Trilobite

Oh, I wouldn't be that devious--well, not in a Ponies-based game. Probably.

As the chained debris continued its pendulum-like swinging, an odd discordant note entered the formery melodius mechanical rhythm. An ominous tick was followed by a menacing sproing, and grit sifted down on the trio. A small crack appeared, almost shyly making its way from the center of the ceiling toward one wall.

It sounds to me like y'all are in the midst of an IC discussion here, so feel free to continue it! I'll post when needed.

Hey there! I'll look this over for grammar and typos and send you a PM or something along those lines, probably sometime tomorrow. For now, though, I'll let people know it's ready to be looked over!

No probs. I don't think we're in any danger, and I think our mutual friend was just spitballing an idea "just in case" rather than because of an immediate matter. That's all what needs to be said about that. Okay, things are looking good! One of the things I love about GMing is the fact that you never know how players will handle something. Looking forward to seeing the decision and approach on this trap!

I'll consider it if it becomes necessary. Hey, Emerath, get to work! Even a short paragraph is good--and good for ya, if you're stressed!

Hi there! Looking over the application, and it looks like you have Iron Wing very well thought out! Her motivation fits very nicely with her history, and her special talent seems balanced and well-rounded. You mention English not being your first language. I think the application looks fine, but I will be happy to help with any grammar and spelling stuff if you want it! Are you still working on Iron Wing?

Yeppers. No probs. Post when youse guys can.

Woot!

Okay, that's awesome--I think you found just the right touch to add.

Oh my goodness! Great roleplaying reactions.

Oh boy, dungeon crawling! Enjoy your first puzzle-trap!

The artfully placed debris had concealed an entrance to a long tunnel, and the ponies had emerged into a niche on one side of it. Facing away from them as if guarding the niche was an imposing statue of a griffon--or what was left of one. The upper half of it had been unevenly shattered, and the head lay on the floor, facing the group with fierce eyes. Something about its gaze seemed encouraging, rather than intimidating, as if the long-departed griffon it depicted were urging them on. The damage had been done by a partial collapse to this part of the tunnel rather than claws. The tunnel curved away, gently sloping downward into the mountain. Solid arches of stone braced it every dozen paces or so, with niches on alternate sides containing statue after statue. Griffons in armor, mostly, rearing up with claws raised high and wings spread. But further down the tunnel was a mild-looking griffon in a sort of sash, bearing scrolls under one arm and a caliper carefully held in a talon, tongue sticking out in concentration. And there, just visible near the curve--was that a pegasus? The whole scene was illuminated in a soft blue-green. Clusters of tiny, delicate-looking mushrooms grew thickly over planters set into the walls and spread wildly across the stone surface. They grew thickest along the raised portions of the decorative scrollwork and bas-reliefs that lined the tunnel, highlighting the designs with their slowly shifting light. The bas-relief was one long piece, mirrored on both sides. It showed the rugged the Polar Star had been flying over for the last three weeks, punctuated by rustic dwellings formed from improved caves and stacked stone with rooves of living moss and wildflowers. Reindeer, moose, and hardy-looking ponies voyaged through this landscape or tended its plants and animals, all of them watched over by a widely-spaced series of towers on which noble-looking griffons stood guard. The beautiful crafstmanship was marred by only a few things. An enormous cave-in blocked the tunnel in one direction, and pieces of stone furniture and floorstones were piled up against the rubble. In the other direction, halfway between where the ponies stood and where the tunnel vanished into its curve was a gap surrounded by hasty chisel-marks. It wasn't very wide, maybe two ponies across--a challenging jump but not impossibly, given the running space available. But chains hung down from a long shaft in the roof over it, running down to each wall, where they were wrapped around very solid-looking, very jagged-looking pieces of rubble. As Ember Spark entered the hall and everypony shifted slightly, there was a tiny click, and the chains released, setting the stones swinging. Somewhere in the ceiling, a mechanism could be heard ticking away, and the shaft from which the stones hung moved in time with the sounds of it. Clearly this set-up would be dangerous for a long time, even without the considerable momentum of the deadly pendulums. They moved back and forth, crossing each other in a complex pattern, hardly ever leaving a space free.

Okay! I think what you've added brings some more depth to the character. May I suggest you add one more little bit, something that, to you, really helps define Stagefright as an individual?

(Charity whining voice) Nooo...update nooowww... It's all good. Thanks for letting me know you're still workin' on this.

This had once been some sort of antechamber or nexus of tunnels. Its former design, a neat octagon with a clearly labeled entrance in each wall, was still evident, but it had falled into a sorry state. Several tunnels were blocked by huge slabs or landslides of debris. In other places, new passageways had been opened by the devastation, jagged things branching off into utter darkness. Colored stripes were still faintly visible on the floor; glazed tile and semiprecious stone used to deliniate the paths that once led from here. Now everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and grit...and something had gouged away at the designs as well, both on the floor and where murals had been on the walls and ceiling, something with numerous, oddly-spaced claws that raked furrows in stone.

I might suggest the lightest rewording, if any.

The walls were worked stone, or had been at some point in the past. Now they were run through with fractures and jagged spills of debris. The traces of scrollwork and engravings were still visible, if ruined. Ahead, just at the threshold where the light from the chamber behind faded into nothingness, the group could see a place where several slabs of stone had come down at once. They rested against each other, forming a triangular opening just barely big enough for a pony to crawl through.

Sounds like you got yourself some of the extra personality stuff already worked out. Now put that in that there application!

(Cleverboots ain't there--only teh Iceguard Captain and her retainers is allowed here and in the tunnels).

Gale smiled. "And greetings to you, friend Emeber Spark, friend Emerath. Indeed, the time upon you is. By the ancient laws of Stormfast, none may this chamber enter, nor the catacombs beyond, save the Captain and her chosen retainers. For the safety of all, these laws are, and even the Queen exempt is not." She comes forward, along with the two others. Each produces what would be a small pin for a griffon but is a badge for ponies; a snowflake with a heart-shaped ruby in the center, backed by silver wings. They affix the badges to your gear. "Brave ponies, friends of Stormfast, welcome you are into the ranks of the Iceguard. Where you choose to go, we cannot, but with you are hearts and wings will be." Solemnly, the three stand back, away from the dark tunnel, the open door, and the rubble-choked blackness beyond.

...to find Princess Gale and her two steadfast Iceguard entering the small chamber from another tunnel. The three were dusty and a bit banged up, and Gale was just returning a tripardate key to a pouch on her belt. "Brave Pocket Change," she said, in low, warm tones. "Unsealed the catacombs are." From behind her came the quiet, eerie sound of air moving through subterranean corridors, and the faint drip of water. "Your companions wake, and with them forward venture. Remain here, we three will, until in truimph you return."

Flow nowwww.... Here's a question for ya: outside of the theater, what does Stagefright most like doing? And another one: what is something Stagefright would never do in a million years--because she considers it absolutely wrong. And one more: if Stagefright were to describe the perfect friend, what would she say?

Okay! Some folks have had a look at it, and they'd like to see a bit more about Stagefright's life and personality beyond her role in the theater. However, overall it looks good!