Appearance: Foggy has an olive-colored coat and a bright orange mane, which is messy and hangs in long, languid curls around the rest of her body. She wears a knitted flatcap on her head, generally low enough to keep the sun out of her eyes. Her eyes are orange, about the same color as her mane, and are almost constantly bloodshot. Foggy has a hip flask of cheap whiskey, about four bottles worth at the moment with slots for about two more.
Cutie Mark: A four-leaf clover with a golden splotch underneath it, meant to represent her origins and her cast-iron liver. Foggy couldn’t get anywhere near as drunk as she can anywhere near as often if she didn’t have such a fantastic capacity for alcohol. Where many ponies may be hospitalized, Foggy can drink freely and still be slightly coherent. Some rumors say that she can drink bleach, others even go to say that she could drink lava. No matter the case, Foggy’s capacity is far beyond normal, and leaves many stunned.
Backstory: Now, we could say that Foggy’s backstory changes constantly due to her nature of traveling from town to town. We could say that Foggy is shrouded in mystery and that her past is complicated. We could also say that she was born to a pair of Earth Ponies who were a part of an insurgent movement dedicated to toppling the monarchy. The movement was amoungst traditionalists who believed that the functions of the old Equestrian society prior to the arrival of Alicorns worked just fine, and that the Alicorns were imperialists who overtook the lands that rightfully belonged to the ponies of Equestria.
We could say that the movement was a total flop for a variety of factors, including the instructions that the secret meetings were to be carried out in the “old language”. Unfortunately, the three Pony races of Equestria each had their own language, and as such, many meetings fell flat. The movement was poorly funded and lacked popular support, seeing as most ponies actually liked having the Princesses rule. Thirdly, a unicorn mole got into the movement, and it ended with most who were involved arrested. We could say that as her parents were hauled away, Foggy Dew was sent to live with her uncle.
We could say that Foggy Dew grew up with an uncle that constantly drank, beat on living things (which sometimes included her), and lived in a hovel far away from the rest of civilization, ranting on and on in the old language about the inbreeding habits of Griffons. We could say that these things rubbed off onto the young Foggy. We could say that when Foggy got her cutie mark, her uncle’s behavior towards her became more than a bit creepy, and she ran away from home with several bottles of his best whiskey. We could say that bad luck and a complete lack of social skills meant that Foggy received more than her fair share of mutural hatred.
Or, we could say that Foggy’s backstory changes constantly due to her nature of traveling from town to town. We could say that Foggy is shrouded in mystery and that her past is complicated. We could say that.
We could say that. But we won’t.
Personality: Years of bitterness and unemployment combined with the disposition she picked up with father have made Foggy what is best described in human terms as a belligerent racist. Even if she happens to like you, Foggy won’t refrain from wailing on you for racial reasons. And Foggy doesn’t like a whole lot of people. Unicorns are all rich, dirty bastards, Pegasi are moronic adrenaline junkies, Alicorns are imperialistic s, and don’t even get her started on Zebras, Donkeys or Mules. Even Humans aren’t free from her thickly-accented and poorly constructed ranting on the subjects of what makes them inferior, and she’s also partial to have a few quips about Earth Ponies with non Earth Pony parents.
As you can imagine, such racism has made little old Foggy into more than a bit of a sullen, almost constantly angry sort, and even when you’d think she’s doing alright, Foggy has more than a bit of a short fuse, and will explode constantly into ranting and rambling. In every town she’s hopped into, it’s generally a given that Foggy’s only friend will be Mr. Whiskey. Her already short fuse is made even shorter when she’s hung-over.
Perhaps underneath the alcohol and racism, Foggy is still that beaten-down child of a drunk, scared, afraid and alone in the world. If so, you better dig very, very, very, very deeply to find her, and you better be a pureblooded Earth Pony to do it. Most ponies decide that it’s safer for all parties if they just avoid her like the plague, and those soft-hearted or kind enough to try and talk to her better prepare for a powerful, drunken tongue-lashing, and you should be especially wary if it’s in the morning, and she hasn’t had a drink yet.
Character Summary: As you might have guessed, Foggy hates everything that isn’t pureblooded Earth Pony. Expect her to also have a distaste for lighter, softer drinks, like Cider, and an even bigger distaste for anypony who drinks that crap. Foggy, being an upstart, racist drunkard, will drink at any time of day, and will drink anything strong. Her particular favorite is whiskey, though. Her hobbies include drinking, rambling, drinking more, rambling more, and getting the hell out of town when she es off everypony else royally. Foggy really doesn’t have any motivation, or any real goals, she’s simply going with the flow, trying to find a place in the world.
Other: Foggy speaks in a very thick accent, a by-product of growing up around ponies who only spoke the old language. It makes her already incoherent rambling even harder to understand.
Her criminal record this year alone is 42 public disturbances, 31 assaults, 15 attempted murders, 26 counts of drunkenness on private property, 44 counts of public indecency, 32 thefts, 38 counts of illegal alcohol possession, 46 counts of illegal alcohol consumption, 26 counts of harassment (on stallions), 43 counts of slander of the royalty, 37 counts of public support of terrorism, 2 public urinations, and only 19 days spent in jail.
Might I ask where we're starting? Is it in Ponyville or are we scattered all over the place?))
((Huh. It's pretty doubtful that you'll see a partly insane drinker in town, or have one referred to it as a cutie mark, though the backstory and personality is pretty good. Accepted.
Oh, and the story doesn't have to be in Ponyville. Equestria is a large country, and the RP world shouldn't be limited to one place. It might be better for the characters to come together sooner or later, however, to continue the RP and get some interaction.))
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
5/31/2011
Posts:
80
Location:
GodCraft
Minecraft:
Waffesrgud
Xbox:
PC MASTER RACE
PSN:
PSN is ok sorta
Member Details
Waffe
Waffe reached the peak of the gate, then the door opened. There was a... unicorn...? Waffe was incredibly suprised and fell off the gate and hit his back on the ground. He looked at the unicorn, and realized he had a crossbow. He heard the words "Who are you?" He spoke, Waffe was guessing that he was better off answering. "I'm..." he glanced at the paper, and read a random name. "...Polyester Holmes." He didn't want to reveal his real name.
((Huh. It's pretty doubtful that you'll see a partly insane drinker in town, or have one referred to it as a cutie mark, though the backstory and personality is pretty good. Accepted.
Oh, and the story doesn't have to be in Ponyville. Equestria is a large country, and the RP world shouldn't be limited to one place. It might be better for the characters to come together sooner or later, however, to continue the RP and get some interaction.))
Waffe
Waffe reached the peak of the gate, then the door opened. There was a... unicorn...? Waffe was incredibly suprised and fell off the gate and hit his back on the ground. He looked at the unicorn, and realized he had a crossbow. He heard the words "Who are you?" He spoke, Waffe was guessing that he was better off answering. "I'm..." he glanced at the paper, and read a random name. "...Polyester Holmes." He didn't want to reveal his real name.
Polyester was stunned; the creature was the worst liar he ever heard of."If you want to lie about your name, for Celestia's sake don't say that you share the name of the person asking you what your name is! Now tell me your real name now."
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
5/31/2011
Posts:
80
Location:
GodCraft
Minecraft:
Waffesrgud
Xbox:
PC MASTER RACE
PSN:
PSN is ok sorta
Member Details
Waffe
Waffe almost literally face palmed. Of course it happened to be the unicorn. My luck. He sighed. "Okay, my name is Waffe. V Celia, from the village of Celia." He tried to slowly prepare to dash away, hoping to move behind cover so he could start running.
Cool winds whipped by the spire, carried on by its chilling tails whipped a certain soft cool smell. Earthly in it nature. Plant decay and a number of gasses. Subtle undertones of beast, monster, and animal. At the height, each gust that buffeted past the spire of stone made the pike of stone feel as if it shifted.
Kralle sat impatiently on the point, a chunk of stone no larger than a large coin, the jagged jarring point of the earthly spear rising from the rear the scarred griffon leaned against. Staring out across the tree-tops the expanse of the forest lay before him in its thick twisted glory. The shadows under neath the canopies a deeper black that the twisted trunks that rose from under-neath, unfolding above the world their sickly green foliage. From the windswept vantage point the keen hunter watched as silhouettes flashed in the branches. Just barely there. Feeble ghost shapes hazed by the distance and the wispy clouds.
Reaching out with his light talon he reached for a passing wisp of cloud with his gnarled and broken claws. The fingers bent and growing grotesquely. But they still opened as well as his other, and slicing through the wispy band of cloud he broke a piece off and gently Sheppard it to him. Pinching and manipulating the floating fluff he turned the spidery collection of raising vapor to a thicker ball and with a flick of his claw spun it, watching it dance off like a dancer, it's being tearing itself apart. He watched it off to its inevitable obliteration with a wry smirk.
At its last puff of extinquishment, Kralle chuckled. He rose his sharp gnarled claws to the boiled and twisted flesh of his neck, scratching at the old burn that rested there. He closed his eyes and sighed. Until a brush passed off his feathered mane, ruffling the deep chocolate of his coat. Scowling he shot his eyes open, and turned on the spire behind him.
"Oh, it's ya'," he called looking up at the checked black and grey griffon flying in towards him. The other fliers' eyes were a sharp, bright yellow. Suns in their own right no doubt. And apart from cracks in his beak, far less damaged a hunter, "Metzger."
"I was told by your own Afton you were out here." the other griffon laughed, flying in slow and hugging onto the tip of the spire Kralle perched on. "So, is he up yet?" he asked with a sneering smile, looking down over the peak down its body.
Kralle casually looked over the edge. Clinging to the side hung a brown and black griffon. His talons clasping to the jagged rocks with all his strength. His cresting feathers ruffled in the billowing wind. "The ankle biter's not up yet." he sigh, "Why are you delaying!" he yelled down at the adolescent clinging to the side, summoning his attention to the top of the spire.
"Ya, sure pa..." he mumbled, reaching up to continue his climb.
Kralle nodded, "Boy-o will make it." he smiled, gesturing out with his talons to the griffon-son.
"Yes, well he better make it up soon since old Kalhoun wants to send us out for a bit of meat spotting."
"How much longer is the oldie giving us then." Kralle snickered.
"Fifteen minutes." Metzger scoffed.
Kralle nodded, "I'll be there. Go get Parr and Dumm ready."
"Yes sir." Metzget grinned, pushing off from the spire and pushing off from the peak. "And you get that Wenig?" the hunter yelled down the spire, "Get climbing!"
"For our sake at least." Kralle crumbled peering over the side, watching the young griffon as he threw himself up the side hastily.
Reaching out blindly Kralle grabbed a chunk of wayward mist, and clenching the wet rag of fog squeezed it into a loose ball and tossed it down the spire. The wet sputters of Wedig indicated it had found a mark on the adolescent's head. "Gah!" he sputtered, "I'm climbing."
"Looked a little tired still." Kralle laughed joking.
Waffe
Waffe almost literally face palmed. Of course it happened to be the unicorn. My luck. He sighed. "Okay, my name is Waffe. V Celia, from the village of Celia." He tried to slowly prepare to dash away, hoping to move behind cover so he could start running.
"Your coming with me. I need some informa-" Polyester saw that he was slowly preparing to dash away. "Don't bother running. The only way out is the gate, and its closed."
"Your coming with me. I need some informa-" Polyester saw that he was slowly preparing to dash away. "Don't bother running. The only way out is the gate, and its closed."
Waffe
Waffe sighed. He's obviously not going to easily be manipulated or tricked, not at all. He started to slowly walk towards the unicorn, being careful not to make sudden movements. He noticed how well dressed the unicorn was.
Waffe
Waffe sighed. He's obviously not going to easily be manipulated or tricked, not at all. He started to slowly walk towards the unicorn, being careful not to make sudden movements. He noticed how well dressed the unicorn was.
Polyester slowly backed up, leading Waffe into the Mansion. After Waffe entered, he closed the door behind him. Polyester the led Waffe downstairs into his interrogation room. "Sit down."
Polyester slowly backed up, leading Waffe into the Mansion. After Waffe entered, he closed the door behind him. Polyester the led Waffe downstairs into his interrogation room. "Sit down."
Waffe sat down, and attempted to relax. He noticed his heart beating. He calmed down. It's a unicorn. A magical creature that is harmless. Couldn't be bad, right? He sighed, and spoke. "So, what?"
((That's a good map, but we can't use it to completely refer to where exactly the places are.
Hoofington is missed. Trixie mentions the place in Boast Busters.
Trottingham is not on the map, but that's the place where Pipsqueak was previously from.
Epi, Flare, your posts are getting too short. You can still repeat your actions, but put them into more sentences, such as what you see, your thoughts and plans. Though it seems as you two are interacting with each other, I advise you to make your posts longer. Edit your previous posts if you want to add something. ))
((That's a good map, but we can't use it to completely refer to where exactly the places are.
Hoofington is missed. Trixie mentions the place in Boast Busters.
Trottingham is not on the map, but that's the place where Pipsqueak was previously from.
Epi, Flare, your posts are getting too short. You can still repeat your actions, but put them into more sentences, such as what you see, your thoughts and plans. Though it seems as you two are interacting with each other, I advise you to make your posts longer. Edit your previous posts if you want to add something. ))
((That's a good map, but we can't use it to completely refer to where exactly the places are.
Hoofington is missed. Trixie mentions the place in Boast Busters.
Trottingham is not on the map, but that's the place where Pipsqueak was previously from.
Epi, Flare, your posts are getting too short. You can still repeat your actions, but put them into more sentences, such as what you see, your thoughts and plans. Though it seems as you two are interacting with each other, I advise you to make your posts longer. Edit your previous posts if you want to add something. ))
(Liberties with it can be taken since it gives us the relative location of some important places. Holes will just need to be filled in.)
Waffe sat down, and attempted to relax. He noticed his heart beating. He calmed down. It's a unicorn. A magical creature that is harmless. Couldn't be bad, right? He sighed, and spoke. "So, what?"
The room was very dark, very somber. Polyester flicked lit a wax candle nearby. "You were in today's paper. "Unknown creature rumored to be found. Creature has 4 limbs and stands on it's hind legs." I have a series of questions here. I will get the answer out of you, one way or another. Why and how did you get here? What do you call yourself? Why did you come to my Mansion? What do you call your limbs? What is the nature of your species? Are there more of you? Are they in this world? Where do you come from? Why are you here? What are your plans? What weapons did you or your species create?" Once I get this interrogation over I will run a few tests on him. This will be invaluable if his species plans to invade.
The room was very dark, very somber. Polyester flicked lit a wax candle nearby. "You were in today's paper. "Unknown creature rumored to be found. Creature has 4 limbs and stands on it's hind legs." I have a series of questions here. I will get the answer out of you, one way or another. Why and how did you get here? What do you call yourself? Why did you come to my Mansion? What do you call your limbs? What is the nature of your species? Are there more of you? Are they in this world? Where do you come from? Why are you here? What are your plans? What weapons did you or your species create?" Once I get this interrogation over I will run a few tests on him. This will be invaluable if his species plans to invade.
Waffe
"It wasn't me in the paper, I wouldn't have been found. And as for how I got here, I'm confused." His eyes were adjusting to the thin light of the room. "I went in some small building, and came out here. I didn't even mean to come here, to this place. And by the way, I call myself human." He glanced at the dimly lit room. It didn't have really anything interesting to look at. "I came to your mansion, for... reasons I cannot really specify to you. And my limbs? Those are arms and legs. And the nature of my species is... quite shameful." He admitted. "Anyways, as far as I know, there is no human here but me, but there are PLENTY from where I come. Oh, and if you are wondering from which I come, It's Celia, subsection of Athalos, which is one of the countries of Earth." He stretched. "I don't plan to do anything but get home." He cringed at the last question. "And from the area I come from, we have daggers, crossbow like yours, cannons, bows, swords, actually a lot of blades, and one of our newest inventions, the 'gun'. I can't afford bullets, so I sell off the ones I find." He was on his high guard, in case the unicorn tried anything.
((I am under the impression if I do not do these, then I may not nearly have as much control as I would like with Kralle's wing:
Name: Metzger
Gender: Male
Age: 40
Species: Griffon
Appearance: Black and Grey Griffon with a black beak. His talons and beak a sharp golden yellow. Beak his chipped and Talons scared.
Cutie Mark: N/A
Backstory: Metzger was born in the mountains outside of the Hayseed Marshes. As with many other griffons in his fleight he was expected to do
well, often to the point of direct abuse by his parents or other griffons. By the time he was of hunting age Metzger became known for the
butchering and cleaning of prey, often in fleight.
Metzger's wing however would change ownership when his leading Griffon was smashed against a cliff by Kralle. As per the nature of the Griffon law
he was expected to follow Kralle as his hunter.
Metzger was present when Kralle was challenged to slay a dragon he expressed immediate concern and urged him to not take the challenge to heart.
The Griffon was greatly shocked and horrified Kralle would take the challenge to heart and lead his wing to slay a dragon. In the battle Metzger
was responsible for the blinding of the dragon using a dagger pulled from the monster's horde, a dagger he still possess.
After the successfull slaying of the dragon and the wing still alive he deeply apologized to Kralle for his doubt and since has sought to redeem
himself through loyalty to him.
Personality: Metzger is a sharp, cold Griffon. Not particularly aggresive towards others, his passive humility hasn't alloted him room to go far
passed hunting. Though the loyalty expressed towards Metzger has effectivly turned him to a lieutenant in so far as Kralle's wing goes. He also
has expressed cyncism in affairs prior to execution. But post, will take to their execution with a morbid execution.
Character Summary: Cynical but loyal lieutenant to Kralle. He also handles the appointments of Kralle, delivering word between he and their Flight
chieftain.
Other: Metzger is something of a practiced butcher and chef. Carving kills while on the hunt for food on the go. While at the roost he does the
same with the preperation of meat for storage and travel, or for consumption. The knife he uses to kill is also the knife he uses for preperation.
Name: Pell
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Species: Griffon
Appearance: Motley clay-red Griffon, black talons and beak. Sharp earthly green eyes. An arcing plume of feathers hang over his round owl-esque
features.
Cutie Mark: N/A
Backstory: Pell was a griffon born in the north several years before Kralle. Though his conception was considerably late to join the fleight south
after the Flieght hunted the local stock to difficulty. Thus sentencing him to loom behind with his parents and several supporting families of
gryphons who dwelt in the cold north to keep each other alive until Pumm could take to the air and join the migration.
Through the several years that they stayed in the old abandoned roost Pell showed that he adopted the eyesight of his father, being sharp and
clear. On maiden fleights Pell was capable of pointing out anything that may be caught to eat in the grasses or snow below. Though at the same
time as he grew into adolescenes a series of bad-habits evolved involving the consumption of anything on a whim, running him through a number of
strange addictions.
Joining the hunting wings he was succesivly kicked out of and drafted into others to be kicked out again due to a addiction to muchrooms. It was a
pattern that persisted to Kralle's wing, where the original leading Griffon adopted the strategy to try and habitually beat it out of him by
force, making him considerably jumpy, particularly during relapses.
Pell's continuing service though is due in part to his unaltered sense of sight, though a number of other senses may have very well failed.
Personality: Jumpy and skittish Griffon with a major substance abuse problem. He habitually relapses out of sobriety to the annoyance and
frustration of those he flies with. Though his insistence and personal knowledge of potentially dehibiltating plants through his experimentation
has helped broaden the knowledge of substances to not involve with to the rest of his wing. Sober, he tends to very much have a bad sense of
humor. Aggression varies based on whatever he may have put down his gullet.
Character Summary: Lanky jumpy griffon managing substance abuse issues.
Other: Just another member of Kralle's wing.
Name: Dumm
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Species: Griffon
Appearance: Stark white griffon spotted down with mud-brown featers. Lower body a deep dark brown as well as the feathers which ring is front
legs. Sharp blue eye'd. His legs and face are badly damaged and broken.
Cutie Mark: N/A
Backstory: Originally born as Dolch in the Everfree roosts he was slated as being a member of the clan that claimed title over the Flight. Over as
he came to age the embarassing reality set in that he was not full in the head. Mentally slow he was considered an embarassment to his family and
spiritually aborted from the line and cast out. Cut off from his family, he passed between the talons of a number of Griffons he bumbled into,
hap-hazardly learning his basic skills.
Though lacking in mental capacity he is a highly endurant flier. Often proved on regular basises by over-flying the current migratory roost and
going beyond before realizing where he was going.
Dumm's easily fabricatably mind-set has produced a flier mechanically loyal to Kralle. Though lacking in mental capacity to show advanced
creativity, he his adaptive enough to complete a job. And blindly loyal and easily attaching to carry it out without cynyism.
His blind faith and ignorance to danger operated as a distraction in Kralle's dragon slaying. And though he survived, he came out badly broken,
yet capable of returning to roost where he recovered under Metzger's supervision.
Personality: Slow lumbering individual. Rarely speaks, communicating in awkward smiles and over enthusiastic nods, or shakes of his head.
Mechanically loyal to Kralle and by extension Metzger who is the only figure he really speaks to. Other times when he speaks it is to merely
repeat what has been said. His simplistic nature and lacking capability of outwardly showing distress, and seemingly capable of going with it has
him a pack mules of sorts. There is little else to say.
Character Summary: The slow dim-witted and manipulated member of Kralle's wing.
Other: Is often referred to by Kralle as being the Dill, or the Whacker Whacka of Drivel. Metzger simply refers to him as the Die Begriffsstutzig.
I am also hoping that I do not need to punch in the number code or anything.))
Everfree Roost
The shadows of the pair of griffons sped over the tree tops of the Everfree. Their great wings spread, whisking away the clouds as they went. At least in so much as the higher. Dipping in and out of the cool refreshing clouds and dragging casually behind him a skyward wake of mist the adult and battle-scarred griffon ducked a swerved, watching down below him at the much lower flying son of his.
Scowling, he groaned in dismay as he watched the figure of the adolescent fly much to close over the canopies of the Everfree for his liking. The young griffon was, to his father, much to close to the ground. Kralle feared cowardice as he brooded over top him as he flew. It was disheartening to see that his endeavors were not bearing the fruit he wanted. Especially over these forests.
But as the ground did climb, so did the fledgling. Swooping up to the face of the ragged rocks that made the eastern most face of the wide untamed wilderness between the sea and the interior. Scaling up the broken bones of the eroding mountains Wenig gained the air he needed, but just to climb up the face. To his father's chagrin, often reaching out to half climb the face.
The dust clouded up from the ground as the shadow of Kralle intensified. His rear paws touching down delicately on the warm stone service of the large outcropping. With a set of soft clicks, so did his talons, followed by the soft touch down of Wenig. High in the peaks circling around or lounging on the sun-exposed ledges above bored and tired griffons lay to rest. Watching as down below the two arrivals made their landing through half-closed eyes.
"Wenig!" Kralle snapped, turning as his son feigned the other way, sweeping his fore-leg onto the adolescent's tail. The spine of his son stiffening as his cold nails held it to the warm sun-warmed stones. "What was that?" Kralle growled softly, furrowing his eyes as he glared at the back of the younglings feathered head.
"I-" Wenig began quietly, then hesitated, "I-"
"Turn around to me boy." Kralle growled. His son obeyed hesitantly, looking down to the ground.
"I thought we were working on this." said Kralle, "You know you should fly higher up and you don't. We go over these forests and you put yourself at a level of risk you shouldn't be facing." raising up a talon he took the chocolate brown griffon's head into his claws, softly stroking down the length of his beak and chin.
"Where's the trying?" he asked softly, "You're one who should have pride. You're a strong 'un. My little ankle biter. Now what, you're my little whacker?"
"I'm sorry." the griffon muttered silently, still averting his gaze to the side.
"Yes well," Kralle sighed disappointed, "It's not cutting it now. Not until you can climb this points around here without hesitation."
"I was tired!" Wenig protested, to the humor of Kralle. Taking his claw from Wenig's face he poked at his head.
"I always thought it funny when you furrow your brow like that." he cracked.
Flushing, Wenig threw himself away from his father, slouching curled several feet away. "Go to your mother than and see what needs to be attended there. We'll work on your fears later.
"Or will I need to get your sisters to compete?" Kralle laughed.
Embittered with a flash of spite Wenig lunged himsefl forward to the great amusement of his pa, who launched himself up before he could reach. "I have things to do!" he laughed, "Save it for when I'm asleep."
Her eyes burned from the sun shining into them, like a foal with a magnifying glass on an anthill. Her limbs were wobbly, aching messes attached to her sore body, her gut wanting to turn out and make her vomit again. Foggy had no desire to open her eyes and subject them to further torture, but unfortunately, she had little choice. Perhaps she could cover them in a film of alcoholism again within the hour.
Foggy reached behind her and nabbed the neck of a bottle of whiskey in her teeth, bringing it forward and between her forelimbs, using them as leverage as she pulled out the cork. The smell was incredibly strong, and most likely weaker ponies would have fainted merely from that, but Foggy was not a weaker pony. She took the bottle in a hoof and gave it a mighty swig, chugging the viscious, bitter liquid within. Warm whiskey wasn't nearly as good as cold whiskey, but it would have to do, if only to make the sunlight more bearable.
Foggy opened her eyes and groaned. She hadn't taken a big enough swig, as the sun pierced into her irises like a giant spear. Slowly, but surely, she came up to her feet, wobbly, and found herself in a bush of some sort, the gate of some sort of estate nearby. The bush smelled of vomit and urine, no doubt the result of last night's misadventures. Foggy smiled- Some unicorn was going to have a few very ed off lackeys today. Probably zebras. Damn striped horses took all of the jobs, might as well make it actually challenging for them.
Foggy stumbled out of the bush, patting about for her hat. She found it a few feet away, and immediately threw it on, pulling it down as much as she could in an effort to shield her eyes. It helped a bit, at least enough to get her to the bar, or the pub, or whatever this town had for drink.
It couldn't come sooner.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Everyone get down! It's a book! He's going to read!" -Soldier
Waffe
"It wasn't me in the paper, I wouldn't have been found. And as for how I got here, I'm confused." His eyes were adjusting to the thin light of the room. "I went in some small building, and came out here. I didn't even mean to come here, to this place. And by the way, I call myself human." He glanced at the dimly lit room. It didn't have really anything interesting to look at. "I came to your mansion, for... reasons I cannot really specify to you. And my limbs? Those are arms and legs. And the nature of my species is... quite shameful." He admitted. "Anyways, as far as I know, there is no human here but me, but there are PLENTY from where I come. Oh, and if you are wondering from which I come, It's Celia, subsection of Athalos, which is one of the countries of Earth." He stretched. "I don't plan to do anything but get home." He cringed at the last question. "And from the area I come from, we have daggers, crossbow like yours, cannons, bows, swords, actually a lot of blades, and one of our newest inventions, the 'gun'. I can't afford bullets, so I sell off the ones I find." He was on his high guard, in case the unicorn tried anything.
"OK then, now I need to run a few short tests on you. Nothing that will kill you of course." Polyester flicked a switch and the rest of the room illuminated, showing a small running course. There were 3 ponies, 1 earth pony, 1 unicorn, 1 Pegasus. The earth pony had the cutie mark of a tag. The unicorn had a cutie mark that was similar, but it was a shop. The Pegasus had a cutie mark of an apple exchanging hooves. "All the of these ponies sell objects. What I need you to do is to go onto that 4th line and when you hear me blow the whistle, run to the other end of the course. When you get to the end, turn around and head back here. Rinse and repeat until you cannot continue. The first lap you must go as fast as you can. The rest are left for endurance. Afterwards, you will be free to go."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
RIP: Politics, Philosophy, News, and Science
You were a good section.
((Huh. It's pretty doubtful that you'll see a partly insane drinker in town, or have one referred to it as a cutie mark, though the backstory and personality is pretty good. Accepted.
Oh, and the story doesn't have to be in Ponyville. Equestria is a large country, and the RP world shouldn't be limited to one place. It might be better for the characters to come together sooner or later, however, to continue the RP and get some interaction.))
Waffe reached the peak of the gate, then the door opened. There was a... unicorn...? Waffe was incredibly suprised and fell off the gate and hit his back on the ground. He looked at the unicorn, and realized he had a crossbow. He heard the words "Who are you?" He spoke, Waffe was guessing that he was better off answering. "I'm..." he glanced at the paper, and read a random name. "...Polyester Holmes." He didn't want to reveal his real name.
((Here is a majestic map of equestria! http://futzi01.devia...stria-323909537))
RIP: Politics, Philosophy, News, and Science
You were a good section.
Polyester was stunned; the creature was the worst liar he ever heard of."If you want to lie about your name, for Celestia's sake don't say that you share the name of the person asking you what your name is! Now tell me your real name now."
RIP: Politics, Philosophy, News, and Science
You were a good section.
Waffe almost literally face palmed. Of course it happened to be the unicorn. My luck. He sighed. "Okay, my name is Waffe. V Celia, from the village of Celia." He tried to slowly prepare to dash away, hoping to move behind cover so he could start running.
Victorian*))
Everfree
Cool winds whipped by the spire, carried on by its chilling tails whipped a certain soft cool smell. Earthly in it nature. Plant decay and a number of gasses. Subtle undertones of beast, monster, and animal. At the height, each gust that buffeted past the spire of stone made the pike of stone feel as if it shifted.
Kralle sat impatiently on the point, a chunk of stone no larger than a large coin, the jagged jarring point of the earthly spear rising from the rear the scarred griffon leaned against. Staring out across the tree-tops the expanse of the forest lay before him in its thick twisted glory. The shadows under neath the canopies a deeper black that the twisted trunks that rose from under-neath, unfolding above the world their sickly green foliage. From the windswept vantage point the keen hunter watched as silhouettes flashed in the branches. Just barely there. Feeble ghost shapes hazed by the distance and the wispy clouds.
Reaching out with his light talon he reached for a passing wisp of cloud with his gnarled and broken claws. The fingers bent and growing grotesquely. But they still opened as well as his other, and slicing through the wispy band of cloud he broke a piece off and gently Sheppard it to him. Pinching and manipulating the floating fluff he turned the spidery collection of raising vapor to a thicker ball and with a flick of his claw spun it, watching it dance off like a dancer, it's being tearing itself apart. He watched it off to its inevitable obliteration with a wry smirk.
At its last puff of extinquishment, Kralle chuckled. He rose his sharp gnarled claws to the boiled and twisted flesh of his neck, scratching at the old burn that rested there. He closed his eyes and sighed. Until a brush passed off his feathered mane, ruffling the deep chocolate of his coat. Scowling he shot his eyes open, and turned on the spire behind him.
"Oh, it's ya'," he called looking up at the checked black and grey griffon flying in towards him. The other fliers' eyes were a sharp, bright yellow. Suns in their own right no doubt. And apart from cracks in his beak, far less damaged a hunter, "Metzger."
"I was told by your own Afton you were out here." the other griffon laughed, flying in slow and hugging onto the tip of the spire Kralle perched on. "So, is he up yet?" he asked with a sneering smile, looking down over the peak down its body.
Kralle casually looked over the edge. Clinging to the side hung a brown and black griffon. His talons clasping to the jagged rocks with all his strength. His cresting feathers ruffled in the billowing wind. "The ankle biter's not up yet." he sigh, "Why are you delaying!" he yelled down at the adolescent clinging to the side, summoning his attention to the top of the spire.
"Ya, sure pa..." he mumbled, reaching up to continue his climb.
Kralle nodded, "Boy-o will make it." he smiled, gesturing out with his talons to the griffon-son.
"Yes, well he better make it up soon since old Kalhoun wants to send us out for a bit of meat spotting."
"How much longer is the oldie giving us then." Kralle snickered.
"Fifteen minutes." Metzger scoffed.
Kralle nodded, "I'll be there. Go get Parr and Dumm ready."
"Yes sir." Metzget grinned, pushing off from the spire and pushing off from the peak. "And you get that Wenig?" the hunter yelled down the spire, "Get climbing!"
"For our sake at least." Kralle crumbled peering over the side, watching the young griffon as he threw himself up the side hastily.
Reaching out blindly Kralle grabbed a chunk of wayward mist, and clenching the wet rag of fog squeezed it into a loose ball and tossed it down the spire. The wet sputters of Wedig indicated it had found a mark on the adolescent's head. "Gah!" he sputtered, "I'm climbing."
"Looked a little tired still." Kralle laughed joking.
My DeviantArt, so sexy
((Amazing size post, nice job.))
"Your coming with me. I need some informa-" Polyester saw that he was slowly preparing to dash away. "Don't bother running. The only way out is the gate, and its closed."
RIP: Politics, Philosophy, News, and Science
You were a good section.
Waffe
Waffe sighed. He's obviously not going to easily be manipulated or tricked, not at all. He started to slowly walk towards the unicorn, being careful not to make sudden movements. He noticed how well dressed the unicorn was.
Polyester slowly backed up, leading Waffe into the Mansion. After Waffe entered, he closed the door behind him. Polyester the led Waffe downstairs into his interrogation room. "Sit down."
RIP: Politics, Philosophy, News, and Science
You were a good section.
Waffe sat down, and attempted to relax. He noticed his heart beating. He calmed down. It's a unicorn. A magical creature that is harmless. Couldn't be bad, right? He sighed, and spoke. "So, what?"
((That's a good map, but we can't use it to completely refer to where exactly the places are.
Hoofington is missed. Trixie mentions the place in Boast Busters.
Trottingham is not on the map, but that's the place where Pipsqueak was previously from.
Epi, Flare, your posts are getting too short. You can still repeat your actions, but put them into more sentences, such as what you see, your thoughts and plans. Though it seems as you two are interacting with each other, I advise you to make your posts longer. Edit your previous posts if you want to add something. ))
((Alright...))
(Liberties with it can be taken since it gives us the relative location of some important places. Holes will just need to be filled in.)
My DeviantArt, so sexy
The room was very dark, very somber. Polyester flicked lit a wax candle nearby. "You were in today's paper. "Unknown creature rumored to be found. Creature has 4 limbs and stands on it's hind legs." I have a series of questions here. I will get the answer out of you, one way or another. Why and how did you get here? What do you call yourself? Why did you come to my Mansion? What do you call your limbs? What is the nature of your species? Are there more of you? Are they in this world? Where do you come from? Why are you here? What are your plans? What weapons did you or your species create?" Once I get this interrogation over I will run a few tests on him. This will be invaluable if his species plans to invade.
RIP: Politics, Philosophy, News, and Science
You were a good section.
Waffe
"It wasn't me in the paper, I wouldn't have been found. And as for how I got here, I'm confused." His eyes were adjusting to the thin light of the room. "I went in some small building, and came out here. I didn't even mean to come here, to this place. And by the way, I call myself human." He glanced at the dimly lit room. It didn't have really anything interesting to look at. "I came to your mansion, for... reasons I cannot really specify to you. And my limbs? Those are arms and legs. And the nature of my species is... quite shameful." He admitted. "Anyways, as far as I know, there is no human here but me, but there are PLENTY from where I come. Oh, and if you are wondering from which I come, It's Celia, subsection of Athalos, which is one of the countries of Earth." He stretched. "I don't plan to do anything but get home." He cringed at the last question. "And from the area I come from, we have daggers, crossbow like yours, cannons, bows, swords, actually a lot of blades, and one of our newest inventions, the 'gun'. I can't afford bullets, so I sell off the ones I find." He was on his high guard, in case the unicorn tried anything.
Name: Metzger
Gender: Male
Age: 40
Species: Griffon
Appearance: Black and Grey Griffon with a black beak. His talons and beak a sharp golden yellow. Beak his chipped and Talons scared.
Cutie Mark: N/A
Backstory: Metzger was born in the mountains outside of the Hayseed Marshes. As with many other griffons in his fleight he was expected to do
well, often to the point of direct abuse by his parents or other griffons. By the time he was of hunting age Metzger became known for the
butchering and cleaning of prey, often in fleight.
Metzger's wing however would change ownership when his leading Griffon was smashed against a cliff by Kralle. As per the nature of the Griffon law
he was expected to follow Kralle as his hunter.
Metzger was present when Kralle was challenged to slay a dragon he expressed immediate concern and urged him to not take the challenge to heart.
The Griffon was greatly shocked and horrified Kralle would take the challenge to heart and lead his wing to slay a dragon. In the battle Metzger
was responsible for the blinding of the dragon using a dagger pulled from the monster's horde, a dagger he still possess.
After the successfull slaying of the dragon and the wing still alive he deeply apologized to Kralle for his doubt and since has sought to redeem
himself through loyalty to him.
Personality: Metzger is a sharp, cold Griffon. Not particularly aggresive towards others, his passive humility hasn't alloted him room to go far
passed hunting. Though the loyalty expressed towards Metzger has effectivly turned him to a lieutenant in so far as Kralle's wing goes. He also
has expressed cyncism in affairs prior to execution. But post, will take to their execution with a morbid execution.
Character Summary: Cynical but loyal lieutenant to Kralle. He also handles the appointments of Kralle, delivering word between he and their Flight
chieftain.
Other: Metzger is something of a practiced butcher and chef. Carving kills while on the hunt for food on the go. While at the roost he does the
same with the preperation of meat for storage and travel, or for consumption. The knife he uses to kill is also the knife he uses for preperation.
Name: Pell
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Species: Griffon
Appearance: Motley clay-red Griffon, black talons and beak. Sharp earthly green eyes. An arcing plume of feathers hang over his round owl-esque
features.
Cutie Mark: N/A
Backstory: Pell was a griffon born in the north several years before Kralle. Though his conception was considerably late to join the fleight south
after the Flieght hunted the local stock to difficulty. Thus sentencing him to loom behind with his parents and several supporting families of
gryphons who dwelt in the cold north to keep each other alive until Pumm could take to the air and join the migration.
Through the several years that they stayed in the old abandoned roost Pell showed that he adopted the eyesight of his father, being sharp and
clear. On maiden fleights Pell was capable of pointing out anything that may be caught to eat in the grasses or snow below. Though at the same
time as he grew into adolescenes a series of bad-habits evolved involving the consumption of anything on a whim, running him through a number of
strange addictions.
Joining the hunting wings he was succesivly kicked out of and drafted into others to be kicked out again due to a addiction to muchrooms. It was a
pattern that persisted to Kralle's wing, where the original leading Griffon adopted the strategy to try and habitually beat it out of him by
force, making him considerably jumpy, particularly during relapses.
Pell's continuing service though is due in part to his unaltered sense of sight, though a number of other senses may have very well failed.
Personality: Jumpy and skittish Griffon with a major substance abuse problem. He habitually relapses out of sobriety to the annoyance and
frustration of those he flies with. Though his insistence and personal knowledge of potentially dehibiltating plants through his experimentation
has helped broaden the knowledge of substances to not involve with to the rest of his wing. Sober, he tends to very much have a bad sense of
humor. Aggression varies based on whatever he may have put down his gullet.
Character Summary: Lanky jumpy griffon managing substance abuse issues.
Other: Just another member of Kralle's wing.
Name: Dumm
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Species: Griffon
Appearance: Stark white griffon spotted down with mud-brown featers. Lower body a deep dark brown as well as the feathers which ring is front
legs. Sharp blue eye'd. His legs and face are badly damaged and broken.
Cutie Mark: N/A
Backstory: Originally born as Dolch in the Everfree roosts he was slated as being a member of the clan that claimed title over the Flight. Over as
he came to age the embarassing reality set in that he was not full in the head. Mentally slow he was considered an embarassment to his family and
spiritually aborted from the line and cast out. Cut off from his family, he passed between the talons of a number of Griffons he bumbled into,
hap-hazardly learning his basic skills.
Though lacking in mental capacity he is a highly endurant flier. Often proved on regular basises by over-flying the current migratory roost and
going beyond before realizing where he was going.
Dumm's easily fabricatably mind-set has produced a flier mechanically loyal to Kralle. Though lacking in mental capacity to show advanced
creativity, he his adaptive enough to complete a job. And blindly loyal and easily attaching to carry it out without cynyism.
His blind faith and ignorance to danger operated as a distraction in Kralle's dragon slaying. And though he survived, he came out badly broken,
yet capable of returning to roost where he recovered under Metzger's supervision.
Personality: Slow lumbering individual. Rarely speaks, communicating in awkward smiles and over enthusiastic nods, or shakes of his head.
Mechanically loyal to Kralle and by extension Metzger who is the only figure he really speaks to. Other times when he speaks it is to merely
repeat what has been said. His simplistic nature and lacking capability of outwardly showing distress, and seemingly capable of going with it has
him a pack mules of sorts. There is little else to say.
Character Summary: The slow dim-witted and manipulated member of Kralle's wing.
Other: Is often referred to by Kralle as being the Dill, or the Whacker Whacka of Drivel. Metzger simply refers to him as the Die Begriffsstutzig.
I am also hoping that I do not need to punch in the number code or anything.))
Everfree Roost
The shadows of the pair of griffons sped over the tree tops of the Everfree. Their great wings spread, whisking away the clouds as they went. At least in so much as the higher. Dipping in and out of the cool refreshing clouds and dragging casually behind him a skyward wake of mist the adult and battle-scarred griffon ducked a swerved, watching down below him at the much lower flying son of his.
Scowling, he groaned in dismay as he watched the figure of the adolescent fly much to close over the canopies of the Everfree for his liking. The young griffon was, to his father, much to close to the ground. Kralle feared cowardice as he brooded over top him as he flew. It was disheartening to see that his endeavors were not bearing the fruit he wanted. Especially over these forests.
But as the ground did climb, so did the fledgling. Swooping up to the face of the ragged rocks that made the eastern most face of the wide untamed wilderness between the sea and the interior. Scaling up the broken bones of the eroding mountains Wenig gained the air he needed, but just to climb up the face. To his father's chagrin, often reaching out to half climb the face.
The dust clouded up from the ground as the shadow of Kralle intensified. His rear paws touching down delicately on the warm stone service of the large outcropping. With a set of soft clicks, so did his talons, followed by the soft touch down of Wenig. High in the peaks circling around or lounging on the sun-exposed ledges above bored and tired griffons lay to rest. Watching as down below the two arrivals made their landing through half-closed eyes.
"Wenig!" Kralle snapped, turning as his son feigned the other way, sweeping his fore-leg onto the adolescent's tail. The spine of his son stiffening as his cold nails held it to the warm sun-warmed stones. "What was that?" Kralle growled softly, furrowing his eyes as he glared at the back of the younglings feathered head.
"I-" Wenig began quietly, then hesitated, "I-"
"Turn around to me boy." Kralle growled. His son obeyed hesitantly, looking down to the ground.
"I thought we were working on this." said Kralle, "You know you should fly higher up and you don't. We go over these forests and you put yourself at a level of risk you shouldn't be facing." raising up a talon he took the chocolate brown griffon's head into his claws, softly stroking down the length of his beak and chin.
"Where's the trying?" he asked softly, "You're one who should have pride. You're a strong 'un. My little ankle biter. Now what, you're my little whacker?"
"I'm sorry." the griffon muttered silently, still averting his gaze to the side.
"Yes well," Kralle sighed disappointed, "It's not cutting it now. Not until you can climb this points around here without hesitation."
"I was tired!" Wenig protested, to the humor of Kralle. Taking his claw from Wenig's face he poked at his head.
"I always thought it funny when you furrow your brow like that." he cracked.
Flushing, Wenig threw himself away from his father, slouching curled several feet away. "Go to your mother than and see what needs to be attended there. We'll work on your fears later.
"Or will I need to get your sisters to compete?" Kralle laughed.
Embittered with a flash of spite Wenig lunged himsefl forward to the great amusement of his pa, who launched himself up before he could reach. "I have things to do!" he laughed, "Save it for when I'm asleep."
My DeviantArt, so sexy
((All three NPCs are accepted.
The number code is to ensure people look at the rules. Simply telling people to put down a word for approval isn't enough.))
She woke up and everything hurt.
Her eyes burned from the sun shining into them, like a foal with a magnifying glass on an anthill. Her limbs were wobbly, aching messes attached to her sore body, her gut wanting to turn out and make her vomit again. Foggy had no desire to open her eyes and subject them to further torture, but unfortunately, she had little choice. Perhaps she could cover them in a film of alcoholism again within the hour.
Foggy reached behind her and nabbed the neck of a bottle of whiskey in her teeth, bringing it forward and between her forelimbs, using them as leverage as she pulled out the cork. The smell was incredibly strong, and most likely weaker ponies would have fainted merely from that, but Foggy was not a weaker pony. She took the bottle in a hoof and gave it a mighty swig, chugging the viscious, bitter liquid within. Warm whiskey wasn't nearly as good as cold whiskey, but it would have to do, if only to make the sunlight more bearable.
Foggy opened her eyes and groaned. She hadn't taken a big enough swig, as the sun pierced into her irises like a giant spear. Slowly, but surely, she came up to her feet, wobbly, and found herself in a bush of some sort, the gate of some sort of estate nearby. The bush smelled of vomit and urine, no doubt the result of last night's misadventures. Foggy smiled- Some unicorn was going to have a few very ed off lackeys today. Probably zebras. Damn striped horses took all of the jobs, might as well make it actually challenging for them.
Foggy stumbled out of the bush, patting about for her hat. She found it a few feet away, and immediately threw it on, pulling it down as much as she could in an effort to shield her eyes. It helped a bit, at least enough to get her to the bar, or the pub, or whatever this town had for drink.
It couldn't come sooner.
"OK then, now I need to run a few short tests on you. Nothing that will kill you of course." Polyester flicked a switch and the rest of the room illuminated, showing a small running course. There were 3 ponies, 1 earth pony, 1 unicorn, 1 Pegasus. The earth pony had the cutie mark of a tag. The unicorn had a cutie mark that was similar, but it was a shop. The Pegasus had a cutie mark of an apple exchanging hooves. "All the of these ponies sell objects. What I need you to do is to go onto that 4th line and when you hear me blow the whistle, run to the other end of the course. When you get to the end, turn around and head back here. Rinse and repeat until you cannot continue. The first lap you must go as fast as you can. The rest are left for endurance. Afterwards, you will be free to go."
RIP: Politics, Philosophy, News, and Science
You were a good section.