Scribblegroove

@@Midnight_Aurora Greshken was shocked. Not by the story that Dashia was telling him. It left him virtually untouched. No, she mentioned a minotaur. One of his kin. Family. "What!?" He grumbled, standing up and looking her in the eyes from across the fire, the flames in between them casting shadows in the area around them. There was pain in his eyes. Panic, desire, hatred. "Where!? When!?" He almost shouted at her. "We are with so few. We were scattered. I haven't seen one of the pack in years!" He cried out. Immediately he felt that he was going too far. It was alright to let emotion overtake you, but he was not one to lose control over it in such a manner that it was visible on the outside. As long as reason reigned in his mind, intuition and feeling was alright to a certain extent. The fact that she had called him a friend did not go lost on him. It confused him as well. Why did such a small, meaningless word touch him? He clenched his fists together and breezed through his nose once. He grabbed the bottle of heavy liquor and chugged the rest of it down. He threw the bottle to pieces against the wall far away from them, it's shards not flying far enough to harm the ponies around the fire. He was most definitely drunk now.

@@Midnight_Aurora, @@Chip Circuit, @@Unicorncob Greshken accepted Crackshot's bottle of applejack daniels. He put it to his mouth and downed about a quarter of the bottle, before putting it down in front of his hooves before him and frowning. He then burped very uncourteously, and took another swig, though it wasn't as large this time. The alcohol didn't seem to affect him that much (endurance 10), but it was clearly stronger than the whiskey that Crackshot had given him earlier. Chip approached as well now. He inquired him about his name, and if he could be a part of the feast as well. "You are welcome to eat with us." He said to him. "And my name is Greshken Brasshide." He added. Taking one of his own steaks from out of the rims of the fire, he brushed off some of the coal and chowed dow, eating half of it in one mouthful. He held the meat in his hand as he chewed, and listened to the others. He was completely oblivious of Chip's emotions for Dashia, and didn't really understand what he and Crackshot were doing. He was already confused by Dashia claiming she didn't eat meat, but her sob story didn't exactly make it better. "Your tears are a waste, and in vein. What use it is to sorrow in reflection of your past while your future lies ahead of you. As broken and torn as the world may seem, your eyes should be clear to see the shards as they are, and find a way to put them back together." He said to her with an unforgiving voice. Clearly, he had little empathy for her. He chomped away another bit of steak and looked away from the drunk mare's shameful display. The fact that she had already gotten drunk of such a tiny bit of alcohol made him think less of her already. "My plan can wait. Let us sleep first." He mumbled to crackshot, who had voiced he wanted to hear his plan before.

@@Unicorncob @@Midnight_Aurora Greshken sat back as he started rubbing the white horsenettle petals between his fingers. It stung slightly, but he didn't mind. After it had been grinded to a reasonably fine powder, he started rubbing it into the dried gecko hides, along with a little turpentine to wetten in again. He spoke as he was working. "My history is a long one, with many black and red pages. It is also a story I share with only my closest of friends." He said without looking up from the hide he was working with. "But if it truly matters to you, I've been a slave for the last couple of years... Until you liberated me." With that, he looked up at Dashia, who had approached as well. He was far from perceptive, and he lacked a good amount of empathy (Perception: 4, Charisma: 3), so he failed to notice that she wasn't happy with the meat at all. "Have you come to feast on the spoils of my hunt as well? You are welcome to, I have gathered more than enough for all of us." He said to her, inviting her to come sit with them by the fire. He had finished rubbing the horsenettle into the different colored hides, and soaked them in more turpentine. They would heat up quite badly. Carefully, making sure not to spoil the meat he had been so carefully preparing, he tossed the hides into the heart of the flames. There, they shrunk and crumpled, but they didn't wither or burn. The smell of burning fuel wasn't too pleasant, but he hoped his companions could ignore it. His hands were awfully dirty, but he didn't seem to mind. He was offered a drink, which he gladly accepted. He grabbed the bottle out of the air and put it to his mouth. He swallowed once. The bottle had lost half it's contents. He grinned at Crackshot. "Good stuff. Have you got anything stronger? I'd like to be drunk right now... It helps me sleep." His voice was a little bit more bright now. Before he had always been grunting a little, but his voice had raised a few notes because of the drink.

"I did." Greshken answered to Crackshot. "And I returned." He continued. Turning over a few of the steaks, making sure they didn't burn, he looked Crackshot. "With food. You ponies seemed hungry, so I reckoned I'd bring you some." He added. He noticed the mistrust in the stallions voice. It was mutual. "Come sit with me. The fire is warm and the meat is plenty."

His heavy hoofsteps made thumping noises as he treaded through the wasteland in the dark. Bighorners weren't quick to make a run for it, even if something large was approaching. The animals were far too proud to be weary of predators stronger than them, and that had always been their downfall. Bighorner meat had always been one of Greshkens favourites. There were plenty of them everywhere in the wastes, and they always yielded lots of food. The horns made great toothpicks as well. But peering through the night, he was also looking for something else. Something quite valuable. Years and years of surviving in the harsh environments of the swamps and deserts, he had learned of the protective properties of Gecko hide. They could be used to make very powerful armours, and provided resistance against all sorts of dangers. All he had to do was find a few of the ugly critters, and he'd be able to craft his current armour into a more powerful, gecko-backed one. As he was scavenging for wood he'd need for fire, he realised there was already a fire burning back at the barn. Of course, the virus was right in there, and he wasn't too sure how safe it was to cook food over it. So he kept on collecting branches, breaking them off a lonely dead tree. He also grabbed as much white horsenettle as he could find. Those little flowers made a very potent poison that could cause nausea and hallucinations. They were also one of the requsites for tanning gecko hide, so he was glad he could collect a few of the flowers to use later. It didn't take him very long to find a bighorner, resting in a crevice between a few rocks. Usually, bighorners travelled in packs, so he made sure no other animal would notice him and proceed to charge at him as he was making his move. With a quick swing of his hammer he knocked in the creatures skull, instantly killing it. He did so with every bighorner around, collecting a hefty bounty, 8 pieces of bighorner meat. Hunting these creatures wasn't very exciting when they were asleep, and Greshken was quite dissapointed that not one of them put up a fight. Then again, he was glad he didn't have to go through the trouble of fighting one. As he was walking away, he retrieved the firewoord that he had put away on his path back to the barn. He then turned around, crouched down and waited for a moment. His instinct told him that these bighorner carcasses would attract the nocturnal gecko's around the area. After all, they tended to scavenge the remains of other animals prey instead of hunting themselves. It took a while, but eventually he heard the reminiscent hissing of the annoying little culprits. Unlike bighorners, they tended to run away from him, and they were very hard to catch up. Therefore he had to be sneaky, and make sure he wasn't noticed until he was too close. Distracted, the geckos didn't turn around from the bighorner corpse to see him. They were far too busy claiming as much of the remaining meet for themselves. Three of the little ones were already in his range, so he decided to act efficiently. With a sideways swing of his hammer, he knocked out and killed two of the Geckos, and knocked the other one out by kicking him as hard as he could. Immediately he leaped forward to strike one of the bigger ones with his hammer. This one took more than one hit, but he seemed dazed by his force. A second to the belly ended the poor creatures struggle. One more fell to his hammer, but after that all the geckos had ran away, and he knew he wouldn't be able to catch up with them. "Five hides..." He grunted. Two of them gold, one red and one green. It would be more than sufficient for his new armour. He used a small knife to skin them, and after the bloody work was done he left the dead Geckos around the bighorner, leaving quite a strange monument to the other wildlife in the area. A hunter was around... He returned to the barn he dropped the wood outside. Going inside, he noticed everypony was gone, but he heard voices coming from outside. Thankfully, they were still around. He went upstairs to see if he could find a few bottles of turpentine. They would halp making a fire a lot easier. The previous occupiers of this building were quite fond of burning things. Usually live victims, covered in flammable liquids. He had seen it with his own eyes. So there should be some of the stuff lying around somewhere. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for, and coming back outside, he set up the wood for a proper fire, and lighted it using a bit of hay he found in the barn. In minutes, the fire was already quite strong, but when he poured one of the several bottles of turpentine he found on it, it started blazing like a proper pyre. He used the edges of the fire to cook the bighorner meat, but the core of it, which was extremely hot at this point, had a different purpose. He proceeded to dry the hides over the fire, one by one, casually seated next to it, enjoying it's warmth on this cold night. He would have time to sleep later, but he didn't feel like it now. Softly, he began humming a tune. For a giant, muscly and wild minotaur, he seemed quite peaceful in front of the flames.

Greshken frowned. Looking at the wounded pony, he realised how unperceptive he had been. Clearly she was in pain. "Oh... I'm sorry." He mumbled as he noticed her predicament. It was her that reminded him that he had wounds of his own. Several bruises and scratches, but nothing that had punctured his skin. Only now did he realise the pain, but he decided to ignore it. "I'm sure there's a workbench around here somewhere. With some equipment and a little planning we could probably do this fairly easily. It's not like we have to reconstruct the entire weapon, just cut out the part that is the gun and make it wieldable." He thought out loud, and he did seem fairly confident about it. "But it doesn't have to be done immediately now. I am tired, and I suppose I should eat something." He sighed. "I haven't eaten anything proper in a while..." With that he turned around. "If you fellas take your time to figure your equipment out, I'll be back in just a moment. I'm going to see if I can hunt something down and eat it." He said, as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. He grabbed his hammer with both his hands a left the ponies behind. He would surely be back before sunrise.

Slowly Greshken observed their reaction. He was glad that they didn't cast it away immediately. They seemed to be quite determined on looting the corpses of the soldiers, and the inside of the burning barn once the flames would have died down. For Greshken, it was hard to scavenge anything of use. Nothing in the equestrian wasteland had adjusted to minotaurs in the past century. Not its system, not it's people, and clearly not it's technology. That is why, unlike many ponies' expectations, many minotaurs tended to choose to become mechanics or scientists, to try and find ways of adjusting technology to their people. "If you two busy yourselves with scavenging, I will try to explain this plan of mine to your mechanic to see if it is viable." He said to Dashia and Crackshot. The name pony who had introduced himself as their mechanic was still unkown to him. He was little to him, but his radiating confidence convinced him of his competence. "My plan is quite... strange. A little mad even. It involves detaching the cannon of this tank and turning it into a wieldable weapon. That is for me at least. I will be able to use it. I know this because I have seen it done before..." he explained to the mechanic. "Oh, and my apologies," he added "Your name... chip was it?" He said, trying to bring a friendly smile on his face, though smiling was something he didn't have alot of experience with. He put out his hand to shake the ponies hoof. "A pleasure to meet you." @Defender of Tomorrow As he looked at his new colleague in experimental artillery construction, he noticed another pony who he hadn't become familiar yet either. "Hey you!" He called out to the blue coated pony. "If you're not going to help the others loot for equipment you might as well help us..." He then realised there was a discussion going on about the collar he was wearing. "The collar is a part of me and I will not have it removed." He said abruptly and seemed like he wouldn't want another word said about it.

For a moment, Greshken was disgruntled by Dashia's sudden offer. Things were going slightly too quick for him. Maybe the psycho was still getting to him, but he didn't quite understand what their purpose was. Where were they going and who were they supposed to stop? Battling a virus seemed difficult. He was more experienced with fighting more... physical things. As he stared in the fire, watching the plants slowly degrade to ashes, he answered Dashia's question. "I'm not certain if I want to come along with you... I'd prefer to head out alone again, far away from this place." He realised he was acting far too melancholical by looking at the flames while he said that, so he shook his head and looked at the ponies that had surrounded him. "Besides, I'm not certain if you should want me either. I'm not the greatest companion. I fight alone, and haven't seen another friendly soul in months, perhaps years..." He argued. Looking at the hammer in his hands he confessed: "I have done many terrible things..." His voice didn't bear any regret, though the memories did bring sorrow to him. Suddendly, he felt like he needed friends more than ever. These ponies were immediately ready to accept him, and he was almost too blind to see that. But he got into conflict with himself. His pride refrained him from simply accepting the offer without some kind of payment. For now these ponies were in his debt, though they didn't seem to realise that. He looked at the wrecked tank a few feet away from them. The explosives that had destroyed it may perhaps have left a few things untouched. Things that could be used. He remembered a particularly powerful usage of those scrap parts. Oh how ungodly powerful that weapon had been. He remembered the minotaur who had used it as well. He was a hero among his people, and one of the few with the technical skills to handle such a weapon. It was long ago, but he definitely remembered how it was made. A smile appeared on his face, and he looked at his perhaps soon to be companions. "I'd be willing to accompany you, if you can help me with a certain plan..." he said to the others, hoping they would have the skill and experience to create what was currently being composed in his head. "Which of you have experience with creating weaponry and using electronics? I'd like to see the leftovers of that tank put to use, if you're willing to hear out my plan that is..." he straightened his back and looked at the tank again. "If you help me, I will follow you to the end of the world." He vowed to them.

The minotaur seemed to enjoy the pain, blood and gore of the battle, giving him more energy and power to continue quenching his bloodlust upon the soldiers that had made his life miserable. He roared again as he swung his hammer at the ponies in front of him, but they all started to run away. Lunging forward a little more, he managed to hit one of them in it's legs, which caused him to immediately drop to the ground. Without hesitating for a moment he finished it off with a downwards blow to the ponies' chest. As the other soldiers ran away he became infuriated. "Cowards..." he said to himself, but he didn't accept their surrender. "COWARDS!" He screamed as loud as he could in all directions. He started sprinting after one of the culprits running south, all the while screaming "COME BACK AND FIGHT YOU BASTARDS..! FIGHT!" It quickly became obvious that he wasn't fast enough to catch up with them. He came to a full stop, defeated and frustrated that he couldn't get the vindication he'd been waiting for for so long now. Frowning, but no longer bloodthirsty, he walked back towards the ponies that had, most likely unintentionally, released him. They were discussing ways to get rid of the taint that was slowly starting to consume more of the wasteland. He wasn't interested in helping them, and even if he was be wouldn't be of much use. But he did owe them his freedom. One of them, of who he now learned was named Dashia, inquired to his name. Even though he wanted to leave these ponies to their business and run away, as to try and find others of his kin, he realised that the least he could do was answer their questions. "My name Greshken Brasshide," he grunted, and he looked around to observe the rest of the party of ponies. "Who are you and what is your business here... What's going on actually?" he asked them, looking a little confused and staring at the advancing virus.

His hammer swung through the air. With a swoosh, and a satisfying thump, followed by the breaking of armour and crushing of bones, the commander took the full force of the unexpected blow. He was dead upon impact, but it didn't stop there. As the commander went through his knees, the downward force of the hammer brought him to the ground even quicker. Several more bones broke as the unfortunate commander's body was squished between the hammer and the ground. The ground shook with the sheer force of the attack. The awful pony was dead. Finally the anger inside him was released in this one righteous act. Bullets razed past him and scratched his skin, or ricocheted off his armour. Their low calibre assault rifle bullets didn't seem to harm him much. In an effort to intimidate his foes, Greshken roared in victory, raising his hammer high above him. "RETRIBUTION" He then turned around, still being hurt by bullets flying around him. He grinned at his enemies and tried to make it seem he couldn't feel their bullets at all. Then he sprinted forwards, deciding to help the pony that was already attacking the soldiers bravely with a lead pipe, though he didn't seem as effective. As he charged forwards he prepared himself to swing his hammer around in a full 180 degree maul, making sure to aim for his enemies' legs to knock them over and disable them. They would be easy targets once knocked prone. The enemies morale was now clearly wavering, and it was obvious many of them would decide to flee sooner or later. [Took around 100 damage because of a full firing barrage of bullets]

Not far away from where the heat of the fight was distracting everypony, a strange and intimidating individual was closely listening and peering from his place of hiding. His inner beast, the bloodlust that rushed through his veins encouraged him to attack. The captain was distracted, so infuriated with these unknown attackers that he couldn't possibly anticipate on his attack. But the collar around his neck, one that he had cursed for months now, prevented him from doing so. A red light slowly blinked and illuminated his grim face in the darkness of his prison. It was a reminder that whenever he stepped out of line, the terrifying beeping noise would sound yet again, and he would have mere seconds to return to his place before it would blow his head off. He breezed out of his nose, the rusty ring that adorned it dangled along with his pumping chest. The veins on his head were clearly visible. Perhaps it was the psycho addiction that had taken it's toll on his self control, but Greshken could barely resist running towards his trusty sledgehamer that was only a few feet out of his reach. "Oh how they laughed..." He thought, as he remembered the battles that he had been cruely forced to fight by his masters, sometimes murdering innocent ponies with his bare hands. "I will have my revenge..." Precisely as that thought dawned in his mind, a large explosion caused him to stumble forwards and cover his ears. In pain and anger he screamed, but he silenced himself quickly. He got back on his hooves and quickly assumed his position within the safety zone again... But something had changed. He was now completely shrouded in darkness. The light that had lit his simple prison had turned off, probably because of an electricity wire cut by the explosion. But it wasn't just that. The collar... It didn't blink anymore. The familiar red glow on his face and chest, one that had been a part of him for a long time, was gone. It took a moment for him to realise what this meant. Carefully, with much hesitation, he stepped out of his cell. No beeping... He took another step, and another, growing more confident with every step until he could reach his hammer and grasp it firmly with both his hands. "Oh... Sasha..." He said, closing his eyes and observing the hammer for any damages, touched that he was finally reunited with the only object he could've called his own. To his astonsihment, he found one of the remaining doses of Psycho that had been in his posession when he was captured. He grabbed it immediately, and used it. Holding the heavy hammer in one hand, he quickly went out of the building and observed the situation below him, only a few ten yards away. They were all looking in the other direction. Their opponents, whoever they were, weren't winning as of now. "Time to change the tide." He whispered as a maniacal grin appeared on his face. Grasping his hammer with two hands again, firmly holding it against his chest, he crouched down and commenced the hunt, but moved as quickly as he could. It had been quite a while since he had the oppertunity to sneak around others. It's strange how people think large creatures like him, with a monstrous appearance like his, could go unnoticed. But the trick was to know where others were looking, and what they wanted to see. Right now, his prey was distracted by an enemy, eager on chasing and killing them as they retreated. There was no oppertunity to flank, so they had no reason to look behind themselves. Remaining unnoticed was no challenge... Until he got into the midst of the fight. (Sneak 50, environmental penalty to detection because of the firefight and the rain, commander dazed by Chip) Once he got close enough, he knew he would get spotted eventually. As long as he remained hidden to his primary target, the commander, he would be statisfied. As long as that bastard didn't see it coming, and his soldiers didn't have the time to warn him, he could deal his single, fatal blow. He was running now, charging towards the screaming commander, rallying his troops to move forward. He raised his hammer, aiming for the back of the commanders head. His heart was pumping madly. He was free! He could fight! The adrenaline of the hunt gave him more strength than ever now that he had been deprived of it for so long. Finally his bloodlust and anger would be statisfied. He took the swing, and awaited the commanders skull to crack, give in, and recede into his chest. [1416 damage, VATS accuracy 95%] (for calculations see OOC)

@@Golbez, @@SilverHeart, @@Gloomfury, After Mirror had put him in his place, and Cherry had voicced her agreement with Mirror's brash but brief verdicct, the two of them left, leaving Scribblegroove with his counter arguments stuck in his throat, never to be voiced. He felt indignified and embarassed, but most of all unjustfully accused. After all it had all been an accident, and the result of Cherries own actions. It wasn't like he himself could've done anything about it, and he and others had attempted to point it out to her more than once. Of course, he could've tried to get her attention and make sure she realised it, but their reaction was still far from fair. While he was contemplating this, he absentmindedly murmured a goodbye to Belle, which was very inappropriate and rude of him, but preoccupied as he was, his fault in the situation was lost on him. He was far too busy defending himself in an imaginary argument. Alone now, he slowly paced towards the entrance of the hotel, making sure to take a slightly different and longer route than the others so he wouldn't walk into them again. When he arrived at the hotel, he was just glad that he avoided further conflict, when a loud voice rumbled down the stairs and reprimanded his actions yet again. He groaned, and softly mumbled "Stupid hag..." as he turned around, deciding to come back to the hotel later when he wouldn't attract as much attention to himself. @@Windbreaker As he faced down the alleyway, he saw a mare crossing the street, heading for the edge of the town, and supposedly towards the docks. He hadn't really spoken to her before, but he did remember seeing her on the coach. Since he didn't have anything else to do, he decided to accompany her for now. He headed down the alleyway at a slightly accelerated pace and tried to catch up with her as she took a right and dissapeared behind the corner, heading down the path towards the docks. The moment he turned around the corner himself he was met with a view of the grasslands below, with the lake in the distance and the mountain range surrounding the village. Unobstructed by buildings, Scribblegroove slowed down again and enjoyed the scenery as he caught up with the green mare with the red mane. "Hey there!" He said when he was reasonably close, trying to get her attention, speaking slightly louder to overpower the soft noise of the wind blowing through the grass, of crickets, birds and other small wildlife. "I noticed you were all alone. Why aren't you checking out the hotel?" Looking down towards the docks, it wasn't hard to guess where she was going. "Why are you wandering down to the docks all on your own?" He said with a slight smile. "Would you mind if I came along?"

@@Gloomfury @@SilverHeart @@Golbez As Belle told some more about herself, he couldn't help but think of an old acquaintance of his that was quite like her. The strange condition aside of course, he remembered her having the same exotic accent as Belle, and to be quite shy. He couldn't think of the name, and after a moment he realized it was pointless, but it bothered him nonetheless. Belle seemed to be popping out of her shell a little now, something he was quite happy about. He had always enjoyed the idea of him helping others to express themselves. Then, to his embarassment, Belle reminded him that he hadn't properly introduced himself yet. "Oh dear, my apologies. How inappropriate. My name is Scribblegroove. I believe I picked up your name when we were speaking with Gemma and her sister." Scribblegroove paused for a moment. He couldn't remember what the second sisters name was, but he knew it had something to do with gemstones. Again, he shrugged it off, but it did bother him that his memory was failing him like this. It was probably due to his sickness and lightheadedness which were slowly returning. Quite rudely and abruptly, he was reminded of his sickness even more, this time in the form of Cherry yelling at him in an accusing tone. He couldn't exactly make out what she was saying, but he could guess. "Uh-oh..." He said beneath his breath. He walked up to Cherry feeling like he was willingly walking up to the gallows, and tried to look as apologetic as possible. "I'm terribly sorry it was an accident, and you were so full of energy that in your excitement you failed to notice the... well, my mucus dangling in your mane, as well as several ponies trying to point it out to you." He sniffed, clearing his runny nose for now, and continued. "You must forgive me, you jumped in and hugged me so suddendly, I didn't know what to do." With a slight smirk, he added: "You were lucky that I didn't sneeze and cough all over you in surprise..." Then he noticed Mirror standing behind Cherry. Interested, he stepped back a little and smiled at her, but he decided against saying anything. Their first meeting hadn't exactly been great, so he suppoed it would be best to leave her alone for now. Immediately he looked back at Cherry and assumed his sorrowful face again. "How about we go to the hotel, then you can clean up and I might be able to get some more medicine from Bittersweet. From what little she's given me already I can guess that she can work wonders when she can actually take the time."

@@FirstPonySpectre,@@Evilshy Ivondras Zúr Do what you must to get our information... Ivondras grumbled at Masquerade, putting on the hood of his cloak as they entered the Tavern. He cancelled out the stench of the place rather quickly, his mind filtering it out as unnecessary. Every in provocative stare he replied with an even more aggressive one, and kept doing so as he slowly started patrolling by each of the tables in the tavern, looking all of the peasants in the eye with no hesitation, also stopping briefly by the girl behind the counter. He focused entirely on their eyes, because a wise man once told him: "the eyes are the gateway to the soul", and if he could see any speck of filth and corruption in these poor villagers souls, he'd deliver a justice that hadn't been seen yet in this town. He'd know it when he'd see it. Of course Ivondras only believed that he could spot a witch by the appearance of their eyes, but it had always seemed logical to him that it would be that specific detail that would give them away. An unnatural shine or a slight glow... that's how he had always imagined it. Besides their eyes he watched for any strange behaviour. If one person suddenly started running away, he'd slay them without hesitation.

@Gloomfury Iterested, the stallion listened as Belle explained what had been going on from the start. Her voice was surprisingly warm, and her accent added to it's eexoticism. It was curious that especially her voice, one that he had barely heard, stood out as the most intricate and beautiful of all the ponies that had accompanied him up until now. "Well... that would explain it." He said absent-mindedly, looking in the distance, deep in thought. "How awful... I mean, I reckon it would be awful for anyone to have, but you have a particularly beautiful voice, so it's even more of a waste that you have to hide away in your scarf like that, muffling your voice and having to resort to writing down all your responses..." He looked at her, and noticed that she seemed quite down, her head hanging low and her eyes pointing to the ground. "Hey, come on, chin up..." He said cheerfully. "You wouldn't want to deprive the world the chance to see your pretty face now would you?" He smiled, trying to encourage her. "Have you tried some kind of therapy? Usually there's some kind of expert on these things willing to help you." He asked. Clearly she would've tried something, and he doubted that she hadn't gone to see someone for her problem, but it couldn't hurt asking. Slowly they neared the hotel. It wasn't too far away now, and hopefully there would still be some one - pony rooms left. Not that he'd mind having to share a room, but he'd prefer to have a place of privacy. The rest of the town offered enough company anyway.

@@FirstPonySpectre,@@Evilshy Ivondras Zúr Finding his determination again, he steadfastly followed Joel as he led them to this so called 'tavern'. Raising one brow, he looked at Grin. "Why would one ingest intoxicating drinks willingly. Is there any purpose to it? Do the peasants find it enjoyable? It seems strange to me..." He said, and with that last pondering thought they arrived at the tavern. Already he could smell the filth and alcohol in the atmosphere him like a damp mist. The smell was familiar. It smelled an awful lot like this one place where he had eaten once. Only once... It had been filled with corrupt able and weak minded fools, and he had been tempted to burn the place down back then. "I think I remember what a tavern is now..."

@@FirstPonySpectre,@@Evilshy "As you suggest..." He stood still for a moment, with a determined look on his face... But then he looked around in slight confusion. Then he frowned and looked at Masquerade again. Without the slightest hint of embarrassment in his voice and with no gene in his expression, he asked: "What is a tavern? Where can we find one..." Having close to zero experience with civilization in general, having lived either in a chapel, in exile or in the academy for all of his life, he had no clue what all of these things even were. Either he had read or heard about it somewhere and forgotten, or there had simply never been a point in his life where a 'Tavern' had been and important point of information to him. What he did know of were armories, barracks and training grounds. "Perhaps we can find a commander or general of troops at the local barracks, or a quartermaster. Those kind of men usually know lots of local lore and news..." Again he frowned. "Am I correct?" he asked masquerade again. One thing was clear. Ivondras was an alien to this world, and this world was alien to him.

Scribblegroove @@SilverHeart @@Gloomfury Scribblegroove had been silent as they were escorted out of the Theater. Even though he understood that they weren't supposed to see the performances on beforehand, he was quite disappointing. This kind of secrecy wouldn't be necessary in the usual theater, and he couldn't remember the staff of the Canterlot Concert hall so cautiously preventing interested individuals from having a look now and then. Of course this theater wasn't the exact same thing, but he reckoned they had some kind of surprise waiting for them that they were this strict with the admittance. And then they were outside once more. It had been a short trip, and perhaps they weren't too far behind on the others. "Well... thank you and goodbye I suppose..." He muttered to the two mares retreated back into the theater. He was tempted to ask if he could come back at a later time so he could meet the performers as they weren't practicing, but perhaps it would be better to wait anyway. Looking at Belle, he inspected her truly for the first time. Of course he had seen her before, but he hadn't really been paying attention. "Lets go to the hotel shall we, perhaps there are some good rooms left." He said to her, and he began moving himself. As Gemma had mentioned, and he had noted himself as well, Belle seemed like a shy pony. Usually it was best to take the initiative with things when hanging around with characters of that sort, both in conversations as in actions, such as deciding to move towards the hotel and finding a room. She'd voice, or in her case write her objections if she happened to have them. Which left him wondering what story she had for her strange way of communicating. It seemed she was a mute, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. "So... I don't want to seem rude, but I'm actually quite curious why you constantly write things down... How come you don't speak like the rest of us?" He decided not to pretend to feel sorry for her. He had the experience that usually ponies which were impaired one way or another didn't want to be pitied or treated differently. He'd find out for himself if his question posed to be a sensitive subject for Belle.

@@FirstPonySpectre Ivondras Zúr "It's not necessarily the most honorable method but it gets the job done, am I right?" "No... you are not." Ivondras said, ignoring the friendly greeting and his question about his name. Without taking his gaze off the path in front of him and the town around him. "It would be wiser to arm yourself with real weapons and learn how to fight with them. It is much more efficient." claimed, and he believed solemnly in it. Looking over his shoulder briefly he frowned at Masquerade. "Though if you haven't trained yourself with proper weaponry you must indeed work with what you do have..." He admitted. "I suspect you will not be of much use in combat, but as a speaker, you might prove much more competent." He reasoned out loud. Throughout all of this, Ivondras didn't make it seem like an insult at all. There was no contempt in his voice whatsoever. He was simply stating things as he saw them. Clearly he was oblivious to the many uses of Masquerades specific skillset. As they neared the town centre Ivondras slowed down, gesturing his companions to do so as well. "Well then..." He said as he looked around. Looking back at Masquerade he asked him a question. "Where do you propose we start?" He asked him because he knew that Masquerade would probably know a lot more about invesitagion of this social kind. Even though he couldn't come up with a plan himself, he wasn't ashamed. After all, it was not his area of expertise to go around interviewing people. If they had an approximate direction towards the witch, he'd be able to find it sooner than later.

Ivondras Zúr @@Evilshy @ @@FirstPonySpectre, "Listen!" The moment Tathla started speaking, Ivon stepped back as quickly as he could and sheathed both of his blades. Even though they had only just begun sparring, he knew that when Tathla demands your attention, you shut up and listen. Besides that he had an enormous amount of respect for the man. Intently listening to what he was saying, he tried to retain as much of the information as he could, even though he would most likely only misinterpret it or even forget it all. His eyebrows frowned, he showed no excitement, fear or any emotion besides seriousness. Talking to people was not something Ivon was exceptionally good at. It usually devolved to giving orders or uttering threats very quickly, since he couldn't handle unreasonable and uncooperative folks. And these tainted lands were bound to be full of them. Full of quick witted merchants and stubborn farmers, cunning thieves and sassy young ladies who thought they could stand in his way. To Ivondras, it was very simple. You either cooperated and stayed out of his way, or you will add to the number of his 'innocent' casualties. Some people thought they could outsmart him, and maybe that was true, maybe... But he had yet to meet one who could outsmart his blades. "We'll continue this later..." He simply muttered to Gron with something that could be interpreted as a smile, but it looked like Ivondras hadn't had a lot of experience with smiling, or any facial expression besides frowning. As he said that, he went upstairs and down to shore. Thankful that he was finally on solid ground again, he bathed in the bright sunlight for a moment. He didn't smile, but he did feel happy. His eyes were closed as he turned his face to the sun. Then he frowned, and suddenly his face was full of disgust and hatred. "This town reeks... I can smell the taint. It's not this town... The land." He looked around, as if he were looking for the source of a sound or a smell. His mood worsened immediately. Time for enjoying the scenery was over. "The town centre is where we shall go." Ivondras declared, and he immediately started moving. "Gron, please come with me. You seem like a fair fighter." He said quite plainly. Ordering others around was in his nature, even if he wasn't exactly the best at it. "You, with the silver tongue and the masked face..." He pointed at masquerade. He had heard him talk as he had been sparring with Gron, since he was always aware of his surroundings. Masquerade seemed like a man that could bend other people's will, and set them to his hand. Ivon could do this as well, but with significantly less subtlety. In fact, it usually ended in his target running away or dying one way or another. "You must be good at manipulating others. Come with us. You can gather our answers and locate the foul mutant sorcerers." It seemed like Ivon had actually quite intelligently came up with a plan, but he was actually following a simple protocol that he had learned in his many years of training. He learned that persuasion was usually a much better method than intimidation, if it was applicable to the situation. Masquerade could do the persuading, and if that didn't work he could always resort the the method he was far more comfortable with. He was already moving for the town center, assuming that the others would follow him.

Ivondras Zúr @@Evilshy, His blade was going straight for Gron's leg, and he didn't see him make any attempt at dodging or blocking his attack. So at the lasts moment he held in and merely slapped him with the side of his blade. He would feel it, and it would somewhat hurt, but it wouldn't leave a wound, only a bruise. The incoming attack was one he knew would meet it's target anyway. He had place himself too far forward to retreat quickly enough and dodge the attack. Again, if Gron were using a blade, he'd attempt to parry it with his sword, which was at the ready right underneath Gron's arm. But trying to parry his attack now would mean risking to slice his arm open. He tried to step back a little, giving the blade in his left hand more room whilst moving his right blade up again. After Gron would hit his attack he'd be able to slice his arm open quite heavily. But if Gron would choose to change his approach, his chance would perhaps be lost. At any rate, he had to prevent Gron from grappling him. Ready to jump back with full force if he were to attempt to grab his arm instead of punch it, he knew that re-positioning himself further to Gron's left would allow him a greater chance at a quick jab, since he couldn't reach as easily there with his shield. Perhaps he'd be able to go straight for his throat then.

Ivondras Zúr @@Evilshy Rythmically his fists connected with the punching bag time and time again, occasionally throwing in a kick, putting as much of his fury into the inanimate object as he could. Even though he knew the odds of him having to resort to hand-to-hand combat was minimal, there was no reason not to train his martial skills in every possible way. Yet again he pretended that the bag in front of him was an enemy that could strike back any moment, so he held his fists high, and kept his feet moving. Though he couldnt remember a real name for his specific style of fighting, he knew enough about it to know that it was a mix of several arts. "Hey, Ivon! Let's spar a bit? You with your swords and me with my shield and gauntlet, get some practice with a real foe?" He heard a voice behind him. It was one of the other initiate Witch Hunters. He hadn't really paid any attention to the others at all. Why would he? Either they were incompetent, or they'd prove differently themselves in the course of time. As far as he knew, the only one capable of putting up a reasonable fight was the man who was now in front of him. Most likely even stronger than the mountain bears that he had seen, and at one time fought, in his youth. In other words, strong beyond belief. His control over his body seemed limited however. He didn't seem to be ultimately balanced somehow lacking the characteristic poise and vigor in his body language. If they were to genuinely engage in combat, he'd most likely win. However, in sparring circumstances he had to make an effort not to actually kill his opponent, and preferrably not maim him either. This man's abilty at brawn and brute force, which was far easier to be used without containing yourself, would give him a definite advantage over himself. He didn't see a reason not to comply to his suggestion however, so after spending a few seconds in thought, evidently inspecting his opponent, he eventually stepped forward. "Very well." with a dramatic noise of a blade sliding out of it's sheath, both his hands reached behind is bag. "To fight without a weapon... I cannot place wether it be brave or foolish. Let us..." Quickly he lashed out with his right blade towards Gron's right leg. Even though he prepared to stop the motion of his blade the moment he knew Gron wouldn't be able to parry his attack, his blade went as fast as it would in a real fight. "...find out!"