And have a happy new year and all that. Don't get too drunk.
Ramzam Member
Squeaky Boi
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Ramzam
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 255 (0.06 / day)
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- Ramzam 11 yrs ago
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Bio
Ah. I'm slow.
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Beeline | Bellbrooke Reform School
Beeline’s jaw shifted from sided to side as Worried Mind spoke. He couldn’t tell if the question came from ignorance, or somewhere else, but he could already feel the mood turning sour. Sourer than it already was. He had to change that.
“Is’not uncommon ta hold multiple titles,” he said, looking to Worried, “Hay, he already does. More importantly, there’s no kingdom to be prince of, here on Earth. Reckon a duke would have proper authority in this realm, given these colony towns are more or less their own states.” He cleared his throat and turned to the rest of the group. “Not like any of that changes the fact he’s payin’ us the proper amount fer our expertise.”
Beeline’s jaw shifted from sided to side as Worried Mind spoke. He couldn’t tell if the question came from ignorance, or somewhere else, but he could already feel the mood turning sour. Sourer than it already was. He had to change that.
“Is’not uncommon ta hold multiple titles,” he said, looking to Worried, “Hay, he already does. More importantly, there’s no kingdom to be prince of, here on Earth. Reckon a duke would have proper authority in this realm, given these colony towns are more or less their own states.” He cleared his throat and turned to the rest of the group. “Not like any of that changes the fact he’s payin’ us the proper amount fer our expertise.”
Beeline | Bellbrooke --> Bellbrooke Reform School
A pale green earth pony watched as Beeline fiddled with the straps on his armor, repeatedly tightening and loosening the bindings holding the plates in place. “Where ya headed so soon, Bee?”
“T’the reform school,” Beeline grunted after a few seconds, satisfied with the fit of his armor. It wasn’t until he was deep into his coat that his roommate asked a follow up question.
“What for?”
“A job.” He looked up from his coat’s zipper. “Didn’t say what fer, jus’ told me the pay was good. Kinda job only a pony o’ my caliber could perform.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder, the hunk of mismatched metals fitting into a pair of loops on his saddlebags. “Figure there ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a look, right?”
“But what about the artifact? You know, what we all came here for? You’re still going to help us, right?”
“Look. Fer all our sake, this magical, wish-granting whoozimawhatsit’d better be hearsay some merchant cooked up ta drive business out ‘ere,” he said as he adjusted his hat, “‘Cause I reckon if it is a real artifact, that can grant wishes...” With a derisive snort, Beeline stepped backward, through the doorway and out into the hall. “I don’t want any part in it. How do ya surmise Earth got the way it is?”
Beeline left while his friend was still distracted. He knew nothing he could say would dissuade the scavenger. The Artifact as he, and many others he’d come in contact with, had begun to call it, dominated every conversation. It was an obsession. Beeline could sense every ounce of it, and the simultaneous desire to feed upon and distance oneself from that gross mass had bred nothing more than resentment for his host.
He needed somebody new to latch onto. Preferably, somebody that wouldn’t lead him into a pit of greed and betrayal.
It didn’t take long for Beeline to cross the gap between the walls of Bellbrooke and the reform school. “Hello?” he called into the lobby as he shook the snow from his legs, “I’m here to see the headmaster.”
A pale green earth pony watched as Beeline fiddled with the straps on his armor, repeatedly tightening and loosening the bindings holding the plates in place. “Where ya headed so soon, Bee?”
“T’the reform school,” Beeline grunted after a few seconds, satisfied with the fit of his armor. It wasn’t until he was deep into his coat that his roommate asked a follow up question.
“What for?”
“A job.” He looked up from his coat’s zipper. “Didn’t say what fer, jus’ told me the pay was good. Kinda job only a pony o’ my caliber could perform.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder, the hunk of mismatched metals fitting into a pair of loops on his saddlebags. “Figure there ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a look, right?”
“But what about the artifact? You know, what we all came here for? You’re still going to help us, right?”
“Look. Fer all our sake, this magical, wish-granting whoozimawhatsit’d better be hearsay some merchant cooked up ta drive business out ‘ere,” he said as he adjusted his hat, “‘Cause I reckon if it is a real artifact, that can grant wishes...” With a derisive snort, Beeline stepped backward, through the doorway and out into the hall. “I don’t want any part in it. How do ya surmise Earth got the way it is?”
Beeline left while his friend was still distracted. He knew nothing he could say would dissuade the scavenger. The Artifact as he, and many others he’d come in contact with, had begun to call it, dominated every conversation. It was an obsession. Beeline could sense every ounce of it, and the simultaneous desire to feed upon and distance oneself from that gross mass had bred nothing more than resentment for his host.
He needed somebody new to latch onto. Preferably, somebody that wouldn’t lead him into a pit of greed and betrayal.
It didn’t take long for Beeline to cross the gap between the walls of Bellbrooke and the reform school. “Hello?” he called into the lobby as he shook the snow from his legs, “I’m here to see the headmaster.”
Honestly, the drawbacks of creating a direct portal to SPAAAAAAACE are enough of a deterrent. And an oldschool stopping rifle made too much sense for dangerous game hunter in a world like this. I had to.
Beeline
The Impostor
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31 | Changeling | Male
◇Physical Description◇
Beeline is a unicorn pony with a somewhat stocky, muscular build. His coat is light brown, and his mane is a sandy blond. He’s grown a chin strap beard, which he keeps trimmed fairly short. He doesn’t put too much effort into styling his mane or tail, and they’re often left to become scraggly messes. His eyes are dark green. His cutie mark is a black and yellow arrow, with a dotted line trailing after it.
◇Personality Elements◇
- Vigilant
- Curious of others.
- Values intelligent life.
- Practical
- Fond of telling stories.
- Howdy y’all!
◇Biography◇
- The discovery of Earth brought many things for the changelings, new opportunities chief among them. The Rending only made the jump to Earth even more attractive. Impressionable minds, individuals in need. The many external threats were a perfect distraction for more than a few changelings to slip in unnoticed.
One particular changeling warrior happened upon Beeline on his own in the wilderness, slew him, and took his place. He made his way to the nearest settlement, pretending to have lost his memories to a monster created by The Rending.
This new, amnesiac Beeline spent several years integrating into a group of scavengers and making a name for himself as one of the proportionately few civilians to successfully hunt and slay monsters. He fed off the group’s camaraderie for one another and reveled in the praise he received for slaying monsters in the defense of others.
The rumors of a great and powerful something in Bellbrooke have attracted his host group to the British Isles, just as they have attracted many others.
◇Skills and Talents◇
The original Beeline’s special talent was marksmanship. The changeling version is far from perfect, but has honed his skills and reached a very high level of accuracy, given his weapon of choice.
Years of hunting experience have taught him how to track other creatures and set traps, using both his tools and his magic.
Due to the nature of his species, he’s an excellent actor.
◇Relics, Spells, and Techniques◇
As a changeling, Beeline sustains himself by passively absorbing the positive feelings others direct toward him. Because of its necessity to life, his magical capacity and throughput are both very high, for better or worse.
- Transform: Beeline can transform into any living creature of a similar size to their own—provided they have a visual reference to base their new form off of. Maintaining the form is a subconscious act, and slowly drains their magical reserves. Halting the flow of magic in any way will cause the transformation spell to fail.
Siphon: Forcibly feed off another living, feeling being. It’s flashy, unpleasant, and entirely obvious what’s happening, both to the victim and to any observer.
Plant Emotion: Essentially the opposite of his siphoning spell, raw emotions (e.g terror, loathing) can be forced into the mind of a single target.
Levitate: Beeline can lift and manipulate objects in the same way a unicorn can. He’s had plenty of practice utilizing this skill, and can control several objects at once—most easily demonstrated when using his rifle.
Fire Portal: A powerful spell that creates a doorway between two solid surfaces. While the entrance and exit need not be in direct eyesight of one another, portals placed by estimate in unfamiliar surroundings can lead passengers to places far, far away from their intended exit...like inside a rock, or on the surface of Pluto. If either end of the portal closes on a solid object, said object will be split in two.
Conjure Illusion: Use moderate amount of energy to create the illusion of an object. The amount of magic used to increase duration and complexity of the image scales multiplicatively.
Cloak: It is not perfect invisibility; light twists and bends around him, and his silhouette is very easy to recognize if any sudden movements are made.
Smoke Bomb: Low-effort spell that conjures a cloud of smoke around the caster.
Shield: A relatively simple shield spell that takes the form of a curved field of solid magical energy. It catches objects and deflects them away from the caster. The more magic poured into the shield, the stronger it is.
◇Gear◇
A flask-sized, metal container, filled with photographs of himself and his hunting party. He’s never without it, in case he ever has to modify or temporarily abandon his disguise.
A massive, 2 bore double rifle with a falling block action. It was made specifically to be used by a unicorn, and lacks the grips or shape that would allow it to be (safely) operated by anything else.
20 2 bore cartridges, along with the manual and tools to make more.
A long, thin bayonet.
Travel Bags: A pair of large saddlebags, combined with a third bag on his back.
Hunting Armor: A combination of armor and reinforced clothing meant to protect the wearer from teeth and firearms in equal measure. Three massive, shaped durasteel plates cover his chest and sides, hidden beneath a leather coat with a layer of kevlar and padding sewn into it. More durasteel plates cover his joints and hooves. One last plate fits onto his hat, to protect his horn from any sudden frontal impact. Each plate has a circular engraving where it was shot to confirm that it is, in fact, bulletproof.
Making a character for this took a bit longer than I'd expected it to, but I finished in the end! So, here he is.
Meeting the 50K word goal in a month is quite a commitment if you aren't already used to putting out thousands of words a day. Even if, by standards of a lot of MLP fanfics, especially the bigger Fallout Equestria ones, 50K is short. In retrospect, late October/early November was probably not the best time to start an RP, given the existence of NaNoWriMo, because we're just along for the ride at this point.
Looking in the characters tab @Slypheed, it'd probably be safe to assume they're lieutenants until corrected, and just make an edit. That's the rank everybody else has gotten.
Looking in the characters tab @Slypheed, it'd probably be safe to assume they're lieutenants until corrected, and just make an edit. That's the rank everybody else has gotten.
With all the purpose in the world, Imir made his way across the base, eyes forward, hands at his side. He’d received the call, and he knew exactly where to go. Or, at the very least, he gave the impression of knowing where he was going. Every once in awhile, he’d glance around to make sure he was on the right path, before referring to the map he’d tucked into his sleeve—and then turn around once he realized he was heading the wrong way. Every time, he began to walk a little faster, and eventually, he’d broken into a half-jog, determined to be on time to his briefing. It was a great relief, both to his conscience and his legs, when he finally found his hangar, not a minute too late.
He squinted as he stepped from the overcast brightness of outside, to the dim light of the hangar. The GEARs were all arranged in a semi-circle in their jet forms. Close enough to be in easy reach of one another, but not so close that they’d collide. In the center, he spotted a very tall woman in uniform, standing almost unnaturally still. He couldn’t help but laugh a little—he knew the look. The fight to appear anything but nervous. And now, it was time to break the ice. “Commander Trenton?” He called out to her as he approached, straightening up and performing a crisp salute in her direction. “Lieutenant Kelsea, reporting for duty.”
He squinted as he stepped from the overcast brightness of outside, to the dim light of the hangar. The GEARs were all arranged in a semi-circle in their jet forms. Close enough to be in easy reach of one another, but not so close that they’d collide. In the center, he spotted a very tall woman in uniform, standing almost unnaturally still. He couldn’t help but laugh a little—he knew the look. The fight to appear anything but nervous. And now, it was time to break the ice. “Commander Trenton?” He called out to her as he approached, straightening up and performing a crisp salute in her direction. “Lieutenant Kelsea, reporting for duty.”
It looks like we're going to have a small squad this time.
Name: Imir Kelsea
Callsign/Nickname: Ray
Age: 28
Species: Hare
Appearance: 5’6”, ears not included. His fur is deep brown and becomes off-white toward the extremities, minus his ears, which have black tips. His overall build is that of a thin, longlegged athlete, with a perpetual scowl on his face. He grooms himself to the best of his ability and wears baggy clothing to make himself look bigger, but makes no attempt to stand out otherwise.
Bio: Imir is the eldest son of Amir Kelsea—one of the most accomplished living pilots in Arvara’s air racing circuit—and lived in a world of personal aviation as a result. Flying dominated his younger years, and he took up the yoke at every opportunity, but growing up brought along the realization that he’d struggle to escape his father’s shadow, driving him to more frivolous, grounded pursuits.
He’s a firm believer of strength in numbers and equates a large social circle with success, and his enlistment did nothing to change his desire for the good graces of all around him.
Service Record: Imir became a GEAR pilot and, like the many he joined, immediately blended in. He was proven exceptional on paper and in simulations. He performed well in the field and brought his GEAR back in good shape, and his posting provided few, if any, opportunities to distinguish himself.
When it came to finding pilots for the new V-GEAR squads, Imir’s high test marks and civilian pilot’s license made him an attractive recruit, despite his otherwise plain history.
V-GEAR assignment: VG-0A
V-GEAR Distinguishing features: His GEAR itself has no distinguishing features, but he does wear a pale pink flight helmet.
Personal Theme: Starset - Antigravity
Callsign/Nickname: Ray
Age: 28
Species: Hare
Appearance: 5’6”, ears not included. His fur is deep brown and becomes off-white toward the extremities, minus his ears, which have black tips. His overall build is that of a thin, longlegged athlete, with a perpetual scowl on his face. He grooms himself to the best of his ability and wears baggy clothing to make himself look bigger, but makes no attempt to stand out otherwise.
Bio: Imir is the eldest son of Amir Kelsea—one of the most accomplished living pilots in Arvara’s air racing circuit—and lived in a world of personal aviation as a result. Flying dominated his younger years, and he took up the yoke at every opportunity, but growing up brought along the realization that he’d struggle to escape his father’s shadow, driving him to more frivolous, grounded pursuits.
He’s a firm believer of strength in numbers and equates a large social circle with success, and his enlistment did nothing to change his desire for the good graces of all around him.
Service Record: Imir became a GEAR pilot and, like the many he joined, immediately blended in. He was proven exceptional on paper and in simulations. He performed well in the field and brought his GEAR back in good shape, and his posting provided few, if any, opportunities to distinguish himself.
When it came to finding pilots for the new V-GEAR squads, Imir’s high test marks and civilian pilot’s license made him an attractive recruit, despite his otherwise plain history.
V-GEAR assignment: VG-0A
V-GEAR Distinguishing features: His GEAR itself has no distinguishing features, but he does wear a pale pink flight helmet.
Personal Theme: Starset - Antigravity
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