CherryRie

Looking nifty so far Ancre Give me a poke if you need a hand with anything or feel stranded for ideas ^_^

Well this is looking really good so far LB

His background is nice and deep, with plenty of plot hooks without being too angsty. Personality wise, apart from his self imposed segregation, he doesn’t seem to have much in the way of flaws, though that’s not really an imperative.

I think the only part that kinda stuck me is his name. It feels... eh, je ne se qua. Overly humanised I suppose is the word I’m looking for, whereas ponies tend to be named either after objects, habits or metaphors. To be honest I’m not sure how large of a problem that would be, you’d have to ask the help staff for an opinion.

Oh! And you might want to merge the ‘color: Black’ with his cutie mark description, rather than having it separate ^^,

Other than a dashing of grammatical errors, he’s looking almost ready Hopefully our friendly neighbourhood helpstaff will be along to poke and prod XD

“Cherry.” Replied the filly in a half whisper, looking up from the alluring oats to her apparent saviour “Cherry Dawn.”

Struggling to digest everything she had just heard, Cherry bit her lip and tried to recall the series of events that could have led to her arrival in the hooves of a ‘knight in shoddy armour’.

“I was mugged, you say? I-I’m not entirely... last night, it’s like this big ball of fog.” She stumbled, failing to find a suitable analogy and instead turning her attention back to the meagre but oh so comforting sugared oats.

“I remember meeting Rich Tea, my ahhh... Coltfriend” A brush fire couldn’t compare to the flaring blush across the filly’s face. “To be honest I haven’t seen him in a long time. Anyway, we were out to dinner, I think. Yeah, there was that saddle he bought me. Lime green thing, chafes something awful. Suppose that’s what I get for dating a colour blind Pegasus, but it makes him happy to see me wearing it though... I don’t suppose you saw him last night? Tan coat, waxy mane, eyes like fluffy grey clouds? Oh I hope he’s alright.”

Concentration wrinkling her brow, Cherry thought back over the events she could remember, gradually knitting together flashes into a cohesive timeline. Gradually her smile grew as details of the wonderful romantic evening came back into focus.

“Umm I think I remember going back to his hotel room. The door number keeps sticking in my head, eighteen, he thinks it’s his lucky number.”

Shrinking back a little the Pegasus began to recall the more intimate details about the previous night. Contriving to hide behind the small bowl of cereal, Cherry’s blush seemed to intensify and spread along her slender face and neck. They must have been through the whole book last night, she never knew Rich Tea was such a -

Clearing her throat, the filly pressed on with the last time she saw her fiancée “I reckon I fell asleep, the last thing I remember is Richie apologising for something. Something he had to-”

Halting mid sentence, Cherry’s grin abruptly melted into horrified rictus. Pupils shrinking to pinpoints in a sanguine ocean of pain, gaze shifted suddenly to her outstretched foreleg. Fixated on the hoof, the mulberry fur disguised the stinging wound where the needle had punctured her delicate skin.

“No...no, he wouldn’t... He-he wouldn’t!” Ragged breaths tore through her slack mouth as the initial panic was ousted by rising grief. Tear filled pleading eyes snapped back to her apparent saviour, words catching in her throat escaping as barely a croak.

Silence enveloped the room as the filly’s eyes fell back to the steadily cooling oats. She felt numb, sick and suddenly sapped of energy. Absorbed in the turbid depths of heartache, Cherry franticly searched for an island of hope to cling to. Anything, even the smallest scrap of evidence that could lead her away from the abhorrent truth as her vision blurred with tears. But the mind is a traitorous thing, and the only thing that came to her was the smell of sweet tobacco and the hearty laugh of her grandfather.

‘One of the most important things to remember, my girl, is that every stallion has his price.’

Shoulders heaving, Cherry set her jaw and choked back the lamenting woe that so desperately wanted to escape her lips. A moment passed as the hysterics were wrestled back down into the pits of her sole, allowing for a broken voice to once again address the errant knight. This time though its trill did not bounce or sing, instead remaining bass and devoid of life, as though crushed under the weight of her errant lovers betrayal.

“Th-The stallions who tried to-to take me? Was one a blue pegasus and the other a sickly green earthpony with steal shoes?”

“Ha! Who says you can’t teach an old pony new tricks.” Chirped the Pegasus, wings fluttering with the unicorn’s contagious excitement “That’s brilliant Max! And if you can do it for this exception, imagine what else that same genius could be turned to...”

Cherry beamed with happiness, and maybe just a touch of pride. But there was something else there that was bringing damp tears to the corners of her eyes. This pony, one who had fallen so far and thoughtlessly hurt so many, was willing to try make amends. Perhaps it was out of some self pity over his own scared conscience, but that was irrelevant, what mattered was the act. And if Maximilion could be saved from himself, maybe others, closer to her own heart, could be convinced to leave their destructive ways behind too.

“...thank you.”

Humming a contented note of agreement, the short Pegasus savoured the silky cream that was gradually pulling her addled senses back together.

“Do you want to hear a secret that only Mares know? Parents are always proud. While I doubt he’d be pleased with the result, he knows that he made you strong enough to make that choice by yourself. There’s a lot to be proud of there.”

Taking another pause to finish her drink, Cherry pushed her mug aside and scooted around the bench a little closer to

“What you did tonight took a lot of courage. Questioning ourselves is one of the hardest things anypony can do.”

“Trouble is.” She continued, ending the brief dip into the depths of psychoanalysis “Simply turning contracts away doesn’t really help. It’s bad for your reputation and business. And like you said, if you reject a sour deal, they’ll only find some other business pony to sign. So the damage isn’t averted, the only thing to change is the source.”

A twinge of some inner guilt caused the filly’s ear to twitch. Oddly she seemed to be listening to herself as much as she was the stallion opposite her.

“But here’s a thought; what if you didn’t simply reject them. What if you changed them? Whether that means taking a contract and altering the outcome or moving to throw a spanner in their works and being there to turn the wreckage towards some good, I bet you could find a way.”

Perhaps it was a mere trick of the light, but Cherry seemed so much closer now. Those deep eyes, so recently overflowing with pain now brimmed with untouchable hope. Once again there was the sensation that her words were gaining some otherworldly strength. Bypassing the ears, they arrived in the brain as fully formed concepts, lighting a bonfire in the recesses of the listeners waking thoughts.

"You’ve got the mind and the will to change the world, Max. Don’t believe in ghosts. Believe in yourself.”

Another thing comes to mind too; I know a lot of people might want a pony character working at the centre, but I think everyone's main character should be a human. The whole point would be that you’re either someone already awaiting conversion or a citizen swept up in the attack. I'll be running with Sophie (myself) and Cerra, my scollar earth pony, as a secondry character. Feel free to have as many charcters as you like, but I feel the dynamic has to be towards human interaction ^_^

Giggling at the failure of her analogy, Cherry smiled encouragingly as the stallion felt out his own way through the logical jungle. At last they seemed to be getting somewhere.

“That’s the spirit!” she said, bostering the unicorn's confidence “You can make your life anything you want, do whatever you choose. You don’t need to patsy out to make good of yourself, or soldier on up when you don't like where that's going to take you!

"Make your own path through the storm! Don’t like the game? Change the rules! What’s to say you can’t use the tools you’ve been given in a harmonious, yet productive, way? Your cutie mark is a pile of bits, so dose that just meen you like money? Or dose it meen that you can find productivity in the most unlikely of places, get the most out of life, make any sceme work for everypony? It could take a while, but with time I bet that’d change popular opinion. For instance...errrhh."

For a moment the filly stalled, gesticulating as though trying to grasp the end of whatever thread she had enthusiastically been chasing “Well... let me ask you something. What do you think will happen to that deal now that you’ve turned it down?”

Right then! Alot to think about so far.

I've decided that if I'm going to run this, at the very least I want to keep it relevant with 'pony' in general. There will be silliness, fun and friendship to be had despite the severity of the situation. Dusty’s idea might be a good fall back though if we want something a bit more serious later on, possibly as a follow up to ‘Stranger Days’.

Hmm you raise some good points there Ancre! Lets go through them step by step, I'll apply what I can remember from the verious cannon pices I've read.

Okay, from what I know of the HLF their leaders are the worst kind of human being to have in charge. They seem to see Ponies as mere animals, and those who side with them as traitors to their species. This doesn’t mean that they’re ‘all’ bad, in fact most of them are probably regular Joes who got swept up in all of this hate. While might still hold a tainted or outright bigoted opinion of the Equestrian race, they probably wouldn’t do anything save for the goading of the rabble rousers. Oh, then there’s the plain nut jobs and religious ‘affront to god’ types who blow up centres and organise lynching’s. All in all, they’re not a nice bunch and are the main source of this universe’s grim-dark aspects.

Long story short then; I very much doubt that they would accept using unicorns to their own advantage. Its also worth keeping in mind that this world takes the approach that Ponies find it hard on a fundamental level to harbour ill will of any kind. With the human race it’s ‘every man for himself’, but with Equestrians its ‘every pony for the Herd’. Most who go through the change can’t stomach even the threat of physical violence let alone mass slaughter.

However, this is only the impression I’ve got from what I’ve read through so far. There’s nothing to say that they aren’t experimenting with magic though. Maybe they tried to enhance a super weapon with Magic or something. Or maybe they developed a peice of tech that absorbs magic from the surrounding environment, intending to use it to cripple the change within the centor, only to have it expload on them.

Hmm, my mind seems to be in ‘explosion’ mode tonight. But I do kinda like the idea that the HLF might just be scapegoats too. Maybe the radiation has somewhat cut off comunication out of the area, so the assumption that everyone within has drawn is that the terrorists are to blame? Anywho, what do you two think could be the cause?

As for leaving, I thought of making it so that there was still a way out, though the environment outside is so contaminated that only the Equestrians can move freely. This allows supplies to get through, though I would have thought with such a high level of radiation they would have some sort of decontaminating airlock. So with that in mind maybe only a few ponies can move through at a time without flooding the interior of the building with ‘thalmic radiation’? A human wouldn’t survive more than a few minutes out there and they can’t risk contaminating the facility.

This brings me to a question: if the shield protecting them is built into the very fabric of the building (Say loadstone that soaks up magic or something) then is that protection indefinite, or finite? Are areas going to suddenly become dangerous?

Also; how much ‘potion’ does the facility have? Its farly specialised stuff so I doubt they keep a supply on tap. So this being said, I guess the real question is how long does everyone have to decide? Can they hold out for rescue (if that’s even a possibility), or on the other hoof, can they get the resources needed to convert all the civilians before the shielding fails?

My gosh there’s so much to think about!

I tack some more thoughts onto this tomorow but in the meen time, what do you think?

Also if you're just joining us; WELCOME!

YAY we has intrest! Welcome abord Ancre! If you have any ideas post them up and lets get this think tank rolling!

To be honest I'm not so sure myself atm. Maybe I should rework those consepts. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but now observing the whole it's actualy kinda grim

I wonder if I can find a way to funny it up some? Change the creature in the first to something more humourus and add unusal ocurances caused by the high magic feild?

edit; Heh, okay, added first amendment

Well I wish you all the best with that Dusy, just so long as you don't torture or blow up anypony I know ^^,

Maybe this wasn't the best idea in the world. The more I look at it the more depressing it seems

One of my favorite authors recently posted up a new story based on this universe. The first chapter has some interesting bits highlighting both the state of the world, the emergence of Equestria and how wide spread ponification is. I've ‘spoiler’ed it to save space and only added the first part as a quotation. It works as a good introduction but not an essential one.

EXCERT FROM:

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies

By Chatoyance

Chapter One: The Red Case

...

Almost every human being had some form of malignancy, this was normal. Thus every human being regularly took some variant of Malignostat. The nanotech derived treatment was ubiquitous and sold from vending machines pretty much everywhere. Popping a 'stat was a fundamental part of getting up in the morning. It kept all cancer in check, and was a gigantic moneymaker. Some considered Malignostat to be a universal tax on the whole of Mankind. Being cured, however, was a dubious proposition. It was inevitable that some new cancer would appear soon after, so the only real reason to bother with such an impossible expense was in conjunction with cosmetic surgery to repair disfigurement, itself incredibly costly.

Beth rubbed the ruddy, lumpen bulges on the left side of her neck and head. "They really itch today, Doc."

Dr. Pastern swung the bright red case around, so that the handle faced her "Then come along, Beth! You can be my first ponification of the day! Equestrians never get tumors. They never get sick, as far as we know. Trade in that damaged old flesh for a fresh set of hooves! Whattaya say?" Pastern leaned over and leered at the receptionist. She knew full well that as much as Beth talked about Conversion, she loved complaining more.

....

Roselyn struggled carefully to work the cover away from the body of the case, finally revealing the most valuable thing in the building - her life included.

Tenderly packed inside dark gray, shock-resistant foam, was a single, large, capped Erlenmeyer flask. The flask was graduated and labeled with an iconic representation of the Equestrian form, and assorted text was printed on the flask describing its contents.

Inside the flask swirled a translucent, viscous, shimmering purple fluid. It almost seemed carbonated, but it was not; the apparent 'bubbles' were actually microscopic metallic reflections and tiny bursts of supernal light. It was a nanofluid, of course, composed of trillions of tiny molecular machines that could break down and reconstruct matter.

But the purple fluid was far more; infused throughout it was the very stuff of 'magic', a strange, unearthly energy from an entirely alien cosmos, the emerging universe that was Equestria. Inside that eight hundred mile sphere embedded in the Pacific, a different set of physical laws operated. Somehow, those laws had been melded with earthly technology, creating a hybrid of two universes, thus nanotechnomagical plasm, a blood bond between Equestria, and Earth.

Some called it Ponification Transmogrification Serum, or more simply 'Potion'. And it effectively was a magic potion, a notion that still made Dr. Pastern feel giddy inside. But then, so many things of legend and magic had been made real through technology, one way or another, so why couldn't there exist a substance that for all intents was a true elixir?

The power of the serum was formidable. Applied to even the most severely damaged human, the result would be a total and complete regeneration of every part. Lost eyes would reform, lost limbs bud and regrow out, destroyed internal organs would be entirely replaced. Even if an entire head should be lost, as long as the cells of the body had not yet suffered apoptosis, the subject would live - though in that event, the patient would be devoid of all memory, equivalent to a newly born baby.

Or, more precisely, a foal. For all the regenerative miracles that the serum could perform, the end result was always the same; a human subject became a full-blooded Equestrian. The price of life and survival was humanity itself.

.....

The rush was on. The rush to save what could be saved of the human race.

Roselyn gave the flask a gentle swirl. It sparkled in the light. Then she put the flask carefully back into the padding. It wasn't wise to hold the actual Erlenmeyer for too long; it generated considerable amounts of thaumatic radiation, and distance from source was an issue. That said, Roselyn knew she was being contaminated every day just being around the material, and if her exposure continued long enough, "Mage Plague" would eventually kill her. 'Magic', it appeared, was inimical to human life. There was only one available treatment; Conversion. Equestrians were more than immune to thaumatic radiation - they thrived on it.

Dr. Pastern set about her morning routine. She filled out the required hypernet forms, set out the vials of anesthetic, each grouped according to allergen sub-type, and put on her clean, white lab-coat. The lab-coat wasn't actually necessary, but Roselyn thought it added a certain professional esthetic to the proceedings. Also, she frankly didn't want to get anything on her new pants. Pants were expensive.

It was eight. By now the rest of the staff at her clinic - number fourty-two of one hundred - were busy making breakfast for the applicants. Applicants for Conversion stayed in the clinic for around two weeks, sleeping on-site in simple barracks. This was so that they could be given a proper, full orientation. Applicants were shown media, given lectures, and engaged in specialized physical exercises and training to prepare them for their new lives.

Each day, three applicants, having served their two week orientation, would be called into the Conversion Room, and transformed. When they awakened in their new bodies, they returned to the barracks for final orientation, before choosing to trot out the door, or report for transfer to Equestria. Most simply went out the door. Almost half of the population of San Francisco was now ponies. Soon it would be the entire population.

And that was the plan. Thaumatic radiation killed humans, and the great shining, growing bubble that was Equestria broadcast the stuff all over the planet. It pooled in random locations, creating deadly traps. It flowed in invisible channels creating corridors of lethal exposure. Above all, it increased with time, growing as Equestria itself grew, and nothing could block it, nothing could stop it, and there was no way to even detect it, except by the effect it had on human flesh.

It started with distortions of perception. The subject saw colors as being brighter, smells more intense. Mentation gradually became affected, with some reporting visions or hallucinations. Then patches of skin began to die, leaving necrotic scars. Finally, the organs of the body began to fail, as more substantial tissues perished. Death followed, unless the exposure was ended, or Conversion was offered.

Nothing could stop the emergence of Equestria. Not even all the weaponry of the world corporation; they had made the dead Pacific boil for three whole days, and seethe for weeks after to no effect.

In the end, there was simply no other choice. The earth was already dying, Equestria offered at least a form of survival, for those that wanted it. And after the shining monarch Celestia offered refuge to any who wished to Convert, virtually every single human craved her salvation.

Where the earth was a blackened, burned ruin of extinct forests, dead, radioactive oceans, a universal sky of dark grey smog, and nineteen billion people scrabbling in the endless slum that covered every landmass, Equestria shone brightly as a verdant paradise of blue skies and endless fields of living flowers. Beyond that impenetrable, shining Barrier lay a perfect land bursting with life and opportunity, but the only way to cross that barrier was on four legs.

-Find the rest here!-

Because he is awsome ^^

So after recently reading through the original and many spin offs, I started to wonder if there would be much interest in a crossover RP based in the Conversion Bureau universe?

For those who are wondering what this is about; ‘The Conversion Bureau’ was a fanfic originally written by Blaze, whose conspept was taken up by dozens of other authors afterwards.

Earth is dieing, choaking from polutants and radiation. The human race stagers along in its mega cities, slaves to the system, the very air a poison, their techlogy keeping them alive while their sociaty crumbles under the weight of its own sucesses. The universe is set in the distant dystopian future Earth and revolves around the idea that the land of Equestria has emerged in the pacific ocean.

Rising from the depths and shrouded in a steadily expanding mystical barrier that repells higher life in an attempt to protect both the lands within and the human race without, to whom magic is poisonous. As the shroud of energy encroaches on human civilisation, the denizens of this strange alien world step forward to offer humanity a second chance. Cutting a long speech short the gist of their offer is this; ‘Please. Join us in peace and prosperity, but leave the destructive ape behind’.

To this end, at their own personal cost and risk, Equestria begins to open Conversion bureaus across the world. Humans go there seeking the process that will change them into Ponies, so they might traverse the purifying barrier, beyond which lays a new utopia of freedom from the hell they leave behind. They are not without opposition though. A dangerous group of humans known as the Human Liberation Front sees the Equestrian ‘invasion’ as an affront and seeks to destroy or drive back the Equestiran menace.

But the barrier cannot be stopped, no matter how hard Celestia has tried too slow its progress. Eventually it will consume the world. With the ever growing barrier purging the poisons and radiation from the land, clearing away the filth and sin of ages, man is left with two options. Pony up, or be swept away.

A few links for anyone who wants to read up on this:The Ponychan link archive. And the CBU guide (check the overview on this if you like. Comes with a mature language warning)

So! Here's where our posible roleplays come in! A couple of ideas spring to mind, see what you think.

Strange Days:

• Strange things are afoot in the Leventhorp Conversion Bureau. After a failed attack by the HLF, the faculty is now surrounded by intense magic radiation, trapping the remaining humans inside its protective loadstone walls. Though you didn’t expect to ever find yourself within these halls, you, along with many other citizens of Leventhorp, have been forced to take shelter in the building as the town you knew so well rapidly becomes poisonous to Homo-sapient life. Now you’re trapped, with the only way out being a dosage of the purple liquid and to leave your world behind. But when the choice is ‘evolve or die’ what else is there to do? With the building in lockdown, the staff work tirelessly to complete the ponification of the overcrowded populous. Yet things keep going wrong. Power failours and sabotarge. And somewhere, deep in the bowls of this haven, something has awoken. Something silent as the chill down your spine, with a taste for the sweet meat of equines and humans alike. Maybe The HLF’s attack was not such a failure after all?
  
• Edit1; Okay, remove the bit about the 'flesh eating monster'. I think this is getting too grim for its own good. Instead, while there will still be some manner of 'thing' crawling around, its apitite and habbits will be somewhat more... unusual.
  

Last Bastion:

• You are one of the few humans remaining in the world, sheltered within the walls of 'The Bastille Arc', the last outpost of the Earth Defence Force. Within these walls you guard the collective knowledge of the human race, its greatest minds at work on a way to preserve the greatest aspects of society. Striving towards a grater human re-emergence through science and understanding, the all consuming magical barrier of Equestria has finally reached the eyes of you and your fellow vanguards. With the neon purple aura lighting the eastern sky day and night, you must make a choice. Too be, or not too be? How will humanity survive? Or is the race and its millennia old legacy doomed.
  

Cherry nodded at the unicorn’s plight whilst looking to catch the bartender’s eye “When I was in flight school my tutor told me something that fits your situation quite well. ‘When you’ve started into the storm and things begin to go bad, it’s difficult to see a way out for the thunder heads. Stay still and you’ll stall out for sure. So you’ve got three options. Flying down is easy even if you get wet. Up’s harder as you don’t know how high you’ll have to fly, but either way you’ll never know what’s on the other side of the clouds. But pressing on through the storm? That’s when you find out what kind of flyer you really are.’ ”

Dusk trotted over with a floating flask of coffee, topping up both their drinks as the filly mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him.

"Your father sounds like a very imposing stallion and you’re afraid that inaction is a sign of weakness that dishonors his legacy, right?" She posed, taking another sip from her mug and observing Max’s reaction.

"Have you considered that ‘continuing up’ the way he showed you, even though you now know its wrong, might be just as much of a smear as trimming your wings and getting out of the storm? Just because he made a lot of bits, dosn't meen his word is gosple. Legacies are only foundations after all, lasting ones yes, but foundations. There’s nothing to say you have to build the same castle on top of them he did."

“Maybe you’ve been surrounding yourself in the wrong kind of company?” Suggested the filly “Selflessness isn’t as rare as you would think. We’re a herding species after all. That’s why we’re so easily upset if we don’t have somepony to follow or care for. Ponies aren’t naturally cold or greedy. It takes effort to get as nasty as that Turpentine chap.”

Smiling kindly at Max’s downcast expression, Cherry allowed a thin pause while the meaning of her statement sank in and her fuzzy thoughts organised themselves.

“Which I suppose brings us back to your question,” She continued “When is a pony too far gone? You were never taught that any of this was wrong, yet it’s hurting. Even if you don't know why, I’d say that’s a pretty good sign."

“You say that like it was a bad thing.”

For a moment a wry smile flitted across the filly’s strained features, wavering as though it would evaporate like so much smoke in the tinny bar room air. Yet it persisted, shedding its irony as she inhaled the creamy vapors wafting from the fresh mug before her. Taking a long sip, pent up tension flowed away from her withers with a long relaxing shudder. Right now it was difficult not to smile. Everything about the little filly had subtly altered as an adrenalin fueled storm gave way to tranquil beaches of intoxicated thought. Sanguine eyes gleamed slightly and focused on objects instead of gazing through them apathetically. Even her posture had sifted as she lay comfortably on the long sofa, no longer hunched over her drink trying to shut out the world. Overall Cherry felt lighter then she had in days, even if it had been at a cost.

But there was something else. Some deeper, more meaningful emotion that kept throwing kindling on the dwindling bonfire in her soul.

“To be honest I’m not sure ‘why’ either.” She continued, blowing on the top of her coffee “I know alot about the kind of things your family has been a part of, and a part of me wanted to go the moment I heard your name. But I wouldn’t,” Sanguine eyes rolled up from the steaming beverage to look at Max "Because I knew you didn’t want me too. Plus I realised what you were trying decide, so I suppose you could say I didn’t want good intentions to go to waste."

Pausing breifly to sip at glorious black silk, Cherry looked wholly at the Rockefilly sitting across from her, some part of her psychie over rulling the desire to treat this as a buisness endevour. There was.. hope here. And not just for Maximilian.

"Tell me Max, how long have you been feeling like this?”

Couple of recent additions

Ask Twi or me; Dio makes the best cussion. Cosy pegasus is made of cuddles and sleep.

And hopefuly the first two inks of a much bigger pic;

Practically shaking with indignation, the middle of the three pawed furiously at the ground and glowered at the unicorn before him "I am not going to accept this! We did not sit here watching you chat up jailbait for an hour just for you to rub our muzzles in the dirt."

"Simmer down now, Turps." The second calmly cut in, stepping forward so to place himself between 'Turpentine' and the Rockefilly. Briefly his eyes darted to the clock behind the bar before returning to Max with an overly friendly grin.

"Maxy' boy, you’ve had a right skin full tonight, sure as hay could have drunk us under the table with the pace you’ve kept. Ah ain’t got no doubt that there’s some issues that you need working through, I mean don’t we all. But you gota' understand, this is just the alcohol talking. Now I’ve known you some time and 'Maximilion' Rockefilly has never been one to turn aside a good deal."

"Y-Yeah." Stuttered the wheedling voice of the third, a short wiry unicorn "I mean, it’s just business. Right?"

After glancing at his short colleague the second pony continued "Max, you can’t pretend like you suddenly grew a conscience. This is what we do. Look, just sign the contract, there's a week resendence period anyway, so if you still feel this way in the morning-."

Whatever suggestion he was about to make was cut short by a cough that, though intended as a polite interjection, was about as subtle as a tractor backfiring. All eyes turned to the young Pegasus who had sauntered back over form the swinging bar door and stood a little way behind Max. Swaying slightly, the Filly wore a watery grin that her alcohol drowned social sense informed her was business like.

"Gentelcolts-"

“What the hay do you want?” spat the Loudest of the three, who was looking at the filly as though she had just crawled out of the gutter and proposed a roll in the hay.

Despite being completely pickled, Cherry was putting on a surprisingly sturdy display of authority, if one ignored the slight swaying and the fact that her eyes seemed forever focused on something three feet behind whomever she was actually looking at. Ignoring the rude interruption she soldered on with barely more than a carefully drawn breath.

"I believe Mish-ter Rockefilleh has made his positing on this matter quite clear. May I suggest you leave and per-pre-follow, any further arrangements at a later day?"

Sanguine eyes wavered across the assembled company, her utter contempt hidden beneath alcoholic ‘friendliness’. Dominating the trio was this ‘Turpentine’ fellow, one who oozed a palpable aura of offence that made Cherry sick to her stomach. This wasn’t a simple case of instant dislike, oh no, this pony had Worked to become this unpleasant and the atuned filly could feel it irradiating from him like the open door to a garbage furnace. To his left was the level headed one (whose name she hadn’t yet caught) wearing an all purpose look of confusion, nothing unsual there, in fact he seemed more amicable then her previous drinking company. And then there was the runt who had been staring at her flanks all night. Pity was the only emotion she felt in conection with the unicorn, especially now that he was stuck with a horrified rictus at the sight of the false flower she was wearing in her mane.

Even through her hazy conscience this look registered and rang cirtain bells. Good. Such things were not common knowledge, but at least one of them knew who she was.

Her sluggish thoughts piled into one another as Turpantine stepped forward to tower over her slight form. By Celestia this one was rank! Where was that feeling coming from? It was like a smell that was bypassing her nostrils and going straight to the puke centres of her brain.

“No one bucking asked your opinion girl.”

For a moment the filly felt the urge to back down, but some part of her refused to be hassled by such a vial creature. Instead she stepped smartly around the stallion’s bulk and approached the voice of reason. Away from the stink her composure was quickly returning, heavy breaths moving aside to allow through a soft kind voice as she spoke the buck. As she did, the colt’s expression slid through confusion to mildly freaked understanding, her carefully chosen words striking a chord somewhere deep in his soul. Behind them the other earth pony had been left to fume indignantly.

"You’re right to be worried about the clock." She nickered, stepping a little closer to him with calm honest eyes fixed upon his own soft olive orbs.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you!”

Cherry didn’t give Turpantine’s biting so much as a glance. "The deal can wait till morning, but she might not. So go home and let her know you care."

Blinking in dumbfounded recognition, the stallion licked his dry lips into a worried little smile before replying “How did you-?”

The large grey hoof came from seemingly empty space, shoving the filly roughly aside as the previously ignored earthpony step in-between.

"This-" Bit Turpentine, watching with a twisted grimace as Cherry failed to regain her balance and collapsed in a drunken heap "Is none of your business you little Line-bred street sweep. "

A scrape from behind the bar drew his attention from the fallen filly. Dusk was withdrawing the landlords friend from its hiding place with a look of grim intent on his features, though seeing the heavily built stallion looking his way caused a moment of hesitation. The Barpony was not built for fighting, but quite suddenly it seemed as though he wouldn’t have too. Cherry had gone from laying down to upright and was quite suddenly far too close to the stallion for comfort, all seemingly without crossing the intervening space. Noses practically touching the stallion’s could hear the filly’s overbearing panting and taste the bitter drinks upon every breath.

“Get out of my way, tramp-”

A growl stuck in Turpentine’s throat as icy sanguine eyes fixed him with cold, calculated hatred.

"Shut. Up."

There was no kindness there this time, though oddly there was no venom or revulsion in the girl’s manner either. Hollow space like the eye of a terrible storm forged of inebriated malice carried an undertone of condescending command, like a master telling its dog to heel.

"Do you even realise just how revolting you are? No pony likes you. You are alone in this world, and rightly so. Your no stallion, you’re a thing, a slime off the walls of Celestia’s most depraved dungeon. Can you even name one Pony that has ever gotten close to you for anything but your wallet? You are disgusting."

Max winced. He didn't know why. Had some young upstart spoken to him in such a disrespectful way, they would have found themselves without a bit to their name by morning. But there was something in the filly's 'statement', as though it had been granted some otherworldly weight that made it absolutely, irrefutably true. Something was happening here, something extraordinary and abhorrently fascinating.

From the look of things, Cherry's scorning had struck the unfortunate business pony like a ton of bricks. Turpentine was as pale as his namesake, his acidic fury swept away by the wake of undeniable truth, replaced by a look of horrified panic.

Face marred by confusion and disgust, Cherry stepped back and broke whatever invisible hold she had over the stallion, the tension snapping like a rubber band. Gulping air as though he had run a marathon, the earthpony scrambled away, tripping over a bar stool in his desperation to put as much distance between him and the filly as possible.

Glancing after his associate, the levelheaded pony turned back to Cherry, finding the frozen gaze melting into a puddle of panicked glances. The girl looked about to faint or run for the hills herself. Yet slowly she gathered her wits and put on the pleasant smile once more, albeit significantly strained.

"I thought you were going home to your Marefriend?"

Snorting in flabbergasted surprise, the stallion nodded in recognition, turned away and head for the exit. He’d just seen one of the most unpleasant buck’s he knew flee from a filly half his size. And yet things felt a lot… clearer, for him. He was going back home, to see the one mare that made his stressful life worth living.

Still shocked into silence, the runty unicorn attempted to follow in an impressive impersonation of a shadow, only to find his tail caught on something. Dread swept over his small form as he swivelled around to face the filly who had grabbed his 'attention'.

"Not so fast, hun." She said, spitting out the olive green hair and stepping closer to the snivelling buck.

"You shee this flower? Just nod hun."

Nod.

"You know what it means, don't you?"

Nod.

"Good. So you know what I could do to you if you tell either of your friends who I am. Now, go home and think about what you’ve seen tonight. There’s an important lesson you can learn from your friends there. It's about knowing what’s important, or some’at like that. Oh! And grow a pair. You’ve got a good brain and can’t just live off other Ponies opinions forever."

Nod-nod.

“okay, go on then.”

Run for exit.

With the three offensive characters finally off the premises, Cherry dropped her facade and drew a long steady breath. She felt.. odd. Lighter then she had done in days. The buzzing in her head was gone and for once colour seemed to be seeping back into world around her. Maybe everything wasn’t that bad? And that alone told her everything she needed to know. A shameful grimace graced her features as she waved a hoof to the bartender and turned back to the contemplatively silent Max.

"Dusk, two coffee's please, black as Nightmare Moon's mane. Mister Rockefilly, please take a seat." She gestured to the wall booth where the business ponies had been moments before. "I think it’s important that we spoke properly."

Rustic. Not the most elegant description, but it was the only adequate word that came to the girl as she took in the stranger’s appearance. Built as though he had been hewn from a rock face, the Pegasus stallion sported a pelt of morbid bone white. Both his face and flank were framed by rust coloured hair that had been sapped of sheen by harsh weather, cut for practicality above appearance. Against probability he didn’t look a thug. Strong, yes, bur in consistant way, like an athlete or guard.

Tentatively the filly stepped deeper into the room, keeping her quizzical gaze on the stallion.

"Where-" she began, pausing after her sleepy brain waved a card comprising of all the clues she’d subconsciously noticed "- Actually lets start with; Who are you? And how did I end up in a motel?"

For a moment the filly seemed unable to respond, voice catching in her throat as her addled mind struggled to processes everything that she had just heard. A lot of opinions and regrets were cueing for her attention. But one thought struck against her alcohol grazed conscious like a lead ball, shattering it into crystal clear sobriety.

“Rockefilly.” She said flatly, a statement of fact that she couldn’t quite grasp. “Max... Rockefilly. Maximilian Rockefilly.”

Something in Max’s blank expression provided an answer to the implied question, prompting a fleeting squint of disbelieve to flash across Cherry’s eyes. More pieces of a mental puzzle slipped into place, prompting the filly to turn and stare at the three ponies watching them from the other side of the smoky room. As she swivelled back to the bar her sanguine eyes brushed over Max’s forlorn face, their earlier despair replaced by something many times worse; disappointment.

“Irony, thy name is Cherry.” She breathed, managing a slight smile at her own expense.

Tossing back the last of her cocktail, the filly slipped off the squat stool and got unsteadily to her feet, turning towards the door and the street beyond. Yet, she paused, as though an invisable string of thought had tugged her to a halt.

“To answer your question, Mister Rockefilly. If there's something left to save -" She said sadly, half turning her head to look at the buisness pony through the corner of disapointed eyes "I would carry it all."

“Idunknow, four-ish?” the paint foal responded, smiling half heartedly “Thanks Hazy, but I’m not hungry.”

Peabee felt slightly guilty about turning down Haze’s offer, her friend always put so much work into the treats. She hadn’t felt like any breakfast either, by rights she should be ravenous by now. Still, the lonesome feelings seemed to fill her tummy with butterflies. Meeting her old friend had been a wonderful surprise, knowing somepony in a strange town made all the difference and had helped her through the scarier moments of her visit. They’d had plenty of time for mischief and Peanut had even helped Haze out with some of her chores around the carrot farm. But lately everything felt so... She couldn’t put her hoof on it. Empty? No, that wasn’t it.

Sighing inwardly, the foal’s tenuous smile returned as comfort to her friend, rather than the filly herself.

“Ain’t cha’ bother coming today? Thought he were a big fan?”

((OOC: Anypony still interested in this? I'm still defiantly game. Anyone wanting to join just post up and leap in! They’re totally expecting guests and most foals in the area will know ‘the password’ anyway XD There is still plot to be had here and I haven’t shelved the thread yet ^^, ))

PeaBee was not best pleased about this. In fact the little Pegasus was downright miserable. It had been a few days since the impromptu bug hunt, three whole days since her family should have arrived to take her home. Yet here she was, still in Ponyville, stranded in the small town for a whole week by a rockslide somewhere up the train-line to Trottingham. At first it had been scary and novel, but after the latest setbacks home sickness taken a hold on the filly, she just wanted to go home. Since hearing the news Peanut had barely left the room at Old Oaks and the caretaker, Miss Birch, was beginning to worry. Thus arrangements had been made to get her a temporary place in Ms Cheerylee’s class.

Presently the small paint Pegasus was slumped behind a spare desk in the back row of the class. She felt tired and alone in the crowd. Nothing on the blackboard made any sense to her, having only just started school back home and only once a week at that. Why did she need to know how numbers worked anyway?

And then, there was the Wonder Bolts. Everypony was practically bouncing in their chairs with excitement. It was all so... well it didn’t annoy her. But it made her wonder exactly what all the fuss was about. Had any of the other foals in the class of them seen them fly before? She very much doubted it. And if they hadn’t seen them fly, then it was all word of mouth and bedazzlement from fancy posters. They were star stuck. Where as she saw them over the lakes every few weeks, more between tours. The fields of Legume Farm rested on the edge of the Nimberguite. Out there, a stone’s throw from the city in the clouds, the still air was always ideal for perfecting manoeuvres and thus had served as their training grounds.

None of this meant anything to young Peabee. Flying just wasn’t her thing.

Yes it was pretty to see the group carving elegant paths through the sky, souring, swooping and diving in perfect harmony like graceful elements of air.

But despite her oversized wings, her hooves were well and truly set on the ground...

...Still, better if she wasn’t noticed. After all, she got to watch them a lot, so she didn’t exactly need to be first inline. Keep out of the way and in a few hours she could go back to Old Oak Inn and hide.

Grabbing her Barber coat in her teeth, the short filly pulled the cloak over her back and fastened the collar, hiding the majority of the wings.

Not to worry Tempy ^_^

I think I'll be free tonight from 7pm GMT, so we might be able to resume!

Not to worry Tempy ^_^

I think I'll be free tonight from 7pm GMT, so we might be able to resume!