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Showing results for tags 'Germaney'.
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"I'm just not stupid. I'm not the type to just buy into hype easily." Ok, not buying into hype was smart. Ignition would admit that just as quickly as anyone. Just so long as she managed to get featherface to come along for the fly, that was fine with her. Gilda seemed like she needed reminding that not all pegasi were weak-willed, dorky sociophiles anyhow, and after a hard day's stagework, she could use a hard night of loud music, stinging air, mosh pits, bruises and brutish behavior. Unter-grund, a precise if not-too-imaginative name, was one of her favourite hangouts of all time, ever, in her whole life, in all of Equestria, and Luna could go suck on the moon if she wasn't going to drag a new friend down to it. Still, the dimmed lights of a mostly-sleeping Germaney lay below, reducing visibility a bit. A little harder to see, but she knew where she was going. There was the urge to ask Gilda how good her night-vision was... but then she realized that it was kinda stupid. What was the use asking someone how good their ability to see in the dark was when they had no way of comparing to eachother? Instead, Ignition just swooped a little closer to Gilda, pointing towards a somewhat squalid, squat, brick-and-mortar sort of buliding. Flecked paint attempted to hide the structure's moderately marred modesty. "There's the spot! I hope you didn't have your hopes up for a pretty little pony-prance, that place is way uglier on the inside. C'mon, I'll show you in. Oh, uh, don't talk in earshot of the bouncers if you don't know Germane, though. They don't like 'tourists'." And, with that warning dropped, Ignition circled the building a few times, then decided to just land on top of it for a moment, stretching her wings. A shake of her mane, putting it back in place a bit better, and a quick stretch of her legs had Ignition ready to go. "Unless you wanna take five before heading in, instead. That's cool too."
Roleplay Type: Mane RP Name: Trotto von Bissmal Sex: male Age: Stallion (in/just past his prime) Species: Earth Pony Eye colour: light green Coat colour: light brown Mane/Tail/Markings colour & Style: dark brown, worn short and practical. Sports a moustache. Physique: grizzled Cutie Mark: the Iron Cross Origin/Residence: Born in a small town in Germaney, currently resides in Hufenheim Occupation: high ranking military veteran Motivation: To be a good leader to his nation, into a new age of peace and prosperity Likes: Law and order, politics, war stories, bravery, unity, Germaney Dislikes: boring and pointless meetings, cowardice, laziness Character Summary: A stern and professional leader by nature, von Bissmal has grown old quickly from his time in the military, and as such gets nostalgic very easily when talking about his past. Backstory: Trotto von Bissmal was born into the very prestigious Bissmal family, who are known to be capable soldiers all throughout the Germane Republic's history. Leading all the way back to the first settlers of this land, his family earned their name by their use of their strong teeth when fighting off the hostile wildlife. His early life was marked by rigorous training by his father, who took pride in his military position and wanted his only son to walk in his hoofsteps. Von Bissmal didn't mind though, because it catered to his natural strengths, his agility and strong build. Close to his home, there was a military academy especially dedicated to the training of leading officers, and his father urged him to enroll once he was of age. Von Bissmal was very talented, and they allowed him to even skip several classes, allowing him to be the youngest student to graduate in the history of the academy. His outstanding performance in his studies also earned him his cutie mark, the Iron Cross, the traditional badge of honor for extraordinary performance in military. He then proceeded to serve not one, but two military services, first as a secondary commander in one of the units of the Grenzgarde, protection the forest borders of his nation, then as the admiral of one of the airships of the Sturmwacht, keeping the sea save. After many years and countless stories, and being a former high ranking military officer, von Bissmal amassed a sizeable fortune, more then enough to pay for his modest lifestyle for the rest of his life. As such, he makes it a point to support those who have good work ethics and good idea, but are down on their luck financially. He enjoys widespread respect among the people of Hufenheim, his current residence. Upon recent years, von Bissmal travelled outside of Germaney, carrying the Germane spirit into the world, but always returning to his homeland after a few weeks. After all, that is where his heart is.
A tavern near Germaney, one of Martel Von Starkhuf's favorite places to be. A tankard sat in front of him, frothy ale spilling out of the newly poured drink. He reached for it, but stopped himself, remembering why he was here. Marty was a mercenary, after all, and the contract comes first. The nervous stallion next to him gave a solemn chuckle and sipped his own glass of beer, returning to his paranoia. As a Von Starkhuf, Martel's services were in high demand, and this particular pony seemed in desperate need. It was the typical 'protect me' contract, and he was more than willing to oblige, as long as he was still being paid. Once he learned that he client had family, Martel had drastically dropped his rate, something he had no problem doing. This was an easy job and he had already escorted his client out of danger, and they were almost home free, just one final pit stop before entering Germaney. It wasn't easy, especially with Marty's stunted leg, but his brace held up and the pair of ponies managed to get back home. He often found himself struggling with his leg, but Marty was able to overcome it, he had to. He may be a large stallion, even for an earth pony, but there were still many that doubted him. Most of his family still didn't consider himself worthy of the Von Starkhuf name, and he was out to prove himself. With his trusty hammer, Zornstahl, sitting on the counter in front of him, Martel felt as confident as ever. If anypony posed even the slightest threat to his client, he could deal with him. Alas, only an idiot would try to take on a Von Starkhuf, everypony in the business knows who they are, at least, Marty thought so. Draping his large red cloak, emblazoned with his family crest, over his deep purple pelt, Martel took a moment to scan the crowd, and only when he deemed the coast clear did he allow himself to relax. With a glass full of beer, Martel gave a warm bellow and slapped the nervous stallion on the back. "What is there to be worrying about? We are almost back at home, drink, and be merry!" He didn't allow his client to respond, and the large stallion raised his glass and offered a toast. Martel felt pretty confident, and it seemed that nothing would sour this milk run. "To victory! I am on the next round!" A rancorous cheer erupted from the other patrons, everypony liked free drinks. Only a single pony didn't cheer, a cloaked pony off in the corner that immediately drew Martel's attention. He couldn't make out many details, but he knew that a pony that didn't like free drinks was a suspicious one indeed. No matter, if they were a problem, he would deal with them accordingly. With another glance at the other pony, Martel returned to his drink.