megaladon890

He looks towards where Starwing points. "How exciting! Soon we shall be traversing an old stone building, a monument of the past!"

"Actually, my eyes are pretty good in the dark, and I've had lots of experience dealing with wild animals, living on the streets and in the woods and all..." He looks at his hoof and brushes loose fur off. I do say, I've been losing fur like a Leper.

"Of course I could grow the herbs. What kind of farmer would I be if I didn't?" His grey eyes are fixed on Moonbeam.

"Yes, let's stop mucking about and let's go do things." He scratches his cheek.

Blizzard sees the regret in Darkness' face. "I'm sorry, all this must be making you uncomfortable.

"Didn't mean to come off that way, mate. Sorry." His horn glows and he readjusts his glasses.

"I'll keep my eye out for them, just because I'm homeless doesn't mean I'm no good at combat magic." He bounces in place.

Blizzard speaks up. "Why would you need to protect anypony here anyways?"

"Only if everypony in this party has no obligations otherwise."

He is surprised to hear that something actually lives there. "Maybe.... maybe we should kill it? Make the place safer?"

Blizzard sees right through Night's lies but plays along. "Sweet Celestia, did you guys just hear that?!" He turns to Night, holding in another chuckle.

"Maybe they wanted a change of scenery? Personally, I like being homeless. Much better than the posh lives of those not in poverty." He chuckles at his words.

His eyes take a bit to adjust to the light, even under his glasses. "Mhm." He gallivants after them.

"Well then let's be off, shall we?" He begins to trot in place.

"When shall we be off on our merry way?" He turns towards Darkness.

"That's the spirit, lass!" A wide smile is painted into his face.

"C'mon mate, lighten up." He is standing right next to Starwing. "Do you really want this to be a bore? What is life without a little fun? I do say it's like living in the bushes!"

"Bah, you're just jealous because my glasses are amazing." He gives Arrow a smile.

"Yes, but it's fine. I don't need them to see, my eyes are just very sensitive to light, even out at nighttime."

Blizzard's grey and neon green unkempt mane and tail, orange eyes, and snow white fur stood out in the bushes he rummages through, using his horn as a light to see everything. "Where are my glasses?" He feels something odd in the bushes and picks it up with his magic. It is a flier. Skimming through, he reads Everfree, join and pony, then reads where to meet up at. "I should check that out." He sits down and hears glass cracking. "Bollocks!" He picks up the green-tinted glasses with black framing. There is a large crack on the left side and he sighs. Putting them on, they fit perfectly over his eyes, showing not an inch of them. "Oh well. I may as well go see what that flier was about." Walking down the street to where it said to go, he sees Darkness and a few others. "Hey, I read that flier. May as well join ya. I've got nothing else to do."

(Could I join? If yes, I will be Blizzard)

(I'll be a farmer) Dust Storm spread out his wings to stretch. "We should probably construct an indoor farm or two so we can be prepared when winter comes. All we need to do is keep the place warm and moist." He was preparing for when his outdoor crops died before he even planted them.

(I'll just jump in if that's okay.) Steam Gears seems to have wandered too deep into a forest. His brown cloak hides is metal-plate skin that was made to be as flexible as a normal, organic pony. Only a small amount of his organic, black and orange, unkempt mane pokes out past his face. The size of his body matches that of a strong workpony such as Big Mac. His orange eyes blink at the brightness of the sky, then moves down to the forest he seems to have gotten himself lost in. Coltugal is too full of bad memories now. Father (creator) is gone. I need somewhere new to stay. The advanced system of glowing pinkish crystals inside him that act as his organs and brain are slowly losing their glow. This automaton only has a few more hundred years to live, a mere minute considering how long he would live with the proper upkeep that he can no longer access. His deep Hispanic voice (with a slight pull in the direction expected of a robot from a black and white film or an underfunded commercial) breaks through the air from under his hood. "Where have I gotten myself to?"