Hey y'all.

My collection of Jittery Dragon YTPs got damaged during a disk transfer and the torrent from which I got them from seems to be dead.

I was wondering if any of y'all could send me the videos.

Exactly as the topic says.

Chomper in LBT II was too immature to speak but in LBT V, he's matured to the point that he can speak as well as the Gang of Five.

Since he was with his family and wandering through the Mysterious Beyond, I seriously doubt he learned Leaf-Eater from his parents. And I seriously doubt any leaf eater would get close enough to Chomper to teach him. And of course, he's probably not likely to learn language from his prey.

And when they lived on that island, I doubt there were too many leaf eaters to start with.

So my question is, who taught Chomper Leaf-Eater?

Or phrased differently, how did Chomper learn to speak Leaf-Eater?

This is intended to be a spin-off of the living vehicles that have appeared in the Insane CafÈ roleplays.

I'm not sure of the plot yet.

However, I do have a twist. The vehicles are "living" but they have Human riders (much like horses). The vehicles have full control over their bodies and electronic equipment. However, they cannot reload, refuel or repair themselves as they no limbs.

I had planned that one player plays the rider, the other plays the vehicle.


I'm open to ideas.

Hello y'all. This is my second Darwin's Soldiers story. It is centered around Sharon Varma and it takes place between the first RP and the second RP.

Now, I, Serris, proudly present:

Kinsey's Mimic

This story is rated PG-13 for profanity and intense violence.




Chapter 1:

Sharon Varma panted as she wrestled with a broken lamp from one of the overhead catwalks. Smooth saxophone music ó as well as the odor of beer, slightly rancid frying oil and sexual arousal ó wafted up from the dance floor. Through the small crevice exposed by the lamp’s removal, she saw a two completely nude Black Mambas coiling around a metallic pole.

Deftly switching from a wrench to a screwdriver, she was partway through unscrewing the lamp assembly when the voice of her supervisor echoed up from the ladder.
“Joan Kierwal! You’re next on the performance roster!”

Sharon Varma ó or Joan Kierwal as she was known to everyone ó groaned. “Let me finish fixing the light first!”

“Understood!” The supervisor’s footsteps gradually faded away as she went to attend to some other business.

Sharon unscrewed the lamp and managed to replace the burnt out bulb in a few seconds. Two sweaty minutes later, the spotlight was plugged in, focused and properly trained on the stage. The woman tucked her tools back into her tool belt and climbed down the ladder.

When she reached ground level, her tongue lolled out of her muzzle as she panted deeply, trying to cool herself off. Thankfully, her fur wasn’t too sweaty. She helped herself to some water from the nearby fountain.  She sighed as she drank; the overhead catwalks were incredibly hot and stuffy from all the stage lights crammed into them.

Her supervisor, a lithe Key Deer, burst out of the office. “Joan! Your show’s starting in two minutes! Get dressed now!”

“Hey! I’m trying to cool down a bit!” Sharon snapped as she took a break from lapping up the water. Her ears splayed back slightly at her supervisor’s horribly grating voice. Hilariously, she also served as the MC for the strip shows. How she managed to attract ó let alone retain customers ó with that voice remained a mystery to the Dhole.
“On stage or you lose spot in line!” The Key Deer took a quick look in a nearby mirror to ensure that her makeup was still intact before she returned to her office.

Sharon scowled and her lips involuntarily peeled back, revealing her fangs as she finished drinking. She said nothing as she headed to the dressing room and opened the door.

____________________________

“This is fucking undignified!” Sharon fumed as she took off her tool belt and hung it from a hook near a box filled with all sorts of lighting bric-a-brac. A slightly stained T-shirt and some beat up blue jeans joined the belt.

The Dhole looked at the faded poster of a very buff Percheron mare with several coils of cable draped over her well toned shoulders. The mare in question was the lighting technician before Sharon was hired. The woman scowled as she looked at the picture; it was quite clear that this wasn’t a candid shot.

Mindful of the ticking clock, Sharon quickly donned the sari that was her “uniform”. Luckily, a helpful guide was taped onto the mirror. After a few final adjustments, she gave herself a once over in the full length mirror. The garment’s orange and red embroidery meshed perfectly with her reddish fur and brown eyes. She shook her head. The supervisor probably gave her this uniform and routine because she was of Indian descent ó never mind that fact that Sharon had never left the United States in her life and knew little, if anything about the culture of India.

“Joan! You’re on!” a stagehand shouted from outside the dressing room.

Sharon sighed as she walked out to the stage. She could already hear the lilting sitars from the Bollywood music that they saw fit to accompany her performance with.

____________________________

The Dhole stepped onto the stage and sniffed the air. The scent of turmeric and incense wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of greasy bar food and cheap alcohol, forming an unholy olfactory mix between a Hindu temple and a strip club. She frowned as the overly strong scents stung her nostrils. Coiled around the stripper pole ó decorated to look like a mango tree, complete with fake mangoes at the top ó was one of the stagehands/performers, Vivek Chottara, a slender Common Krait.

“Ready to get this show on the road?” he asked, slithering down the “tree” and wiping his hands on a rag he had dangling from a belt. As was his custom, he preferred to work naked. Granted, being a reptile, there wasn’t much to see, just bluish black body with contrasting white stripes that slashed across his back.  

“Bite me,” Sharon muttered.  

Vivek, not having heard her, simply slithered into the backroom and retrieved a large wicker basket, which he placed in the middle of the stage. A dulled talwar in its sheath rested atop the wicker basket. The Krait quickly checked a nearby mirror to see if his fang guards were in place and the headband was secure. The fang guards were soft silicone sheaths intended to cover the fangs of venomous snakes to both protect them from being broken by impacts or accidentally poisoning someone. Consequently, they found numerous uses in everything from law enforcement to healthcare to performance and martial arts. Satisfied that everything was in place, he tossed his rag aside, replaced it with a dulled short sword and slithered into the wicker basket and covered himself with the lid.

“And now presenting, the two deadly beauties, Joan Kierwal and Vivek Chottara!” the MC boomed.

“Let’s do it!” Vivek said, his voice muffled by the basket.

Sharon sighed and picked up the talwar as the curtains rose. The sitars were joined by the buzzing drone of a pungi and the hollow beat of the drum. She moved slowly to the music, taking care to emphasize her curves and the fluid movements of her sari as she slowly gyrated to the music.

She bared her fangs and flattened her ears as she danced, emphasizing her predatory nature. Everyone gasped as she unsheathed her sword and flipped the lid off the wicker basket in one lightning fast movement. As soon as the lid was off, Vivek rose from within the basket. He flicked his forked tongue in and out as he weaved to the music, his white stripes seeming to glow under the stage lights (no thanks to the oil he had covered himself in). His baton was a blur as he adroitly gyrated, tossed and caught the spinning object.
   
The two performers seemed to slow down as the music descended in intensity. The guests held their breath as the music rose to a crescendo with heavy piano beats and a fortissimo choir ó in Hindi, naturally ó joining in. The two performers immediately struck fighting poses. The music suddenly slowed down, causing the audience to hold their breaths once more…and then it happened, hammering electronic beats and a lone female singer burst onto the track.

Taking it to be their cue, Vivek and Sharon rushed into battle. The crowd gasped as Sharon leapt backwards and twisted away from one of Vivek’s strikes. The Dhole retaliated with her own slashes, which the Krait adroitly weaved between, intentionally showing off his oiled body.

The crowd cheered as the fight continued, with neither combatant getting the upper hand. The clashing of the weapons was easily audible over the loud music and cheers. Again, the music slowed down. Sharon took this cue to slowly begin stripping off her sari, while at the same time, warding off Vivek’s attacks. The crowd hooted and cheered as they saw more of her red fur exposed.

Sharon took a breath as the music began to rise. She got her sword ready and took a swipe at Vivek, who easily dodged it and retaliated with one of his own. The Dhole twisted her body away eliciting several cheers as her tail whipped through the air. By now, the music had come to its height with the female vocalist practically screaming in ecstasy and the two dancers swiping and parrying with such speed that their weapons were barely visible. Soon, the strip club became a gladiator’s arena with the spectators betting on the fighters.

And then it was over. The clatter of the weapons was replaced with appreciative whistles, claps, hoots and cheers as the two bowed and posed with their weapons amidst a shower of cash.  

Sharon bared her teeth as she felt someone stuff something in her panties. The hand holding her talwar twitched; for obvious reasons, its edge was unsharpened but it was a real sword and a blow from it was perfectly capable of breaking bones. She reminded herself that in this strip club, tipping dancers by putting money into their underwear was not only accepted, but expected.

As for Vivek, the patrons stuffed their tips into his belt or into the headband of his fang guard.

____________________________

Sharon washed her face in the locker room as she changed back into her jeans and t-shirt. All in all, she had made about five hundred dollars in tips ó and that was after the house fee and the club’s cut. All in all, it made the wages she got as a lighting technician look like nothing ó hell, it was well below minimum wage! No wonder so many of the workers also pulled double duty as strippers!

“Looks like those fencing lessons I took for shits and giggles back at Pelvanida were useful after all,” she muttered.

Next to her, a Gypsy Vanner mare was busy adjusting the feather plume on the incredibly gaudy nylon halter she wore. Judging from her lean muscular frame ó and belt with a Beretta 92 pistol, Taser, handcuffs, canister of 2x spray (effective against mammals and avians) and flashlight resting in the open safe ó she was probably one of the club’s bouncers.

Sharon said nothing as she gathered her belongings. She looked at the clock ó 7 PM, the end of her shift. The Dhole watched as the security guard turned stripper exited through the door to the stage. She exited into the parking lot and into the hot desert air. The Dhole sighed; the sun was still up ó albeit lower in the sky. She shook her head; she had enough erotic dancing for one night.

The Dhole got into her pickup truck and started the engine. She smiled as she heard the low growl of the diesel. Shifting the truck into gear and turning on some industrial rock, she pulled onto the road and headed for the Vegas suburbs where “Joan Kierwal” lived.

____________________________

Sharon pulled into her cactus and gravel lined driveway. It was the same house she owned when she worked at Pelvanida but courtesy of a few well-greased palms, it belonged now to a Joan Kierwal who bought it from a certain “Rama Vashron”. Unlocking the door, she stepped into her foyer and inhaled. Even though to a Human, the air was bland and scentless, to Sharon’s canine nose, she could smell the cumin and turmeric that permeated the air ó leftovers from last week’s dinner of catfish and shrimp with yellow curry. There was also the scent of gun oil wafting from her upstairs safe, where she kept the AK-47 she “liberated” from one of the terrorists at Pelvanida when she helped repel the assault.

All in all, it smelt like home.  She flopped down on the couch and turned on her TV. She scowled ó nothing but crappy talkshows. The Dhole sighed as she dipped into the half eaten bag of catfish jerky on her coffee table. As she did so, she uncovered what looked like a piece of aluminum foil folded into a pamphlet.

She picked up the pamphlet and opened it. Maybe a night at the Vegas Strip would help. But first, dinner.  
____________________________

The sound and scent of exotic spices frying permeated the kitchen of her house as Sharon tossed some tomatoes and eggplants into the sauce.

The Dhole tossed in some catfish filets and squid pieces and let them marinate. Hanging in her combination dining room and kitchen was a metal plate with a rainbow patina on it. But this was not any piece of metal; her fellow Pelvanida mechanics bestowed this on her when news came of her acquiring a new home. On it was her name carved in superhumanly fine calligraphy ó courtesy of a CNC laser milling machine. She smiled but then sighed as she realized that for as long as she lived, she would never be able to set foot in that location ever again.

Saying nothing, she ladled the savory mixture over some rice. The Dhole took a bite of the mixture and smiled. Just right. She slowly ate her meal, wanting to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

Her clock chimed ó 8:30 PM. Leaving her plates to soak in a sink full of soapy water, she wiped the sauce off her muzzle and headed upstairs to change into some clothing that wouldn’t get her mistaken for maintenance or thrown out for violating the dress code.  

A few minutes later, she was clad in a basic long sleeved shirt and some pants. Her heavy work boots were traded in for some basic sneakers. Throwing some spare cash into her wallet and pocketing it, she headed out into her truck and started the engine.

The Dhole smiled as some music (industrial rock as usual) came on and she pulled out of the driveway and into the surprisingly empty street.

____________________________

A few minutes later, she was on the busy highway to the Vegas Strip. She cursed as she slammed on the brakes to avoid rear-ending someone who abruptly pulled out of an onramp and in front of her.

Heart pounding, she signaled and got onto an offramp where she joined the many travelers to the Vegas Strip. Soon, the dark desert highway gave way to the psychedelic neon lights of the Stripe. Even the drugstore she passed was neon lit. As she drove through the billboard and marquee lined street, one particular advertisement caught her eye. It was an electronic billboard, with digital green ó the color reminiscent of the earliest computer monitors ó hexagons slowly fading in and out of existence as a casino-hotel’s name appeared on it.

“Hmm,” Sharon said, reading the billboard as she slowly drove down the crowded streets. “I’ve never been to this casino before.”

She made a left turn down one of the streets, and continued down until she could see the casino’s sign.

The Dhole rolled her eyes as she saw the sign, a gaudy affair of “digital green” hexagons and the casino-hotel’s name ó Neo Hong Kong. She pulled into the parking garage and paid the attendant. She did a double take as she saw that said attendant was wearing a head mounted display attached to his glasses. Head mounted displays had been on the market for the last few years but weren’t common outside certain professions like mechanics, surgeons or other similar jobs. But despite their unpopularity, they still had a certain futuristic cachet that appealed to a certain niche. Nevertheless, the average person didn’t want to wear something so obviously expensive and inviting to thieves ó hence their low popularity amongst the general public.

As she drove into the garage, she noticed something. Compared to the somewhat clean and finished garages of the other casinos, Neo Hong Kong’s parking garage had a very rough look to it with exposed pipes and electrical conduits, as if the construction crew had left their job half-done.

When Sharon parked her car and got out, the hot dry air ó despite it being nearly 9 PM ó caused the Dhole to start panting. At the same time, she noticed the odor was very different than that of the other parking garages. Instead of the smell of exhaust and desert air, this garage had only what could be described as “the stench of an industrial city’s underground”.

Scowling, she entered one of the rooms containing the elevators that would take her to the casino and hotel proper. The Dhole groaned as she looked at the floor. Corrugated steel. She was already beginning to regret this idea.

____________________________

Emerging from the elevator, she stepped onto hallway that was decorated to look like the concrete sidewalk of some gritty city. The Dhole moved near a trash can to avoid the crowd as she pondered what she should do. Curiosity overtook her and she peered over the side of the railing. Thanks to artfully concealed projectors and skillful architecture, the hallway was crafted to resemble the elevated walkway of some futuristic megacity. She could even see flying cars and jetpack wearing figures flying “below” and “next” to her. Hidden speakers provided the droning hum of these imaginary flyers. Flashes of tourist cameras contrasted with the “streetlights” that bathed the area in a sickly blue-white glow.

Looking out over the railing, Sharon could see projections of said futuristic city’s skyline with black neon-drenched monoliths soaring into the smoggy dusk sky (courtesy of fog machines). Above her on nearby “skyscrapers”, fake ads for various augmentations and cybernetics bathed the area in a pallid neon glow like beacons from a future that never was. Exposed pipes, electrical wires and conduits slithered along the walls like metallic worms; she had no idea which of the wire and conduits were real and which were props. Even the stores got into the act with faux-grungy storefronts and Chinese characters adorning the signs. All in all, it was William Gibson’s wet dream.  

Sharon shook her head. Theme hotel-casinos were a trademark of Vegas. This cyberpunk styled hotel-casino was no different from the Luxor hotel with its faux ancient Egypt theme.

The Dhole passed by a vendor selling snacks and all sorts of trinkets from a stand that had been crafted to look like a street vendor’s cart. Rolling her eyes, she purchased a cheap keychain. The metal charm was surprisingly heavy in her hand. Curious, she took a closer look at the keychain, finding it to be a simple metal tube with LEDs that flashed “Neo Hong Kong”. She pocketed the keychain and continued on her way.

Her stomach growled as she walked along the “elevated walkway”. Sighing, she scanned the area for a restaurant. A stained and blinking neon sign bearing Chinese characters and the name “Big Wong’s CafÈ” attracted her attention. She rolled her eyes as she dodged a Shetland Pony mare, leading her colt by the wrist; Las Vegas was not a family-friendly destination. A crack was heard as she stepped on a discarded soda can.

Sharon kicked the can aside, letting it fall into the gutter where it joined a bunch of other debris. Apparently, some of the patrons got a little too into character and threw their garbage right on the floor, forgetting that Neo Hong Kong was actually a rather expensive and fancy hotel ó not a shithole city out of some ë80s cyberpunk flick. The Dhole peered through the restaurant’s greasy window plastered with tattered and stained papers advertising assorted Chinese dishes. She sniffed the air; she could smell General Tso’s catfish, stir-fried rice with dried squid and shrimp, catfish chop suey and other low-class Chinese-American dishes. Her stomach growled. The Dhole gave the food one last look. The catfish slabs and fillets dangling from metal hooks in the window looked rather dried up and the reddish paste that passed for “sauce” that covered them appeared to be mostly grease.

She sighed. The food was cheap and she was too hungry to really give a damn. She pulled open the glass swinging door and stepped inside. The inside was almost as nasty as the outside. Stained and cracked red tiles gleamed in the dull light that streamed from industrial style caged lamps fixed in the ceiling. A mÈlange of languages ó English, Spanish, Cantonese and a whole lot of others she couldn’t identify ó mixed with the pounding breakbeat that emanated from a greasy, beat-up boombox on the counter. The odor of rancid grease threatened to make her empty her stomach and the music was starting to give her a headache. Despite this seeming squalor, the restaurant was actually quite crowded.

Sharon stood in line for takeout. When it was her turn, she placed her order of white rice and General Tso’s catfish. In mere minutes, her meal was packaged and handed to her. As she passed over the cash to pay for the order, she got a good look at the cashier’s face. He was relatively young Chinese man with his half of his face slightly scarred up and a distinctly artificial left eye that glowed a soft blue in the dim lighting. While she had previously seen the cashier when she placed her order, she didn’t get a good look at his face. Sure, she saw the artificial eye, but she assumed that the eye and scars were part of a mask intended as a costume for the staff.

They weren’t. Now that she got a good look at the man, Sharon was now almost certain that the man’s artificial eye and scars were completely real. The Dhole simply shrugged as she exited the cafÈ. Artificial eyes did exist and were commonly used to repair blindness. Of course, the eyes were not perfect and the user did end up slightly near-sighted ó not to mention, most of the users preferred their artificial eyes to look nearly identical to natural eyes.

Her ears pricked up at the faint whine of servo motors. She turned her gaze to one of the cooks, who was cutting up a catfish slab. Sharon noticed that the big Water Buffalo’s right arm was a powerful gleaming construction that looked more at home on an industrial robot that on a living being. And that arm didn’t look like a costume.

The Dhole exited the little restaurant. She had seen two people with prostheses openly flaunting them; most users of prostheses preferred to keep them as natural looking as possible. Sharon scratched her head, maybe keeping inline with the dirty cyberpunk theme, management encouraged workers with prostheses to flaunt them?

Oh well, it wasn’t her concern. Weaving her way through the crowd and being careful not to spill her food, she made her way to a small dining area that was set in what was made to look like a city park.

Sharon opened her package of food and took a deep whiff of her meal. She sighed. Low quality spicy sweet sauce and frozen catfish filets fried in slightly rancid peanut oil. Well, that’s what you got in a Vegas casino-hotel for $6.00 ó crappy food.

Snapping her set of chopsticks, she began eating her meal. She sighed as she saw the fake neon ads for augmentations. If only she hadn’t been fired and blacklisted from nearly every research institution in the USA, then she’d be working to bring those ads to life. The Dhole shook her head as she cracked open the bottle of ice-cold soda and took a sip.

A few of the staff passed by her as they emptied the garbage cans. The Dhole said nothing as she finished off her meal and got up to throw her garbage away. She suddenly stopped she passed one of the janitors; a familiar scent had suddenly wafted past her. She discreetly sniffed the air as she approached the man. She bared her teeth as she suddenly realized where she recognized the scent: Howard Hicks, the disgraced Pelvanida scientist who held Doctor James Zanasiu hostage during the Pelvanida Incident.

Wait! Hicks’s a Dragonstorm scientist! But I thought he went to jail for the Dragonstorm debacle! I was at the trial and I distinctly heard the verdict of “guilty”. Sharon thought as her gaze lingered on the thin Human.

“Can I help you?” Hicks asked as he tossed a trash bag into his cart.

Sharon’s ears flattened against her skull as she tried to think of something. “Uh, no I’m just pondering where to go.”

“I suggest the casino floor. It’s below this one.” The man headed off to continue his duties.

That’s definitely Hicks. Not only does the scent and appearance match, so does the voice, Sharon thought. I just hope he didn’t recognize me.

She then sniffed her clothing and her eyes widened. She didn’t wear any perfume. Oh well, most Primates ó Humans included couldn’t detect, let alone track a scent. Unfortunately, their vision was much sharper than of Canines ó especially when it came to close-in detail. And Hicks had a good, long look at her face.

The Dhole sighed, something was up and she was going to have to find out. She looked around the mass of people. Hicks had melted into the crowd and vanished. Sharon rubbed her temples with her hands. Maybe some gambling would relax her.

She got up and merged into the crowd on the “elevated walkway” as she made her way to the casino level.

Soren Almaya awoke to the bleating of his home security system. Quickly throwing on his glasses, he hastily punched in a combination to enter his environmentally sealed and fireproof control center. Taking a seat in the main console, he gasped.

The bright red letters on the screen told him all he needed to know.

Threat: Fire
Location: Home workshop

Swearing profusely, he immediately ordered the CO2 fire suppression system to activate. The next words caused his heart to sink:

CO2 FIRE SUPPRESSION SYSTEM IS OFFLINE

To make matters worse, another warning came up:

WARNING! POSSIBLE INTRUDERS APPROACHING HOUSEHOLD!

"Oh no," Soren muttered. Thinking quickly, he unlocked his gun safe and grabbed his Remington 870 shotgun. Despite the fact that compact laser weapons and magnetic accelerators existed and were commonplace, standard firearms were still very popular -- despite modern armor rendering them mostly obsolete. This was mainly due to their relatively low cost, low maintenance and sheer reliability.

He switched on the external cameras and saw a group of figures running away from his house. He also saw red and blue lights in the distance heading to his house.

He'd wait until they arrived before he got out of the safe room.

Help! Help! We're being oppressed by the wood stocks!

Explanation: on various gun forums such as www.thehighroad.org, arguments between fans of AR type black rifles and fans of wood-stocked rifles like the M1 Garand can get quite nasty.

Exactly like the "What Are You Thinking About" topics.

What was the last thing you did?

Don't get too personal!

------------

Last thing I did: learned a bit of hand-to-hand combat (probably enough to defend myself - and to make my fight scenes more realistic) from an active duty National Guardsman who's a member of the science fiction club.

Silver Bolt sighed as he trudged through the stainless steel hallways of the mine entrance. It was his seventh year working as a hard rock blaster with Platina Mining Corporation.

It was difficult and dangerous work but the owner of the company, Rarity, paid him handsomely for his work.

Today, he would be working with Sweetie Belle and Ann Foe to open a new tunnel.

He finally arrived in the staging area and looked at himself in the mirror. A black Unicorn stallion with mismatched eyes stared back at him. His glowing white eye blinked with a clicking noise. He winced as he recalled how he had lost his natural eye.

--------------------

It was his sixth month on the job and he was assigned to work in the then newly excavated tunnel six with Saxifrage and Sledge.

"So how's Rarity treatin' ya?" Sledge asked in an attempt to make idle conversation as the elevator descended into the depths. All he got in reply was the whirring of the elevator's powerful motors.

He turned to Saxifrage, a wiry Unicorn clad head to toe in heavy dull grey armor. Saxifrage's expression was unreadable underneath the helmet that covered her head. Even her horn was protected by a sheath of metal. Attached to her back was a set of saddlebags that contained an emergency air supply and magic transponder in case she got trapped or the life support. On her haunch where her cutie mark would be located was a  

The elevator jolted to a stop as a sign above the door lit up with "Tunnel Six - Level nine".

The whir and clank of the heavy Core-II mining exoskeletons the three ponies wore echoed through the tunnels as they stepped out into the mine.

The rest of the journey was in silence as they approached the rock face.

"Let's do this," Silver Bolt said. Luckily, the Core-II exoskeletons had radios so they could communicate easily.
   

--------------------

Silver Bolt shuddered as the rest of the memory came flooding back. All he could remember was a powerful explosion as he was using his magic to bore holes so Sledge could place the charges and then waking up in the hospital.

He shook his mane out of the way and moved forward towards the sliding metal door labeled "Mine Entrance - Authorized Personnel Only".

"Welcome Silver Bolt," a feminine voice said. The voice was a synthesized rendition of Rarity's voice.

"Greetings, Elusive," Silver Bolt replied.

As soon as he said that, a section of the floor slid back, revealing four metallic hoof boots. He stepped into them and the boots gently clamped around his hooves as multitude of metal arms came out from behind various ports with pieces of his exoskeleton in hand.

He stood still as the exoskeleton was assembled around him. The last part was the helmet, custom made to fit him. As the helmet was lowered onto his head, the ring on his horn was connected to the suit. The ring in question augmented his magic powers.

The second to last piece to be installed was the high energy magi-gem battery that was slid into a port on the suit's back. As soon as that was installed and connected, the whir of the suit's powerful motors coming to life could be heard.

A set of armored saddlebags containing an emergency air supply, clean drinking water and and emergency transponder was lowered on his back. There was no need for a girth as the saddlebags were actually bolted onto the armor.

Silver Bolt was soon able to look at himself in the mirror. He saw a hulking Unicorn clad in a heavy dull grey exoskeleton. Two glowing patches (in the shape of Rarity's tripe diamond cutie mark) on his croupiere replaced his cutie mark and his exoskeleton had his cutie mark engraved on the peytral.

He then stepped through the door and headed down the hallway to the staging area where the elevators were located.

Caption away!

Hasbro tries to capture the military science fiction fan demographic.

Info on Darkstone

The Plot:

The land of Uma is being threatened by Drakk. Drakk used to be known as Drakil Tanin, a monk serving under the Goddess of Life, Kaliba. However, his thirst for power lead him into the black arts of necromancy. When his fellow monks discovered the experiments he had done, he was banished from the order. Unfortunately, that was not enough; with the help of his minions, he wreaked havoc in Uma for decades. But some brave adventurers defeated and imprisoned him with the help of an artifact known as the Time Orb. Drakk's reign of terror was at last over. The Time Orb was then shattered into 21 separate crystals, each entrusted to a guardian who would give it only to one pure of heart. Peace quickly returned to Uma upon his defeat and soon after centuries, Drakk's reign of terror was soon forgotten.

But the Time Orb's power weakened throughout the centuries and Drakk has escaped his crystalline prison and his reign of terror began anew. Aided by a mysterious artifact known as the Astral Hand, he has gained the ability to morph into a massive Dragon at will. But the Astral Hand holds even more power and if he were to unlock that power, he could challenge the Goddess of Life, Kaliba, herself. The burden to stop him now rests on a new group of adventurers.

But Uma has changed with the times; Ardyl has become a verdant park that is home to those who wish to preserve elements of Uma's past; Marghor has morphed into a gritty industrial area; Omar has morphed into a vast subterranean network of mines and refineries. And Serkesh was once a bustling residential and commercial area but with Drakk's arrival, it has become a mass of abandoned buildings and assorted monsters.

Character classes

Cleric (Priest/Priestess)
Mage (Wizard/Sorceress)
Rogue (Assassin/Thief)
Warrior (Knight/Amazon)

Left is the male variant, right is the female. There are no specific differences between the genders.

Anthros (even legendary creatures) as well as Humans are permitted as characters.

1 "true" (full profile) character per player.

"True" characters are allied with each other.

Rules

Shopkeepers are controlled publicly (anyone can do as they see fit with them, as long as it makes sense in continuity and they do not kill them.)

Quest NPCs are publicly controlled. If they are intended to betray you, please let the GM know.

Spells need to be learned from spell books.

Any class can use weapons and wear armor of any other class (Wizard can use a bow, Thief can use a war hammer, etc).

However each class specializes in certain type of weapon (they can attack faster, hit more often with the appropriate type of weapons but they will get better at using weapons outside of their type if they keep using them):

Warrior: swords, axes, machetes, etc.

Mage: staves, scepters, etc.

Rogue: bows, throwing knives, throwing axes, slings, shuriken, etc.

Priests: maces, war hammers, pole arms (halberds, pole-axes, lances, tridents, etc), clubs, etc.

Modern firearms and weapons are present but somewhat rare. Improvised weapons are also usable.

Quests are generated here. Obtaining a crystal ends the quest (group either returns to town or opts to continue). Then someone else generates a quest.

There are 4 lands:

Ardyl
Marghor
Omar
Serkesh

Ardyl is the first (and least dangerous land) and Serkesh is the last (and most dangerous land).

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