Winged Ratchet

By RazzyJam

• September 16, 2013

Age: ~20

Gender: Male

Species: Non-Pony

Appearance: Winged Ratchet, also known as WR, appears to the everyday pony as a orange-yellow pegasus, with striking blue eyes. He has a short, unkept, chocolate brown mane and tail, of which his mane is lined with a lime green stripe. WR's wings are smaller in girth than a regular pony's wings would be, and are incapable of sustained flight. <br /><br />However, looks can be deceiving; WR is, in fact, not a pony but a changeling. in this form, WR is not nearly as adorable as his preferred pony form. He still does not have a horn, unlike usual changelings, and his wings are flaky and have a tendency to leave pieces behind. This is due to a disease he was born with that resulted in his expulsion from the Hive. In this form, he has a much more messy blue mane and tail, razor sharp fangs, and the same blue eyes he has in his pony form. <br /><br />Being a changeling, WR is able to shape-shift, but due to his condition it requires quite a bit of energy to do. He can usually get away with changing two or three times in a day, and as such he only does so when absolutely necessary. <br /><br />WR does his best to hide this form from other people, as he desires to be perceived as normal. Only a select few know of his true identity. WR shows this form only to people he trusts, or when he is put in situations where he feels it is his only chance of survival.

Cutie Mark: Being a changeling, WR does not naturally have a cutie mark. However, WR does have a cutie mark in his generic pony form, which is of a Kerosene lantern, intending to signify that WR has a bright future ahead of him. <br /><br />Because WR is a changeling, his destiny should not really be determined by a cutie mark, seeing as changelings do not get cutie marks AND seeing as changelings can become any pony with any cutie mark. However, WR is a wonderfully odd exception; Because he is separated from the changeling hive mind, and because he is so mentally and emotionally attached to his pegasus form, the Yellow Pegasai's cutie mark has become a part of who he is and has left its impact on his life.

Personality: Coming soon

Backstory: Amidst the murky green light of a cold hive, a thousand newborn tongues cry out to be fed; one thousand hatchlings wait to be loved by a colony of beings with an incapacity for emotion. Some of these newborns may live to see the dim light of a new day, but many do not receive the food they need to carry on. Among the starving, a changeling waits to be born into a life where he will struggle to feed for over a decade. <br /><br />An infant changeling waits patiently in his chrysalis to be greeted by the unwelcoming world of the hive. However it is a welcome he will never receive. The drones of the hive immediately notice that there is something wrong with this unhatched creature. Where others would starve due to a lack of food, this young is unable to feed entirely. Should the cocoon hatch, its owner would have to be fed by others, fed by those who can truly emanate love, and not those who merely process it. Seen only as metabolic disease and a hinderance to the hive, the chrysalis is expelled into the world above, and cast out into the swampy rivers to be drowned. <br /><br />This chrysalis -the child it contained- would later be known as Winged Ratchet. <br />_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________<br /><br />Sitting under a bridge just East of Las Pegasus, an elderly pegasus makes his night's home. The cool, sandy breeze of the desert drifts from the south, spraying the old stalion with sand and putting out his campfire for yet a second time. Muttering curses under his breath, he proceeds to rekindle the few twigs and charcoal he has. The night began to grow cold and dark, if the pony did not make the fire soon, surely he would freeze through the night. Above, the screech and roar of the Las Pegasus Express could be heard making its routine trip to the City. <br /><br />The old pony was unfazed, after all, he had been living without a home for nearly 15 years. He was quite used to trains and quite familiar with them. He had figured out how the whole the whole train worked, from boiler to piston, just by watching them for all those years, and occasionally stowing himself away in one of the cars. He was always fascinated by such machinery, but he never got the chance to really do well. The pony squatted down and breathed air onto the hot embers, hoping his kindling would catch flame. With some effort, a small fire grew and warmed the underside of the stone bridge. Turning now to a small bag of things laying next to him, he took out a kerosene lamp and lighted it. <br />The dim light filled the cavelike bridge opening, and revealed a very old, yellow pegasus. He appeared to be still strong, built by time and experience, shaped and scarred by tragedy, loss, and heartbreak.Their was a certain air to his presence though; He seemed happy, despite tragedy, and emanated a certain air of wisdom and yearning for adventure. The gas lamp -burning lighter now as the pony adjusted the knob- shed light on a mirror image of itself on the elder pony's flank. <br /><br />Presently, the pony proceeded to retrieve a small can of expired beans and place it over his campfire. as he stokes the fire, he hears a noise from the gravelly banks beneath the bridge. For a moment, he thought it to be crying, but it was drowned out by the screech of iron wheels against steel tracks just above his head. The pony bent over to add a few more twigs to the fire, but stopped after hearing the same noise a second time. He was certain that it was not the train this time. Making his way to the stony shore of the river, he searched around for the source of the noise. Lo and behold, amongst the soggy scraps of newspaper and drifting timbers he found the source of the crying.<br />He removed from the rubbish what appeared to be a smooth green stone, but it was almost waxy to the touch. What was inside was even more surprising. A baby -what, the pony did not know- it was one ugly baby. On the top of the cocoon, an opening revealed a obsidian black face wailing for food. The infant's cries revealed small, blade-like teeth. His turquoise hair was matted and messy, and his ears appeared to be worn like burnt parchment. Perhaps the most stunning feature were the child's eyes; bright bule, just like the Pegasai's.<br /><br />The old pony was amazed. He wasn't sure what to do. Despite his years experience keeping alive with minimal belongings, he knew nothing about how to support a child. 'But I couldn't just leave it here', the old stallion thought to himself. The smell of smoke distracted his attention, stumbling back to his fire, baby in hoof, he removed the now burnt can of beans from the flame. With a bit of a sigh, the old pony chuckled. "At least you made it to dinner," he said jokingly. <br />(TBC)<br />_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________<br />