Trilobite

Roger that. Good luck!

No need to wait on the delightful Ginger Mint! The belt idea is merely a suggestion from your humble GM, and Ginger Mint (the other GM) can incorporate it or not.

Oooh, oooh--N-space field translator used to retrieve stored objects from N-space, rather than keeping them in saddlebags!

INITIATING NIT SCAN...SCANNING...NITS DETECTED...PICKING.... ...also stems down to her tail. Maybe 'streams down to her tail'? A clipboard with a pair of headphones resting on top, the cord laying in a heart shaped fashion. This is a great cutie mark, and fits right in with what we see in the show. I would want this pony if she were a toy! Helping other's succeed... Perhaps 'others'? ...thing's that glow in the dark... Maybe 'things'? ...being friendly for the sake of wanting to be... I really like this as part of her personality. It feels very pony. Also, having it as a like rather than part of her motivation is a fine differentiation that says a lot about her personality. ...physically and emotionally uncapable... You may mean 'incapable'. ...always take offer's... You may want to say 'offers'. Broadmane's biggest show's...from her fellow actor's... You might want to use 'shows' and actors'. The more I look at this character the more I like her and I really look forward to seeing her in some RPs. I think once you've got the above taken care of, you'll be ready to mark Stagefright final. Heck, you could prolly do it now, as these are very minor issues, only pointed out per your request.

"Okay, okay, okay. So Star Storm, you're definitely in, and Master Mustang--can I call you Mustang? You're in too." Parhelion grinned giddily. Bringing home new friends, especially those he could provide hospitality to and show around, always brought a ray of sunshine into his life. As much as he loved the cold northern lands, Cloudsdale would always have a special place in his heart, and sharing its best side with new ponies was one of the greatest joys in life. "We'll have a lot to eat--too much, really, and Mustang, I'll help you avoid my aunts, who are real busy-body matchmakers, and we'll go hit the town with some of my old school friends. There's loads of people who would love to talk to both of you, and I really, really think you'll like the flight school I went to--they help ponies like me who have more than the usual difficulties with flying, for whatever reason. Oh! Maybe Master Mustang can give a demonstration of his art? That would be awesome!" The gray pegasus was getting a little carried away, and had nearly forgotten the fact that he was standing in line. His mother, as usual, had been right. Coming here had been a great idea!

Oh my gosh, I love these characters! Okay, gang, I'd like to impose on you for one of those scenes that in my group we call "player-charactering up". You know, like this. Don't feel like you have to show or list everything you might have with you! I love games where you have to carefully consider every piece of equipment, but this ain't one of thems. I'm happy to assume that you have whatever is handy, so long as it's reasonable--and with players like you, I know you'll do some creative stuff with that license, including not having the perfect equipment for whatever problem. Just do a quick cut-scene, and we're good to go. I do have one request: it seems to me like Ember Spark is the type to have a sort of utility-belt type invention just waiting to be given to everyone. If that sounds good to you, Ginger Mint, I would totally dig seeing that in the game.

Bartleby drew the next book in his stack, looking satisfied that his choices had been perfect thus far. The illustration showed a cloud-like mass of back tendrils, fanged grins floating in its inky form. Red eyes showed here and there as well. Concentric rings spread out from the thing, and griffons knelt or fled, clutching their ears, weapons forgotten. "Terror, their weapon was, and shapeless they were. Against them, weapons no use were. The darkest things in a warriors heart, they used. Against their own doubts, even the fiercestfind it hard to stand. Defeated them we did, but in the tunnels still may they lurk." Cleverboots grinned defiantly. "Nothing my officers can't handle, Your Majesty." The Captain turned to you. "Well? Emerath thinks you three are the fulcrim, mainspring, and spyglass in this prophecy mentioned--er, um, mentioned in this prophecy. Pocket Change is in--what about you two?"

I think the feeling of the Stagefright's experience and the reasons she loves working backstage come through very clearly here. Per your request, I looked this over and found a couple minor typos Sometimes there are apostrophes where I think you mean plurals, like: The lack of judgemental spectator's (perhaps you mean spectators) and feeling's like that (you may mean feelings) There are also a couple of places where you may want to revise your capitilization. For example "Blend in" (maybe "blend in") and Cutie mark (maybe cutie mark or Cutie Mark) Maybe take a look over the application and see if you can eliminate those. Those little things aside, Stagefright is lookin' solid to me!

Techy-looking packs up the upper rear legs?

Hi there! Thought I'd give the gentlest, most friendly of nudges regarding Stagefright's application.

Oops! The scrivener's name is Barltelby. The other is just my carelessness. I'll go back and see if I can change that out! Also, I like the idea that maybe Emeber really has that problem--sorting out what she said from what she thought about. And Taco, I thik a little sly innuendo is okay, on occasion. I haven't seen you overstep the bounds, so you're good.

Cleverboots took Emerath's notepad and looked it over. "I think," she said, "that you're on course as always, helmspony." She looked up with a warm smile. "And from what you've written here, the play you mention may be based on an old ballad detailing the life of this Fortissima. If something seems relevant, don't hesitate to speak up." "What do you think Captain?", Pocket Change asked Cleverboots, "We're going to need a good map of the surrounding areas and information of the assorted dangers we will be facing once we leave the safety of the tower or our ship." It was Queen Katabat who answered. "All that you need will provided be," she said. "Good Bartleby, our scrivener, has here collected those charts and volumes which to you should most useful be." She gestured to the neat stacks of books laid at the head of the enormous scroll. "And for this we thank you, your majesty. As for this prophecy, whether one believes in fate or coincidence, it seems as though the good griffons of Stormfast need our help, and I believe I speak for my officers and crew when I say we will be more than happy to assist you however we can. What is it that was lost which this scroll refers to? I heard talk of ancient treasures and legends...?" The Queen nods, and Bartleby rushes up, opening one of the books he had set at the head of the table to a marked page. A woodcut depicts a regal griffon in a strange armor; it seems mostly curlicues and empty space, with a fierce helmet featuring stylized dragon wings. The opposite page shows a series of labeled drawings of the armor's components, and smaller pictures of a griffon wearing the armor performing various deeds: here holding back an enormous thunderhead; here speaking from a high promotory to assembled animals; here breathing a gout of fire which cleaves an avalanche in two, saving a huddled group of reindeer. "Of the highland tribes, Vendaval the greatest chieftan was. When unity was called for, the first he was the Council to join. For him this armor was fashioned, and to the Iceguard it was bequeathed. Lost long ago Vendaval's armor was. In the tunnels below Stormfast it lies, beyond a cave-in caused when the Shapeless Terrors we fought. Too small for griffons, the openings left are, and fathomless the black maze beyond is. It is of this we believe the prophey speaks. But to hope for your help, we almost dare not."

No problem, Taco!

"No apology necessary is, Emerath. For correct you are. We of Stormfast in coincidences do not believe. In the fates and the power of hard work we trust. For visitors we have been looking since the great change over the moon came. Now with news of Princess Luna returned you come, and of an Equestria that once more two princesses has. On neither legs nor wings you come, and before me I see a wise Captain who has in three ponies her trust placed." She looked at each of the officers in turn. "Think any of you a coincidence this is?" She asked, kindly. "Especially when our friend Emerath, of Fortissima knows?"

What you have so far looks good--maybe add a story about why she loved being back stage so much, and how she ended up with her cutie mark.

No problem, Ginger. And Emerath, I often feel the same way, or at least speak/write the same way, on the rare ocassions when I get to play a character. It feels a little weird, but it also helps me get into the role, so it's all good. I absolutely love the way all the ponies here have their own unique voice--as in way of speaking and acting, clearly backed by ways of thinking. It's awesome to see characers already so well-developed. I have a load of fun reading y'all entries, and there's a lot of stuff, like "Lady Canterly's Love", for example, that makes me smile or even chuckle out loud. I wanted to check in and see how you, as players, feel about the tone and pacing of the game. Lemme know, especially if you have suggestions!

The sounds of the party could still be heard from down the long stone corridor, and the smells of cooking and baking came up through the decorated floorstones. It was cool in the hall, and despite the thickness of the stone walls and the ancient tapestries showing generations of important griffons and scenes from life in Stormfast through the ages, the storm could be heard howling outside. The group approached a large double door above which a portcullis hung. The Iceguard accompanying the queen rushed ahead and pulled the doors open, letting a spill of golden light and fireside warmth into the cold stone hall. A smallish male griffon in a waistcoat and elaborate doublet with ruffled collars up around his neck waited for them just inside. He inspected the ponies haughtily through his monocle, then bowed deeply to the Queen as she entered. "Welcome, my Queen. All your daughter requested, prepared for your guests is," he said, in a high, reedy voice. He looked up from his bow, watching the ponies with clear mistrutst. He fixed Pocket Change with a particular glare for some reason. "Our thanks, Bartleby. Friends, to the Stormfast archives, you are welcome." The group found themselves on a sort of landing or large balcony inside an enormous cylindrical room. The platform was lit by crystals hung from curving posts, the heads of which depicted various norther birds holding baskets in their beaks. The soft illumination of the crystals was supplemented by a freestanding fireplace, the odd design of which resembled nothing so much as a strange organ or calliope. Ember Spark saw after a moment that the fire was a reflection in a large mirror with a shaft open below it, leading to the actual fire somewhere far away. Large reading tables and comfortable-looking benches and backless chairs were clustered here and there in the warm light. A broad, winding platform without rails led both up and down from this place like the threads in a screw, with artfully spaced perches and reading balconies. "Here preserved all our surviving writings are, and all we could from the fallen watchposts retrieve. Daily reports from times long past, books of poems and stories by travellers left, the journals of former Queens and Kings. Over all Stormfasts's steadfast scrivener a careful watch keeps." Batleby, meanwhile, is fussing busily about, handing white hoof gloves to the ponies. "For the documents," he says importantly, when Cleverboots gives him a questioning look. Then, to the Queen, "This way, my Queen." Several piles of books had been arranged, stacked by size and color and bracketed by bookends, on one of the tables, but the main feature there was a huge scroll, a pony-length wide and almost twice as long, covered in rows of illustrations and ancient-looking script. Batleby leads the group to this, then bustles over to the faux fireplace to adjust the mirror and several valves on the pipes alongside. "Yours, all of Stormfast is," Katabat says. "And yours too, all we can for your journey provide. This I have said, and this I mean. Before of such things and your own generous offers we speak, ask I do that you this scroll inspect, and with me your thoughts share." Cleverboots looks it over. "This---this is pre-Equestrian High Hoofish! Nopony has seen a complete text like this in...thousands of years! Only fragments survive today," she explains quickly to the group, her face alight with joy and shocked disbelief. "The historical value alone--" she quickly slips on the hoofcovers Bartleby gave her and bends over the scroll, lips working. "Pocket Change! Help me with this!" Working together, the two translate as they go. Rich pictures in an ancient style, with old gilt ink and no perspective at all, illustrate the text. Thus sang Fortissima of the Vale: When the prison is no longer a mirror The colors of crowns may be joined. The skies above may be clearer And returned that which Earth purloined. From warm lands to warm stone will come three Welcomed as coldlanders must. Three parts together are one key, But properly handle your trust. Not on wings, nor legs they may travel, From from a land of two rulers they come. The secrets of Ice to unravel Spyglass, mainspring, and fulcrum. Give as you will but know always, True friendship comes without cost. When darkness is ended by love's ways, Returned may be what was lost.

Now I want you to move! Or Queen Katabat does. There's some conversation going on amongst the officers, so maybe a quick scene en route to the library if you want and then I'll set us up there.

As Pocket Change and Ember Spark whispered, the noise in the feasting hall redoubled. The rest of the Polar Star's crew entered, flanked by Iceguard and looking around in various degrees of stunned wonderment. They were greeted pell-mell by various griffons, who also competed to get this or that pony to sit next to them so they could speak with the new arrivals or shove a particularly favored treat at the guests. The choir and musicians increased their volume and temper, which caused everyone to talk more loudly, setting off an arms race into which the serving griffons joined. It was chaos, and the Queen paused in the conversation she and Cleverboots were having--something about their course, and maps, and Ember Spark's and Pocket Change's proposals--to smile fondly at the hectic activity and din. She rose from her chair, and the conversation in the room trailed off. "Ponyfolk, to Stormfast you are welcome. Long it has been since our halls with the sounds of a true feast rang. Katabat I am, and of this place I am Queen. Here for nothing you shall want, so long as in our power to deliver it is. Among the griffons of Stormfast, a gift a guest is, and with guests to share the greatest joy is. So eat you must, and drink, nigh until you burst!" She smiles at this, and a ripple of laughter spreads through the gathered crew and griffons. Out of nowhere, stewards seem to appear, filling dozens of giant goblets with a wonderful-smelling warm drink. The Queen raised her own, which was emblazoned with an enormous griffon, shielding ponies and deer and all manner of other creatures with her wings. "To the fine ship Polar Star!" She downed a huge gulp, and the griffons give a thunderous huzzah and follow suit. "To his bold captain and his daring crew!" The same thing happens after each proclomation. "To the fates who have us this day together brought! To friendship!" The griffons gwent wild, and many of the crew were swept along with them. The music started up again, louder than ever before, and some ponies were dragged from their chairs for complex whirling dances that mostly involved the griffons holding their partner's forehooves and swinging them about bodily. The Queen laughed, and sat back down. She seemed radiant. "Captain Cleverboots, my friends," she said, nodding to each of the officers in turn. "Much to discuss there is. The library would an appropriate place be, I think, if you would to me the honor of accompanying me give."

No problem. Looking forward to seeing this develop!

“Impressed I am that you know of this, First Mate Pocket Change of the Polar Star,” The Queen said warmly. “Yes Your Highness," Cleverboots said. "Pocket Change is also our archaeologist. He's quite broadly read, and his experience in the field helps keep historians like myself grounded.” “I see,” continued the Queen. “Well it is that your scholars should be able as your engineer and pilot are. “Many the dangers of the outlands are, and ancient is our duty against them to guard. Born to these lands we were, and here since the dawn of time have we lived. In times long past, we the fiercest of all warriors were. Against the proud griffons of the high lands, none could stand!” Katabat looks off into the distance, a smile curving her beak, her eyes focused on the time of legends. “But with wisdom must fierceness be tempered. Without this, into chaos we fell. Dark those days were, and cold. The wisest among us a Council formed, and to the griffons, unity and peace they brought. In the desert our new world was to be forged. “But beyond the peaceful settled lands many dangers lurk. Shapechangers. Dream-eaters. Wicked beings of dark power. Against these threats a chain of fortresses was built. The strongest of griffonkind behind remained, the fortresses to man and eternal watch to keep. “Many fortresses there were, and the bravest creatures of all lands in them did reside. Griffons, of course, but ponies, pertyon, deer, and many others did this duty undertake. “Long ago that was. Changed, the world has. Where once there were many, only Stormfast now stands. Where once all brave creatures stood, the griffons only remain. Forgotten we are, but our duty we will always remember.”

Boom! Ginger mint nails it on the menu items--take that stuff as key-rect. Also, a lot of the stuff is fresh-baked or freshly picked. Lots of the prepared goods have plenty of fat and sugar in 'em too, so whatever you can imagine that's in accordance with the above is there.

Not to worry--looks like things are okay. New bit up in the IC section, gang--nudge nudge!

The Queen turned to Emerath, and listened closely as he spoke. When the unicorn finished, the Queen gave him a nod, as if to acknowledge the courage it had taken him to speak. "My officers speak true," Cleverboots put in. "I would never allow a dishonest pony on the Polar Star." Queen Katabat regarded the captain levelly for a moment. In the silence, flames snapped and crackled, and the fierce wind could be heard howling through the arrowslits in the thick stone walls. Somepony's stomach growled. "Then good news to Stormfast has come, by the scions of both Princesses brought!" Griffons could be heard whispering excitedly, something about prophecies and returns and lost treasures. The Queen smiled down at the crew. "Come, brave ponies! Much there is to be said, and much to be eaten and drunk!" She laughed and, escorted by her Iceguard, was helped back into her chair at the head of the table, Cleverboots, Pocket Change, Emerath and Emeber Spark sitting at the chairs closest to her. The queen spoke quietly to her daughter, who nodded and departed quickly with a contingent of Iceguard falling in behind her. Music skirled up, a trio of griffons playing curious bag-and-pipe instruments in a racuous, jaunty tune, accompanied by a harpist and a gaggle of downy griffon children who sung in high, clear voices. Laughter echoed through the great hall, and griffons spoke loudly and excitedly with one another. "Tales you must have, and questions. Freely speak, and freely eat! In Stormfast an insult it is, at an offered feast restraint to show." As if to illustrate, the queen reached out and dragged a ham off its silver tray, tearing into it with abandon.

I'm still laughing about 'fish donor cards'. I want that on a shirt. Also, With a hop, skip and a jump, she bounded... Shake your little rump!