Ivan Durakovich Ponihuiplet

By Marxyhooves

• February 11, 2016
No Not Cast Adult

Ivan is fairly a stout, somewhat grimy looking stallion. Although he is not overweight by any stretch of the imagination, nor is he particularly tall, he is definitely well built. He has a black mane and tail that are both cropped short and dark red eyes. His coat is charcoal, or a sort of dark grey, it's actually rather difficult to tell, as it is usually buried under a layer of dust, dirt, and assorted grime Ivan has picked up in his travels.

 

His other distinguishing features, beside the general cloud of miasma that seems to follow him wherever he goes, are his old guard uniform, into which he has sewn numerous pockets, that he never seems to remove, and a small brass medal on his breast, which is seemingly the only aspect of his appearance Ivan pays any attention to, as it is always, no matter how dishevelled the rest of him might be, shining and spotless.

Male Earth Pony Ivan's cutie mark is a gray spoon, slightly darker than his coat so as to be just about visible. https://buffy.mlpforums.com/56f0b8e70306680e1e9fac3b5eb6ad72.png

In a word, Ivan could be described as phlegmatic. In words that Ivan might actually know the meaning of, Ivan is a solid, reliable, if somewhat slow minded, working pony. His most distinguishing feature is his utter stoicism in the face of whatever life throws his way. Other ponies might think Ivan is a little bit daft, but Ivan knows that it is always better to take one's time and think a situation through before jumping to conclusions. Albeit, it usually takes a very long time for Ivan to actually finish thinking a situation through, so long in fact that by the time he is ready to react to most things, most other ponies have moved on without him, but Ivan does not let this bother him. Very few things bother Ivan.

 

A consequence of the rather ponderous pace at which Ivan approaches life is a very literal, almost dogged approach to anything and everything once he has made his mind up. What other ponies would call a near belligerent lack-of-imagination, and narrow-mindedness, Ivan would refer to as his consistency and prudence. Ivan is a pony that one has to take a very long time getting to know, and is very slow to trust, but once a pony has gained his esteem, it is next to impossible for them to do anything to lose it. The most they might get is a low grumble accompanied by a shrug if they should do anything Ivan found especially objectionable.

 

This isn't to say that Ivan is a shy pony; he actually quite enjoys conversations with other ponies. Although, Ivan is usually happy to let the other ponies do most of the talking for him, as he has found that they are generally a bit better at it than him, he is able to hold a conversation without much of a problem. It's not really that difficult, all he has to do is stare at the other pony and occasionally nod or make an affirmative sounding noise at the appropriate moments, in a way it is quite relaxing. Of course, other ponies tend to find conversation with Ivan to be a... unique experience. It's not every day that one meets a pony who can, if prompted, speak for hours at a time, in a near monotone, about things he has found and put in his pockets at one time or another. As a result, after spending more than a few minutes 'talking' to Ivan most ponies tend to find something else to do. Not that Ivan particularly minds being left to his own devices, he generally prefers it that way, and can almost always rummage around in his pockets for a snack of questionable providence, or a steaming flask of pungent green liquid. which Ivan assures everypony is tea, and he is rather fond of.

Likes: Ponies touching his medal, running out of soup, cold tea, and being asked to empty his pockets.

Ivan Durakovich Ponihuiplet was born on a small farm on the outskirts of Stalliongrad. As a foal he showed little aptitude for farming, or much of anything really, though with a farm to run, and a fair number of brothers and sisters, Ivan's parents did not pay this much mind. That their third foal of six did not seem especially destined for greatness did not particularly bother them. Such an environment, though not without genuinely felt affection, generally left Ivan's personality much like the surrounding countryside, cold and unyielding.

 

Ivan's parents were the sort of ponies who, when asked what they thought of rock farming, would have rolled their eyes and scoffed that rock farms were all right for ponies that were used to soft living. Running a farm in the almost permanently frozen hills around Stalliongrad takes a special kind of determination.

 

Even earth pony magic and endless determination could only do so much though, and much of Ivan's foalhood was spent learning how to make a little go a long way. Some years more than others, very little had to go a very long way. It was one such winter that Ivan finally came upon his special talent. Faced with the dilemma of how to make two turnips, an onion, and four potatoes feed himself as well as his five brothers and sisters, Ivan came upon a brilliant idea; he would make soup! Throw it all in a pot, mix in some grass, add plenty of water, and suddenly there was enough for everypony! They could even have seconds!

 

As the family sat and enjoyed a steaming pot of soup, it was Ivan's youngest sister who excitedly pointed out that a dull, dark grey spoon has appeared on Ivan's flank.

 

Initially, Ivan's parents were overjoyed. Their foal was going to be a cook! They could send him into town, and he could work at a big restaurant, they would never have to worry about feeding him again, and he could bring home any extra food from the restaurant at the end of the night!

 

Unfortunately, a week later Ivan came back to the farm. When he had started apprenticing at a local tavern, Ivan had managed to let the oven catch fire, the cider go flat, and the ice-cream melt... and managing to get ice-cream to melt in Stalliongrad was no mean feat. In addition, Ivan's standard of cleanliness left a great deal to be desired, and the manager was now facing an inquiry from the board of health. The soup he made was okay, but that was about it.

 

As it turned out, Ivan could make soup, but soup was about it...

 

So, the owner of the tavern had, in no uncertain terms, informed Ivan and his family that, no, the ability to make soup was not the be all end all of the culinary world and that young Ivan should probably start to explore other options. And that ideally, these options should be as far removed from anything ponies might eat as possible.

 

Fortunately, Ivan had already done exactly that. Whilst mopping up a puddle of ice-cream he was sure he had only put down an hour or two ago, Ivan had seen a couple of guardsponies make a stop in the tavern. These weren't the gold plated, shining paladins of the royal guard in Canterlot, more a sort of local militia, but it hardly mattered to Ivan... listening to them talk, of standing guard, not being allowed to smile, or even to move for hours on end, Ivan realised that he had found his true calling. Surely, a pony who wasn't particularly good at anything could truly excel at a career that revolved around standing still and doing nothing for hours on end?

 

And so, Ivan had set out once again from the family farm, and ended up in front of a thoroughly nonplussed recruiting stallion who found himself confronted with a scrawny, absolutely filthy looking, young earth pony, determined to join the guard. After at least three hours, the poor stallion finally relented, and Ivan was inducted into the ranks of the Staliongrad guards...

 

It was soon decided, however, that Ivan's many... not really talents, so much as... qualities... would be put to better use out of the public light, indeed, out of any light really if at all possible. Thus began Ivan's illustrious career as a member of the prestigious, and newly created, Stalliongrad Guard Supply Corps. He even got to make the soup!

 

Ivan's life fell into something of a routine for the next few years. Inventorying supplies in the back room of the guardhouse, guarding the supply closet, and occasionally pulling the wagon when called far... Aside from the occasional pot of soup, however, his spoon cutie mark really seemed to have little relevance to his day to day existence. A more thoughtful pony might have been bothered by this, but Ivan had truly found his calling. Generally doing as little as possible. Which suited Ivan just fine.

 

One fateful day, however, Ivan and his comrades in the guard were, in fact, called upon to do something...

 

There had been problems around one of the mines outside of town with Diamond Dogs, and the workers had requested the guard accompany their next delivery of gems into town. So, Ivan found himself accompanying his comrades, pulling the wagon which would be used to deliver the gems.

 

At first it seemed there had been no need for the guard to be there at all, save for the occasional furtive peak over a ridge, there seemed to be no sign of the Diamond Dogs that had supposedly been giving the miners such grief. That is... until they had finished loading the wagon with gems.

 

In an instant dogs emerged out of the ground, in front of, behind, and in the midst of the small group of guards, intent of stealing for themselves the hard earned fruits of the miners' labour. It was total chaos, utter pandemonium, ponies and dogs running this way and that, and Ivan's comrades very quickly decided that they would call for reinforcements. In fact, they would all go to get reinforcements, and the would all go right away, and as quickly as possible!

 

This, of course, all happened much too quickly for Ivan to really make much sense of what was going on, and in the confusion, Ivan decided that the best course of action was to take exactly no action, and to simply continue pulling the wagon as he had before, at a slow but steady pace. This decision was aided by the fact that none of Ivan's colleagues had remembered that Ivan was still attached to the wagon with the gems and so Ivan really couldn't do anything else.

 

Thus it was, a few hours later, while his shamefaced colleagues were still being thoroughly told off for being completely useless and running away, not to mention leaving that poor idiot out there all on his own, that Ivan emerged over the hill, still attached to the wagon, calmly pulling it into town.

 

The townsponies were overjoyed, and soon an impromptu celebration had broken out for the hero of the hour, Ivan Durakovich Ponihuiplet! The council even thought of a medal to give him, the medal of the Hero of the Stalliongradi Baggage Train!

 

Taking a moment amidst the festivities to admire his shiny new medal, Ivan thought back to that day in his foalhood, the day he had revived the spoon on his flank and realised something... His cutie mark wasn't for making soup. It was for making do, for taking whatever the situation he found himself in and making the best of it. Ivan sat and smiled quietly to himself as he thought this.

 

Truly, it was the proudest day of Ivan's life. Ivan had been, for what felt like the first time, truly useful! He of course insisted that he had only done his duty, that it was what anypony would have done, and that once the Diamond Dogs had taken all of the gems, it hadn't even been that hard to pull the wagon!

 

It was at this point that the mood suddenly changed for some reason and a number of ponies began asking what Ivan meant by that last bit while a few more ran over to check on what was, definitely, an entirely empty wagon. So, naturally, Ivan explained that he had been told that, no matter what, it was his job as a guardspony to see that wagon make it safely to town, and that was exactly what he did. And for some reason, everypony got really quiet, and decided that it would be best to go home.

 

Ivan didn't really mind, he was still pleased to have done his job, and to have done it so well as to have won a medal; he couldn't wait to write home about it. Ivan had done so well, in fact, that the very next day, the captain of the guard called Ivan into his office and explained that, truly, Ivan was wasted in the guard in Staliongrad, and that what he should do was make his way to Canterlot to join the proper Royal Guard responsible for the safety of the princesses... In fact, Ivan should probably pack his things and be on his way as soon as possible, before anypony came by to ask any more questions about his bravery the day before.

 

Solemnly agreeing that, if the princesses' safety was truly at stake, then time was of the essence, Ivan set off south towards the capital, Canterlot. In fact, he was so quick walking there, only taking a few weeks, that he arrived before any of the Royal Guard had received any notice that he was coming...

 

Unperturbed by this, Ivan decided that, until his new Royal Guard papers came through, he would make do for the time being, and see if he couldn't get any odd jobs. Surely, a pony as useful as he would be in high demand amongst the fast talking ponies around the capital... Ivan just needed to be patient, and Ivan was good at that.

Stalliongrad, being as far removed as it is from the main part of Equestria, has, over time, developed its own unique cultural idioms and quirks. Chief amongst these are the remnants of the language, Old-Stalliongradi, which surfaces from time to time in the speech of ponies who have grown up there, usually in the odd word or phrase, and, of course, in the form of the unmistakable Stalliongradi accent.

 

One aspect of Stalliongradi culture that is practically unique in all Equestria are the sorts of names ponies from there give their foals. Every Staliongradi pony has three names: a first name, a patronymic or matronymic, and a last name. In day to day context, foals and very close friends and family are called simply by their first name. Naturally, in very formal settings, all three of a pony's names are used. However, adult ponies are typically addressed by their first name and their patronymic or matronymic name, for a pony who is not a close relative or friend to simply assume to call a Stalliongradi pony by only his or her first name is considered at best extremely over-familiar on that pony's part, and, at worst, deliberately insulting.

 

The first names are almost always somehow derived from a very old Old-Staliongradi word or phrase. The name 'Ivan' for example can be understood to have originally meant 'The Gods are Gracious', although these meanings are hardly relevant in a more modern context. In a similar sense, last names are not unlike the rest of Equestria, usually referring to something that pony's family is known for, except in Old-Staliongradi.

 

More interesting, especially in Ivan's case, is the middle-name. Newborn foals receive a patronymic name after their father if they are a colt, or a matronymic name after their mother if they are a filly. Typically, these names are just a version of the mother or father's name, although this is not always the case; sometimes an outstanding characteristic of, or affectionate nickname for the parent in question is used instead.

 

For example, in Ivan Durakovich's case, shortly after he was born, his mother had to make her way to the registrar alone, as his father, who is also named Ivan, had managed to get his tongue frozen stuck to his workbench after he fell asleep at it that morning. While this was understandable, seeing as the poor pony had been up all night helping Ivan's mother, it was equally understandable that the mare in question, who had also been up all night actually giving birth to Ivan, was significantly less than impressed. Thus, when Ivan's mother finally trudged all the way to town and the pony running the office had asked for Ivan's father's name, his mother's only response was "Durak!"

 

Thus it is that, where Ivan's name, including his family name Ponihuiplet, translated into common speech, it would read, "Ivan Son-of-Idiot Pony-Who-Talks-Too-Much."

 

Most ponies might hold some sort of resentment towards such a name, but Ivan, much like everything else in life, simply takes it in what is admittedly a rather slow stride.