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Age of Colossi (Bronco)(semi-closed, PM to join)


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The storm was raging as he went to bed, it seemed to be even more intense now, there was a flash of blue lightning directly overhead. Was he dreaming? his bed felt strangely hard, as he moved though the vertigo kicked in and for a split second he saw the ground rushing up to meet him. As he lay there he saw a shadowy figure walked towards him...




He woke up in a nice bed, though it was certainly not his own. above him was a steel plate ceiling, or rather, the bottom side of some other structure. The bed it seemed was built into an equally steel plate wall. It wasn't the most comfortable bed in existence but it seemed to be just comfortable enough. If he looked around he would seem to be in something like a wagon of sorts though ti was all steel. At a nearby table, also built into a wall -clearly this space was tiny and modular- sat an orange mare with magenta mane and tail. The strange thing about her that would make him question if this was a relative of a certain filly he might have met was the fact this mare had batwings and her eyes, though glowing, were mismatched. One was purple while the other was blue. The mare's cutiemark was also visible, a heart with a sword crossed in front of it. She seemed to be looking over a small metal picture frame that she was dragging her hoof across. She didn't seem to notice he was awake yet --- though he probably wasn't 100% sure he was awake either given the strange and bizarre circumstances he found himself in now. Also the discomfort from falling out of a tree that he had certainly not fallen asleep in. Everything seemed to have changed overnight...

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Patch rolled in the bed, bumping his snout against cold steel as he did so.  Recoiling with a grunt, his hooves shot to the assaulted portion of his muzzle as he rose in the cot.  After some aggravated rubbing he took in his surroundings, his hooves slowly dropping from his face as his mind was boggled.  This...this was not his apartment, instead resembling something similar to an operating room.  He squinted as he examined the mare across from his bed, following her movements as she scratched away at a picture frame.  Following her forelegs up to her face, the hetero chromatic eyes of what he imagined was a nurse of some sort served to peak his interest.  It was then the bat wings that completely jostled him from his groggy state.  He swung his hind legs out of the bed, allowing them to tap against the cold floor.  Bat wings told him two things: 1) this was not Manehattan General, as his hospital had no bat ponies in their employ, and 2) If he wasn't housed in Manehattan General, he was not housed in Manehattan.


"Saddle Ragers.....never again," was all he grumbled to himself.  Of course, he was referring to a popular concoction assembled by city bartenders.  Essentially a mixture of high proof ciders and energy drinks, Saddle Ragers made for fantastic benders.  It was also clear that the disheveled doctor believed his current situation to be the result of one said benders, and that he was merely far from home.


Perhaps further than he thought......             

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((since your profile doesn't say AND the post doesn't say, based on the fact he's a doctor... he's a unicorn. if he wasn't before, he is now.))


The mare looked over, tapping on the picture and sliding it into a strange amulet that consisted of a large flat green plate that looked about the size of a hoof, rimmed in a metal casing, she then slipped the amulet around her neck and walked over "Well if they're the reason you ended up in a tree, I don't suggest you mess with them again. Unicorns make poor birds" it was a bit of a harsh comment but the mare didn't seem particularly angry, just cynical "You can call me Scratch, I would ask who you are and why you were just a few yards from my campsite, but I'm guessing you have no idea of the latter, I just hope the fall wasn't so bad you have no idea of the former either..." she seemed to be showing a little concern at least - Scratch wasn't heartless, she just clearly had been through a lot and it left many scars on her psyche.


The room, now that patch was up enough to see it, was indeed quite small, with every free space used for cabinets and drawers. Though he wouldn't likely know what it was, there was a TV mounted on one wall along with the dining table, a small cook-space, fridge, and a small and non-private bathroom area. There were also two doors leading somewhere, marked in a language he wouldn't recognize, and a locked trapdoor under his feet leading down. light was provided by small ceiling-mounted light sources, and though the room was relatively clean, he would be able to spy a little dirt int he corners and a few screws here and there that were rusty. This place had been cleaned up and possibly remodeled, but it was also clearly very old. It seemed stable and sturdy enough though. The other word that most would use to describe the area was... cramped... it was designed for at most two ponies to be able to move around at once. Granted there were two beds, but it would be a close squeeze just to pass each other in the cramped quarters. 


The other interesting fact that he might notice was a complete lack of windows...


((Basically its setup like a 1-2 person camper, as you'll see there is technically room for 3 occupants but the main living space is small.))

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((Its fine, it happens, if you want to say he's always been a unicorn in this plot, you can, if you want to say he used to be a pegasus but is now a unicorn, I can work with that too))

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Patch eyed the mare, tapping his right hind hoof against the floor in thought.  His mouth hung slightly agape, as if he was ready to speak but couldn't quite form the words yet.  He did begin to pickup on the details of his environment, noting that there were far too many amenities for the space to serve as a surgical area.  He also noticed some new information regarding his condition.  If he indeed had been consuming such great amounts of the vial concoctions, he'd be experiencing some kind of hangover.  Instead, he found himself sound of mind and free of any head aches.  As puzzling as it was, his whereabouts couldn't possibly be the result of an enthusiastic night out.  That, or he was finally reaching alarmingly high levels of tolerance. 


"I got a feeling I didn't mess with them in the first place." he stated, more to himself than the mare.  He finally scooted off the cot and stood.  He remained steady, though he did feel stiff as he rolled his neck and allowed his horn to faintly glow.  The routine was over in a matter of seconds, leaving Patch relatively limbered and free to further investigate the room.  He had begun to move to a cabinet when the mare gave her name.  


"Patch," he answered as he continued examining the wall fixtures.  "And last I checked, my apartment wasn't a tree.  Rent's way to high for that,"  He finished with the cabinet, now directing his attention fully on his "hostess", noticing the frame she had been fiddling with earlier now hanging around her neck.  "Y'know that picture'd probably look better on a shelf."          

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((um, no, she put the "frame" inside the amulet, long story but its basically a high-tech bag of holding))


"Hate to tell you this, but your not Dorothy and this isn't Kansas" commented the mare, though probably completely aware that the stallion had no clue what she was referencing "Picture?" she asked, then she realized his mistake "you mean this?" she placed her hoof on the medallion and after a split-second it passed inside it and pulled out the 'frame' which she tapped and it sprang to life with a dozen smaller images "its not a picture, it's a device..." she sighed, thinking a moment "think of it like a window, it shows something elsewhere instead of what it is. They're a lot more versatile than that though" she explained "you must be another victim of Storm's L.E.A.P. program... my mother was too, and my... aunt" the pause mad it clear that the term wasn't exactly literal but it was the best, or most likely simplest, term the mare could think of.


She sighed "I'm not sure how to tell you this... but this isn't the world you knew, and I don't know of any way to send you back. There might be somepony in this world who does, but its not me and I'm..." she cut off suddenly, realizing she was about to either say something that she shouldn't have, or say something that would only confuse Patch more. 


"Since it looks like I'm going to be keeping an eye on you for a while. Are you hungry? I can fix something for you. I'm not a great cook but I'm better than my mom was" offered Scratch


((and and if it wasn't clear before, yes, this *IS* an adult scootaloo (and if you ask her, she'll openly tell you that's her real name), though granted very different to the one patch might have met))

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