Dio

This is a solid application. I would just like you to keep in mind how his father's career affected Stalwart as you play. The military is not just a career, it is a lifestyle and its effects run far deeper than just pay grade and job description. I will stamp because for now, Stalwart's story is focused on a young stallion growing up, which gives him plenty of opportunity to explore what the military life would mean to him.

If you are ready for final evaluation, please mark your application title with the [FINAL] tag.

Just a quick thing I noticed. You mention a Great War in your application, but I am uncertain about how this fits into continuity for World of Equestria/Mane RP. The last "great war" was 1000 years ago against Nightmare Moon and there's no way Nahima's father could be that old. I'd take another look at how you want to spin this particular aspect.

Out of respect to all parties involved, we do not publicly discuss the specific circumstances of banishment. Suffice to say that it was done because of rules infraction.

Welcome back!

You may or may not remember me from way back in the day, but it's always great to link up with the old crew again

As you can see, we've done quite a bit of renovation since Equestria.electronook, so you might want to take a look around to reacquaint yourself with the RP setup. You're a veteran, though, so I think you'll pick it up in no time!

Again, welcome home!

- sent from my HTC Evo using Tapatalk 2

Returned to applications bin for reworking at owner's request.

HAY GUISE WHAT'S GOING ON IN THIS THRE-

-- realizes time zone is GMT-4 --

Also spam stables because spam stables.

I always encourage players with REA characters to do a bit of research into the military and learn about the culture that accompanies it. The training encompasses more than just warfighting; it's an entire system of organizing your thoughts, carrying out your day to day routines, and interacting with your fellow soldiers. As an adventurer now, the military life may not be as important to Fire Walker as it once was, but it will still leave its mark.

May is a very travel-heavy month for me, so while I will be on during the week (since I have work and will be at home during the evenings), I will not be able to reliably reply to RPs on the weekends. By the end of the month we should be able to see if this is a trend or merely a busy month.

“It seems the plan is to first have drinks, my fine feathered-- and scaled-- friends. Let’s not be rude now!”

The splash of brogue was followed by a splash of ice blue, the coat color of a lithe, wild-maned stallion that casually slid into the seat next to Gilda. The earth pony moved with an unnatural grace, more akin to a griffon aerialist than one with ground bound heritage. A messenger saddlebag was slung across his shoulder, a flatcap perched upon his head, and a silly grin was plastered across his face. Tapping his hoof on the table to get the attention of one of the waitresses, White Feather produced a copy of Miasma’s poster from his saddlebag.

“I’m guessing this is the table for Miasma’s marvelous, miserable, misanthropes and miscreants?” he said with a laugh as the waitress dropped off his mug of ale. His words lacked edge, maintaining a humorous lilt to them in spite of their connotation. “Oh come on now, don’t be so glum, I was only fooling about the marvelous part!”

“Name’s White Feather, and methinks you’ll be wanting my company by the looks of it!”

It took practice to put on a service uniform. Jacket pressed. Collar starched. Tie neat. Rank boards straight. Name tapes and ribbons clean and proper. Shining Armor had had plenty of practice throughout the years, first in ROTC, then in the Canterlot garrison as a lieutenant. His promotion to captain meant he spent even more time in service uniform than ever before. The maintenance and donning of the uniform had finally transcended the level of “chore” and become akin to “arcane ritual.”

On the outside it looked to be nothing more than a suit with the military trappings of rank badges and name tapes. But the jacket, collar, garrison cap, and tie was no mere suit, it was the representation of Her Solar Majesty’s blessing upon her armed forces and a badge of honor for all who wore it. Thus, if ever a pony was to disgrace that uniform, there would be grave consequences.

And so it was that Shining Armor came trotting down the cold stone steps to the garrison’s dungeon, an adjutant’s messenger saddlebag slung across his back and a Guard report floating in front of him, bathed in the violet glow of his magic. Disgrace the uniform in deed. The captain furrowed his brow as he read. This particular guardspony had caused quite a stir at the garrison with his massive breach of security, especially with the recent Changeling incident...

Shining Armor shuddered at the thought. The medics said he’d be fine. His wife said he’d be fine. But it was still an ordeal that was not so easy to walk off. The captain shook his head to clear his thoughts, adjusting the garrison cap on his head as he walked. He’d have deal with that later. There were more pressing issues right now.

"You know what? I should just leave you in here to rot. I'm sure Sergeant Bonfire wouldn't object, seeing as you made a laughing stock of his guards!" a voice barked, a drill instructor’s sharpness immediately apparent.

"Oh, definitely, Master Sergeant," another voice echoed through the stone corridor in response. "I think Private Tick should stay for a while. I'm sure Captain Shining Armor would love to meet him. You might have heard of him, Private? Head of Palace security? Married to a Princess? Blasted an ENTIRE ARMY of changelings out of Canterlot?"

Shining Armor couldn’t help but smirk at the embellishment. NCOs, always playing up the officers to be messengers of the gods and the like. Cadence still teased him about the poster boy prank back in his 2LT days and the whole “Hero of Canterlot” business wasn’t exactly helping him stay low key. The captain tucked the report back into his saddlebag, suppressing a shudder as he crossed the arcane wards in the holding area, colloquially known as “the cooler.”

"Unless, Private," the sergeant continued, "You tell us, right here and now, how the HAY you got into my palace without being seen by ANYPONY!"

“Yes, please enlighten us,” Shining Armor chimed in, slipping out of the shadows behind both NCOs. “I’m sure this will be an excellent story...”

"I like this thread! It's excitin'!"

"My hammer is made of steel, and so is my liver! Thirty bits to the best drinker at the table?" He raised his glass and erupted in a traditional Germane drinking song. His raucous, empassioned singing died down as soon as the conversation started up.

"Thirty bits?" Cutlass smirked, "I'll throw in fifty. Somepony has to show you all how it's done."

“You can keep your bits, both of you! You’ll need them to buy more drink!” Novaya laughed, joining in the banter. “Besides, everypony knows I could drink you both under the table!”

Novaya listened closely as each told their stories in turn. A young soldier away from home for the first time, a contractor looking to pick up a bill, and perhaps most interesting of all, a sellsword with a checkered past looking for redemption.

"...I've done some bad things. And without going into too much, I'm trying to make up for those things. Hence my taking this mission." Cutlass raised her next bottle before taking another swig.

Novaya had heard that tone of voice before. It was the same tone of voice that came from fresh recruits who’d had prior run-ins with the Stallian Guard. Kuznitza street urchins, Aquellian mercenaries, Unyasi fugitives. Some were scared, some were mean. Some were sad, others angry, others still were stoic, showing nothing at all. But they all shared one thing in common: a desire for change and the hope that they could leave their pasts behind and lead a better life in Stalliongrad.

“We have all done bad things in our lives, Sablyaska,” the sergeant major said, raising her tankard in acknowledgement. “What matters is what we do with the time we have left.”

The conversation had finally come full circle. Cutlass turned to Novaya, looking her dead in the eye as she spoke. "And what of you, Sergeant? Are you here for glory, money, a sense of duty?"

“Vacation!” Novaya sniffed not without a hint of disdain. “Forced vacation. I was up for another garrison rotation to train new recruits, but KOG tells me I have leave that must be taken by law since I have not had vacation in years. What can I say? I love my job.”

Novaya took the moment to drain a good portion of her tankard before slamming it back down on the table. “I am on paid leave already, so I have no need for more money, and I learned long ago that glory was worthless to enlisted mare. I am command sergeant major, top of enlisted ranks, and I will likely retire this way when I am too old to fight or some little criminal horseapples decides to throw me off the deck of an airship!”

“I always said I was not pretty enough for officer track!” She grinned at her own joke, even if it was at her own expense. “But really, I would much rather be in the dirt working with my squadron than looking down from on high.”

“So I suppose I am here because of duty," she continued. "I never asked to be stabled for the next month a half, so I had to find something constructive to do with myself. When I heard that there seemed to be an... infestation in Lunae, well, let’s just say my sense of adventure got the best of me.”

With that, the sergeant major hammered down the rest of her tankard, sliding it aside as she twisted the top off the closest bottle of Stallianoya. Floating an orange before her with her magic, Novaya drew her combat knife and quickly sliced it, leaving floating orange wedges hanging in front of her as she sheathed her blade. An orange slice floated to her lips. One bite and the flesh of the fruit was gone, washed down by a subsequent swig of Stallian vodka.

It was then that Novaya saw Radiant Steel gingerly picking at her fruit. The young pegasus had barely touched her drink. Now this simply wouldn’t do! Tonight was for camaraderie, for eating, drinking, and making merry! Novaya floated an orange slice up to Radiant Steel’s plate, dropping the bottle of Stallianoya right next to it so that her intent was unmistakable. The sergeant major said nothing, letting her challenge and the silly grin on her face speak for her instead.

Cheeky, cheeky.

Pushed one last round of changes tonight. I'll try to avoid any more last minute shenanigans!

All pony species can be in the Royal Guard. Stalliongrad is focused on racial integration, so all species are permitted. REIN operates without borders so all species are permitted. Destriers I'm still working on, but for now assume that unicorns are rarer than pegasi or earth ponies.

Cutlass turned to Novaya. "So. We have equipment and intel. However little of the latter is available anyway. My vote goes to making a bit of distance out of here if we're not taking a night at the inn for planning. Immediate and direct travel without rest, as it is, would be kind of awkward as well, seeing as we all only just met... with all due respect of course."

"Ja, we should try to be covering some ground,” the Germanean quipped. “I would not mind a planning session to be determining strategy. If we rest a bit beforehoof, I can be getting ready to go long distance on my bad leg. Would be making things easier, Ja? We must be getting to know each other before we fight together."

“Then it is agreed. Back to the inn we go,” Novaya smiled. “It would be better for us to depart tomorrow when we have rested. We can travel by morning and venture into the town itself in afternoon. Sound good, da?”

The sergeant major turned back towards the center of town, head held high and whistling the beginning of a cheery Stallian tune. “Besides, I could go for another round of drinks while we wait for daybreak!”

“...and we still need to find you a proper set of saddlebags for journey ahead!” Novaya laughed, loudly clapping Radiant Steel on the back with a hoof. “Where in all that armor did you plan on putting canteens, medical supplies, and Magya Valius’ trinkets?”

A partly filled tankard floated next to her head wreathed in the soft cornflower blue glow of her magic, the only reason it remainedbeing that she had just hammered down the last tankard. After all, there was nothing like a good brew before a mission!

The large, round table was stacked with food and drink; local barley brews, Stallian vodka, standard pony pub grub, and fresh fruit brought in from the local ports. Seats around the suspended disc of seasoned hardwood consisted of padded pillows; rough on the surface to resist wear from bar denizens, but comfortable enough for a pony to rest upon for a meal and a drink. Dim but warm lighting from faerie lanterns shed their glow upon the seating area, cordoning the booths and tables with swaths of soft shadow.

The atmosphere of The Cloven Hoof was one of content. Sailors and dock workers had just come off their shifts and store owners and mid-level bureaucrats had been off their desks for an hour or more already. Each clique seemed to have their own habitat; soldiers and sailors clustering around big circular tables, desk jockeys huddling in their corner booths, and a smattering of loners clustered at the bar waiting on drinks. The party was merely another group in the busy hubbub of a tavern at prime time.

The sergeant major was not above carousing with her command. It was her firm belief that with the right to shed blood, sweat, and tears together came the responsibility of sharing food and drink and stories together. How could you fight alongside a comrade who cared nothing for his or her fellow pony? Meal and drink did not just provide sustenance, it provided camaraderie, and in that a more cohesive fighting unit and a much greater chance of success.

Novaya had already sized up their combat prowess at Valius’ tower. Alone, each was formidable. A swordsmare, a Germanean mercenary, an REA neophyte, and a seasoned VSS soldier; each more than a match for the rabble that surely roamed the streets of Lunae. But that was unimportant. Novaya had seen former Kuznitza street rats take down much tougher foes with only their wits and loyalty to each other. Their ability to work together was far more important than individual skill. But of course, in order to know the team, the team had to know each other...

“So tell me, letchka, where are you from?” The sergeant major grinned at Radiant Steel before taking a long draught from her tankard. “Ponyville, Marelia, Canterlot?”

Please for future applications check your formatting, spelling, and punctuation. This will make it easier on both the staff who are evaluating it and the RPers who will be using this character sheet for reference.