Shanashie

As five sets of eyes followed the invisible line between finger and cloud, a flurry of movement drew their rapt attention. Descending from the fluffy cumulus was a large group of specks, growing larger as they raced down the mountainside. Even at such a distance the beat of wings flickered around the edges of each, surly marking them as some species of giant bird. Yet as the flock followed the gentle undulations of grass covered shale, their prismatic colours and shapes became more defined along with their oddities. Sinuous bodies seemed slightly too large and front heavy for the wings that propelled them along. Some sported long brightly coloured tails that whipped around in their slipstream. It was also quickly becoming clear that some of the bird-like creatures were also flying in tandem, large objects slung between two or three in a dint to spread the weight. Once they crossed tree line, the colourful shapes began to group together more tightly and allowed a V of bright white creatures to take the lead. At first it looked as though the spectrum of buzzards were headed for the lofty platue where the survivors stood, but their course quickly changed as though carefully coordinated. Unlike the collective behaviour of birds in flight, the large group seemed move on command, no stragglers as their course veered away towards the centre of the valley. Banking out across the canopy, the leaders twinkled briefly with the shine of metal as they flew parallel to the group of befuddled humans. Now looking out over the valley whole once more, the intended destination became much more apparent. Some had noticed the slight trail of steam before, but had put it aside as a trick of the light or 'yet more wreckage'. One thing was for sure, no aircraft wreck in the world produced that kind of smoke. Not without help at least. With a cautious, steady approach, the peculiar flock circled the growing column of vivid orange errupting from the woodland, far too brilliant in hue to be of natural design. Then the majority of the colourful creatures disappeared into the green canopy, leaving only a few of their white leaders still circling over the site. To even the most inexperienced mind it practically screamed; 'signal flare'.

Hello everyone, Shanashie Doodlebug here asking for a little advice from anyone free grey matter to donate. A little while back I started up a tumbler comic as a bit of experimentation. Each panel was a little different and tested new backgrounds or sketch details to see what suited the overall thing. When my PC exploded it kinda got shelved, but I'd like to bring it back to life. However I'm at something of a loss on how to proceed; which style of production I should use for the comic's appearance? If it's okay with everyone, I'd bung a few of the more diverse panels up here to get some opinions. Any comment will help, even just stating what you particularly like or dislike about them. Suggestions for improvements or stylistic changes would be brilliant and highlighting particular areas where I need to improve even better. Thanks for everyone's time and keep doodling my fellow artists! Full colour and shade (takes FOREVER) Block shaded background, colour models Pastel wash background with greater detail. Hand writen speech. No colour background, some simple shading. Colour figures, Text speech. Full pencil shading, no colour. Text speech with colour indication for character. (fave so far, but that bee-course I lazee.)

@Starshine By now the displaced serenity surrounding the stalwart humans was beginning to wane, now lingering as a disquieting sense of nostalgia. Though the smile remained on the dead girl’s face, it had fallen slightly and was marked with confusion as she listened to Chandra’s accusation. ‘But... We have explained.’ Stammered the voice, as though it simply couldn't grasp the problem, ‘The six have escaped. Without them, we crumble. What more is there to this tale?’ @Scoutaloo Originating from somewhere far above, an ominous groan seeped into the clearing. Not unlike the bow of a ship straining against a fearsome storm, its texture suggested ancient timber rather than rock or metal. ‘Guardians are the sword, Harmony is the shield, together they protect those which cannot protect themselves. For this, the world bestows its gifts. It shall grant... no, awaken your strength, should you chose to pursue it. What we ask ’ @InvisablePinkUnicorn Tiffany’s eyes seemed to glaze over, the fey-fire dimming for barely a heartbeat along with the strange alien feelings. This time the groans were much closer, the snap of living wood somehow echoing around the survivors despite the lack of surrounding cliffs. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the creak faded and the child’s stare resumed, listening closely as the stalwart woman spun a most logical argument. Much of the more technical side of Kat’s carefully chosen words seemed to slip by entirely, but the core message seemed to reach the disembodied voice. ‘We see now. You comprehend some, but cannot trust that which you do. We thought the knowledge of this vessel would bring adequate ‘translation’, as you say. But it is lacking. We fear, conflict is unavoidable, lightly entered or not. The six will see you for what you are and even if you do not seek them, they may yet seek you. If your strength drives you to speak with them, perhaps you may break through the madness of centuries. ‘But those that remain within are of one voice; Labyrinth’ @All At this word, spoken by both the ethereal voice and the girl before them, an almighty cacophony broke across the clearing. Within the façade of the great door, renewed cracks began to rapidly appear, splitting the dark surface and throwing out black splinters as the dead-yet-alive wood finally began to give under the strain. ‘Time is at an End. We cannot stay.’ Spoke the voice of Labyrinth, still seemingly calm as its vessel stood and craned its neck to gaze at the braking gateway. Progress of the sundering cracks gradually slowed to a trickle. A long pause drew out the moment into an uncomfortable silence as the vessel seemed to collect its thoughts. ‘...Amarok.’ Three pairs of eyes opened at the sound of the familiar name, one focussing on the figure with a look of mild interest whilst the others scanned both the gate and the humans respectively. ’They will need a shard.’ Huffing dismissively, the giant wolf settled back down and continued to watch the hairless apes, a warbling growl resonating from deep within its chest. ’Please?’ Reluctantly the wolf stood and turned towards the door. Leaning in close, it’s leftmost head began to bite at the surface and pulled away a splinter in its teeth. With an almost nonchalant toss of its head, the beast spat a tiny black shard down the steps before resuming its comfortable spot on the cooling marble. Once, twice, thrice the heavy splinter bounced down the dark stairway, shimmering slightly in the daylight with each rebound. Finally, it came to rest at Kat’s feet. Up close, the grain of fossilised wood was easily visible in the four inch splinter, jet black and cold as stone, yet somehow still alive, as though pulled from the trunk of an oak. Carved into one face was the top half of a thin winged snake, the other sides splintered where they had parted the greater structure. Tiffany wobbled slightly as tiny motes of dust began to peal away from her broken body, swirling through the air towards both the gate behind her and the abandoned shard. ’If you will not believe, then our sorrow knows no bounds. This was our only time to speak. Holding this gate commands our will, and we must release this vessel. Though we may never gain your trust, we ask but one thing. As you journey this world, carry this shard with you. This vessel, this ‘Tiffany’, she can aid you.’ The boom of splitting stone filled the clearing once more, even the seemingly sedate birds taking flight at its thunderous resonance. ‘We can delay no longer!’ shouted the voice, sounding panicked for the first time since the conversation began. Tiffany had begun to dissolve in a cloud of swirling dust, the motes streaming from her wounds and winding their way down into the broken shard at Kat’s feet. ‘We charge you with her protection. Should you seek a way back to your land, you will find it within the city of ivory towers.’ Soundlessly, blinding light flooded from the growing cracks on the towering gateway, searing the eyes of the mortals that stood before its brilliance. For a moment the world was white and silent, as though existence itself had been sucked from around the hapless onlookers. And then it was over. A gentle breeze began to rustle the high branches of the pine forest, sweeping away the void that the light had left behind. Though the steps of black marble remained, as did the hulking wolf guarding them, the gate had all but vanished. Gone was the living black stone, replaced by simple hune granite, carved in the likeness of a simple yet giant doorway. Devoid of the strange alien feeling of sanctuary, the clearing now felt like the cold, empty mountain side that it was. “Labyrinth!” The week cry was distant, broken as though its owner was hoarse from shouting. At the foot of the mountain, a tiny transparent figure pounded her fists against the unforgiving granite. Barely more than an outline remaining, a stream of dust still flowed away from her and into the black shard, drawn like a party of ants returning to the nest. “Labyrinth, come back!” Tiffany shouted, voice falling to a whispered plea as the last vestiges of her form vanished with the trail of coarse dust. “Don’t.. leave... me.... alone.....” And just like, that the survivors were alone on the rocky ledge, standing before what had once been the gates of Tartarus.

The dead girl’s eyes turned to look upon Chandra, a kind smile upon her features as though child and adult roles were reversed. ‘Aramok is the first of wolves, an old friend called in an hour of need. In his eyes this mountain is his territory, and you are prey within it, such is the way of wild creatures. He obeys out of respect, not fear or a desire to please a master. Would you enslave a friend for their nature?’ Interrupted by humanity’s herrold before she can continue in earnest, Tiffany’s features fell slack at the damning list of sins Kat laid bare. Never once did they approach anger, but a deep sorrow seemed to sweep everything about her frail body, as though she understood this pain, but could no longer feel it herself. For once, the lips of the child moved of their own volition, though no omnipresent voice followed their whisper. ‘Sorrow. This form, unfortunate, yet necessary. Only vessel close enough willing to embrace us.’ The voice paused again, carefully considering a way to express itself without causing even more harm than it already had. ’The seventh brought your sky-sword, your ‘aircraft’, and drove it at the heart of Tartarus. It sought to sunder the gates and succeeded in wounding us, stripping those who would not return to aid our vigil. We will hold, but crumble soon, unable to protect the fulcrum beyond. There are no others to bare up the sword, Harmony ‘the shield’ reigns in this world. Yet you survived such devastation, and Guardian's are not chosen lightly. Even we did not believe in the beginning, but we grew in strength and bore the sword where others could not... Yet we are bound here.' Again the pail lips moved, this time framing their words but little else. Perhaps she was discussing strategy, or maybe forming silent reassurances to herself. Either way, it was several moments before the voice spoke again. 'We do not demand or enslave. We beg.'

”Peace?” Though her pleasant smile of almost motherly concern remained, the dead girl’s voice seemed to take on an edge of sadness. ”No. Guardians chosen in war, not peace. She said plainly, a sorrowful frown overtaking the aberration’s features as she regarded the shaken survivors. “A shame, but necessary. Follow. Time short.” Turning to regard the shattered doors, Tiffany raised her good arm and reached out, a sense of displacement stealing over the scattered group as her fingers somehow reached the obsidian surface. None had so much as taken a step, yet suddenly they were mere feet from the dark marble steps, still in their relative positions as though the world had bent around them. Yet here, closest to the ominous structure, serenity seemed to permeate the very air. Around the carved entrance the sunlight seemed warmer, yet kind, tinted by an ever present summer breeze. Rough shrubs that grew from fissures in the mountain side already played host to bird song as the local fauna began to return, apparently unfazed by the destruction wrought so close by. A strange feeling began to seep into the minds of the survivors, different for each, as though some motherly figure were trying to comfort a crying child, but wasn’t sure how. Aramok, the daemon wolf, stalked up the marble stairway towards the slowly cooling wreckage that besmirched the otherwise empty doorstep. With all three heads working in unison, he shouldered the cockpit’s remains off the edge of the plinth, revealing the red hot stone beneath. Satisfied yet showing no sign of approval, he padded circles for a moment before laying down on the blistering surface, watching the humans with a look of predatory menace. This close to the gates, the extent of the recent damage was even more obvious. Radiating from the shattered seal high above them, long splintering cracks ran like a spider web across its textured surface. Portions of the delicate carvings looked ready to fall out at any moment, yet held firm as Tiffany ran a pale hand across them. Turning back to the group, the little dead girl took up a seat on the marble steps and forced a calm smile back onto her worried features. “Betrayal most foul, shattered these gates and many lives. You have our sorrow. Time short, as must the explanation.” ” If every grain of sand were a star, every beach a galaxy, then every world would be a cosmos unto itself. Everywhere else, would be possibility.” ”For every thought and fantasy, for every inspiration and dream, a new cosmos is born from possibility. This is the function of life.” ”To keep balance, avoid collision and devastation between worlds, a fulcrum records existence. That is the function of this plane.” Tiffany’s smile intensified into a warm grin as her glowing eyes turned back to the wreckage further down the rocky slope. ”The gate stands vigil over the Fulcrum, the will of the first Guardians. Their spirits reside within, yet not all willingly. Six have escaped, a seventh betrayed. Many perished, including this vessel. Yet you live. You have been chosen. Find them and return them.” “Ask your questions. Time short.”

It was a sound strategy. The beast’s weakness was becoming all too clear as the three heads wrestled to find a suitable target without being encircled itself. Whilst the loud crash of cane on metal kept pulling the attention of the left wolf, the central head tried to keep up with the moving monkeys. All the while rocks and debris bounced from its impenetrable hide, prompting the beast to turn to each of its attackers as the projectiles struck home and adding to its confusion. This was most perplexing to the wolf; food was not supposed to fight back. Most critters foolish enough to enter its territory would be fleeing by this point in terror, indeed it could smell the reek of fear on their very breath. Yet these beings were standing their ground and harassing it as though they had a chance against the apex predator. And then the stalemate was unexpectedly broken. A shriek of pain echoed across the circle of survivors, one now clutching at its smoking hand as the red-hot metal dropped from its grasp. Ears pinned, its nose flaring at the smell of burning flesh and stretch of fear, the beast barrelled through the circle of humans, snarling like a bottled hurricane. Knocking one unlucky survivor into the air, its powerful hind legs braced against bare rock and propelled the beast across the open ground in the blink of an eye. @agent505 For Myra, the world was suddenly full of fur and fang. Violently tossed by the impact, she skidded into the fresh wreckage, the air driven from her lungs as a colossal paw swatted down upon her frail form. Pinned beneath the beast, three sets of yellow teeth greeted Myra as the world swam back into focus. The central head drew back, opening its colossal maw and--- @Skyfire Blinking, Morgan finds that the world has finally stopped spinning, though he is now upside down.... and in a tree by the feel of things. Pine needles were biting into his back and his shoulders were resting on two convenient but uncomfortable branches. The daemon hound had rushed clean into him, brushing the slight youngster into the air like it was making a graceful field goal. All considered it was a miracle he was still breathing. However, it looked as though the same could not be said for his comrades of misfortune . From his vantage he can still see the scene taking place below (errm, above), perfectly placed to look upon the beast as its maw opened and bit down into its prey. @All ‘Amarok’ Near silent, yet heard by all, the voice seemed to resonate in the very bones of those that bore witness to its majesty. The haze swirled with its power, drawn into thin lines along with the thick smoke and thrown into the sky. Far above the speckles of colour retreated as the storm was brushed aside by an ever expanding ring of open sky. At the commanding word, the beast had halted with its dagger like teeth mere inches from Myra’s face, giving the woman an unpleasant view of its chasmous throat. Exposed beneath breathtaking sunlight, the scene of the accident revealed itself. Flight 201 had clearly been split mid-air, its passenger section and wings falling into a dense forest before rolling to a stop in the bare rock clearing. A path of destruction had been cut into the landscape leading up to the bulk of the cabin, the tail segment resting a hundred yards further up the slope. But it was what lay some way further up the rocky clearing that drew the awe of onlookers. Carved into the side of a rising cliff of quartz speckled granite was a door, ten stories high and made of onyx so dark that it seemed to suck light from its surroundings. Across its surface intricate patterns of serpentine creatures weave in and among one another, each making up the form of another larger serpent. At the heart of this colossal structure was a magnificent raven perched upon a shield like seal.. Or at least there would be, if there hadn't been a gaping hole right across the seal, exposing the rock face beneath and showing the door to be no more than a façade. At the foot of the great doors, crumpled across the onyx steps lay the wreckage of Flight 201’s cockpit. Just in front of this twisted wreckage was a tiny figure, stood stock still and staring at the scene of destruction that lay before them. It was slim, barely visible at this distance. ’Heel.’ Once more the voice rattled the teeth of those watching the diminutive figure. Hearing its master’s voice, the daemon wolf pulled swiftly away from its catch and slunk towards the middle of the clearing. A hand, barely more than sinew and bone, lifted to stoke the wolf beneath its chin, the child like spectre having suddenly appeared at its side. A few felt a sickening recognition come to them. Face torn yet clean of blood, one arm shredded to the bone and eyes reflecting the monster’s own, the child stood cradling ‘Amarok’ lead head like a long lost friend. Unlike the other survivors her skin was clean of soot and other than her obvious horrific injuries from which no blood seeped, she showed little sign of trauma. Still clutching the remnants of her stuffed doll, Tiffany surveyed the slowly gathering humans, burning yellow eyes watching with a strange cross between curiosity... and unconditional love. “Guardians.” her disembodied voice spoke, now ever more familiar to those who remembered her in life “Rejoice. You are Chosen.”

@@Agent505, @@Starshine, Despite their enthusiastic waving and calls towards possible rescue, the flashes of colour within the clouds remained mostly oblivious to the excitement below. Across the crash site their voices rang, drawing the heads of the few survivors on the ground and that of a small smudge of colour within the gathered thunderheads. For the blink of an eye, there was what could have been a tiny face looking down through the storm. @,@, At the excited yells from the wreckage, the beast tuned its rightmost head towards the commotion, dropping a chunk of cabin from its jaws and twisting its long tufted ears to pinpoint the source. Suddenly it growled up at its central brother. Pupils like the black gates of hell focused as the the pack-leader snapped around, setting its sights on the new prey now visible through the waning smoke. Snarling the beast twisted its whole body around with unnatural agility and charged... It is worth mentioning that a three headed wolf, terrifying as it may be, is not a democracy. @, @, From inside the tube like tale section, the snarl was more 'felt' then heard, like standing too close to a base speaker at a night club. A half second of anger flickered across the canine features as the smell of burning fabric met the wolf’s sensitive nostrils, then another of confusion as the head was forcibly pulled backwards. Too deep within the twisted framework, the anchored seats latched onto the wolf’s coarse fur and were pulled along with the creature, the entire superstructure lifting several feet off the ground before what had once been the floor finally gave under such punishment. Debris of all kinds was flung across the crash site, not to mention no small amount of luggage. But one other thing had also happened in the brief chaos; In its panic, the left head had inhaled. @All As the gargantuan beast bore down on the scrawny monkey things, the lead head received a rather important message; its nasally gifted brother was on fire. Twenty yards from its prey, the other two heads joined their ablaze sibling’s yowl of pain. Dust choked the air as the huge beast flailed, violently clawing at its own face in an effort to dislodge the burning cussion. Finally the offending upholstery was launched into the air by a violent sneeze, landing barely a foot from a survivor*. With a guttural growl of frustration, the beast rolled back onto its paws and briefly nursed its wounded head, trying to blow the remaining ash from its nostrils. The central head looked up again towards the survivors as the beast limped a wide arc around them, waiting for the ample moment to charge the herd of strange animals. *(That was lucky, wasn’t it?).

@, The beast's stare seems to penetrate everything in the tiny cabin, boring through the brave woman and out into the nothingness beyond. The great nose twitches with a mighty breath that ruffles fallen oxygen masks and whips at the women's hair. Straining against the crossed purposes of its vitally attached siblings, the giant head slowly moves deeper into the cavern it has found, drawing in the scent of fresh breathing prey. At last reaching the first row of chairs to have survived the impact it begins to nuzzle around the edge of them, as though searching for a large enough gap to precede, its flaring pupil-less eyes still staring unblinkingly into the darkness.

@@Agent505, @@Starshine, Though the thick smoke still obscures much of the crash site, small patches of sunlight are starting to appear amid the open ground. What had started as a regular storm is now behaving rather oddly, seeming to focus its deluge on the burning fuselage and anywhere the smoke is still at its most dense. Emerging from the wrecked passenger cabin, the intense rain briefly drives the smoke back, revealing a patchwork sky above. For a moment, there is a flash of colour, almost like a large bird flittering around the edge of the cloud line before the rapidly billowing smoke once again obscures the view. @,@, With a screech of tortured metal, one of the many far flung pieces of fuselage disappears over an unseen precipice. As the air begins to lighten, the outline of the wreckage becomes easily discern. From the look of things, Flight 201 split almost in two, the majority of the forward bulkhead left a little ways down the hill and the tail section laying upside down to the north, its engine shadow rising like some hunched whale in the fog... The engine moves. At first, with so little detail to hand, it looks as though the whole cylindrical formation is beginning to roll. Yet there is no sound, just a shadow against a deeper shadow, now gradually slinking its way along the rain soaked wreckage. It quickly becomes obvious that this was not part of the plane. In fact, with the way it seems to slide around strewn wreckage and sniff at windows, one could be forgiven for thinking the enormous shape was somehow alive. @, @, … It starts as a muffled grunt as a slight shudder passes through this section of the plane. So close to the metalic gash that would spell freedom from such an abhorrent place, yet a flicker of movement briefly draws away thoughts of escape. Another survivor! No.. wait. There it is again, a shadow passing briefly in front of the windows, far down the other end of the aisle. Above the thunder of rain and cracking of dying flames, there is another, more organic sound. Breathing... Deep, almost cavernous breathing. There’s something out there. Freeze! The shadow passes by swiftly, a jagged outline of fur visible through the nearest window as it closes on the only way out. There, it pauses, sniffing, tasting the air. A body laying half out of the fissure twitches suddenly, the shadow looming close to examine the strange find. First to appear is the nose, sleek, glistening and above all, huge. Then a muzzle; stretched and wolf like, as wide as the corpse's torso. Jaws snap quickly in consideration displaying canines like carving knives. Not a breath, not a sound. Frozen in horror at this gargantuan monster that now seems to be tasting the body before you with a long blood red tongue. Suddenly! A rumbling growl resonates through the metal tube, the whole tail section of the plane lurching with the as a second wolf-like head shoves under the first and bites down on the corpse, lifting it away as though it weighed nothing at all. Tantalised by the sound of tortured metal, a third canine head appears and latches on to the breached wall of the aircraft, tugging at the thin surface before receding to spit out the unsavoury fibreglass. Dismayed at its brother’s impatience, the first swivels quickly to bite back, only to freeze mid lunge. Eyes aglow with unearthly orange light focus on the darkened aisle. A snarl curls onto its black lips. It can smell something else here.

Unlikely Guardians It's a beautiful evening across the coast of Florida. Gentle surf caresses the shoreline, twinkling like a diamond necklace encircling the sunshine state. Out across the perfectly flat countryside a small twisting storm lazily showers empty fields, the dancing droplets casting a waterfall of rainbows from its tall flanks. Twenty minutes out of Miami, a young girl gazes through a window in awe at the wondrous landscape laid bare before her. Tiffany Shears had never been flying before and had been unbelievably reluctant to even step on-board flight 201 to Miami. Any normal five year old can be quite the handful at the best of times, but this goes doubly for young girls with a higher than average IQ. Where other children her age were scared of fictional monsters that lurked in dark closets and under their beds, Tiffany’s fears were rational, if a little dramatic. She had spent the last three days watching YouTube video’s about aviation disasters and had come to the conclusion that ‘flying’ was something worth being scared about. Sweet distractions had kept her from making a scene in the departure lounge. Yet, to her mother’s eternal surprise, the moment the aircraft left the ground Tiffany had grown silent, grinning madly at the sudden rush of acceleration. As soon as the seatbelt light went off, the curious girl had struggled out of her seat and pressed her nose to the window. These few hours had the been the best of her short life. Even when the plane began to get bumpy and she had to sit down again, she had revelled in the strange sense of vertigo that rolled around in her tummy. The world was so pretty from up here. Some children never know what they want from life. But right then, Tiffany knew. Hugging her stuffed horse to her chest, Tiffany turned to her Mother and said “Momma. When I grow up, I wana fly an air-plane!” “That’s wonderful sweetie.” Expressed her mother with a waxing smile, relief washing away her own anxieties over air travel. In the aisle between seats, a flight attendant pushing a trolley of empty plates grinned down at the little aviator’s enthusiasm. “Ain’t that just precious?” She said, leaning over the pair with a conspiratorial look in her eye, “Ya’ know, if you ask the captain real nicely, I’d bet he’d let you look around the cabin if ya’ like?” "Really!” Tiffany’s eyes sparkled at the prospect as her mother lifted her over to the aisle and began to follow the stewardess towards the awaiting cockpit. Briefly they stopped at a large reinforced door and Tiffany was lifted up by her mother so that she could speak to the pilot through a small wall terminal. The newly discovered aeronautical enthusiast took her first steps to the amazing and complicated world of flight, even if it was from the vantage of her mother's arms. There were so many dials and buttons, screens and indicators, the purposes of which eluded her even after the pilot explained their function. "And this, is the Altimeter." The captain continued from the comfort of his chair of command, happy to have an audience that reminded him so much of his own family back home. "It tells us how high the plane is. Then over here we have are Navigator, Mr Victor." Tiffany glanced at the the third man in the room, receiving a strained smile and a wave before he turned back to his own complicated set of instruments. His brow creased in confusion as he called the co-pilot over for a talk. Mother and the Captain started talking to one another, so Tiffany tuned them out to stare instead at the boundless sky beyond the thin cockpit windows. It was almost completely clear out there save for a few cumilous... and. . . "What's that, Mr?" asked the girl, pointing at a ghostly light that had appeared some way in front of the plane. Expecting to see some passing bird or particularly strange cloud, the captain's mirth fell short at the sight of the shimmering incandescence. It was as though a soap bubble the size of a sports hall was expanding mid air about a kilometre ahead. "I'm not entirely sure actually. Perhaps a weather balloon catching the sunlight-" "John!" his co pilot cut in "We're getting some really weird pressure readings. I think we’re headed for turbulence." "Looks like we'll have to cut the tour short, I'm afraid. Julia, can you take Mrs-" And then, the world exploded. Brilliant light flooded the cabin as the entire plane lurched sideways. There was the brief sensation of weightlessness for Tiffany as her mother's feet left the floor and was slammed into the cockpit wall. All at once the light and thunder vanished, the following moment of darkness shattered by the shouts of the cabin crew and the screaming alarms. Too stunned to even cry out, the confused child blinked the stars from her eyes, one hand across her ears whilst the other clung desperately to her stuffed animal. Through the now darkened window, a layer of thunder raught clouds parted before the plummeting aircraft's nose, revealing the arid mountains rushing up to greet them. There was no time to panic. There was only fire. And then... nothing. ------------ The acrid scent of burning plastic assails your nostrils, ripping you from unconsciousness with a fit of hacking coughs. All around you are the remains of flight 201, its metal frame ablaze with spilt fuel and hissing as the first spatters of rain begin to fall upon the disaster. Thick smoke rises from the wreckage, forming a tumultuous cloud pitted with rolling embers that blocks what little sunlight might have escaped the thunder-heads above. Good thing too, the lack of light prevents you from making out too many abhorrent details of the other objects scattered across your field of view. Many look as though they were once human. Somehow, despite the carnage, you are alive. Then, in the distance... was that movement? Another survivor, perhaps?

The Expedition Wrapping the sleepy town in an aura of placid warmth, the early morning sun crept along Ponyville’s empty streets and glinted off the windows of closed stores. Unlike the surrounding farmland, whose diligent owners had been awake long before the cockerel crowed, the township was still cradled in Luna’s realm of dreams. All except one young mare, who stepped through the creaking doors of ‘The Buck and Barrel’ inn and took a deep breath of morning dew. Beneath Celestia’s iridescent sun a rich butterscotch mane shimmered like velvet, still damp with the reminisce of her refreshing shower. Even her light pinto coat appeared almost as amber as the youthful eyes that drew in serenity of the silent town. Feeling the moment pass and her senses fully roused to meet the new day, Peanut Butter adjusted her saddle bags, checked the pack was secured properly across her withers and tilted back her straw hat to set her sights on the road ahead. As she trotted towards the yawning fields of green boarding the town’s southernmost edge, she found her mind once again dwelling on the momentous opportunity ahead of her. Only a week ago she had been running around the Mild-West, trekking for days at a time across dusty prairie in search of lost Buffalo burial sites. Whilst Peanut was not blind to insulting intention of the posting, she had always seen the frontier as an adventure and a half. Of course her opinion had gradually become less enthused by the end of the sixth month of chasing rummer and folk tales, but the stories she had come out with! Buffalo were truly fascinating, even if the crust of Canterlot showed little interest in her excitable papers on the matter. Returning from such an unsavoury task, she half expected to find herself relegated to some archivist post to keep her out of the way. Imagine the filly’s surprise then when a professor handed her an invitation to take part in the greatest scientific expedition of her generation! She had been nominated for the team investigating the old capital of Equestria, the fabled ‘Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters’, deep in the Everfree forest. That relic of a bygone age was practically overflowing with artifacts, lost archives and ancient architecture, all preserved by the sickly magic that had branded the surroundings a truly wild environment. It had taken almost a day for her to stop hyperventilating. Now that the young field researcher’s glee had finally calmed to a minimal bubbling anticipation, she couldn't help but wonder ‘why me’? Not that she was ungrateful for the opportunity or anything, just having her name on the team list would see her reputation improve ten fold, but there must have been a dozen more of experienced linguistics experts and cryptographers that would be a better choice than her for a mission of such historical importance. As the base camp came into view, the pinto briefly shivered at the thought that some of those very ponies would probably be in the team with her. After years of being the ignorable thorn in the frog of the archaeology community, she’d actually be rubbing withers with some of the great names of her chosen field... hmm, maybe that wasn't such a good thing.. oh well. With a barely noticeable prance in her step, Field Assistant Peanut Butter finally entered the boundary of the half packed camp, and was immediately stopped by the sight of several armoured clad ponies mingling within their own segment of the camp. Whist she had expected some manner of protection against the forest’s less huggable fauna, this seemed a bit much considering they’d have a local guide to keep them from the most dangerous paths. There must have been more than a dozen well equipped guards, almost half the number of researchers and far to official looking to be a simple security force. “Are you lost, Ma’am?” Asked a deep voice, its tone utterly devoid of enthusiasm or humour. Snapping from her contemplative trance, Peanut turned her head to acknowledge the Earthpony guard that had spontaneously appeared behind her. “Hmm..What? Oh, not exactly no. Just surprised to see so many of you here. Glad to see the government take the search for lost history seriously, given they usually treat it like a bag of live snakes.” “The Crown always takes always takes matters of national security seriously Ma’am.” Replied the guard levelly “I'm going to have to ask you to move along though, we’ll be moving out soon. Is there anything I can do for you?” Peanut blinked momentarily at the stallion’s choice of phrasing. It sounded as though the expedition had received some royal attention, perhaps even an extended grant! “Right, yeah. Umm, well I am looking for lead Archivist, that's the chap in charge of the expedition. I’m their linguist kinda' sorta' maybe. If you could point me his way Sss-” At this she glanced at the guard’s shoulder plate, “-arrgent, I’d be very grateful.” The guard gave a slow nod and pointed off towards a pile of crates, “Professor Ambigram is supervising the last of the supply check. Or at least that’s where I saw him pacing around last.” With a word of thanks the filly turned to trot off in the indicated direction, only to halt short once again as the name registered. “Wait. Ambigram is here?” She asked to the open air, not realising the guard had already gone back to organising his company. Picking up the pace, Peanut rounded a dwindling stack of supplies to see a crowd of research students piling crates onto their backs. In among the unambiguous volunteers, one unicorn stallion with a pelt the colour of desert sand cut a wide oval through the cloud of semi-organised chaos. The perpetual frown and slight twitches in his copper tail broadcast his mood to everypony in the area: Professor Ambigram was worried. This in and of itself was not unusual, the stallion being of that bookish sort not used to the great outdoors. What was unusual was the simple fact that he was there at all. Peanut had vaguely known that her one time lecturer was organising this little foray, but the nervous stallion was the very opposite of a ‘field operative’. Pausing to gauge the flow of traffic, the pinto mare quickly darted into the fray, muttering apologies as tales were stepped on and flanks bumped out of the way. At last she drew up alongside Ambigram cleared her throat. “Excuse me.. professor?” Still staring the clipboard floating before his eyes, the distracted unicorn remained oblivious to the polite call for attention. "Professor? Professor??" Keeping pace with his slow walk, Peanut tried again and was met with similar results. Finally she hopped ahead of him and brought a hoof up to bat away the clipboard. “Peanut Butter, Field Analyst and junior linguist.” Chirped the filly, holding out her hoof with a winning smile, “Pleased to meet you again, Professor Ambigram!”

Now that, I like And now it turns out that you need a minimum number of characters in these posts, so; Weeble wobble booble de bo! EDIT! YAY MUFFIN! Lets go!

Cool. I was thinking about a pegasus adventurer with a jungle hat, maybe with dash's body shape but recoloured Either that or an earther archiologist, maybe with a slightly silly name, like PeanutButter.