after a moment. He wasn't a big tea-drinker himself, but that didn't mean he disliked it.

"Names Onjage by the way, pleasure to meet you."

>>38774958
"Hm."

He nods thoughtfully, but doesn't return the gesture; Banna, meanwhile, sighs in relief and puts the water on to boil. If you looked, you'd notice that it was an old coal-burning stove, which she ignites by way of a small matchbook. The kettle is well-weathered from years of use, and the water (kept in a small bronze jug by the stove) shimmers in a way that suggests that it's a very, very bad idea to drink it. She puts it on to boil regardless, and winks playfully at you.

Bri speaks again.

"So how you enjoyin' yer time wiff...whutevah's she's makin' yew call 'er?"

>>38775022

"Banna?" he begins, clarifying - as if he would be talking about anyone else, "She's a lovely lady. Every moment so far," he concludes, returning her earlier wink.

Taking a second to look at the boiling pot, he soon noticed the peculiar qualities of the liquid inside.

He supposed he could pretend to drink it. Or at least accept the cup offered to him.

Though he might try a single sip. He'd decide when he was holding the thing.

>>38775055
Bri chuckles at this, and scratches his chin. When his hoof comes into the light, you can see the mass of poorly-concealed scars and bruises on his skin, which have seemingly been done over with a low-end form of makeup--probably watered-down mud, given the standard of living around this part of town. It's a wonder these two (not to mention the fear) even bother with a place like this, when they have a clear and present alternative...

"Banna? That's a new one..."

Banna rolls her eyes as Bri gingerly rubs his neck.

"Ya'll can call me Briar, then. What are you?"

>>38775104

Banna had asked the same question. And her response to his answer didn't make him feel so lucky with this Briar fellow. He was a little more comfortable with Banna dropping the little detail of his allegiance.

"Just a lost pony whose found himself some decent company for awhile. Staying a spell before heading out again," he responds evenly, using Banna's expression.

>>38775118
He grunts, and you can almost feel his eyebrows raising underneath the shadows of his hat. He rubs his neck, more slowly, and stares at Banna.

"Ban? You takin' in meatbags now?"

She scoffs and pours out three steaming mugs of murky water. The cups are made of what looks like porcelain, and they look like they haven't seen soap in well over a year. She spoons a small portion of a curious white substance--likely sugar--into each and takes a sip. She speaks to you, ignoring Briar's remark:

"Tea's on."

>>38775173

"Meatbag?"

What the Hell was that supposed to mean? Only a certain HK 47 was allowed to say that.

He takes his cup gingerly, but his attention remains on the newcomer.

"Not sure what you mean, friend."

He was pretty sure he'd just been insulted right now - but for Banna's sake, he was trying to play it off.

>>38775186
"Nuffin' much."

The faint scent of lemons, raspberries, and honey wafts towards you from the cup. If you think about it for any length of time, this means one of two very disturbing things. Either way, both Briar and Banna drink it readily, and in no small amount. Several seconds later, Briar sets his cup down and nods to Banna.

"'Zeverything going arright?"

She nods.

"Hit a tiny snag comin' home, but it all worked out in the end. These lil' pony types dropped by. I figger it's providence."

"Sure it is, sis. Sure it is."

>>38775215

Now, where had he smelled that bef - OOooooooooooooh.

Ew!

Smelled nice though, but damn! And funny enough, this was still less disgusting than Hazel's habits.

Speaking of whom...

"Speaking of which, did you happen to see them on your way in? Two pony types?"

>>38775249
Briar chuckles softly at this remark, and gazes (in passing) to the mattress that you had woken up on. Something about this is apparently very funny to him.

"Travellin' in packs, are ye?"

He takes another long, lingering sip. This is somewhat stomach-churning, given the context and the implicit familiar relationship between the two. But then again, what do you expect from a place like this...?

He nods to Banna as he produces a small envelope from his duster and sets it down in front of her. He turns back to you.

"Naw. Didn't see none. Didn't see no cawpses, though. So da's a good omen."

>>38775271

"That's good I guess."

Did they leave without him, or just find someplace to hunker down in? Either way - he still didn't regret his decision. He felt fantastic, and could only hope the pair of them were at least taking a load off for the time being. Onjage was, anyway.

Noticing the note passing, he figured he'd let them finish their business without him interrupting.

>>38770960
Loath as he is to make himself even more visible, Hazel comes to the decision that if there is anything calling the Haunted House home, it will probably have better night vision than himself. He removes the socks from his forehooves and stuffs them in a jacket pocket for easy access, then pulls the wrappings on his head back. Luna's Grace the fresh air felt good. He resists the temptation to further derobe: They don't have the time, and it strikes him as a smart idea to ensure he can cover himself back up in a short time.
Such comforts taken care of, he dons his headlamp and flicks it on. "You two might imitate," he suggests while peering down the length of the corridor with new illumination.

Per: 4

>>38776501
>Dark Star watches the strange pony turn on his headlamp with both cheer and dismay. Being able to see is nice in such a place. but the things that live in the dark are things best left unseen and undisturbed.
>With a sigh he pulls his own lamp out of his bag and dons it, not yet turning it on. Instead he closes his eyes listening for anything out there.

>>38775284
Banna nods to Briar, who rests a hoof on something he has concealed beneath his duster. He shoots a probing look at you, and a curious glance at Banna--she shakes her head no and downs the last of her cup. He, in an adequate display of contortion, presses his right forehoof to his shoulder and raises his elbow into the air; she responds by scratching her ears and bobbing her tail. He rolls his eyes and sets his cup down; he trots to the edge of the alcove and begins staring intently at his right hoof. Banna rises to her hooves and stretches out, making a few shamefully erotic noises as she does. After she's done, she addresses you.

"Aright, Misser Onjage. I got an appointment with the rest of the family, pretty soon. You gon' stay here, or shall I walk ya out to the gate?"

>>38776501
It's exactly what you'd expect: beaten, broken-down piece of shit. The only other exit is a simple wooden doorway at the far end of the hallway.

>>38776755
Critfail!
Your ears seem a bit...fucky...tonight. Sounds have developed this strange habit of fading in an out of audio range--maybe you just really need to clean your ears?

>>38778527

"I'd appreciate that, thank you." he replies, setting his cup off to the side, and walking over to his mountain of burdens. Or rather, his belongings, because today was a good day, and he felt good. With a half smile, he began the tedious process of pulling all that stuff on once more.

"Family business?"

>>38778527
>Dark Star tries to concentrate for a few seconds more. After a moment he lets out a slow sigh and opens his eyes, still debating if he should turn on his head lamp.
>He turns and looks at Blowhard, curious as to his plan, if He even had one.

>>38770786
Blowhard takes a quick moment to peer into his saddlebags, and take stock of the bullets neatly arranged between his head lamp and his bandage box. A few mental calculations follow and he nods to himself--after checking to make sure his revolver has the full six, he speaks up.

"One for you, one for me, one for Onjage, one for him."

The "him" in question is Dreamer, of course, as indicated by a quick nod.

"Thirty-five for everyone else."

>>38779457
He hunkers down in the door frame and peers back into the entrance every so often, trusting you and Hazel to watch the rest of the hall.

"I think this is far enough out of sight. I say we wait here until OJ gets back on the scene.

>>38778586
"Yeah. Daddy's callin' us back."

Banna says this as she lends her hoof with helping you lift your various crap. She pecks you on the cheek and bobs your tail when it's all done, and she playfully winks a moment later.

"If ya don't find a friend, I'll take ya back here. Ya can just bunker down--we'll be back about six hours, 'kay? But don't you try and go out alone."

Briar rolls his eyes in a way that suggests he's got five bits riding on you running off alone and dying horrifically.

>>38780309

"Yes ma," he says jokingly, returning the peck on the cheek, after she bundled him up for another day of school - er, a day in Hell.

Of course, if he did fail to find his buddies, he had to wonder if that was it for his Coil career. He doubted these Vampires would risk their butts helping one of their enemies home out of the goodness of their hearts. Maybe for political gains - but both of them surely didn't think Onjage was of much authority, as he was running around doing the grunt work. Still, it was uncertain.

That being said, maybe he wouldn't mind that so much. Everything about his hostess just felt good. He was hard-pressed to fault her in some way.

"If I could get those directions to - you know, I'll get myself and the boys outta your hair once and for all. Lest we find ourselves following your brother again."

>>38778527
>>38780295
Note to self: do not default to Plan B. "Agreed. This place seems safe enough." With a weary sigh he sets flank on the ground for the first time in what seemed like a very, very long stretch. Though his guard isn't dropped, it does ease a bit in anticipation of a few minutes rest. Survival instincts no longer shouting commands at him like a nervous drill sergeant, he feels at ease. For about a second. Before the instinct which has tightened the clothing wrapped around his haunches fills the void fear left like it's the last five minutes of auditions and it only had one shot. Images of Banna's contortionism play through his head. Concealing Night he's sore.

>>38780337
"Directions?"

She holds her forehoof to her lips, to restrain a giggle. Though there is no sound, her entire body laughs: she all but bounces in place, at some joke that she didn't tell you about. If Briar's knowing eye roll and long-suffering sigh are any indication, you just made something of a faux-pas. Hopefully, whatever slip you made won't come back to bite you later.

Banna smiles and trots out from underneath the bleachers.

"Find a tall building, look for it, and walk that way. Best I can give you."

>>38780295
>>38781735
>With the plan clear, Dark Star takes a deep breath and sits down. His thoughts slide through the last few... hours? Days? Weeks? The club, the fire, thou mountain, Strawberry....
>That.... Thing. His mind plays back the image of the lusus naturae violating the all that is good with is laugh.
>The sound of which still echos in the marrow of his soul like a bullet ricocheting off a bone.
>His eyes snap open as he wrenches his blade from its sheath and tears it through the air infront of him in fear. It is a damn good thing he was facing away from both his companions.

>>38783788

"Worth a try, anyway," he replies, doing his best to play off his seemingly endless naivety.

Boy did he like to make her laugh though. His tail swished contentedly as she made her departure.

"I'll see you later then, Miss Banna Banana. Stay safe," he calls after her, before he climbed out from the bleachers himself - giving the dogs a wide berth. A lot of good they did, he thinks to himself - they only growled after Banna had her own hackles raised. Useless, stinky animals. He wouldn't mind leaving them behind.

In fact, he didn't mind much at all, he felt fantastic. His tail still as it was just moments ago, he soon exits the Big-Top, and lackadaisically strolls out onto the fairground, only stopping to take a quick glance around for his companions.

>>38781735
Blowhard turns away and idly with his back against the door frame , head resting on his knees. His breathing was slow, and his movements were minuscule when he made them at all. He lifts his head to catch a glimpse of the outside every forty seconds or so, but for the most part he is placid and idle. It was the closest thing to rest he was going to get while he was out on the job--once again, he couldn't help but think of the jungle; and once again, he couldn't decide which was worse.

At least in the jungle, he had a quick snack within arm's reach at all times; and to be fair, he had a quick snack within reach at all times in the city, but that would involve murder and dismemberment--and the latter was distinctly distasteful.

When he next lifts his head, he chuckles and addresses Hazel:

"You ever been on the run, Nuts?"

>>38784020
Blowhard, looking out over the fairground, steals across the room to the main door and simply stands there, waiting for the moment where his stature and complete lack of any attempt at stealth gave him away. Of course, given that that was his intention, he also got ready to gun down any enterprising monsters who happened by.

>>38784017
As Blowhard was in the next room and looking away, and given that swords are naturally rather quiet, he neither sees nor hears this outburst.

>>38784619

He just grins stupidly and waves, his demeanor glowing - not physically of course, as it was in Hazel's case, but just as noticeable.

>>38784619
"No." Hazel lifts himself up and walks to the front exit of the house, towards the giant. "I have not."

>>38784630
"If your excesses have quite finished satisfaction," he seethes as soon as he's close enough to be understood without shouting, "shall we depart for the Coil?"

>>38784642

"Sure man, I'm ready," he responds, unphased.

"You guys all rested too?"

>>38784673
Blowhard rolls his eyes and knocks on the door, to alert the Dreamer to their parting.

"OJ? If you're any kind of rested right now, you weren't doing it right."

He chuckles at his quip and steps into the perpetual moonlight of the city, throwing several furtive glances around the fairground.

"Alright...it's a clear shot home, now."

>>38784795

He just grins wider.

"If you only knew."

"I could describe it if you want."

>Dark star begins to panic as he realizes his companions are gone. The tempo of his heart increases from a flaminco to bebop, he draws his second blade, trying to cover the whole area with his eyes.
>He turns his whole body towards the booming noise. His body ready to jump in any direction, he advances towards the door. Upon hearing the voices of his compainions he stows his second blade back away and looks out into the darkness that is Shadowfall

>>38784673
>>38784795
>>38784802
>>38787114
Hazel turns his headlamp off, then places it back in his saddlebag. "As straight a shot as chance provides, at least." His hood is pulled over his head, the wrappings hanging loose at his chest drawn up over his muzzle. "Shadowfall will do little to aid our return. Its denizens will be less ambivalent but no more friendly." Finally his forehooves are once again socked, so that the only part of his luminescent flesh which is revealed is the eye-slit. "I would not bet great sums on our safe arrival. But then..." The cloth hides his expression well, but his voice betrays it: "To come across hostile beings is not a situation lacking benefits."

With luck, he might even need his backup sack.

"Lead the way."

>>38788321

With a carefree shrug, Onjage takes but half a second to look for a tall building off in the distance, and begins his lumbering way towards it. That insufferable grin seeming irremovable from his face. Not only was he able to indulge himself gloriously, and not only did her bewildering and exotic touch melt away the tiredness and aching joints, he got something to think about on the way home, too.

He hums idly and tunelessly to himself as he walked.

>>38789430
>>38788321
>>38787114
>>38784795

It doesn't take long...or rather, as long as it could have. A few minutes of scouting lead to a few minutes of pushing through the streets, which leads to a few minutes of worried watching and listening, which leads to running very fast in the other way from what sounds a bit like a gang of clockwork ponies fighting a gang of abnormally large hounds; and this brief flight comes to an end when a small explosion from what appears to be some kind of warhead tears a building out from underneath you, and sends to crashing into flooded storm drain. The current then, of course, carries you down the causeway, down some fifteen feet, and into a pit of rancid sewer water.

As you drag yourself out, you can't help but notice that you've run into a pair of rather alarmed-looking ponies who (for a change) lack any sign of scales, fangs, claws, or poor dress sense. One of them--a yellow mare no older than nineteen--stares at you and tilts her head.

"...Hi?"

Her companion, a silvery-white pegasus stallion, frowns and aims his shotgun at you. In a snobbish upper-class drawl, he speaks:

"You lot look all hot and bothered; almost as if you mean to tell me the sun is shining."

>>38799479

For some reason, he can't help but snerk loudly at that greeting. He liked it so much he was going to use it from now on. It was just silly, and he enjoyed it immensely. And of course, had to be said in the same drawl voice.

"Not yet, but I'm sure it will soon."

"And what might you two fine folks be doing out here? Not very often they only send two ponies out to do a job."

"Onjage, by the by," he adds, approaching with an out-stretched hoof, an easy smile on his face.

>>38799606
Oh, hey! He remembers the exchange. Hazel marks this as progress, then relaxes the grip he'd put on Rah slighty. What he looks like to them - a glowing pony wrapped in a random assortment of stylish clothing that is now soaked with rainwater and sewage - is probably slightly less than 'mortal'. As naive a reaction Onjage's is, it might at least do something to ease their guard. As much as he finds the two appealing, it's unwise to start unnecessary fights and even less wise to dine on 'comrades' you just finished killing in self-defense.

That he might defend himself without killing doesn't even cross his mind.

"We were to return to the Coil but seem to have become lost instead. Could you perhaps point us in the direction favourable?" He keeps his voice courteous, doing his best to not look like a monster. Luckily for him, it's an act he's familiar with.

>>38799606
The upper-class pony furrows his eyebrows and studies you carefully, checking for some minute crack in your appearance. Instead of the standard coil robe, he's wearing some peculiar manner of bodyglove, which is fashioned from bits of sturdy cloth and whatever leather he could scrap together. It looks significantly heavier than your robe, which implies that either he's a remarkable flier or that, like a large number of pegasi back home, he neglects to use his wings out of personal preference. He cranes his neck, to get a look at the inside of your cloak, and nods thoughtfully. He looks towards the ceiling, and thrusts his shotgun upwards twice.

"We're not out on a job. We're guarding the camp.

"You're thirty-third, right?"

>>38799677
The pegasus looks at you and raises an eyebrow in a way that conveys mild amusement, rather than curiosity. Evidently, crossdressing glowing hobo-ponies are a thing he deals with frequently.

"Shh. I'm talking to your boss."

>>38802437

"No idea friend. We're just trying to find a way home to the Coil, we're on our way back from a job. Thirty third? What's that?"

He doesn't do much when the stranger began the inspection of his person, merely lowering his unaccepted hoof. It was best to just let them be suspicious than take offense. You'd think he'd have learned by now.

>Dark Star looks at the other ponies. They look decent enough. Time to move on.
>He looks around for a way out. Be it past the ponies or otherwise, he wants out.

>>38803780
I suppose that is the unit we were in.
>He looks at the snobbish pony.
Sent to stop the war? Yes. That was us.

May we pass now?

>>38803780
Blowhard quietly sighs and facehoofs, only to pull it away after he realizes that his forehoof is covered in a peculiar sludge formed from liquified rotten eggs and old poo. It had been a while since he really felt like he needed to take a shower--but there was no time like the present. Diving through sewer water to escape an army of vamponies...some retirement this was.

At least the upper-class twit of the year and his bitch over there had made mention of a camp. Where there was a camp to be guarded, there were other ponies; and where there were other ponies, there were bound to be a few buckets of cold water or at least a pair of good corks and some olive oil to go on them.

What a pain in the ass.

>>38804267
As he shook his mane dry, Blowhard shot a curious look at Dark Star. He began slowly wringing his tail out, and then he spoke.

"You okay, kid?"

>>38803780
"Feh."

The silver pegasus rolls his eyes and runs his hoof through his mane. His companion shoots a reproving glare his way, and he sheepishly smiles back at her. You would most likely need a perturbed cat and a kangaroo whip to properly encapsulate the nature of their relationship, but it stands to reason that he's doubly-embarrassed for some unknown reason. After a moment he turns back to you and sighs.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else..."

>>38804267
And then he perks up again--he playfully sticks his tongue out at the mare, and turns to you. For a moment, he stares at you as though a delicious snack just bid him hello--which, come to think of it, it had.

"Ah, yes. The big boss was on about you, says you lot get the first train out..."

He narrows his eyes and looks around hesitantly.

"...Weren't there more of you?"

>>38804476

"I blame society," is all he has to say to that.

"And what's this about a train...?"

That didn't sound bad at all, even if it was just being used as a loose expression. There was finally a more concrete way home.

>>38804476
First train out to where?

Back out into the mouths of the monsters?
>That was said with a very uneeded amount of venom.

>He takes a breath to calm down.
Yes.
Yes there was.
A good deal more.

Now if we can move on...?

>>38804348
>He looks over, an edge to his expression, something akin to fear or anger.
I am fine.
But the longer we wait, the easier we are to eat.
I will not be eaten.

>>38804570
"Yes..."

The pegasus turns and sets a pace deeper into the claustrophobic cesspit, flaring his wings and tossing his mane to show that his begrudging acceptance is yet tempered by his obligatory contempt. Maybe he's a racist, maybe he's classist, maybe he's colorist, or maybe he's just a prat--really, it's anyone's guess and he's not telling. His companion waits for you to go first.

>>38804698
The pony rolls his eyes and flips his mane again, to no real effect. When he speaks, he addresses everyone present equally.

"You lot will be taking the train back to the tower. And they were this close to sending a search party or two to find you..."

The air is thick and damp, and it stinks just as badly as the water. It will be a small miracle if you're ever clean again after this, let alone pine-scented or what-have-you. The walls are moldy, slick, and damn near ready to come down: but luckily for you, a single patch of electric light some twenty meters down the way betrays the "camp" these ponies spoke of.

>>38804964

Gee, how helpful.

"Thanks!" he says cheerily, nodding to him slightly, and offering a more friendly wave to his companion, as he stepped past the snooty pegasus. And perhaps it was completely accidental, perhaps not, but regardless, one of his hoof-falls came down just a little faster than was necessary, making a small splash right behind the pegasus, where if one should be so inclined, would hopefully get the pony's ass wet - or at least his legs.

Anywho, he doesn't bother doublechecking as to what happens lest he blow his cover, and he simply continues along towards the electric lighting down the way.

>>38804698
"Pragmatic. Did he teach you that?"

After swatting his tail against the wall one last time, Blowhard carried on. He'd never liked water, much. Impossible to breathe in, hard to maneuver through, and it fucked guns up something fierce. Making it frigid, rancid, rising, and damn near everywhere was just a kick right to his nonexistent pants.

After a moment, he stops and turns towards you.

"Come on. You go first."

>>38804964
First home, first to return to the field.

After them?
Another search party for them?

>He walks and stands next to the female pony, nodding by way of greeting.

>>38805041
No.
I learned that myself.

Here.

>He nods, standing next to the female pony.
Better you in first.
>He looks at the pony next to him.
You as well, I can take the rear.

>>38805105
Blowhard shakes his head and jerks his hoof along. Here was, at last, the great tet-a-tet he'd been expecting ever since he'd stumbled upon his long-estranged fudgesicle of a bastard; or perhaps this was, as so many before, just another lead-up, devoid of blood or sparks. Which was going to pass...?

"It's safest in the middle, Dreamer. You go ahead, please."

Even after all these years, there were some things he just couldn't fully shake.

>>38805281
>>38805105

Hazel's mind is not a normal place. This shouldn't surprise anyone. Where most will take the time to assemble their thoughts into coherent words, the butcher has a tendency to simply accept concepts and directives without needing language to clarify them. The word 'dirty', for instance, never crosses his mind, but the concept is recognized. Dozens more factors, possibilities, and decisions are considered in a strange space between the conscious and subconscious mind, where the former can glimpse into the shadows but not remember what it saw. The entire 'process' begins and ends at the same time, even if Hazel could recall the amorphous blob of thought he would not be able to properly translate or even understand it. But if he were to try, he might come with a close approximation:

'I don't have time for this bullshit.'

He grabs one of the striped pegasus' saddlebag-straps while passing and tugs forward. "If you do not wish to be consumed, I suggest we keep moving. I am getting hungry, and my tolerance..." He shoots a glance at the stringy-looking upperclass stallion "Is at lowest point."

>>38805281
>He looks up the tunnel.
Not really.
It isn't safe anywhere.
Not here.
Not ever.

>>38806654
>Being paranoid, angry, and scared; Dark Star's instincts kick in and he bodly shoves the freakish colt away from himself.
Don't touch me!
Oh, you are hungry?
Try a little shop at the base of the mountain.
You get all the food you can eat and more.
>That being said he does start down the tunnel, listening all the way for an attack from foes. Or friends.

>>38804980
Your splash connects--and after a second or so, your "guide" abruptly stops short and his wings immediately extend to their full length. His tail, likewise, stands up, and for a moment he looks like he picked a fight with a static ball.

"Oh m-my!"

His mare pushes him along with her nose, but he has a rather distinct spot of difficulty getting his wings to go down. It stands to reason that, if you linger around home base for too long, you'll have another prospective conquest track down your dormitory room within a few days at the absolute latest. It's anypony's guess what will become of the poor snob, should Banna discover...


The light source is deceptively simple, to be bright as it is. It is but a simple unshaded lightbulb, of about sixty watts, that has been placed atop a squat wooden crate. The light socket has, perhaps rather unsurprisingly, been hooked up to a lemon in a mason jar: the entire ensemble is hopelessly ramshackle, but it functions all the same.

The sewer chamber is just as damp and claustrophobic as the surrounding areas--but the [presently opened] secret passage in the far wall and the ponies who presently scramble about the place betray its true nature. As you approach, the pegasus nods to an orange unicorn mare who is standing stock-still among the chaos. After a moment, the mare's horn glows as she casts a simple voice-amplification charm on herself. Her voice rings out above the bustle:

"Shady, Rayne, Draw! Up and at it, on your hooves! You've got business with this gang!"

8 Draw was dazed, confused and excited, all at the same time.
The last week or two had been a blur. One day he was in Manehatten, the other he was in Shadowfall. One thing lead to another, and now he was... wherever "here" was. It looked like a bunker of some sort, if you could even call it that. The entire place smelled like mold, and you got the sense that the place would collapse at any moment.

He was leaning against a wall, sitting down; quietly observing the crowd. Most of them looked like ponies, at first glance at least. Some were shouting, some were crying, some were sound asleep on the ground. It was an evacuation, alright. Chaos reigned.
Suddenly, a voice rang out. The female voice called out three names. Shady, Rayn and Draw. 8 Draws ears perked up at the mention of his name. Apparently he had some business with a gang. Gang? What did he have any business to do with a gang? He was curious none the less, and slowly stood up from the cold concrete floor. His entire body felt numb and rigid, he must have been lying there for a few hours at least.
Pushing and shoving his way through the crowd, he approached the orange mare that had called out his name. When he reached her, he turned towards the four ponies that stood in the doorway. They were certainly... an interesting bunch. A giant carrying large bags of ammo, a pony covered in cloth from head to toe, radiating a glow between the bandages; a zebra with wings and finally a stallion covered in scars, wearing a sour expression on his face.
"Pleased to make your acquaintances, all..."
He paused, glancing at the glowing one.
"All four of you. Name's 8 Draw."
He wasn't sure who to shake hoofs with, so he didn't offer the gesture.

>>38807375
The sound is something between a grunt and a hiss, but no more than a single of Rah's teeth escapes the confines of its sheath before reflex is checked and his swordhoof returns empty to the ground. He gives Blowhard a passing glance before coming alongside the zebra, behind Onjage. It occurs to him that there is some sense in placing a melee fighter on the rear guard, particularly since they're headed toward nominal safety and away from danger's most likely source. But the thought-blob hadn't really taken tactics into account, and until he can find a hors or a doctor he decides to place emphasis on speed.
He makes a note of that shop, though.

>>38808610
"Light travels furthest when under dark's oppression." He pulls the scarves around his head down and back and addresses the unicorn: "Would there be somepony inside capable of..." he points a hoof to his glowing face. "Predicament's handling? I seem to be poisoned."

>>38811310
"Hazel. Pleased to make acquaintance," he offers to the side. Clearly other things are on his mind.

>>38811310

He only smiles and nods.

"I'd offer my hoof, but it's covered in piss water, so we'll save it for later. Name's Onjage. Nice to meet ya."

>>38808610

"And hello to you to."

>>38811310

Turning his attention back to 8 Draw, he raises a hoof to point at his companions briefly.

"I don't know about any sort of business, we're just trying to get home. Do you...?"

>>38812208
8 Draw shakes his head.

"I know as little as you, probably less. I've only been here in the lovely city of Shadowfall for a week or two."
He paused, observing the filthy stallion. Before asking if "that was just his thing", he looked at the other three. They all looked equally grubby.

"How exactly did all... that happen?"
He gestured towards him, in a up-down motion.

>>38808610
>>38804980
>Dark Star scowls disgustedly at the pair. how could the Gaint even think of such things in this hell. Was he that lonely?
>>38811925
>He half growls, and as they clear the tunnel, steps away, sticking to the back of the group.

>>38811310
>He nods ever so slightly from the back of the group, his eyes constantly searching for attack, ever shadow being checked, every pony searched visually for any sign of the cheery smile that likely will haunt him untill death. It's or his.

>>38812387

"Lots and lots of walking around aimlessly, through live battlefields. Walking through this shitty tunnel is just the icing on the cake. And I'm ready to go home...so uh....how about we go ahead and uh, do that. Go home, I mean," he offers half-assedly, gesturing towards the opening various ponies were entering and exiting from.

"Unless that's to someplace else."

>>38808610

8 Draw raised an eyebrow.
"Home? You mean this world has such a place?

He glanced back at the teeming bunker. He heard what he thought was a filly crying.
"Well, it's gotta be better than this. First though, we need to meet those Shady and Rayn fellows."
8 Draw sighed lazily, and stretched out his aching back. He turned towards the crowd, scouting after any heads that seemed to be moving towards their group.

>>38811925
The unicorn's nostrils flare and she takes a few quick reflexive steps away. For once, you can safely assume that her horror stems from something other than the sickly stench of corpse-flesh and sewers that clings to your fur, or the sickly gray pallor of an unregistered sex offender, or the collection of scarfs, jerseys, and cock-socks you have clad yourself in; or even the abortive mass of old grass and ground-up puppies you call a hairdo. Not to say those things didn't contribute, mind--for they most definitely did--but it stands to reason that they aren't the chief reason. She kills the spell and shakes her head at you.

"What the Hell, buddy? How hungry did you get out there?!"

She shakes her head and jerks her head to the far side of the room. She takes off at an easy pace, inviting each of you to follow after her.

"You got it pretty heavily, pal. I give you two hours before the SDN hits. Hop on the train, and report to Croft as soon as you get back. Tell him you're thirty-third, that should clear up his schedule pretty nicely."

Heavy poisoning was never good, even back home. Here, it's bound to be worse by an innumerable magnitude...

>>38812526
The unicorn frowns as she observes you. She nervously rubs her chin, and beckons for you to come closer.

"You don't look like you're doing too good, kiddo. What happened out there?"

>>38815569
>>38812845

"I guess we're about to find out, huh? Come with if you want, I'm not waiting on tweedledee or tweedledum. There's a shower somewhere waiting for me and I don't plan on leaving her hanging," he says matter-of-factly, before turning to follow the unicorn.

He was looking forward to a shower, he felt pretty grundgy at this point, but having said that, he was still over-all in a good mood. They're were closer to home than they'd been in two days, and he could still taste the raspberry moonlight whenever he closed his eyes.

Who was Alma again?

>>38815569
Dark Star steps forward a few steps.
"We failed our mission and became scattered."
"I am fine".
He continues following the group towards the other side of the room.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
He keeps his tone as even as possible so as to not offend her.
His eyes still search out the momster's smile.

>>38808610
Rayne had, for the brief time he'd been in the base since the incident with the clockwork creations and vamponies, been spending his time as an impromptu weapons instructor for those Coil ponies who didn't have the skills already. He'd never been much of the teaching type, but orders were orders. Wasn't going too badly either.

The unicorn's shout finds him finishing up going over the disassembly, cleaning, and repair of a rifle with some of the fresher meat. Bit of a pain to do when there wasn't much of a 'standard issue' for the Coil - they got what they could find, and that was about it.

He wraps up the session and makes sure all the ponies take their respective firearms with them, complete with all the appropriate parts, then trots over to the group.
"Sgt. Rayne reporting. Y'all need me for somethin'?"

>>38819784
Sergeant? 8 Draw had completely forgotten that the Coil was, in fact, a military. Which he was part of, no less. No one seemed to bother with rank though, so the sudden "SIR YES SIR" took him a little off guard.

"Ask her."
He nodded towards the orange unicorn.

"She's the only one that seems to know what this is all about."

>>38815923
She shakes her head and carries on. As she pushes through the crowd, the admiration she commands is plain on the ponies' faces--and when the light catches it right, the age is plain on hers. Between the crow's feet and the grey hairs, there's no way she's anything less than forty; and even if she were immaculately-groomed with the skin of a newborn, it would have showed. As you pass through, everyone pauses--if only for a moment--to watch her go. Pegasi, unicorns, earth ponies; mares, stallions; as old as she is, or younger than you are. Even the crowd's single solitary griffon politely bows its head at her.

This, of course, means that for the second or two they spare from their evacuation, the assembled creatures catch a glimpse--no matter how brief--of you. This, of course, means that if the damnable spawn is hiding about the place--and it most certainly is, for who could find it in their hearts to turn away a kindly old grandmother--it got a look at the one who got away.


If only it weren't so difficult to pick a lone pony out of a scurrying crowd...

>>38819784
The Leader--who went by the name of Morning Rose, as you'd learned from your time here--nods towards you as she pushes the far door open with a quick flash of magic. The distinctive puff of cool, dry air air that washes over your face means that, if only for today, it's not a sewer tunnel. Rose herself seems mildly pleased by the shortness of the walk.

"Eyes up, Rayne. You're walking with these boys all the way back home."

The next tunnel was just as dark and cramped as the sewer; but while it smelled significantly better, it was darker yet without a thin river of slurry to reflect the moonlight. Its vaulted roof was nearly pristine; and through the darkness, you could make out the two thin metallic rails set into the ground. The tunnel stretches off into the darkness either way--but there's no wondering what it's for.

"I hope you're fond of locomotives, gentlemen."

With a knowing wink to the assembled newcomers, Rose sticks her forehoof out into the tunnel--and for a moment, the darkness is chased away by a glorious orange light. It dies a scarce second later, but its effect is instantly noticeable: for in the distance, to your left, a tortured metallic wail echoes around the tunnel, and a pearly white light splits the darkness. With a great mechanical rumble, akin to a hungry beast, the engine rushes along--and within thirty seconds, the roar rises to a deafening level while the light literally floods the tunnel; and with an agonized shriek from the mouth of Hell itself, the train slows to a halt in front of you: and it does so with such excellent timing that the first passenger car is squarely in front of you.

The engine is blackened with soot, muck, and grime; but that doesn't diminish its ghastly aesthetic. The way the engine is lined with thin metal rods, and the faded white smokestack, conspire to give a nigh-skeletal impression. The cars are a blackened shade of crimson, and the windows are too tarnished to see through. At the front of the train, eight unoccupied sets of conjoined reigns stand, floating at shoulder-height above the ground: as burdens for invisible riders.

"All aboard."

Morning Rose steps into the passenger car, and beckons for you and yours to follow...

>>38826630

With an excited grin, the giant pony steps aboard without a second thought. He didn't ride trains much back home, but for whatever reason this just looked like fun. not to mention he didn't at all mind the 'special' attention his party seemed to be getting, them hurrying them on the train like this.

"Thank you kindly mam," he says with a small nod, taking a quick glance around for an available seat, and place to dump his respective burdens.

All in all, not a bad day so far.

Though in fairness, he had slightly underestimated the effort the Coil had contributed to this little 'mission.' As far as he'd been aware, it was only the party of six or so sent to do anything about this, but this looked like a damn near full-on evacuation. Was the Coil more involved than they were previously led to believe? What was going on here, exactly?

>>38826630
While immediately somewhat suspicious of anything that looked remotely easy after his last venture, Rayne shrugs and dutifully steps aboard after her.
"So where exactly are we headed anyway ma'am?"

>>38826630
>Let the damn monster look. He was getting out of there. Soon he would be back in the coil where he could search in relative safety and when it came for him, he would be prepared.
>And then came the train. Having never been on a train or infact, even seen one, much less such a nightmareish train, Dark Star is nearly panicking.
>He waits for the titanic beast with his blades drawn, ready to dive out of the way. Then it stops and he can see it for what it is; A machine. Seeing his comrades boarding it with out a care, he resheaths his blades and hesitantly boards it, doing all he can to ignore the odd looks from his companions.

As the train roared in front of 8 Draw, his suspicions only grew. Why were they getting all this special treatment? Onjage and his gang of colourful personae didn't seem to be all that special. And 8 Draw? Hah, he was worth less then the cowering civilians in the bunker. He was the new guy. Or at least, so he thought. This invitation seemed to speak the contrary.

He glanced at the twitchy Zebra who seemed quite startled by the train. Odd one, he was.
8 Draw gingerly stepped into the carriage, careful not to slip. He sat himself down behind Onjage. He had some questions in mind.

8 Draw began slowly, hoping to gain the giant's attention. His tone was frank.
"So... Since I seem to be a part of the group now, mind telling what your crew's mission was? The one that caused you to lose a few of your members."

>>38829634

The giant, sitting down already, was currently working on his various straps that went around his person, and doesn't offer you his complete attention when he speaks, "Wish I knew all the details myself," he says with a grunt, as his ammunition burden hit the floor.

"Sent out to talk to some tentacle monster type, whose name escapes me at the moment. Told us to follow someone. Forgot his name too. Just told to watch him, see what he does. So we do. Walks into some building after awhile, and then blows himself up," he continues, working on his hammer straps now, "and it turns out our first contact kinda knew that was going to happen. And he didn't tell us. We could have stopped it, easily. And so now a war is about to start. The warring factions being....I dunno their names, and I dunno if you've seen em, but they're robot-ponies. Imagine something steam-punk. Guns, clocks, gears, that sorta thing. And on the other side, Dusk types. The zombie ponies, you know."

A hilariously large warhammer joins the pile of crap at his feet, with it's accompanying sheath. He now fiddles with his cloak.

"And apparently, even with prior knowledge of the likely outcome, it wasn't the desired outcome. That derpflank then tries to think a way to fix everything, after being given a perfect opportunity to avoid this all in the first place. We're sent out, again, to find this guys house, and try and find something that says he went and blew himself up of his own volition, and wasn't representing his faction as a whole."

With a final click, the last strap of his cloak is removed, but he doesn't set it on the floor. Instead, he goes about wiping the shit and piss off his legs with it.

"And on the way, the war we were attempting to prevent breaks out right over our heads, and we're caught in the middle of it. We got seperated, ponies got killed, and I got lost. When we met back up again, there was only three of us."

His hind legs cleaned to the fullest extent possible, he begins wiping his forehooves.

"Somehow, we find the place, the guy's house who killed himself, and we don't really find anything. Spent the last day and a half trying to get home after that. We bumped into him," he says, motioning with his nose towards the zebra, "at some point, who got separated from us since the beginning. He just kinda wanders around. Not particularly useful that one. But he's company I guess."

His monologue complete, he stands and turns to the window, opening it just slightly. His now ruined cloak is promptly tossed out through the narrow opening, which was closed as soon as it was opened. The giant again takes his seat.

"And that's that."

>>38830769
Morning Rose casually catches your cloak with a forehoof before she steps inside and begins balling it up. She leans against the doorway to the coal hopper and nods slowly--if the way the faded red paint chips is any indication, this train is at least as old as she is; to say nothing of the tortured leather--yes, real leather--seats and the patina-tarnished candle fixtures on the walls. The metal grate which makes up the floor is, true to form, badly-rusted: but not so badly that it's ready to give out underneath you.

"Alright. What happened to the others? Pie, Trott, the doll lady, the cavemare, that weird little zebra guy?"

Four other ponies--unfamiliar to you--step insdie after her and take their seats at the rear of the car. The muffled commotion from outside in the tunnel suggests that your erstwhile comrades are boarding their own cars and joining in your flight. It really is an evacuation...

>>38831092

"Gone. What you see is what you've got. The little guy was killed by the Dusks, but everyone else? Nobody knows. Got seperated."

"Maybe Dark Star can tell you more, we only ran into him later. But I'm afraid that's all I can give you. I'm still carrying their ammunition..."

He maintains his forward-leaning posture on the seat, examing the unicorn evenly.

What was going on here, exactly?

>>38830769
Rayne finds himself a seat across from the giant, on a mostly intact patch of leather.
"You were in there too? I saw a few of 'em... the fleshy ones were doin' some dance, looked like they were bringin' somethin' big and nasty to town."
He doesn't mention shooting one of the dancers, or his subsequent flight along with his completely hopeless mission partner.

>>38831446

"Saw that as well," he comments, only sparing a moment to acknowledge him with a small glance.

>>38830769

8 Draw gave a low whistle, leaning back into his ragged leather seat. It was quite a bit of information to take in. First of all, there was a war between two species. Some kind of robot faction and another "dusk" group. And, apparently, all it took was one suicide bomber that could be interpreted as a murder for a full on war to occur. This implied two things:
1. Tension was already there from the start.
2. This person that died was important and somehow connected to both groups.
Question was why there was tension in the first, but 8 Draw had a feeling that would reveal itself in due time. Onjage didn't seem the type for that kind of question. There were other, more immediate things on his mind.
He turned towards Morning Rose. He puts on a small smile.

"This is quite the operation you are running here."
His eyes scan the insides of the cabin. It was pretty damn ramshackle, but better than any technology he had seen in Shadowfall thus far. His eyes rest on the orange unicorn.
"Where exactly are we heading?"

>>38831202
Rose furrows her brow and cocks her head. Her ears flatten against her head, and she nervously scratches her chin. This is, quite evidently, troubling news. After a moment, she sighs and shakes her head; she sits on the ground, produces a notebook from her saddlebags, and makes several lines in it with a bright purple quill pin.

"Damn..."

She closes it up and stows it again; with a sad shake of her head, she looks up at you.

"The Dusk? They're involved?"

>>38839730
She gives a little sigh and bites back some sardonic comment. She's evidently more interested in keeping people happy and well-informed than in taking the piss, which--at least in part--puts her head-and-shoulders above some of the less courteous characters the Coil employed.

"Home, Draw. Same as last time."

>>38827901
As Blowhard steps onto the train, he quietly chuckles and pats Dark Star on the back in a way that falls on the border of "distant uncle" and "fatherly schoolteacher". He felt the tiniest bit guilty about it, but he couldn't deny that watching his most innocent [accounted for] companion get a tiny shock to the system had a sort of endearing charm about it, like watching a foal fall forward on its face and into a kiddie pool.

"Just a train, kid."

With a grunt, he flops onto one of the crumbled leather benches and yawns. As grotesque (And that was using a distinctly under-compensatory word) as it was to see real, genuine leather, it was a moment of calm; and while he refused to disrobe, for fear of tempting fate, he could at least enjoy the few moments that he was free from the imminent threat of death by shooting.

Ah, that was a memory...

>>38839730
Blowhard jerks his head towards the head of the train.

"Wherever this thing takes us. Home, hopefully."

He yawns and bows his head.

"Wonder what they have on the snack cart."

>>38839742

The giant sighs a second, holding the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed a second, as he worked it over in his head again.

"Dawn types, actually. Sorry. The...zombie-esque ones. They're the ones that killed the little guy."

He motions with his head out the car door.

"Whom Hazel took a bite of for whatever macabre reason."

>>38831202
>He looks over at the mention of his name then back to looking around the train.

>>38839808
I've never been on a train....
>He goes back to looking at everything on the train. He pokes at the leather seats.

>>38831092
In the rush to get on the train, Effervesce missed the first step onto the car. With a flurry of flailing hooves and wings, the pegasus managed to make her way onto the train.

The master of first impressions trotted to the rear of the compartment and quickly flopped onto a seat. She undid the clasp on her saddlebag, yanked out her somewhat-folded robe, and draped it over herself. She wasn't exactly sure what in Equestria Shadowfall was going on, but she knew a few things; namely, that they were evacuating, the car was way too small, and that someponies smelled like shit.

Seriously. She knew that you couldn't be hygienic in a place like this, but you didn't have to roll around in crap, did you?

Effie wrinkled her nose. This was going to be a long ride.

>>38839742

For one of the first time in a long time, 8 Draw genuinely grinned.

"Might take a while. I think I heard someone yelling about a missing platter of tentacles. Apparently, it had escaped."
He chuckled at his own joke, folding both arms behind his head. The seat had a odd texture to it... almost kind of... leathery? He looked down and only now realised, to his horror, that the seat was made of skin. Suddenly he felt a lot less inclined to lean back so leisurely on the seat. He tried shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, but it was hard to ignore the fact he was sitting on a dead... something.
Good to see that Shadowfall was still keen on keeping him sour.

>>38840307
And in case that wasn't enough death, apparently Hazel was a cannibal.
Great.
8 Draw made a mental note to stay well clear of him.

>>38842062
Suddenly, a commotion heralded the arrival of a pegasus. Pretty young thing. Looked all prim and proper, wrapping herself up into a cloak of some sort. As she sat herself down, 8 Draw turned around, leaning against the back of the seat. His mind was still stuck on the horrifying material he was sitting on. In the most deadpan voice he could muster, he said:

"I wouldn't get to cozy if I were you, I don't think the seat would appreciate it."

>>38842062
From his seat, Blowhard chuckles and flashes her a small grin. Despite the friendly gesture, his tone is distinctly sardonic--not mocking, per se, but most definitely reeking with gray humor.

"Nobody told me we were riding with the Canterlot Ballet."

>>38842259
"Oh?"

Blowhard wiggles around on his seat; and after a moment he drapes his forelegs over the back and kicks his hind legs out--it's rather awkward to look at, given that he's assuming a pose of crucifixion for relaxation.

"Doesn't seem to mind."

>>38842259
Apparently she had attracted some attention with her graceful arrival. Effie puffed out her chest, acknowledging the mistake and making a note to get over it.

"The seat?" she echoed, looking down at the material, "What about i--...." Her ears folded backwards and she pursed her lips. "Oh. Well. Whatever it was, it's dead now..."

>>38842479
She couldn't help but chuckle at the giant pony's comment. "Yep, just practicing for the big recital," she explained, flicking her mane, "Nothing cheers people up like a ballet~!"

>>38843472
>Darks Star stops poking the seat and looks at the clumsy mare.
Do you think they mind being a chair?
>He looks down at it again.
It is less wasteful....

>>38842479
What do you think father?
Would you be a chair?

>>38842259
>Staring at the chair he responds.
I wouldn't mind a pony sleeping so close to me...
Imagine.... the ponies that are here in these seats have been close to more ponies than anypony here alive....


....How intimate......

>>38843507
"Think I'd rather be hat. Or maybe a nice flasher jacket. But hey, I wouldn't object.

"Mostly because I'd be dead."

As he reclines, he mimes pulling a hat down over his eyes--but, lacking a hat of his own, the best he can do to that effect is squint. He yawns and moves over in his seat, nodding to Effervesce as he does.

>>38843472
"You look a bit like someone I used to know."

He pats the seat and pushes his cloak to his other side, so as not to discourage her from joining him there.

"What's your name?"

>>38843507
Effie looked from the zebrasus to the chair. Her pause signaled that she was either thinking about it or trying to process the fact that a zebra had wings. "... I don't think they could really mind, since they'd be, you know, dead..."

It was definitely a bit too intimate. She slid off the chair, contemplating standing for the remainder of their trip.

>>38844223
Standing on a moving train didn't sound like such a good idea, though. She made her way towards the group, somehow not tripping on her own hooves this time.

"I'm Effervesce," the pegasus replied, setting her robe on the freed spot before sitting, "but most everypony calls me Effie. I don't really remember you, but, ah, what're your guys' names...?"

>>38840307
Morning Rose raises an eyebrow at that, too. Either you got your names mixed up or something distinctly surprising is going down--something so surprising, in fact, that whatever the Coil knew was either inaccurate or failed to capture the scope of events. Given that only one of those things is properly trustworthy, there's really no decision to make.

"The Dawn? Interesting..."

She leans out of the door and amplifies her voice once more.

"ALL ABOARD THAT'S GOIN' ABOARD!"

Not but ten seconds later, the scuffling outside dies down; and, rather eerily, doors all along the train slam shut without hide nor hair of a conductor to carry it out. The spectacle is joined by another unnerving automation: as though it had been hastened along by Rose's words, the train lets out an ear-splitting whistle and lurches forward: and so you begin your trip through the darkness...

>>38853172

With that business taken care of for the moment, he lets out a small sigh, and settles back into his seat, next to this Draw fellow. He'd only managed to hear snippets of the conversation they'd been having, but he did recall a few words regarding the leather seating. Strangely, it didn't bother him as much as he felt it should have. The reason being was simply...the age of the thing. Time had a funny way of diluting and eroding the emotion and meaning away from certain things. Like the carnival they left earlier that day. Once a place for an evening of family fun, it was now merely a quiet, rusting ruin. Slightly melancholic. Lack-luster. Lifeless. This train looked and felt old; not terribly old, but old enough. And whoever it was who comprised the chair he sat on was undoubtedly dead for a long time. And somehow, that made the tragedy less severe. Time was simply doing what it always did.

But now was not the time for these musings. Turning his head towards the newest arrival, he nods and smiles readily.

>>38845364

"Howdy Miss. Name's Onjage, pleasure to meet you."

>>38842259

"And you as well, Draw."

>>38844223
>>38845364
>Dark Star climbs onto the seat and curls up.
Dark Star.
>With that, he lays curked on the seat, watching the ponies on the train in silence.

>>38845364

8 Draw nodded at the giant's words, but his attention was more concentrated towards the pegasis sitting across to him. More specifically, her question. He tried leaning over Onjage, and when that didn't work out, he raised a hoof that barely peaked above his companion's head. He called out, somewhat awkwardly.
"8 Draw."

>>38853723


He settled back in his seat, his attention now fully diverted to the stallion sitting next to him. 8 Draw scanned him over with a bored gaze. Beyond being just merely tall, he wore a dark brown mane with a brown-gray-ish coat. The most notable thing about him though were his eyes, a bright blue colour that stood out from the otherwise quite dull looking pony. Beyond looks, he carried the attitude of a southern gentlemen. Nice and laid back, polite too. He was the kind that took any order and said "yes ma'am."
First impressions were always important, and Onjage had been doing well so far.
He adopted a curious expression, the kind with a small smile. He kicked his legs up on the seat in front of him.

"So, Onjage. Whereabouts' do you come from?"
There was a small pause, where 8 Draw quickly added.
"Before Shadowfall, that is."

>>38859226

"Ponyville. Unique and interesting, I know."

"Living on me own, working security for various places, nothing particularly fascinating. How about yourself?" He asks, making himself comfortable in the seat.

>>38859419
Even though 8 Draw was stuck in Shadowfall, and will remain there most likely for the rest of his life, he found himself rather unwilling to talk about the Syndicate. The motto still rang clear in his mind: "you flab, you ain't fab'."
Turns out that thugs aren't very good at rhyming. Who knew.

8 Draw stuck with his usual excuse. He fiddled with something in his pocket.
"Well, I was born and raised in Manehatten. Did a lil' bit of this, lil' bit of that. Nothing special, to be honest."
After a few seconds of rummaging in his coat, he pulled out an ancient looking copy of "Explosivity Squad," or at least, that's what it looked like on the outside. Truth was he had pilfered the cover from Ham's (meagre) book collection and haphazardly glued it over his own book: "Love's Golden."

He opened the well worn pages and started reading. 8 Draw wasn't much for small talk.

>>38853172
Effie somehow managed not to jump. She could feel the train jolt forward when they started off. The pegasus seemed to sink into her seat, getting ready for the ride ahead.

>>38853723
She looked up at the giant and smiled back. He seemed pleasant enough, if a bit smelly. If any of them turned out to be poor company, she could always move to another seat, right? Right. So this ride wouldn't be too bad after all.

>>38856060
>>38859226
She nodded to the other ponies in turn, keeping her smile. Neither of them seemed much for conversation (especially the pegazebrawhateverasus), so she was content to keep her words to herself.

Staying quiet wasn't her strong suit.

>>38863796
She craned her neck to take a peek at the book cover. Explosivity Squad, huh? The silence hung over her for a bit longer, before she asked, "What's it about?"

Axil gazed deeply into his dark chocolate coloured eyes. They had such an intensity to them that frightened, but at the same time tempted. He stood for the unknown, this handsome rogue. Suddenly, he looked worried. "What's wrong?" he asked, perplexed. Axil turned away quickly, blushing, realising that she had been staring at him. But, try as she might, she couldn't take her eyes off him. He had a certain magnetism to him that was irresistible. She quickly grabbed his hoof, unashamed of the awkward she felt.
"Dorn, I think I-

>>38864982
Suddenly, the voice of a young pegasis broke the reality of the book. 8 Draw was taken out of his trance, thoroughly confused.
"Huh who what where when."
He leaned forwards, looking at the pegasis, looking slightly puzzled. He then realised she was talking about the novel.
"What, this?"
He held up the book to her sight.
"Well, it's just a little something I had on my person before I entered Shadowfall. Just picked it up at the library, thought it sounded like some silly fun."
Blatant lie. "Love's Golden" had been in his possession for years.
"It's about an elite crew of CSF (Canterlot Special Forces) going to save the world against a force greater then Nightmare Moon, Sir. Stranglelord the Sixth."
It was about forbidden love between two ponies, with a bit of a love triangle thrown in to boot.
"Pretty exciting stuff." he concluded, slinking back into his seat. Continuing where he had left off.

>>38867596
Ponychan won't let me fix the post. She quickly grabbed his hoof, unashamed of the AWKWARD she felt." is how it should be

>>38867601

WORD FILTERS

With the business and pleasantries exchanged, Onjage leans back on the bench, letting his eyes close while his head rested against the window - too tall to rest on the top of the leather seating.

>>38871906
The trip goes on without any ceremony for a goodly while, the dull thrumming of the engine the only thing you have to keep you company. It is what feels like an hour or so before the scenery changes--but a world of eternal night is bound to wreak havoc with your internal clock. However, it does ultimately end: and before too long the endless darkness of the tunnel gives way to the sickly red glare of Fall. Behind the filthy glass, the effects of that loathsome place are deadened: neither your mind nor your body betray you now.

Even so, it pierces the crust of filth, and you can clearly make out a distant silhouette: near the great city-spire of Crow Street, a bipedal behemoth rises towards the sky. Even here, a mile or so away, you can see the countless shadowy arms that spring from its hideous distended back, and hear the great thunderous roars that issue from its tremendous maw: through the grime and the darkness, you can see the storm clouds and thunderbolts that cling to its multitudinous arms.

It is as large as the mountain itself, and and slowly lopes about on its colossal limbs. The great darkness is frequently interrupted by flashes of light: bombs, rockets, and other tools of war detonating against its elephantine hide.

Beneath you, the crackle of gunfire, the crack of swords, and the screams of the dying serve as a reminder of the whole hateful affair. To think, Banna would really have you prolong it...is the bloodshed now worth unity later..?


In time, the red lights fade, leaving you to bathe in the icy moonlight of the Nexus. A rickety old trolley wheels on by you, bearing an assortment of spiders in cages and dead birds: it passes on without a word, and into parts unknown from there. Just as your eyes begin to glaze over from boredom, the train gives another ear-splitting whistle and grinds to a halt. Morning Rose, with a nod to you and yours, kicks the door open and steps out.

The terminal is plain, save two features. It features electric lights in place of candles--a sure sign of mortals, no doubt; and sitting there on the sidewalk, locked in the embrace of twisted magic, are five hooded unicorns, sitting round a circle of salt and chanting sickening verses ad nauseum. Logic tells you that they are what brought the train to a halt here.

The stairs across the platform betray their landing, from the quiet hum of the peaceful ponies above. You have, at long last, found your way home...

>>38880128

"Well I'll be damned. Made it home," he says, clambering off the train with all his junk - minus his cloak.

It seemed, as his usual, he had mistaken something. In this case, he'd underestimated why an 'evacuation' had been necessary at all. Seeing the giant...thing seemed to justify the entire operation instantly. And he was very glad he'd made it on the train after all. And not because he'd be able to sit for awhile.

But, he was here now. Likely to rest up a few days, maybe more, before he was tossed back into the grinder. Though it wasn't a begrudging resignation was it had been before. He'd learned some new things, met some new folks, and had something to occupy himself with. Something he'd been quietly considering all day, when of course, he hadn't been daydreaming about the lovely miss Banna.

It was such a stupid idea, but so was the kinda thing he was doing now. Unless he saw hope for some kind of change to his current lot, he was going to follow through with it. And hopefully, he wouldn't have to do it on his own.

Stepping onto the platform, he grips and pulls off one of his many satchels of ammo.

"Here's your blammo, President. And yours, Star," he calls out, dropping another satchel to accompany the first.

"About to hit the bar or hit the sack, not sure yet."

>>38880128
Broken from his near trance state, Dark Star resheaths the blade he drew. His thoughts had drifted to the only mare to have occupied his heart. Her pink and yellow mane, her pink body, gone now.

He sighs as he watches the monster across the city. He gets up and walks of the train, still looking for an attack. He steps to the of the door as he exits the train.

He looks to Morning Rose with an almost hopeful look.
"Lady Morning Rose, Is there a place where I- We can wash?"

>>38867596
That sounded pretty cool, actually. Effervesce nodded along to his summary, but she didn't have much else to say... something told her she couldn't sneak a peek at the passage he was reading.

>>38880128
The steady rumble of the train going over the tracks was enough to lull the pegasus to sleep. The adrenaline that accompanied the evacuation was well out of her system. She did her best to stay up right through her small nap, but eventually she drifted to the side. Her head hit the window and she woke right back up.

She caught a glance of some insectoid, castle-like shadow before they passed it. Another creature to haunt her dreams.

The pegasus was infinitely grateful when they reached the station. She squeezed past the bigger ponies and bolted to the platform, stretching her wings and legs out like she had just emerged from some tiny metal box--which she had.

Effervesce looked up at the citadel around them. Home sweet temporary home.

>>38880296
Blowhard steps off of the train and stares at the ponies doing...whatever ritualistic-like thing they were doing. He didn't trust salt circles, chants, unicorns, or hoods, which made this particular group a veritable wadded-up ball of unrustworthy things coated in a fine layer of doubt and shiftiness. That being said, by this point his standards had been mutilated beyond all reasonable measure; and something as remotely familiar as a bunch of unicorns chanting demonic verse was a welcome return to the days when things were simply strange, and not balls-out-and-eye-dickingly crazy.

"Heya...mind if I come with, OJ? I could use some R&R, if these guys are done with us..."

>>38881412
>>38880296
Dark Star looks the two large ponies over. He takes in the muck and grime and shit and blood.
"You are covered in the rotting bodly functions of hundreds of ponies and monsters. Perhaps you would like to bathe before you disapear into a bottle?"
He wrinkles his nose, he doesn't smell much better at all.

>>38881442
"...No, I'm good."

>>38880676
Blowhard claps and waves, to get her attention: there was nothing quite like bringing a dame on shore leave.

"Hey, Effa! You wanna hit the bar with us?"

>>38881412

"Sure ya can. Mind if you carry your own bullets, though? We might hit up the armory too, so I can return...well, all the ammo that uh, didn't get used," he concludes, trying to skip around the fact that quite a few ponies didn't make it home from this little outing. He just wasn't ready to feel to harshly about it - the drink would do that.

>>38881442

He pauses, frowning.

"That's not a bad idea either, a shower. I don't think I'll be able to after drinking, too tired. Hm..."

"Gonna split and regroup, or does someone mind if I use theirs?"

Effie had taken her first few steps towards a bed when somepony called out.
>>38881671
She glanced back his way. Alright, there were two options here: one, decline and miss out on a possible adventure, and two, accept and head somewhere with a group of ponies she hardly knew.

¨Sure!¨ Effervesce grinned, ¨I mean, if you wouldn't mind a member of the Canterlot ballet coming along.¨

Dorn clenched Axil's hoof tighter and tighter in response to the cruel words that spouted from the mouth of his father. "What do you think you are doing? Bringing a daughter from the Klaxian Clan to our house! This is most forbidden, indeed, it goes against everything we hold dear." Dorn couldn't help himself anymore. With tears in his eyes, he burst out in anguished love: "Axil is more dear to me then the family!" His father was shocked at this unbelievable turn of events. His face portrayed the emotion of surprise. Axil, hovering behind his shoulder, couldn't hold herself any more. She had to help her true love! "I love him!" Suddenly, the face of the father snapped out of his trance, and now it wasn't surprised, it was angry. Furious! And the-


And with a screech, the carriage halted. 8 Draw reluctantly pulled himself from the book, observing the landing they had arrived at. The most notable thing was a small group of ponies, chanting a song of some sort. He wondered if this group had something to do with their arrival, or if they just liked to perform rituals in murky train stations. 8 Draw was leaning towards the first.

With a yawn he closed the book sitting in his lap. He, somewhat stiffly, sauntered towards the exit and towards the group of ponies he had grown to know across the trip. He was tired, yes, but it sure didn't show. Truth of the matter was that he was excited at the prospect of exploring this new place. With a big grin, he said:
"So, where you folks heading?"

>>38881671
>>38881952
>>38882167
>>38890648
He looks at all the ponies then speaks up
"I am going to bathe, if you wish to join me, I can lead you to the showers. They are communal, but at least they are showers"
With that, he turns and walks towards the buildings, heading straight for the showers, planning to shower then either go and lose himself in a bottle or find that little park again.
Either way, he was leaving to shower, with or without company.

>>38882167
Blowhard bends his knees in a lousy imitation of a true gentlecolt, before stepping lightly across the platform and to the stairs.

"It'd be an honor to have a lady travelling with us."

He flashes the grin of the easily-amused and straightens himself up.

>>38881952
"...Yeah. Yeah, okay."

He shrugs and sadly shakes his head--more as an acknowledgement of the elephant in the room rather than out of a properly morose state of mind. That was war for you--ponies died, usually rather horribly, and you forgot their names within a week. He was already having trouble remembering the zebra, but that was probably due to subconscious preference than the cruel inevitability of time.

>>38890648
"Right now? Bath, booze, bed. In that order."

He yawns and stretches himself out, to punctuate the sentence. The stranger--8 Draw, or whatever the boy's stupid, stupid parents had named him--was most likely going to be called away to wherever, since their voyage hadn't gone awry; but there was never any harm in being friendly.

...Or as friendly as he ever got, anyway.

>>38893994
"Yeah...yeah...wait up, kid."

With only the quickest of nods to Onjage, Effervesce, and company, he takes off after the zebra at a leisurely pace. It would be a shame indeed if he slipped in the shower and broke his spine in a fit of drunkenness...

>>38893994
>>38894475
>>38890648

The giant follows along silently, inwardly marveling that plumbing still worked at all in this place. He'd been here two weeks already, but the fact still amazed him sometimes, if rumors of the city changing for no reason were true.

He pitied the poor bastard responsible for its maintenance.

Dark Star leads them to the showers.
Without looking back he enters and sets his weapons and other gear to the side. Leaving the cloak on he steps into the shower and turns the old valve to get water flowing.
With a sigh he steps under the water with the cloak, trying to get the shit and blood off of it.

>>38896345

Just like a regular jock to the gym, there isn't much pause before his own burdens are left at the side (within sight of course), before joining him at an adjacent showerhead without a second thought. And though he was less dirty than his companions, as he'd taken the liberty of wiping most of it off prior, there was more surface area to scrub. And another point of interest was the showerhead itself. He sometimes preferred baths just because it was easier, for most showerheads weren't high enough for someone like him. They just got his chest wet if he didn't duck and bow his knees some. But, twas a minor inconvenience. While he was eager to move on with the rest of the evening, a hot shower after a long day always felt nice, and he took the moment of luxury seriously. Resting his forehead against the tiled wall for a moment, he let the water splash against his neck and chest, washing away some of the soapy sudz.

>>38896671
As Blowhard passes behind Onjage, he makes an unnecessarily loud whipcrack sound with his mouth--but he follows the rules of the art museum there, fittingly enough. He slumps against the wall a few feet over and positions himself so that all of his body save his head is under the dwindling stream of semi-opaque water. This requires positioning his legs in a rather awkward splayed position, and bending his back in a way that looks rather uncomfortable. For a moment he reflects on the nature of the plumbing here, and is keenly aware that the entire setup likely consists of a team of rather cross ponies frantically working some pumps somewhere out of sight, and a large pipe which funnels water in from wherever. He hated how the water here was so murky; back home, the moonlight caught on it and painted a proper picture, which was seldom matched in simplistic beauty.

And speaking of moons...

"It ain't no rainstorm, OJ. But it's what we got, right?"

>>38903191

He smirks at this, but doesn't open his eyes or pull his head from the wall.

"Ain't a rainstorm, but it'll do."

He hadn't much thought about that day at the bar since it'd happened, but he was pleasantly surprised Blowhard had remembered it, and thus made himself remember it too. Some interesting words had been exchanged that day.

And it'd been the last time he saw Alma.

"...Was that you making a towel snap?" He asks with a chuckle.

>>38903218
"Maybe. Was that you with the sweet ass?"

Of course, the shower would consist of a spigot and nothing but. He begins gently rubbing his shoulders; and, after realizing that a truly appreciable quantity of grease and grime has accrued within his fur, he--as the young people say--hocks a loogie onto his hoof and begins using that in lieu of shampoo.

>>38903280

Huh.

He'd assumed he'd made the noise at Star, for his eyes had been closed, and he'd missed it. That was kinda funny.

"I dunno. You tell me?"

>>38890648

Cipher wandered the streets of... wherever this was, listless and alone. He walked through the crowd, occasionally stopping to identify unknown and nonexistent threats. He stepped onto the platform, hoping to hitch a ride home. When he caught sight of the train, he started having second thoughts. Hell, he might as well try a few more times...

He would continue through the crowd, stopping to whisper something to well armed and imposing looking ponies that passed by. None responded in the correct manner. Cursing under his breath, he caught sight of a group of ponies breaking up and moving into town. They seemed like an odd bunch. Just what he was looking for.

He approached the one with the book and whispered, "The sun is shining." The password he'd been told his first day in the Coil. Come on, just two sentences. That's all he needed to hear.

>>38903299
Blowhard yawns and moves down to his foreleg. There was a very fine line in situations like this--too overt, and he'd do irreperable harm to the relationship. It was a combination of caution and charisma, in equal measure, that made a discussion like this possible.

He cranes his neck just so.

"...Yep."

>>38903368

He grins and lifts his head from the wall, going back to scrubbing his lower half.

"Thanks Mr. President. 'ppreciate the comment."

>>38903380
Blowhard inwardly pumps his forelegs and does a small dance. His exterior, however, remains placid. After a while he blows another phlegm-wad into his hoof and begins rubbing down his chest.

"...Well, that was your first deployment, I guess. What'd you think?"

>>38903408

Overall, the experience had been a mixed bag. Of shit. Frankly, he'd still be extremely pissed off and extremely temperamental had he not had perhaps the most delight mission intermission he'd ever had to break up the successive and seemingly endless series of unfortunate events. The good mood from then followed him even now. That didn't change the fact it'd been an awful experience overall - it just made it better. And the future just a little bit brighter too.

"...Mission itself? Pretty fucking terrible. I see Slicker again I might clock him," he replies, making a fisticuffs motion with his hoof. "Zero out of ten. Bad. Terrible. Zero out of ten."

"Walking, talking, and everything else wasn't too bad. Glad it's over though."

"You?"

>>38903441
Blowhard deadpans and holds up his forelegs in a position reminiscent of a marionette. He rocks side-to-side and jerks his head around to complete the image.

"That thing. Had a gazillion frikkin' arms."

He places his forehooves up next to his jaw, grits his teeth, and pins his ears back.

"And that lady, had six frikkin' hellhounds.
"And now everybody's...

He places his hoof to the side of his head and makes a quiet "bang" with his mouth. He falls to the side--towards you, of course--and lets the water just run over him for about seven seconds. When he picks himself up, he spins his hoof around his head in the universal "crazy" gesture.

"...No, I'm not a happy camper."

>>38903472

He half-smirks at the display; though he does quickly jut out a hoof to try and steady the president when he fell to the side before realizing it was intentional and he wasn't slipping on the tiled floor.

"Yeah, it's...no one blames you. We're lucky we made it home at all I think."

"...Best not to dwell on it. We're home now, cleaning the shit off, and about to go get hammered, and then sleep in a bed. How's that sound?"

>>38903490
"I dunno, OJ...I been to a jungle before, seems like I shoulda been able to keep us from losing..."

His sentence trails off, and he softly sighs. With a shake of the head, be begins washing off his hindquarters and legs. His ears perk up, ever so slightly, as Onjage details his plan. Near the end, he puts on his best faux-lecherous smile and winks at him.

"...Together?"

>>38903516

He just chuckles and shakes his head, wiping off his chest.

"I guess we'll see how drunk I get first, huh?"

>>38903532
Blowhard chuckles and places a hoof on Onjage's shoulder. The sensation he felt was subdued, but distinctly electric: it was the peculiar tingling in the back of his skull that had haunted him back home, and during his short-lived adventures with Strawberry; and here and now, he couldn't help but notice just how well the larger pony's mane glistened in the water...

"I'll take that as a challenge."

After a moment, he shakes his head and pulls away before scrubbing--a bit harder, this time. Was that just Fall coming back for a last hurrah, or...
He slaps himself across the cheek. Time enough to worry about this later.

Dark Star focuses mostly on washing, but listens in, while he agrees the mission was a failure, he would rate it both higher ad lower. They were alive, that was something, that monster.... Well that was something too.

After their first few comments, he was going to join their conversation but he quickly realized Blowhards intentions, so he focused on washing himself.
Having done that he turns of the water and wrings out his sopping cloak as best he can and goes to collect his things.
It would be best to let them alone if he knew anything about his father.

>>38903809

He just chuckles again, raising his hoof to close the water valve, having rinsed himself off completely. Perhaps he would fail to mention that it was terribly often Onjage actually got wasted. Not necessarily because he wasn't up for a good time every now and then, but because it sometimes got pretty damn expensive. It took quite a bit to get someone of his size that inebriated. And sometimes it wasn't worth it.

Upon failing to see any kind of towel, he squares his four hooves, and shook himself like a dog for a few seconds, his tail flinging a whole lot in every direction. Of course, he was still terrible wet, but it'd have to do. Besides, it was a warm night anyway.

Still dripping, he travels over to the wall, and begins pulling on his burdens.

"We're going to hit up the armory first. Gotta drop some of this stuff off."

>>38906092
Blowhard dries himself in a similar way, but takes a few moment to wring his mane, twirl his tail, and roll over in place a few times just to get himself as dry as possible. Unfortunately, he's not the sort of pony who miraculously grows cleaner from washing in his own phlegm for a few minutes; so while the odor is deadened, he's not too much cleaner than he was before.

Maybe about 20% cleaner.

He casually collects his saddlebags and gently pats his revolver.

"Alright. But I'm keeping as much as I can. I do not wanna be caught with my pants down around here."

>>38904423
Blowhard cordially waves to him as he steps out of the shower chambers.

"Heya, kid. Ready to hit the bar?"

>>38907370
>>38904423

His various burdens collected and secured, Onjage follows the pair of them out. Still very wet, but clean, so that was something. The day was marginally improving with each minute.

How flicks his eyes to Onjage quickly.
"The Bar? It seems like it would be crowded this time of night with all the ponies running here... one more pony may be the straw that broke the camels back."
He sounds hesitent, giving Blowhard the option of being more alone with Onjage

"I suppose a few drinks can't hurt."

>>38907644
"Precisely, Dreamer. Precisely."

With only the most casual of nods, Blowhard trots away from the misty shower-chamber and towards nowhere in particular. He'd acquired a semi-deep knowledge of the labyrinthine layout of the building--which, by his assessment, was probably intended to be a museum at one point or another--but the entire sprawling vastness was yet unknown to him. There was, of course, always the option of venturing into the city and finding a venue there, but he understandably had no inclination to savor that accursed expanse any longer. The cantina within the bastion itself would suffice...

>>38907621
Said cantina is a weak and motley establishment on the second story of the building. The atmosphere here is darker and hotter than the rest of the building: candles and a fireplace substitute electric lights here. The bar is small and tended by a single elderly barmare; and the shelves contain only a few dozen beers, salt licks, apples, and bottles of what could either be apple juice or the local breed of water.

The sack-cloth chairs that are tucked away deeper into the darkness suggests that the cantina is more of a general relaxation area than a bar exclusively.

"...I wonder how popular GURD is here."

Blowhard sits down at the bar and intensely studies the piss-colored fluids on the shelves.

>>38908985
Dark Star follows him, that didn't sound like a "give us some alone time" to him so he sits next to him, making sure to leave a spot for Onjage on Blowhards other side.
he looks to the old Barmare
"Ma'am, what scripts do you take?"
He didn't have much, but he hoped he had enough.

>>38908985
>>38909122

The giant carefully eased onto the barstool, lest his own momentum bring it and him to the floor in a humiliating shower of splinters. Resting his hooves on the counter, he lifts one to wave friendliy ay the barmaid, the gesture complimented with an easy smile.

"Evenin' mam. Slow night tonight, ah?"

8 Draw scanned his surroundings wide-eyed. Every corner was dark and mysterious, filled with unknowns that one could only hint at. Yet, it allured; opportunity was at every turn. All of them spelling the words danger in bright re-
8 Draw mentally slapped himself. He really should stop reading that book at some point.


>>38903317

Suddenly, a voice broke his train of thought. One he didn't recognise, no less. He tensed slightly, instinctively reaching for his gun. He considered what the pony said. The words were vaguely familiar. He had heard them somewhere else before....
"Uhm..."
8 Draw furrowed his brow, his mind shifting through the countless new memories that had been formed the past two weeks. After a few seconds of puzzling, it finally clicked. His eyes lighted up in recognition. He turned towards the stranger, nodding slightly
"Not yet. But I'm sure it will soon."
So, he was a coil agent. 8 Draw relaxed slightly, placing his hoof back to the ground. Putting on a friendly smile, he asked:
"Need something, agent?"

>>38911621

As soon as Cipher hears those words, he lets out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Thank Celestia, another agent! I've been walking around for hours, searching for others." He seems to calm down a bit. "Look, I've been separated from my squad. I'm hopelessly lost. Do you mind if I follow along with your group?" He stops for a second and looks around. "Uh... you do have a group, right?"

>>38909122
The withered old barmare raises an eyebrow and cracks a small, toothless grin. The years haven't been kind to her: her coat is patchy and riddled with a lesser mange, her mane is thin and grayed, and several of her teeth have just plain rotted out of her head. Her left hind leg clearly suffered some unfortunate fate in the pas; as, from the knee down, it is replaced with a 2X4 and some duct tape. Despite this, the nigh-maternal affection in her eyes is clear to see: presumably, she's just relieved to see any well-mannered creature in this place, let alone a relatively young colt.

"Ah...the rationed bits are free, dear. That's two drinks, 'fore you ask."

>>38909326
"Mmmm..."

She smiles at you, in turn. She answers the question with a nod, and steadies herself against the counter.

"My, you are a big one."

>>38911713

8 Draw nodded briefly.
"They've gone off to take a shower. While they were out in the field, hygiene wasn't exactly top priority so by the time they came back they smelled like a mix of dead thing and sewage waste."
He gave a dismissive shake of the head, a small smile still on his lips.
"Well, no matter. Me and the others decided to meet up at the canteen afterwards. I can take you there and see if we can find your squad."
He paused, tilting his head slightly; observing the wayward pony with a puzzled, yet slightly amused expression.
"How did you get lost in the first place?"

Glacia exits the shower house, her mane still uncombed and wet. She rubs her eyes.
it had been some tough times since she got here, even when within the Coil, let alone when she left for a mission...
I wonder where Onjage ran off to... I haven't seen him in a while... she thinks, before some large footprints in the direction of a bar answered her question for her.
After waling over, she sticks her head through the door before seeing some familiar faces. She then continues inside.

>>38911729
He thinks back to their mission, to Her, to... That. He looks at his father and the Giant then back at the mare.
"And after those two....?"
There were a few things he wanted to get out of his head, just far enough to sleep.
He smiles kindly at the mare, she seemed like a noce pony, probably someponies kindly grand-
He keeps the smile on his face but takes comfort in the weight of his blades, still strapped to his body.
"Its been a long mission."

>>38911796

Cipher shook his head. "My group was attacked. Some huge manticore looking thing. It knocked me into a building, I blacked out... When I woke up, I found half of them dead, and the others were gone. I've been wandering the city ever since." He shudders at the memory.

How long ago had that been? Eight hours? He didn't know.

"I'm Cipher, by the way," he offered weakly.

>>38911809
"Hi..." She says, a bit tired, as she trots over to the others, taking a seat.
She is wearing long socks, a style she had worn frequently in recent times, to cover her artificial hind leg.
She searches through her saddlebag for some money, before finding a few coins.
"Will this do?" she asks.

>>38911815
The barkeep grins at you, softly squinting to augment the "kindly old mare" effect.
Aughty huddy, aughty huddy...

"Oh, not much. Bits, permission slips, kindly gestures, a little help around here..."

>>38914870
"Oh?"

She cocks her head curiously.

"...Those seem to be made of rocks and tinfoil, sweetie."

>>38918848
Wait, what?

>>38918848
"Seriously?", she says, confused, scraping the coins to see if they are.
This is odd... She was sure they were just regular old coins.

>>38918848
"I see, can I get a beer then?"
He smiles at the old mare and glances at his father
"How about you Father"

The amount of beer he had planned to consume probably just got cut in half.

>>38912033


8 Draw's expression was a blank. He stared straight onwards into space. Internally, he was trying to process the information he had just gotten. This pony, Cipher, thought he was in a... city? It started as a giggle, but steadily rose to a chuckle. His face barely contained the laughter, but eventually he couldn't hold it in any more. His entire body shook with laughter, small tears coming out of his eyes.
It took him around half a minute to compose himself.
"Hoho... Oh pony."
He observed Cipher with a big grin, stretching out a hoof above his head, lightly tapping it against his skull.
"How hard did that manticore hit you? Last I checked, this place isn't a city, and you said you've been lost for 8 hours?"
8 Draw stifled another fit of laughter.
"And that you somehow got knocked out by a monster inside your own home-base?"
He scratched his chin, an amused grin still on his face.
"Pal, I doubt it was a manticore. More likely a bottle of whisky and a bad dream."

>>38927351

Cipher was a little alarmed by this response. He was hoping for a little sympathy, but that was a lot to expect these days. He was about to explain that he hadn't been in a base, or in any building for that matter. And that he was from quite a ways off. But then again, he didn't have to explain himself to this pony. Instead, he elected to stay quiet and follow.

>>38911729

He just smiles.

"Would you be surprised if that's not the first time I've heard that?"

"Ah, just one pint for me at the moment. Ration one, please."

>>38914870

He turns a little in his chair, mutedly surprised. He was both happy to see another friendly face, and also just slightly miffed, that perhaps having a beer with the boys might somehow not be the same as he was imagining it.

Oh well, perhaps it'd be more fun with another head talking and joking. The more the merrier.

"Well I'll be, I haven't seen you in quite awhile! Whatchu been, keepin' busy? Any exciting work?"

>>38911815

"Yes it has," he adds quietly. Though he had the least reason to complain among the three of them.

>>38929140
>Slowly a mare who'd been forgotten for a long time enters the room, she's got a heavy limp. Looking even worse for wear when he last saw her, a lonely hopeless look in her eye as she leant on the butt of her gun for support.

>Alma scanned the room upon entering it, she thought about going to see Onjage, but honestly it had been so long she doubted he remembered her, and even if he did.


>... She doubted he cared...

>Alma slowly limped to an empty table, crashing down with a weary sigh that spoke of hard night's and cold and lonely days, burying her face in her shoulder as she got the first rest she'd had in some time.

>>38919082
"Mmm. Yes."

With a doting smile, the rickety old mare collects a slightly-tarnished bottle of brown ale from one of her many cabinets. It has no label--so either it's been here for quite a long time, or the Coil fixed it themselves. It would make sense for them to have a small brewing staff, come to think of it: that's money they don't have to spend, and not every pony is fit for field duty. Maybe pitching in there would be an easy way to earn your next drink...

It smells faintly of urine, as per its status as beer; but that being said, it is drinkable.

...What if this one knocks you out too?

>>38929140
"Mmm."

With that same grin, she sets one down in front of you. It's cold to the touch--not frosty, per se, but it's chilly enough for government work.

>>38932109

"Thank you kindly," he returns with the same expression, knocking it back for a second, hoping he wouldn't regret it, as he turned to rest his other elbow on the bar.

Not too bad. Chilled, too. Guess he lucked out this evening...

>>38930795

Or not.

He glimpsed her, just out of the corner of his eye, but that's all he needed; her neon green cape thing was unmistakable. A wave of uneasiness befell him then; what rotten luck that just now she had chosen to walk inside a bar, and that he just so happened to be in it at the same time. He'd had no time to prepare any kind of response.

His eyes shrank just a little. Suppose Star or Mr. President let slip the days events in their entirety? Namely the afternoon nap with the lovely miss Banna? He didn't much look forward to that conversation, not one bit. Evade. Evade.

In a swift jerk motion, he spun back in his stool to stare over the bar, in a hasty maneuver he hoped would keep her from catching his eye. Gone was his grin, replaced with a momentary uncertainty...

>>38932174
>The young mare barely seemed to notice his unease, she seemed almost afraid to look at him let alone go over and talk to him, still her head lay buried in the blood matted coat of her shoulder. Her breathing making her shoulders go up and down slowly. She was just as afraid of a confrontation with him as well. Afraid he'd ask why she disappeared again, why she couldn't stay close like she'd promised she would so long ago. Why she kept getting herself hurt, and oh how hurt she was. If he did manage to get a clear glimpse of her face under her hat pulled low he'd see one eye sealed almost closed from a severe black eye, her smile weak and hopeless instead of the sparkling showman's grin she once had, it was clear her nose had been broken at some point and hadn't fully healed yet and so she lay there hiding her battered features from view as she tried to work up the courage to talk to someone, anyone for the first time in weeks. She'd been alone so long she was afraid her tongue didn't work any more.

>>38932269

Tapping his hoof just slightly, he continued staring off across the bar into nothing, before he realized that wasn't going to work indefinitely. In an effort to continue on with the status quo, he nudged the President next to him, as he took another sip - though he doesn't turn his head.

"Glad to be back?"

>>38919082
"I'm still trying to figure out if that's apple juice or someone's old pee."

He scratches his chin and the side of his head to punctuate the gesture, before ultimately shrugging and indicating a bottle to the barmare.

"Can't be any worse than that shit they served us back in--"

>>38930795
His sentence slowly trails off as he sees this. A mare in distress was something Blowhard had never been able to abide; but this particular damsel in distress was familiar to him. Ella, Elma...something or another? She was one of those precious few ponies who had survived that hellish night in the vampire's basement; they were, by his definition, comrades above comrades; he had an obligation--nay, a duty--to go and see what troubled her so...

But there was one stallion he suspected she'd rather see.

>>38932174
Blowhard taps Onjage's shoulder and leans in close.

"Hey. OJ. Damsel in distress, 6 O'clock."

They'd seemed close, during those few stops to the Broken Flagon; hopefully, Onjage's time in Fall hadn't extinguished whatever fire made the sparks fly between the two.

>>38932341

His brow falls flat, and he ground his teeth. Well there goes that. Now he was socially obligated to say something to her, as his attempts to escape the situation only ushered it upon him. Next time, he was nudging Dark Star.

With a defeated grunt, he swipes his beer from the wooden countertop, and travels across the bar to the table where Alma sat, and seated himself across from her. His expression changed from the flash of irritation from Blowhard's response to again adopt one of mild uncertainty.

"....Hey," he offers weakly.

>>38932398
>Slowly she looked up at him, she actually pulled away a bit in her seat as he sat down across from her. Instinctively responding to this new presence as if it was a threat, eventually she let her face come into view, her one clear eye wide and somewhat confused. She hadn't always been a bit 'out of it' mentally, maybe the last few months had stripped away what mental cohesion she'd had left. She kept a hoof on her hat, not daring look him in the eye. Seeming ashamed of her appearance, her voice only a quiet, frightened whisper.
"Y-yes?..."

>>38932418

He frowns. She definitely seemed...different than when he'd saw her last. More unsettled, or anxious.

"Ah...just saying hi...?"

"We haven't spoken in awhile."

>>38932451
"N-no I guess we haven't not since..."

>She looks away and just whispers.

"That wasn't you... It-it can't have been."

>>38932459

He tilts his head, and his brow raises.

"...I'm sorry? I don't quite understand..."

>>38932478
>She pauses for a moment, as if she's about to answer, she turns to look him in the eye, her mouth opening slowly before the mare suddenly broke down into horrid sobs of paralysing fear, burying her head in her hooves.

>>38932490

He blinks some in surprise, before sinking a little bit in his chair, apologetically glancing back and his associates at the bar, for he must certainly look guilty of saying some horrid thing from their position.

After another moment of hasty deliberation, he leans his head across the table (which wasn't at all difficult or awkward for him, being so tall), to which he can only offer a tentative whisper, for he he was reluctant to do anything else after seeing that look in her eye.

"...I'm, I'm so confused - are you okay? What's wrong?"

>>38932517
>She was hugging around herself, clearly utterly terrified as those horrible memories of what 'he' had done to her came rushing back. All he heard from her as the mare pulled away from him in fear was
"P-please no Onjage, n-not again...Not again."

>>38932534

What the Hell was going on here?! He was going to look like a damned sexual predator at this rate, and he hadn't done a thing! And everyone was watching - he was starting to panic. He tenses, as if to rise from the table.

"...I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" he whispers back quickly, "Just - chill out for a second! What's wrong?"

>>38932551
>She looked up at him slowly, shivering as she saw him tense up, managing to realise how confused he was she just whimpered.
"You... You raped me..."

>>38932568

"WHAT?!" he blurts aloud, standing up and away from the chair without even realizing he'd done so. This got way too freaky way too fast, and had come completely out of nowhere; he was not at all ready for this. And the only thing he could think to do was escape the situation. Pronto.

Hurriedly glancing about some of the faces of the bar, he suddenly turns and makes an abrupt exit, retreating to the street beyond.

Being accused of...THAT unsettled him in the extreme.

>>38932595
>The mare let out a terrified whine when he yelled and had hastily retreated into the corner, once he left she sat down there, hugging her hind legs to her chest as she cried quietly. She was so confused, why did he act like he didn't know what he'd done? Why? It was him, right?

>>38932604
Concerned, Glacia drops to her knees, comforting her.
"It's okay... You're safe here..."
Charisma: 5

>>38936256
>Looks up at her. Her voice a quiet whisper, fear betrayed in her tone as she pulls her cloak tighter around her.
L-leave me alone....

>>38932595
"Oh, sunuva--"

With barely a fleeting glance spared for Dreamer, Blowhard dashes from the bar, leaving his bottle where it stands, and shoots off after his fleeing companion. Two flights of stairs and one door later, he bursts out into the streets and calls out:

"Onjage! Wait!"

How very like a stallion, to have his nerve broken not by hideous monsters or being shot at, but by a mare with a pretty backside.