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Kirby Krackle

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Everything posted by Kirby Krackle

  1. Name: Kiku Sex: Female Age: Young mare Species: Earth Pony Eye Color: A pale rosy pink (#BD628B) Character color: Dandelion yellow (#FFC55A) Mane/Tail/Other: A dark gray, not quite black (#525252). Both mane and tail still have some rich bounce and curl left to them, but lack of maintenance has caused them to fall back to their natural straightness. Physique: Thin and toned; modelesque. But, perhaps, carrying a bit more heft than it used to. It's just water weight, she insists. Residence: Poninawa, with no permanent residence. Formerly the Kuro Kayaku Manor, before the property was seized by higher ups and her family was forced out. Now it's wherever she will be put up for the night. Occupation: Former socialite (rich idiot with no day job). Also former con artist. She now performs whatever menial tasks given to her in exchange for a roof over her head. Cutie Mark: A chrysanthemum blossom, the same color as her eyes. Little filly Kiku earned this during some simple flower arrangements in the family garden, albeit against Father's wishes. It was the gardener's job, after all. And this was a professional he hired, in an effort to get the house in tip top shape for a visit from his employers that day. But his skill wasn't up to snuff. So, being the charming little thing that she was, convinced the help to arrange things her way instead. With the two of them getting their hooves dirty now, the garden was ready in record time. There were nothing but compliments at the end of that unforgettable luncheon, where, in a sudden burst of self confidence, she announced to the table that she was the one who did it. She was about to be scolded... until boss pone told her what a talented daughter he had. Unique Traits: The curse she bears is a nasty one. In the back of her head, splitting the mane that she was always so proud of, that she took such excellent care of, is now home to a second mouth. A wide one, with full lips and teeth like daggers. And this second mouth, very much a part of her, says everything the front half of Kiku dares not. 'She' is loud and crude, a viscous flirt who curses like a sailor, and cannot tell a lie. The second half of Kiku is the ugly truth that she'd rather hide but now cannot, ever, until the curse is removed. History: Kiku is a thoroughbred, born into wealth and status, thanks to her father's successful fireworks business, Kuro Kayaku. There’s was a household name; their stunning artwork on full display at events both local and national. And that position has treated her well, offering her the opportunities afforded to very few. Fine dining, expensive clothes, lavish clubs and late night parties were her standard. Life was good and Kiku wanted for nothing. That is, of course, until father lost his job. He was found using his expertise to make less-friendly kinds of explosives for the wrong ponies. With Dad now in prison, the family was now disgraced; their assets seized. Riches to rags in just a day. Mother took to it well, finding manual and artisan jobs, able to make a living on her own and avoid disgrace. She married into the money. But Kiku did not fare as well. She couldn't handle going from having everything handed to her on a silver platter to actually having to earn it. So the spoiled little brat did what (she thought) she did best. Being both a charmer and a looker, Kiku never had little trouble batting the goo-goo eyes and whispering some sweet nothings to get other ponies to do her a favor or two. So why not use these wonderful skills of hers to turn a profit? And oh, what a profit she made; leaving in her wake a trail of broken promises and broken hearts. All the while she stockpiled money, jewels, whatever gifts her pseudo-suiters would give her as she wandered from city to city digging for gold. And she would have kept going, until she tried her shenanigans against the wrong mark. Kakusareta seemed like just another entrepreneur, a fashion mogul with too much money on her hooves, looking to spend it all on some eye candy. Rich and lonely, exactly what Kiku was looking for. She laid it on thick and Kakusareta fell hard and fast. The two were inseparable, a marriage proposal being dropped on Kiku in a matter of months. And no expense was to be spared; this day was going to be perfect. But something went wrong at the altar. The vows that were exchanged; Kiku had no idea that they were part of a spell. One of Yokai magic. And it was... Kakusareta who was doing the casting? But how could this be? She never once said she was a... A giant spider. Kiku was terrified. Of her would-be lover's true face. Of the spell that she was now a part of. Of the fact that the spell had gone horribly awry. The vows they both recited, they were promises of true love, honesty and loyalty. None of which were to be found in the heart of Kiku. So in a cruel twist of fate, the magic, now a curse, took on a life of it's own. The back of her head split. Her mind split. And she was permanently marked as a liar for the entire world to see, with the truth now flowing freely from the newly formed second mouth. Kakusareta cast her out, heartbroken, as the new half of Kiku spilled the beans of her plan to the bride, to onlookers, to everypony within earshot. So Kiku, now a monster, headed into the forests to isolate herself. With nothing more than the clothes on her back and a bit of money, she spent months alone out in the wilderness, in solitude, in meditation. She learned to calm her second half, for the most part. She learned how to fend for herself. She learned humility, honesty. And in those rare occasions where she had to wander into civilization for supplies or for some simple petty jobs, she made certain to try and find anyone she may have tried to trick in the past. To apologize and try to make up for some of the pain she may have caused. Personality: Kiku is, for better or for worse, a shadow of what she used to be, now that she's been knocked down more than a few pegs. She's incredibly humble, cautious with her words, and probably apologizes a little too much. She is still, however, as polite and well spoken as she ever was, thanks to all those diction classes from her youth. She's generous now; freely giving her time and effort and what few bits she has to whomever might ask. Perhaps a little too much sometimes, but that's overcompensation for you. And as always, the back of her head is far more honest than the rest of her; be it from some witnessed mistreatment of another pony or under-seasoned food. But she's learned to clunk herself in the head if perhaps her other voice is about to say something a little too biting. Summary: A haughty Earth Pony, native to Poninawa, was a mare of wealth and taste, with a silver spoon in her mouth. Few could resist her charms or her money and she knew it. But when the wealth dried up and she was left to her own devices, rather than take up an honest living, she instead turned to gold digging. Things went fine for a while and she remained in high society until she ran afoul of Yokai magic. She broke one too many hearts and one too many vows and now she's cursed to always speak the truth, no matter what. She wanders now, doing simple jobs to earn a meal or two for the day, hoping perhaps that today is the day she can apologize to those she hurt and break this miserable curse.
  2. So. We still have problem. Big problem. Putting 'Where do I start this' aside for now, let's ask another question. Where do I start this? I can handle this as always, with relatively big posts made... hopefully not sporadically. I can also hit this up in Discord, which I'm in all day anyway. At the very least, adding me there is a nice way to get in contact with me. Moreover, from the old guard, who is even in? I understand schedules and being in a thousand other things right now.
  3. The first big RP on here, the DM also flittered away and I swore I'd never do that. And then I did it. And now, X amount of time later, I hear people are STILL talking about this pipe dream of mine. I... might try and revive this thing of mine. The main issues. The solo issues. Half the party just stopped posting and I got tired of mashing F5. Then me being lazy happened. Plus life and... Ugh. I'm sorry.
  4. Here. Have content. I promise I'm not totally useless. Mercy Medical Center, Thoroughbred's general hospital, traces its origins back to the city's founding, where the original building was first used as charitable housing for the poor and downtrodden. Living conditions were poor, where filth and disease ran rampant, but it was better than sleeping out in the cold and the rain. It was by grace of a visit from royalty; a Clousdale dignitary by the name of Sweet Mercy traveling to the newly appointed part of the nation, wishing to usher good will and sample local flavor. Instead, she found squalor and suffering. But rather than scoff and judge, she instead rolled up her sleeves and got to work. While the mare was no physician, she did understand just how far a little tenderness and creature comforts could go. She emptied her bank account, hiring everypony she could get her hooves on; from mainland experts to local laundry ponies, all the while walking from bed to bed, listening to their stories, wiping foreheads, and offering a warm spot of tea to those it seemed like the world had forgotten. And once a patient was back his hooves, she would slap some sense into them, hand them a mop and demand they stop living in their own filth. Word spread quickly of the little almshouse as it gained a reputation as a house of healing, calling in all walks of life, from the cream of the crop to the bottom of the barrel, as well as the den mother who ran the show, instantly recognizable by the simple gold tiara she wore. It was only indicator of her noble beginnings that she kept. Sweet Mercy made no distinction between the rich or the poor, promising equal care to all who came seeking respite, regardless of their origins. As the population grew, so did Mercy's hospital, backed by powerful investors who remember a time when they, or their precious families were patients there. In the eyes of Thoroughbred City, she was a savior during hard and desperate times. And so much was she appreciated, that long after her time had passed, the old almshouse was named after her, so that she might remain a beacon of hope for generations to come. Prancing University is the most recent addition to the campus, training the brightest in the city to build a new future. Most notable is the medical program, but the business programs are gaining steam as well. It's a prestigious hall of learning, requiring either having a lot of money or knowing somepony who has a lot of money to enroll. But the work they do is positive, even though the school has a whole tends to raise their noses at the public Univeristy downtown and the weirdness their 'sciences' tend to attract. And the first thing you see as you enter these hallowed halls is a statue in memorial. A marble Pegasus with wings spread full, her mane a sea of curls and atop it all, a golden replica of the the tiara that Sweet Mercy never took off.
  5. Truth be told, I have no idea. And I've played a LOT of table top RPGs. Also, I promise to check this thread more. Double also, I would like to give some advanced warning. There IS some BS happening right now. Obviously, it's a trap. But what kind, I shall not say. But when it does happen, the folks it happens to get a hero point. Because I am a benevolent dictator.
  6. “A missing foal? How dreadful! Yes, of course I'll help! In any way I can!” Perhaps that was a little overdramatic, but hey, at least Patty Cake was being cooperative now. “But honeykins, I don't think that-”. So cooperative was she, that she was also quick to stop the objections of her husband before they even began. Though perhaps she could have been a little more gentle while shoving a hoof in his mouth. Tinker Tailor grumbled, but not for very long. He took the hint and settled down. “Please, you'll want to come into the Playroom as well. Here, I'll lead the way”, she added. The Playroom being through another door, which was unlocked by the soft glow of her horn. The security device in question was a massive hunk of iron, full of wires and leylines, all leading to a single crystal in the center. It was certainly a busy machine, looking like it should be sealing up doors in a prison rather than a toy store. And speaking of contrast, the hallway which lead to the playroom was somehow even more saccharine than the rest of the building. Toys of all kinds littered the rainbow striped carpet. Stuffed animals had to be stepped over, wind-up carriages had to be dodged as they zipped passed the Unicorn, Stack-O block projects were only partially completed and their leftovers were scattered all over the place. Elaborate paintings of clowns and parties and other cheerful scenes were hung on every other wall. Not a single color to be seen wasn't bright and pastel and clashing with everything else. And the same forty second piece was playing from a music box from somewhere on loop. Over and over and over. 'Playroom' seemed like a misnomer. To Pagemaster, it was chaos. Horrible horrible chaos. “You'll have to forgive the mess”, she said with a grin. "We've had to move most of our backlog in here. You would not believe how desperate Hubby and I are for storage space!” ~ Upon discovering that she was caught, the sneak in question could be heard crashing into a garbage can from panic. Attempting to regain her footing and run only made things worse, knocking over several of them and causing one heck of a racket. Underneath the refuse meanwhile, sat a tiny filly rubbing her bruised noggin. Just what was Cherry Top doing all the way out here?! ~ This team, if you could really call it that, hasn't been together for very long. While it's true they don't have the cohesion that a more seasoned task force would, they have given eachother nothing but their utmost trust. So the Captain and the Princess could rest easy in knowing that the Masquerade would be out at the first sign of danger. Though, the two of them have been in there a while...
  7. The collection of Pinkie Pies within earshot of the mecha-griffin were kicking themselves, both figuratively and literally. How could she ignore the needs of the synthetic? What kind of party host was she? A terrible one, that's what! The clone being helped to her feet was feeling particularly guilty for being so insensitive. Briefly, she considered offering her chin up as target practice for that giant hammer, but no; being thumped out of existance wouldn't accomplish anything. In a flash, there was yet another one; her creator was apologizing profusely to her feathery guest while the newbie pulled a walkie talkie out of her coat to make a call. “This is WPNK”, said a clone on the other end. She was in the control room downstairs, hooves up on the desk and sunglasses over her eyes. “Playing the greatest hits of yesterday, today and tomorrow!” “Hi! First time caller, long time listener!” Isn't it nice to know how quickly they can pick up on eachother's jokes? “I was wondering if you had any jazz in the collection? Maybe something like Dizzy Gallopie or-” “Say no more, caller! Have trumpet, will PARTY!” A disc was changed, and then, so was the mood, with sweet bebop playing over the clubhouse PA system as per request. Homefully this would make Zelda feel right at home. As she was being lead in, the Flash Mob finally stopped her profuse apologies once she heard the music change, suddenly all grins. It was a smile that mostly said 'Please don't leave'. ~ “Awwww shucks! It wasn't THAT good”, said another Pinkie, blushing ever so lightly, obviously flattered that there was a fan of her dance routine. One little hoofsie was scratching little circles in the ground. She was also not above bribes, sliding a fresh(and also unwrapped) cupcake and glass of punch to Avant Gaurd. Best we forget that paper is not good eats. Not to mention, one of the Pies standing aside the Rainboom happened to hold up a picket sign for the painter's eyes only. Also written in pink, it had a nice big arrow pointing down towards the pegasus and read 'Challenge her more! She likes it!'. And that was not a lie, per se. Dashie did like challenges! She just liked winning more.
  8. “Every superhero team needs a flier, silly!” Flash Mob was, once again, excercizing her knack for popping out of where it's least expected. This time, a pretty pink face poked out from a panel in the clubhouse's drop ceiling. She was wearing safety goggles over her black domino mask and a pair of wire strippers was hanging securely from the one long curl at the end of her mane. Evidentally, there was still some electrical work not yet done. “You know, that one super somepony who can whiz and whip and whirl around the battlefield, scan the skies for signs of danger, or perform a daring dive to rescue a falling damsel in distress!” Her front hooves meanwhile pantomimed some visual aids, chopping the air in every direction, making a childish but effective mimicry of supersonic flight. She even added some sound effects. “Zoom! Phew! Woosh! -whoa!” But all that motion wasn't great for keeping balance. She fell from her perch, landing in front of the Centurian, flat on her back. Of course, that didn't stop her from talking. “Think about it! Safeguard has Rocket Queen and Dr. Seraphim. The Seven Sensations have Firecracker. Hech, Sunlight Sentinel has honerary membership in, I dunno, a dozen teams! I wonder if she's still on friendly terms with the Victory Vanguard? I heard there was a falling out with Sagittarius after that big mess with Psychobabble, but it's not like I listen to rumors or anythi- Oh you meant flyer with a Y!” Despite greatly enjoying her own accidental pun, she managed to hold back the hysterics. If anything, she would save this joke for later. “Well, funny you should ask!”, she said, springing to her feet and manifesting some extra copies to help her back up to her work. They could continue the conversation just fine without her. “Because I was hoping that the flyer with a Y would get the attention of a flier with an I! I don't suppose you would know any? Any super fast and totally awesome aerial acrobats? And maaaaaaaaaybe they some some other powers too, like... just throwing it out there, mood lasers? And maaaaaaaaaybe somepony with experience in heroing? Maybe they helped save the world from a thousand years of darkness or something! You wouldn't know anypony like that, would you, oh mighty Rainboom Centurian?” Wow, she can lay it on thick.
  9. The Griffon-via-proxy did not have to wait long at all for the welcoming committee to come out and greet her. In fact, a synthetic claw was put upon Pinkie Pie's property for barely a second before a copy of Flash Mob poofed into existance before her. And with just as much enthusiasm as there was for Avant Guard, so too did Z.E.L.D.A receive a super special bear hug. Or rather, she was going to. The cruise missle made of happiness that was Flash Mob rocketed at the catbird, but there were problems with density; she was more closely resembling a kickball, bouncing off the Griffon with a loud smack. Perhaps this would teach her about respecting other person's personal space! “Ow! Wow! You ARE strong! And you found my flier! Welcome welcome welcome!” Nope. Despite needing to pick herself up off the concrete, she was back up and shaking a claw in no time. “My name is Flash Mob but I bet you knew that already! But did you know that I know you? You're from the academy! Z.E.L.D.A., right? Or do you prefer Zelda? Come to think of it, how do you pronounce all those periods? I would hate to offend heroes with acronyms for names. Eh, you can tell me during lunch? Once lunch actually gets here! You didn't see anypony coming this way with a twelve foot sandwich, did you?” Two more Pinkies were already holding the doors, beconing her inside. “There's dessert, though! And music! So make yourself at home! Do you prefer disco or swing or oompa?”
  10. With the plot I have planned, I don't think I can juggle more than 4 players. But fret not! I have oodles more stories in store!
  11. I double checked, and no, I wasn't clear! My thread is up! It's called Help Wanted. Go crazy.
  12. Flash Mob practically erupted from her standing position, leaping thrice her height straight upward from surprise alone. Her heart all but flew out of her chest and the massive gasp she left out sounded like an angry teapot. And this is a mare who is virtually impossible to sneak up on. That extraordinary sense of hers tends to not allow surprises. So when it actually does happen, it's a doozy. But slowly she regained her composure, with first some deep breaths and then when she observed the pony behind her was a friendly one AND also was riding on a super cool cloud made of paint! It was another superhero! So, in case the grin stretching from ear to ear wasn't a dead give-away, Flash Mob was absolutely giddy. In an instant, she plus two fresh clones were upon poor Avant Guard, locking her into the biggest, crushingest bear hug she's ever had. Seriously. Something inside the painter might have popped. “And it's so nice to meet you too!”, she squeed. “I mean, I met you at the Academy but only for a little bit, but now I'm meeting you officially and you're actually here and you read my fliers and you're here and we'll have awesome team-up adventures and you're here! I'm so happy you're here!” The trio of pink ponies, absolutely exploding with exuberance, perhaps let all the emotion go to their heads. Unless Avant was okay with getting thrown upwards. Pinkie hoped she would be. But only after they caught her and set her down on all fours. “Come in! Come in!”, she said, one of the other Pinkies throwing the glass doors to the club house open. “Now, I know the flier said catered, but the delivery guy who's supposed to bring the party sub isn't here yet but there's still good news! We can start with dessert! I made cupcakes!” And boy, did she make cupcakes. A dozen dozen to be precise. That's one hundred and forty-four for those playing at home. And each batch was it's own unique flavor. There was also punch. Just how many ponies was she planning on feeding today? The décor was... red. Red walls. Red tablecloth. Red velvet cupcakes. The realtor insisted that red was the color of heroism across multiple cultures. And if the Rainbow Rangers tv-show has taught her anything, it's that he was right. Perfect. “I'm so glad you liked my... well, flash mob!” She giggled, highly amused at her own sense of humor. “It's so weird to say that with lower case letters! But yeah, technically it was a lot of rehearsal time. Only a week on the calendar but times fifty clones at a time, times all twenty-four hours is... I dunno. A lot? I can get a lot done if I put a lot of horsepower into it!”
  13. Patty Cakes's eyes just barely narrowed, only just hiding the daggers she was staring. All her years of working in retail have thankfully taught her how to control the death glare that so many customers deserved. Mostly. She wasn't perfect, and sometimes, against a particularly strong aggravation, the hate peeks through. Like now, for instance. But, as she's done hundreds of times before, she swallowed that anger and put on a nice big smile. “Oh, I'm terribly sorry! Yes, of course.” The doors were shut again, but only momentarily. Every hero within earshot could hear the clanging and clattering of heavy locks being undone. Many of them. Apparently Tinker Tailor and Patty Cake were concerned about security. When the final deadbolt was unlocked, the thick wooden doors were thrown open with nary a creak. The lights were turned on as well as a courtesy. “Please, do come in.”, she said through clenched teeth. “And if I may be so bold, may I ask what the nature of your investigation is?” ~ The alley way that Hobby Horse's back entrance lead into was, unsurprisingly, uneventful. Although Dusty was diligent in his patrolling, he could only dig through a dumpster full of shop class scrap so many times. Even the rats became entertaining. And from where exactly did they get their tiny little cakes from? Just when the boredom was about to compel him to ask, the stallion caught something lurking. It was definitely there, darting from shadow to shadow. And it was definitely bigger than a rat. Somepony was here, watching him.
  14. Alright, duckies. Thread is up. So we're clear, the roster is Flash Mob, the Rainboom Centurian, Avant Guard, Z.E.L.D.A. and Machina. So we're doubly clear, expect to be messed with. Not put into an unwinnable situation by an overpowered OC, mind you. You're superheroes. You're supposed to win. But it's not going to be easy. So think creatively.
  15. Mango Habanero has been proudly serving the hungry citizens of Canterlot her own secret taco recipe for more than thirty years. While her eatery downtown never attracted a line that stretched around the block, she never failed to fill the house on weekends and none of her lunch rushes were ever boring. She could turn locals into regulars thanks to her winning smile and free refills on tortilla chips. She could pull in the tourists with food challenges; a burrito containing a diabolical blend of spices so agonizingly hot, that only a dozen or so ponies have actually finished it over her career. And one of them was the Sunlight Sentinel herself. So thanks to creativity, charm, and a mastery over south-of-the-border flavor, Mango's Place was a precious piece of local flair in this bustling metropolis. That is, until not too long ago. A grease fire got out of control, claiming her home away from home. Thankfully, nopony was hurt. But it's astounding how a professional such as her let this happen! It was such a rookie mistake! Mango was heartbroken; her dream and her livelihood, gone in a puff of smoke. Except no. A realtor approached her not too long after the accident. He offered his condolences as well as five times the (former) value of her property. Why? She didn't ask. She just took the money and ran; her spark reignited and now dreaming of all the possibilities. Food trucks were popular lately. She could try one of those! But what became of the little taco stand that couldn't? Who would put in an offer for such a disaster area? Well, as it turns out, one Pinkamena Diane Pie was house hunting. “Well, not a house-house. More like a club house. Except it's not for a club. I mean, it kinda is! But it's more like a society. Or a league! Basically what I need is a place for superbeings to convene! Where they might discuss matters pertaining to the safety of the cosmos itself, and the protection of all those who dwell within! Also birthday parties!” After convincing Flash Mob that a base built on the moon was most impractical and outside her budget, the realtor brought up his most recent acquisition. At first, she was hesitant. Obviously. To call this place a fixer upper is comparable to calling the Nightmare Night crisis a sisterly spat. But the two of them sat down to negotiate, starting with what to have for lunch. They decided on an extra large pineapple and olive pizza. With that squared away, they moved on to more important matters. It was a prime location; being in the heart of downtown could prevent crime simply by existing. Renovation costs technically would only be half as much, as the demolition was already done, if a little extra crispy. So far, it all sounded like a good deal! “Now let's talk price”, he said. Uh oh. “An office-style storefront; boring yet practical, would naturally be the cheapest option.” “Yeah, I guess”, Pinkie replied, a little discouraged. “This is a place for superheroes though! Where's the danger room? Where's the teleporters? Where's the jumpship shuttle hangar? Where's the trophy room filled with mementos collected from our adventures across time and space? Y'know, like the Full House Gang's flying cards? Or a dollop of the Smooze kept under glass? Or a decommissioned Astoundroid? Or a piece of Psychobabble's dream machine? Or Sagittarius's trick arrows? What about the trick arrows?!” Her realtor was a little stunned by the outburst, but sure enough, couldn't help but laugh. “So a little more punchy then?”, he said with a smile. “Okay, I think we can make this work.” ~ Help Wanted: Dauntless Heroes For the protection of life and liberty from the forces of evil, wherever they may lurk Qualifications: Must be champions of truth and justice, paragons of virtue, spit-curls preferred First meeting this Wednesday, 3pm 1939 Fawcett Street Catered ~ Flash Mob; the Magnificent Multiplying mare of Mystery, or MMMM for short, checked her pocket watch for the thirty-seventh time in just under six minutes. While she certainly wasn't the type to let impatience get the better of her, the ponies delivering the sixteen foot hoagie gave her a window from 2:15 to 2:45!. The time was now 3:07! And they haven't even given her a courtesy call yet! Now, she definitely understood that sometimes, accidents happen. It can't be helped. But come on! Let's all be professionals here! “If it goes to 3:30 and they're still not here, I am going to leave such a lousy tip!”, she exclaimed, loud enough for all of downtown Canterlot to hear. All the while, the hot-pink heroine paced back and forth outside her recently rented store front, renovations finally completed. “Although, I haven't seen any cape and cowl types show up yet either”, she continued to say to herself. There was a bit of worry in her voice. And a little less volume in her mane than usual. “Maybe they didn't like the color of crayon I used in the posters I put up...”
  16. So. That thread I'm making. I think I can squeeze in two more heroes. I know Pretzel is in and Bramble has no choice in the matter. Plus me is 3. So I can do 5, for those of you who don't mind the storyteller (me) jerking you around for the sake of drama and adventure. Bonus points if you can guess which JLA comic this will be based on.
  17. I may have taken some liberties with the mythos of this world I'm playing in.
  18. “Good question! Let me check!”, Flash Mob replied, right after letting out the mother of all yawns. She had been holding that doozy in for a while now; for manner's sake. But all those late night rehearsals were catching up with her. So, either she was going to get some precious Methyltheobromine into her system and fast, or she would be hopping onto the next train to Sleepytime Junction. To answer the aforementioned question, the pink party pony pulled from the pleasantly piled poofs sitting atop her head a portable radio transceiver, prized for its power of push-to-talk. “This is Blue Leader”, she said, dropping her voice an octave to sound more authentic. Also because she likes funny voices. “I repeat, this is Blue Leader. Gold one and gold two, please come in. What is your twenty? Over.” “This is Gold two reporting in, Blue Leader”, said what was obviously another copy. “Gold one and Gold two are in position, ready to escort the payload. Over.” “That's a big copy, Gold two. And don't forget to smile! Over.” There was a merry giggle over the walkie talkie before Gold two dropped the faux-military gag all together and let her natural soprano shine through. “We never do! Over.” “See? All taken care of”, she said to the Rainboom finally. Nothing to worry about. The walkie was then shoved back into her hair; back with everything else she might have hidden in there. “Say, are you hungry?” Her mask also went back on, to keep up appearances. Because her civilian identity was such a big secret. “I know I skipped breakfast this morning, but if you are, I know this great little place not too far from here. Get this, they have this dish where they put a six scoop banana split on top of three fresh made waffles! Waffles, Dashie! And then they pile on all these toppings, like candied pecans and dried cherries and peanut butter cups and crumpled up snickerdoodles and-” And it went on like this. Dashie could hear, just under her fangirling over a dessert of unusual size, the rumbling of of a tummy. “-topped with a mountain of whipped cream and drizzed in this blackstrap and maple syrup and the lightest of dustings of cayenne pepper. Oh it is so good!” There was a dreamy twinkling in her eyes. She was talking about this achievement in gluttony as more sensible ponies would talk about a lover. “They said I was the first pony they've seen to finish the whole thing! I got a T-shirt to celebrate, and they took my picture and hung it on their wall! Oh oh oh, and I even signed it for them! And then guess what happened! Come on, guess!” Except Flash Mob gave her friend no time to actually guess. “I ordered another one!” ~ While on the subject of food, the Pinkie clones under codenames Gold one and Gold 2 were in position as promised, ready to receive the influx of guests. These two were dressed to the nines; both in tuxedo and top hat, one white and one black. Behind them, meanwhile, was an explosion of color; balloons and streamers and confetti adorned every last inch of Sunlight Academy's main doors. And to get to this lavish entrance, each hero had to run a proverbial gauntlet of Pinkies (designated as Reds 1-20), each one holding a tray of snacks and Hors d'oeuvres, with each one seemingly more delectable than the last. There was something for every pallet, from a sweet Vol-au-vent to crackers topped with hummus to deviled eggs to marshmallow squares. And in case anypony got thirsty, Red 9 brought several kegs (“Bottled is for chumps!”) of craft root beer. “Welcome to Sunlight Academy, you, the new age of heroes!”, Gold one and Gold two said in unison. “As you probably guessed, we are also Flash Mob! And we'll be your tour guides today! Before we begin, please help yourselves to the yummy delicious treats we've prepared! Seconds and thirds are also totally okay, so no feeling bad if you've got one of those super-duper metabolisms!” “Now, before we officially begin, we'd like to direct you to the doors themselves!” And they were absolutely massive, tall enough for a giraffe to scrap her head! “I know they look like gold, but guess again! These doors are actually made from the giant key that once unlocked the Sentinel's secret sanctum! This is the very same enchanted Impervium, each of the two doors weighing in greater than a blue whale! And laced with a magic down to the molecules so that anyone not aligned good on their character sheet can't touch it without receiving a nasty shock!”
  19. “EEK!” That tiny little shock went right through the pink party pony, sending her more than a few feet off the ground. Not exactly the friendliest of wake-up calls, but it did fine in a pinch. When she officially came to, and saw no less than three sets of eyes watching over her, Flash Mob's face got even redder, if that were possible. “Heh heh... sorry, everypony. Guess I overdid it. Again. But that was good, right? The girls and I rehearsed nonstop all week to get it right! Did you like it? Did you? Huh huh huACK!” Apparently, her throat was just as sore as the rest of her. The offered water bottle was snatched in an instant and emptied just as fast. A loud and rather unladylike burp was her unofficial thanks. “Scuze me. And thank you, Machina! Boy, did I need that! Oh, hi Moonie!” Just as graciously, she took the hoof of the darker pony who was the superiest of supervillians not too long ago. As the Magnificent Multiplying Mare of Mystery or (“MMMM for short!”) pulled to get back on four feet, she couldn't help but notice that the Night Watchpony didn't budge from that extra weight. At all. Heck, if memory served (and it probably didn't, as she took a lot of blows to the head that weekend), this is a pony who wouldn't budge from the weight of a suspension bridge on her withers. Having seventy-five of her sisters trying to try her down with ropes and chains certainly couldn't halt this pony's advance. Moonlit Knight's rampage was almost unstoppable! And we're just supposed to trust that she's all better now? Duh! Why wouldn't we? Don't be silly! “Thank you again! Thank you thank you”, she kept repeating, dusting off any scuffs that may have gotten on her stripes or ruffles or worse; her bowtie. But nope, clean as a whistle. “Oh, and thank you, Sensei!” There was a pause. Because she hadn't quite processed exactly the words that came out of her mouth. “SENSEI!” Faster than Rainboom all hopped up on a tredecuple espresso, Flash Mob was at attention, ignoring any and all fatigue or soreness or urges to fall down and take a nap. Off came her mask and down went her face, bowing to her teacher and showing him the utmost respect. Shui Seng taught her everything she knows! Well... not everything. Mostly. Maybe half. Half-ish. Maybe a quarter. Look, it's quality not quantity! And she owes Sensei her life.
  20. “Tinker Tailor”, was who he introduced himself to be. And he was polite about it, despite looking like scaling a volcano was less frightening than talking to a stranger. The grown stallion's words were barely above a whisper. Though his expression did lighten up a bit when presented with the swatch of paper. “Oh! Oh my, yes!” 'Lighten' was an understatement. “That's our Royal Sisters design! Part of last year's Hearth's Warming collection! At the time, it was one of our most popular prints! But lately we've been having trouble selling the back stock! For obvious reasons, you see- MMPH!” From behind him, a rose colored hoof came up to silence the blabbermouthing. But there was no need for alarm, thankfully. A cheerful face was close behind. “What my husband means to say”, said the mare stepping out from behind the door; much more confident in her mannerisms than hubby, it seems. “is that the wrapping paper was made here, but it was ages ago. Discontinued, I'm afraid.” Her glasses looked like they were for reading; probably wouldn't be blind if she removed them, also unlike hubby. Her baby blue mane was tried back in a sensible bun, and a quill was safely tucked behind her ear. “And if I had to guess; my name is Patty Cake, by the way, I'd say it was probably found in a dumpster somewhere. Is there anything else you wanted to know... Pagemaster, was it?” (( There are two characters currently interacting with Patty Cake! Pagemaster, doing the talking! And the Masquerade, watching from the shadows! Is what she's saying true? Let's find out! Pagemaster has no ranks in Sense Motive, but has a whopping +5 to Wisdom! He rolls... 10! 15 in total! Seems legit to our city hall representative! Except... )) “Ye lie, hostess”, the Pagemaster heard, whispered secretly to him by their resident creeper. (( Curtains rolled a 15, for 19 in total. Not enough to discern the the truth and accuse further, but enough to know they're trying to sell something. ))
  21. Hot diggity! Thanks for this! I love supplementary material! Also, guys, this is a good plan and Imma let you finish, but...
  22. I really like this one! Since she's an instructor, can she be one of the folks who taught Flash Mob the ropes?
  23. With a puff of smoke, the Captain’s plan went underway and the Hobby Horse Toy Company’s defenses were breached. Curtain Call was in, effortlessly. And in an instant, the actor willed himself to be unseen, waiting for the signal from his comrades outside. In the meantime, the Masquerade took in the scenery. And he was impressed, from at least the perspective of his inner business pony. The floors were clean, shelves were fully stocked, and the hair had to it the distinct smell of cotton candy. There were vibrant colors from wall to wall, and not a single display looked unwelcome to either foal or parent. Playsets sat in full assembly, so that potential patrons could try before they buy. The model trains were in full operation, even at this hour; a magically made little toot-toot livening up the otherwise dead silence every few minutes or so. It was as if, within these walls, the depression hadn't happened; that Nightmare Moon was just that, a bad dream. Meanwhile, further in, the piece de resistance of Hobby Horse, planted proudly in the center of the store, was less a doll house and more a doll mansion. It, much like the automated music box that lead the merry band of do-gooders here, was also made with an improbably level of detail and craftsmanship. Every brick and shingle looked individually laid. Even the garden out front looked genuinely green and lush and alive. No wonder this place was doing so well! Just who the heck was running this place? He was about to find out, because there was Quill Pusher knocking on the front door. For a moment or two, Curtains heard... arguing? Yes, there were definitely two ponies having a minor spat. Nothing serious, he had to guess. Probably a family thing. From a back room, out came a stallion, in no great hurry to get to the door. He was a skinny thing; the thickest part of him were the lenses of his glasses. His sky blue coat and shockingly pink mane were both stained black, because apparently the smock also wore wasn't doing its job of catching motor oil. “He-hello...?”, he said, the front door barely open a crack. Just enough to let himself be heard. “I'm v-very s-sorry but we're closed... W-we open at nine tomorrow so could you please-” He trailed off from there.
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