ShadowMage

I may regret putting this up but.... http://tf2b.com/tf2/ShadowMage I've got some things I want to get rid of, like a Strange Brass Beast, some festive weapons. That sort of stuff.

I actually thought bot-killer weapons would track bots killed, but oh well. And I play Engie or scout, or pyro or demo or solider or pretty much anything. And I have my own server you guys can play on.

Good news for those of you not wanting to wait around for MvM servers: I have my own, DEDICATED, Mann vs Machine TF2 server. The IP is 71.64.141.245:27015 and the password is "Mecha" by default. A lot of the time the server is empty so come on in and bring your friends. It's completely bare-bones and has no mods on it of any sort, so don't expect anything fancy. Send me a PM and tell me what you think or if you're using it!

A cool summer breeze rolled across the field holding the obstacle course, ruffling the unkempt mane of the particularly exuberant Gearly. Though he was none-too-fond of the outdoors, the cloudless, azure sky and the sweet summer air made it all but impossible to deny the beauty of this day. Taking in a deep breath, holding it, relishing the crisp air of the open pastures, Gearly held the breath for a short moment, letting it out smiling even brighter than before. A leather-brown ear twitched and turned toward the shouts fighting to be heard over the excited and bustling crowd, a voice calling out for... What? He wasn't quite sure... Gearly made his way toward the source of the sound, trotting through the, initially, scattered observers, noticing how the crowd packed tigher as he neared the...whatever it was. A few moments later, the young stallion was forced to squeeze his lithe, tannish-brown frame between a cluster of tittering fillies, gossiping of who they found cute or homely, and a circle of greyed stallions and mares, regaling of summer days past of their youth. Popping out on the other side of the two cliques, Gearly found the source of the shouting above the din of of the gathered crowd; a tan earth pony caught Gearly by surprise, calling out to him, challenging his ability to win one of the Iron Pony events, "Welcome to the Iron Pony Obstacle Course! Do you have strength? Agility? Finesse! Speed?! Do you have what it takes to be number one?! Step on up and show us what you've got!" Separating from the crowd and trotting out to the starting line, Gearly glanced to the other ponies who had been wrangled in by the caller. The competition looked tough, and Gearly began to slowly doubt his ability to even beat half of these other individuals. A nervous shake entering his body, Gearly turned his head toward the obstacles he would soon face, his doubts raising ever uglier in the back of his mind. He was no stranger to getting dirty, but he was completely unused to mucking through mud, an obstacle that would, he was certain, be harder than it appeared. Though he was the most agile pony in his family, he wasn't sure he'd be able to scale the mountain of barrels and descend in one piece; his agility lay with working adeptly with his hooves, not jumping around and climbing. The sight of the straight run and the pie-stacked pole-weave seemed so simple, Gearly was confident in his ability to successful and quickly complete those challenges. So lost in thought, as he was, Gearly barely heard "Twweeeeeet!" of the starting whistle as the other contestants darted off. Startled from the labyrinthine confines of his mind and jumping a good foot in the air, Gearly recalled his location and purpose: to race! Giving chase after the other ponies, Gearly's mind raced as he attempted to formulate the best means of approach to each obstacle. The mud seemed thick and viscous from a far, and getting a hoof stuck in the stuff would very likely bring his race to a halt. Not entirely aware of the moment, Gearly concluded the best course of action that he could think of, quick and light steps, just before absent-mindedly running head long into the pit. After pulling his, now, muk-coated form from the mud, he scrambled across the pit to the far end, doing his best to skip across the mud, trying not to let the pit take him down a second time. Clambering out of the far end of the pit, Gearly ran to the imposing tower of barrels, shuddering once as a sudden case of vertigo washed over him. Shaking the fear and a bit of mud off, Gearly began scaling the mountainous pile. Carefully swinging his weight back and forth, thinking only of the rhythmic movement of a clockwork pendulum, Gearly hauled himself up one hoof at a time, mindful of any shift in structure beneath him. "One, two... One, Two," Gearly chanted as he worked to the top, finally reaching the peak and pausing for a moment to catch his breath, just before a slick glob of mud stole his sure stance from under him. Gearly tumbled down the opposite side of the barrels, landing with a thud, dazed and confused for but a moment before dashing off down the straight run. "Wasn't nearly as bad...*Huff*as when.. *Huff huff* I got mah...cutie...*Huff* mark," he said to himself, charging down the clear path of the open course. After a few short seconds, Gearly realized he was beginning to slow, having been drained from the fiascoes with the mud and barrels. Gearly, quickly running out of breath, incredulously thought to himself, "This was s'pposed to be the easy part!" Gearly slowed for a few short moments to catch his breath and focus, using the wells of determination that had helped him rally against every major obstacle in his life. He had never given up before and, with Celestia as his witness, he was NOT going to give up now! Gritting his teeth and ignoring the dull ache in his muscles, Gearly lurched forward, picking up speed once more until he crossed into the final challange. Staggering over to the table, Gearly paused for a precious moment, taking a deep breath and letting the crisp summer air into his lungs. Revitalized, Gearly looked down to the three apple pies, ignoring the grumbling within his stomach. Knowing that a wider base was more stable, Gearly carefully stacked the pies on his back, putting two on his back and placing the third atop the first two. "With this," Gearly said thoughtfully to himself, "The weight should be distributed evenly along my back, and the center of mass will be lower to the ground." Gearly knew his experience as a pack 'mule' for his family would prove just as important; often while carrying supplies back to the farm, he had been forced to balance more delicate packages than a pile of perfect pies. With experience and physics on his side, Gearly confidantly strode and swerved through the poles, careful not to bounce his body, and the pies, about too much. As Gearly crossed the finish line, he did not look to observe who he had overtook or who had beaten him in the race; in his mind, his body screamed at him, eager for a rest from the physical activity he had thought he'd left behind on the farm. His journey through the lands of Equestria brought him places and taught him things, but everywhere he was reminded of who he was and where he came from. During his times of doubt, Gearly pulled strength from the memories of his family and their farm, anxious to one day return; the memories gave him strength to carry on when in times of difficulty, much like during the race. With his mind drifting back to days on the farm long past, Gearly flopped onto his side, forgotten apple pies tumbling to the ground, as he took in one final breath of a cool summer breeze, and then dreamt of his family.

Gearly, raising from his reverie, looked about, taking note of the new pegasus in the area. His brow raised slightly as he looked about the group of ponies gathered in the cool night air, tentatively raising a hushed question, partly to himself, "Why does it seem everypony seems to be out and about tonight..." He shifted nervously, his imagination quickly running out of control. Perhaps they were all planning to make a heist on the First Equestrian Bank. The guards would be wonderful insiders, able to travel nearly every inch of the city without raising suspicion. The young grey stallion chuckled at the silly prospect, shaking his head to put it from his mind as he sat down upon the cobble, glancing about once more.

Steampunk? >o> Why, you should totally click on that little link called "Gearly" below this post. In other news, welcome to Canterlot! May you enjoy your visit!

Oh look! Somepony new! A pleasure to have you hear!

For certain people, I am planning to do one-offs: i.e. I plan to have one made for Lauren Faust at BronyCon this month. After I make that, I will destroy any materials I have of it other than a picture or two. Generally though, I plan to do "mass-produced" runs, unless of course, someone wants something custom and special. Perhaps once I get more practice, have better materials, and maybe a bit of financial success, I can go with that idea, but given right now my complete lack of time and my inability to make something that complex at the moment, I'll likely just have to deal with dying in complex fashions.

Basic design for three of the mane 6 and test runs of color and "engraving" techniques.

Yoked glanced down at the food and drink placed on the in front of him. He was entirely unsure of what to make of the substances before him as he leaned down slowly, taking an experimental sniff at each substance. Neither the drink or the snack were quite like anything he'd ever seen before; having grown up on a fairly poor farm, he was unused to comforts that "normal" city ponies might enjoy on a daily basis. He glanced back up, nodding his thanks silently to Breve, planning on letting the objects cool somewhat before trying the coffee and bun.

Gearly, still lost in his own world of reminiscing, did not even notice Night Watcher's question. The world about him seemed to fade away and he closed his eyes, breathing in the cool night air slowly as he thought back, over the events of his life. He knew who he was and where he was, but when he thought about what he was doing or why he was doing it, it almost seemed as though he were in a dream.

The nice part about my intended course of production is I needn't be able to draw the cutie mark. If I can find a suitable cutie mark online, I can print it out and use that for the design, quite easily infact.

Well, so far, this is what I'm am afraid of... Dash's coloring would be the worst nightmare imaginable to for this project. More experimentation must be done! Also, MORE RESPONSES! If you guys could do me a huuuuge favor; direct any Brony possible to this thread. I am going to need a large sample to figure out a good solution to this "problem".

A while back, I had an idea: Take cutie marks and make plexiglass medallions/ necklaces with the image imprinted upon the plexiglass. This would be, I feel, a good way to make something that looks all fancy-like, give a good way to Bronies to express their favorite character or themselves, give back to the community, and maybe even make a little money for myself. After some testing, I think I've found a process that will word adequately for my purposes. I would like to make one or several of these for the Summer '012 BronyCon's charity auction; it'd be a good way to get some publicity, give to a great cause, and gauge how interested people would be interested in the product without investing TOO heavily. My issue is, I do not know which character(s) to make the medallions inspired by. I know Rainbow Dash is quite popular, but so if Fluttershy. And at the last BronyCon, I know a custom Vinyl Scratch figure went for many hundred dollars ($500-ish I believe). If you guys could give me some advice, both on my idea and/or who I should make the first run of medallions of, I would be ever so appreciative.

mc.ubergaming.net There ya go! Hope to see you there!

How....could you POSSIBLY do that....to Discord, Goober? You're not a person any more.

Gearly turned to Ardent, looking the guard over once after being asked the question of his timid nature. Briefly, he pondered if he should reveal the origin of his quiet personality; the scars upon his legs were not the only ones he was burdened to carry. As a young colt in school, he'd often been picked on, turning the grey pony away from social interaction. The only person he could truly call a friend had been the only person who had helped him during schooling, and she had been just as shy as he. Gearly stood on the pavement, silent and unmoving, as he stared down at the cobble of the street, his eyes lost and unfocused. He was lost within the confines of his mind, traveling back to days the seemed forever and an eon ago, unable to remember the exact details or places, but clear enough to know they happened. Gearly's countenance sagged slightly as the uncomfortable memories sifted through his mind and he breathed a heavy sigh.

Yoked blinked, watching from his spot off-center from the door. The stallion had not moved since he let the mare past, watching the events unfold within the coffee shop. An eyebrow was raised at the pegasus with a wing secured in a cast, unsure why the Stallion was reacting in such a way to the lightning-maned mare. His head tilted slightly to the side as he thought about the situation: She didn't look like any pony famous he knew.... But he didn't really know any pony famous. With a shrug of his shoulders, Yoked sat down at one of the tables, taking a rest for his weary journey back to the homestead of his family.

Oooohhh...apparently I'm am classified as a "friend"! HUZZAH! Welcome to the herd. WE ARE LEGION!

Oooooh! Another gamer pony! We should play LoL sometime, and you have to know about the Legion of Ponies Minecraft server! Much fun to be had for all!

Yoked, blinking once, turned his head to look at the stallion whose color reminded Yoked of baby sprouts, just having escaped the surface of the earth. His head dipped slowly, responding to the greeting before he paused for a moment, thinking. He was in the city now, and, according to his younger and smarter brother, the city had a different sort manners. With some difficulty, he remembered a word Gearly had used to greet someponies several times; Yoked began his effort to repeat the word, "Sau-...Sally-....Sal-yew-stay-...." His deep voice rumbled out from his throat, hardly loud but easily carrying across the room. Finally giving up on the word, Yoked chuckled lightly, and decided instead to greet the greeter in his usual fashion. "Howdy... Wha'da ya got?" The words were understandable enough, though crude and not very well pronounced or chosen. Yoked's ears twitched as he heard the door to the small shoppe open behind his large frame. Leaning to one side and twisting his neck back, he looked to see a mare enter the storefront. Her appearance was quite pretty and something else than he was used to seeing: a snow white pelt, a mane that reminded Yoked of lightning streaking across the sky, and a set of glasses that simply puzzled his mind. Stepping to one side and giving a quarter-turn towards the mare, Yoked bowed his head once, and apologized for standing in the entrance way, "Pardun, miss. Aftah ya..." Once again, he spoke simply and nodded his head toward the counter of the shop, smiling politely to the strange mare.

Once Gearly finished the explanation of his scars and trinket, the stallion noticed that he was now, apparently, the center of attention for the group. The nervous mannerisms returned as his face flushed darkly, blood rushing to his face from embarrassment, unused to such attention from even a small group such as this. Awkwardly, the young stallion ((Retcon required - Me forgetting terms and what-not)) replied to each comment directed towards him, or uttered in response of his short-lived story. "These... haven't so much been...from my occupation as...a preparation for it. I am not currently employed..." The words uttered from Gearlys mouth seemed almost pained and it was as if a sheet of mild melancholia had been lowered over the grey stallion as he continued, "I need to learn more before I can even consider earning bits with my interest; Trial and error can only take you so far." Visually becoming more confident as he talked, his posture becoming far less hunched over and standing to almost his full, yet still short, height, Gearly addressed the guard in the golden armor next, "I grew up on a farm, and if some pony there didn't take care of something, no one would. When you live in the middle of Solstice Heights, you learn how to handle yourself pretty quickly. It's so different here though....I wonder what Stalio...." The Stallion trailed of for a moment, his eyes cast toward the ground as he was lost in though, snapping from his reverie as Rain Maker commented on the story, a nervous stammer returning instantly to his voice. "O-oh, I...I couldn't lie like that...an-and... I-I...I'm not that good with..." His sentence was left unfinished as he stared down at the cobble of the street, his face burning with the life-blood coursing behind the pelt.

A tall and muscular stallion strode down the street of town, a wooden-wheeled cart in toe, laden with supplies of all sorts and rattling over the rough pavement of that particular route. Under the pelt the color of tanned leather, muscles rippled and quivered as the pack horse moved steadily, not too slow, but not fast enough to dislodge any of the agricultural supplies from the bed of the cart. He'd rose far before sunrise, and trekked out to the little town in order to the supplies his family would need for the coming months. Since his brother had left on some grand adventure, the menial task had fallen to Yoked and, through his own sense of fun and adventure, the well-built stallion had decided alter his route to and from with each passing. Such a habit allowed Yoked to see sights he'd not normally see if he traveled directly to and from home, but he could could only justify having a bit of fun while working, if, of course, the job was completed well. Passing near the store-front of the cafe, Yoked caught an unusual scent on the morning breeze. He tracked it through the streets until he came to a open shop advertising something Yoked was entirely unfamiliar with. Curiosity getting the better of him, Yoked puled his cart to the side of the street, well out of the way of any path anypony might take, took a quick stock of the contents of the cart once more, and then strode into the shop, his rust-colored mane lightly being ruffled with the moment. As he entered the door, he silently looked about the near-empty shoppe, his sea-foam eyes darting to and fro, taking in information and pondering it quietly.

As Gearly quietly listened and observed the conversation of the two guard strangers, his form seemed to shrink away, far more than intimidated by two such imposing guards. He slowly slunk towards Rain Maker, the friendliness of the civilian pegasus a welcome contrast when compared to the almost brooding seriousness of the two guards. Yes, it was true, there were strange ponies out walking the streets of Canterlot.... At night... After a full scaled invasion of Equestria's capitol... By an enemy that could appear as any pony. Gearly's ears pinned back against his head as he shrunk back further, realizing the somber and serious guards had, more than likely, the right mind set for this particular scenario. Hearing the Lunar Guard address his obvious concern, Gearly smiled politely and nodded his thanks, hoping he didn't seem insincere; a guard's job was no doubt hard, something he would be unable to do, and he was thankful for those that served. The following two comments directed toward Gearly were odd queries that, upon reflection, he was surprised he'd not been prepared for. After a few short moments of thought, he sat his hind quarters upon the cool cobble pavement of the avenue and glanced down to the rusted gear dangling from his neck, having mistaken the guard's question for a query into the trinket about his neck. "Good sir, I...would not call this trinket... "scrap." It's a memory, reminding me of who am I and what I'm doing and why. As for your question, Miss Rain," Gearly turned to the friendly pegasus, smiling warmly to her, glad to have someone at the very least half-friendly nearby, "I've had these-" Gearly motioned to the minute scars crisscrossing his legs. "For years; sticking your hooves in places they don't belong can end up fairly painful, but when something broke down on my folk's farm... I was the only one who would even try to fix it. Got more than my fair share of cuts and bruisers from being on the wrong end of gears, springs, and axles. That's...actually why I'm out here in Canterlot..." Gearly trailed off, his eyes fogging slightly as he remembered the family he'd left in Solstice Heights, an experience that seemed almost a lifetime away, though it'd been just a few short weeks.

**Three pegasi and Gearly, an earth pony... Coulda sworn Canterlot was a unicorn city!** His face grew hot and red, flushing darkly as he realized both his proximity to and the words of the stranger, addressing him as "kid"; Gearly stepped away from Rain Maker, giving the winged mare some personal space as he looked down, thoroughly embarrassed and briefly dusted bits of debris and dust from his pelt. Then, with great visible effort, Gearly took a deep breath, holding it for a few short moments, forcing himself to catch his breath and calm his raging mind. Regaining a modicum of his usual composure, Gearly delved into his mind, doing best to recall the proper etiquette for a big city like Canterlot. Nervously, Gearly stepped toward the guard and smiled warmly, raising a hoof to hold it out toward the Lunar Guard in greeting. "E-evening, miss... My name is Gearly. Beg your pardon for all the...ruckus." The previous country drawl from his fit of panic was all but gone, replaced by precisely enunciated and carefully chosen words. The gear strung about his neck swayed ever so slightly from side to side, a pendulum retaining just the smallest part of energy from the jostling and movement moments prior. His mane, normally a mess, was hardly helped by the cool night breezes nor the clumsy accident from seconds ago. At this close distance, even in the poor lighting of the moon-lit night, every pony could see numerous tiny scars running up and down the lower part of Gearly's front legs as well as the chunk of flesh missing from his left ear. It seemed as though this colt had seen far better days, but his acutely battered and scarred visage did not seem to bother him in the least.