ShadowMage

I would have no issues with you joining. Just add me on Skype: ShadowMageAlpha

Reminder: We're going to be making characters and going over some basic plot (not that plot) for the campaign. 10.30-ish PM, EST. Skype.

I would have no issues teaching anyone. If you end up joining us, that'd be grand, but not a necessity

Update: Since Thursday was Thanksgiving, I thought against having a session on the Friday after. And unfortunately I work till 10PM the coming Friday. We can still get together, create characters, and go over some back-story. See you guys there at about 10.30.

A sudden rush of moment and the unexpected opening and slamming of the coach door nearly startled Gearly out of his wits once more, though noticing the figure it was Stormsong took a great deal of the panic from Gearly's mind. Instead of flying back in alarm, Gearly quickly turned his attention to the shaking form beside him. Pulling the blanket from about himself and wrapping it about his close friend, he laid a comforting hoof on Stormsong's back, gently stroking it comfortingly. "Wh-what's wrong, Stormsong? Is everything alright?" Concern and worry filled the stallions voice as he tried to calm the sobbing mare. Upon hearing Asteria's apparently cold-hearted remarks about fear, worry, and "constructive purpose", Gearly's brow hardened and the lack of sympathy for Stormsong's plight. Couldn't the blasted mare see that his friend was, at the very least, greatly distressed and that such words were no more helpful that the action she was critiquing? Opening his mouth to speak, a startled gasp came forth as the lights suddenly snapped out, plunging the interior of the coach into an eerie darkness. Gearly looked about, the the only illumination came from Luna's silver moon rising upon the horizon and the countless specks of light hanging in the early night sky leaving all but the very edge of the coach lost in fathomless darkness; had the situation not been so unnerving and dire, Gearly might have found the sight beautiful. Gently pulling Stormsong closer, trying still to comfort her as the sudden darkness lightly startled her far more than it startled him, Gearly spoke up, looking to where, he thought, Asteria was, "I...have a basic understanding of mechanics, though I would hardly consider myself 'a mechanic.' And I would be scarcely be able to do a thing about this lighting... The coach is probably wired... I never did understand that...blasted stuff." Gearly began mumbling quietly to himself about the troublesome electricity as he continued in his efforts aimed at comforting his companion.

As Asteria spoke, Gearly's ears strained to hear her words over a set of particularly potent, bone-chilling gusts of wind buffeting the passenger car and the resulting groans and creaks of the car's distress. His steely grey ears twitched this way and that, his battered left ear jerking oddly with each movement, trying to pick up her voice easily while remaining cuddled under the woolen blanket. Had she...asked his name? Of course! He had not introduced himself as he was consumed in a fit of surprise and panic at the moment introductions were most often exchanged. As the mare paused to let him state his name, Gearly spoke up to fill the resulting silence, his voice taking on nearly a regal demeanor, "Gearly from Packout Farms of Clyde's Dale." The tone in his voice carried a great deal of pride, though nopony could surely be able to divine the reason of pride derived from a farm-stead almost nopony had heard of. Gearly, smiling deeply and giving a gentle nod, indicating that his introduction was over, listened to the tidbits of Asteria's wisdom. The colorless mare's words struck true with Gearly, perhaps more so than Asteria could have possibly realized. He oft considered his fascination of mechanics as much a detriment as a boon; the lack of any magical telekinesis left Gearly unable to rely on magical precision and, instead, he was forced to rely on comparatively clumsy mundane hoof-kinesis. His steady hooves and excellent hoof-eye coordination was as much an innate talent as it was a learned skill. When events were pressing, time was short, and gears and cogs whirring, it was quite easy to nick one's self on a sharp bit of steel or iron. The young stallion's reverie was broken as a particularly titanic wind heaved at the car, sending several bits of material goods and the occasional loose bit skidding across the wooden planks. A muffled crashing came from one car aft, and Gearly craned his head to stare questioningly at the door he and his companions had settled near out of convenience.

It's never too late! Besides, we're not going to be really doing much, maybe talking about some things, MAYBE setting some some character creation, nothing TOO ground breaking.

Alright: I would like to get together a "meeting" for Friday sometime after 9 PM EST. If you're interested, please get me your Skype name in some way, shape or form and I'll start a group call/chat around that time. It's at this point when we'll discuss details. Thank you very much.

If everyone could do me a wonderful kindness and share with me when they would be able to get together to play a game, just leave a post or something like that.

Listening to her mini-monologue, Gearly's rose his form from laying upon the couch and, keeping the blanket wrapped about himself, dipped his head at several instances, demonstrating his comprehension of her situation. As his eyes drifted toward the floor, no longer locked with the mare sitting across him, his form seemed to slump and deflate ever-so-slightly as Gearly took in a deep, thoughtful breath before speaking, "You were born as you were...just as I was born as I was... And we must... Make do with the construction of our assembly. Erm...the parts of our being." As the stallion's voice came out, the words were not as clearly enunciated, nor as firm as when the grey pony had spoken previously; doubt, a modicum of bitterness, and perhaps even the slightest hint of jealousy had crept into his words, making his voice sound unfocused and tired, though not the class of fatigue that comes with a hard day's work. The exasperated groan of the train car and blinking of the lights roused Gearly, his form snapping up suddenly as though expecting to fend off some attack. When the luminescence of the lights returned, his wide eyes darted to the glowing orbs found at the apex of the car's cabin. Glaring at them for the briefest moment and mumbling something along the lines of "faulty junk", his returned his gaze to Asteria once more, intent on answering her concern. The voice that spoke was departure from the seemingly inexplicably somber tone he carried just moments prior; instead, in a more peppy and energetic voice her politely declined both of the mare's offers, "You need not leave when Stormsong returns. We were sharing this particular couch when she went off to....some...where..." Pausing for a moment to think and lowering his head to think, he tapped lightly at his chin with a hoof before speaking up once more, "I was already half-slumbering when she mentioned she was going somewhere, I cannot seemed to recall where, but I have no doubt that she will return before the night is upon us." Breaking the eye contact once more, Gearly looked out across the wind-swept fields of snow and ice, gazing at Celestia's sun disappearing behind the horizon, seemingly forsaking the frozen tundra to some terrible, frozen night.

Gearly settled back into the couch, shifting about experimentally trying in vain to rediscover the comfortable spot and position which promised so much of the fleeting warmth he desired. With a light huff, he forsook his attempts to find the lost comfort and instead his eyes settled upon the perplexing midnight-black mare before him, watching in unmasked awe and envy of the mare's mundane unicorn talent. The form of the stallion seems to deflate ever so slightly as he sagged into the couch, pulling his fore-legs from beneath the blanket to look at the minute criss-cross pattern of scars up and down the flesh and fur. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he tucked his legs back under the blanket, doing his best to keep his extremities as warm as possible and lost himself in thought for a brief moment. Asteria's voice snapped him back to the present, his eyes focused on the mare laying before him as his battered left ear twitch in an effort to better hear and understand her words. A gentle and oddly genuine smile crossed his countenance as Gearly shook his head, his disheveled mane flailing about his head. "It was no trouble at all, I simply was not expecting to have such a...such an imposing figure join me in my little alcove. I was expecting a different pony, my traveling companion, to join me before somepony else. There's no reason to make amends for trying to find a seat to rest yourself." As he talked, his eyes stayed locked with the stranger, too well taught in the manners of the big city to risk being rude by not looking the mare in the eyes. He had no reason to be rude anyways, while she seemed an odd enough sort, she certainly didn't seem to mean him any harm; that much was obvious.

Gearly's waves of fear abated as the mare made no move to do him harm, or even do anything that anypony could find offense with. Noting the question the unusual mare had asked, Gearly's brow raised slightly as he began to wriggle free from the binding of the blanket he'd become tangled in. Perplexed by the question, having not expecting anything anything of the sort from such a figure, Gearly nearly forgot to reply; dipping his head once in a slight nod, his reply was stammered out in the practiced accent, "Th-that's fine, acceptable...Y-yeah. Th-the seat's not taken." As the strange mare who called herself Asteria commented upon his accent, Gearly opened his mouth to reply. Unable to find anything immediately relevant to say, instead the young leather-brown stallion redoubled his efforts to free himself from the tangled mess of the dumb fabric. As the mare asked if he needed assistance, Gearly shook his head, responding once more in the practiced accent, "Thank you, no, Miss Asteria. I should be able to manage." A few moments later, Gearly finally untangled himself and climbed back onto couch, wrapping the blanket about his form once more, looking nervously to the unexpected guest sitting across from his seating.

I go away to work...and this is what happens? Gak me...

It's GAK GAK GAK! Everyone loves GAK GAK GAK! (Not really)

A light groan escaped from the huddled figured as the question from the mare roused Gearly from his gentle slumber. Turning over to face the pony addressing him and still clutching the warmth of the blanket to his form, he began to wearily blink his eyes, attempting to focus on the blurry figure before him. In a sleepy, and carefully practiced Canterlot accent, Gearly mumbled out, "You're back awfully early Stor- Yeaeaagh!" Though still unfocused, his vision cleared well enough to show the pony before him was not his traveling companion; the figure, instead of a calm and quiet sky-blue mare, was instead a tall, lithe, and incredibly intimidating visage. The black-and-crimson figure was enough to make Gearly jump back in alarm, his form becoming tangled in the blanket as he tumbled to the floor of the passenger car with a loud thud. As he lay on the floor of the car in a jumbled heap, several of the other passengers peeked into the compartment to see the commotion before disappearing once more into their own compartments. Dazed and confused, Gearly struggled against the bindings of the until-so-recently comforting blanket, still vaguely recalling some sense of urgency. A moment later, he recalled the muse of his terror and pressed himself into the corner of the couch and the wall of the room. "Wh-who are ya? What d'ya want?" Gone was the practiced and meticulous Canterlot accent, instead replaced with a thick country accent of the rolling hills outside Solstice Heights. The asked question he had only half-heard was easily forgotten as he trembled in the corner, trapped from the exit by the imposing figure.

/me facehooves.

A frozen wind sent a flurry of early-winter snow buffeting the side of the train that hurtled down the track towards Stalliongrad. As the train car creaked and groaned against the winds rushing over the open, barren, and frosted fields of northern Equestria, Gearly pulled the woolen blanket around himself tightly, shuddering at the thought of the weather outside. Living on a secluded farm in the middle of the rolling hills south-west of Canterlot acquainted the young stallion with the discomfort of winter, but as he traveled farther and farther north, it seemed winter rushed faster and faster toward the present hour. According to overheard conversations, the frigid weather outside the passenger car was supposedly usually bitter and cold for the time of the year, but Gearly had no doubt that once the depth of winter was upon this countryside, the chills this weather would bring would likely not leave one's bones until Celestia's sun brought forth summer once more. Giving a heavy sigh and curling up tighter under the toasty blanket, Gearly closed his eyes and thought back on his grand journey from his family's farm to the great industrial city of Stalliongrad. All the towns he passed through, all the ponies he met, and everything he saw seemed as though they were a million miles away, seemingly endless expanses of snow and frost separating himself from the oh-so-recent past. Reminiscing and marveling at how far he and his traveling companion had come. His eyes drifting shut slowly, Gearly began to doze off; the mad dash to catch the train through the frozen evening air had sapped far more of his energy than he would have guessed, and only huddling under the blanket seemed to remove the chill from his bones. Smiling peacefully as he quietly thanked Celestia for this very specific blanket, his form slumped into the couch he was nestled on as sleep over-took him.

Ah, well I am quite sorry to hear that. Maybe you should be less in the Western England area in more in the Eastern US. >_>

Good point and it's noted. I suppose what I should have said is "I don't know when I'll have it because I want to consult the people who are interested for a day." I don't want to pick a day without first consulting those interested as, if I say we'll do it on Tuesday, and everyone who WANTS to do is busy on Tuesday, I probably just scared half of them off. BUT ANYWAYS!

Davroth: I wasn't planning to have it during that time actually, only after 8 PM EST. They work me late enough often enough that starting at 8.30, give or take, would be the standard starting time. What time would be better for you? CobaltFlare: Right now I don't have any specific day in mind. I was mostly expecting it to be a "do it when we can" kinda thing. Weekends would likely be the best time for people.

Well, Microphones are pretty cheap now-a-days. You could always pick one up for about $10 at your local whatever store.

I was planning on using it. It would make everything faster and generally just abit more personable, not to mention allow the use of terrible, TERRIBLE voice acting by everyone involved. ;D

Note: If you have no experience with RPG's or D&D, I would be willing to teach you. As you enter into the room, the echoes of your foot-falls reverberate around the mostly empty room. Several up-turned tables, coated in grime, dust and cobwebs, imply a long-forgotten conflict; a spider rappels between the arrows still sticking out of the improvised cover of the rotten and moldering wood. As your eyes adjust to the flickering shadows cast by the torch of the group leader, your eyes fall to roughly a set of about a dozen total tracks through the dust, all leading behind a piece of dining furniture-turned-cover. Though the fires in the kitchen have long since died, your adversaries have been cooking up something most foul: an ambush. I am looking for a small-ish group of players (around 3-6 people) who would be willing to play in a roleplaying game I would be running. I would be using Dungeons & Dragons v3.5 as the system in a which I have been creating for the past several years. I would like to play during the hours of 8PM-12AM Eastern Standard Time, though I have not decided on the specific day yet. I was planning the game to have a strong narration to it, the players only having to worry about their own characters and their actions. I would handle dice rolls, stats, enemies, etc. I plan to have extensive role-playing and, should the players choose, a decent amount of combat. This will not be a dungeon crawl with slaughtering monsters. There will be consequences for foolishness and reward for creative thinking, though I plan to be as fair and just as possible. If you are familiar with D&D v3.5, be warned I am changing several things about the system, though the core will remain the same for most things. If you decide to join the game and have extensive experience with D&D, I would ask that you help me tweak and critique the changes I have made to the system. All help will be greatly appreciated. Too Long, Didn't Read: What - Modified D&D v3.5 on Skype When - 8PM - 12AM EST (Either Friday or Saturday.) Needed Equipment - Microphone, Skype, and a thinking mind Experience Needed - None If you have any questions or comments, please leave them here, I'll edit this post later with commonly asked/insightful questions and their answers. Thanks for your time! Update: Planned meeting for details - 2012, November 16, Sometime after 9PM EST (Probably)

We should play together sometime, and I will show you the joys of spy. >: D

Sadly, I am quite attached to my S. Quick Fix, even if I don't get to use it very often. I could be on the look-out for one though.