private The Way Home (1x1 w/ Quinch)

[Kitty_Cat 376]

@Quinch

OOC: https://mlpforums.com/topic/181501-rp-anyone/?tab=comments#comment-5470228

Vincent is working in the office during night shift. He is watching the storage room over the monitor when he is suddenly attacked by an animatronic; Nightmare Freddy to be exact. He screams and the next thing he sees is static. He can’t feel anything in his body.

The static eventually clears and Vincent wakes up from unconscious. Something doesn’t feel right with him. He opens his eyes and the first thing he notices is that he’s not in his workplace. The second thing he notices is.... well, he has no hands. His legs feel weird. He tries to stand up, but his legs feel too odd and too weak to stand up normally. He is forced to land on all fours. He takes a look at himself. After a few moments.... he screeches in fear.

Vincent has become a pony.

”What...?? What- where am I?? Aaaah!! What’s going on?? I... I...! How do I get back home?? What will they think of me?? Oh geez oh geez oh geeeeez!!!” He shouts to himself. He is pretty much freaking out.

 

[Quinch 1,120]

Now

A portal opened about a mile above Ponyville. It would have been blinding, but in the bright blue noonday sun, it would have been little more than a brief twinkle for anyone who might have happened to look up at that moment. Likewise, the figure it spat out moments later seemed a lot less distressed from below than it did up close.

Moments before and half a kilometer underground

Quinch quickly peeked through the door leading into the main chamber. Not for the sake of stealth - what with all the screaming, explosions, thunderclaps, and earthquakes on their way through any notion of subtlety was, as always, gone almost the moment they set foot into the ancient ruins.

Dealing with the Oranbegans was a slog as usual - the narrow, labyrinthine corridors were annoying, but eventually they led somewhere, the horde of mages and their leashed demons patrolling them brought along their usual magical horrors, but if that goddamn scrapper doesn't stop whining about the slowing spells, I swear to god I'll literally throw him into the next pack of wizards just to see if that shuts him up.. The narrow corridors at least made it easier to herd them together for the blaster to mop up, at least when he waited to open fire. They wasted almost as much time waiting for the defender to rez him as actually fighting, but at the very least he could use it to whip up his ad hoc teammates into a proper vengeful wrath. Righteous indignation at things fighting back was usually the second best way to motivate capes.

There weren't many left, about a dozen or so around an altar in the center of the large - overly large, really - hall in the middle of which a young man, mid-twenties maybe, floated suspended in midair and a cloud of green smoke. Go figure, Azuria didn't send me either on a wild goose chase or a trap for once. They were in a hurry - he might not have known anything about magic or whatever weird language they were chanting in, but thankfully thousands of years of being ghosts apparently wasn't enough to make people not raise their pitch when trying to hurry up. And speaking of hurrying - he glanced behind him and the half-dozen capes miraculously exercising momentary restrain-, no, the scrapper was about to run in -

"YOU'RE MISPRONOUNCING!!" he yelled as he tore down towards the gathering at a dead run. Their victim dropped out of the air as they turned towards him, spells already surging out of their fingers. Air mage, two earths,a fire and one of the important ones, I know that handwavey routine, mudpots on the way, need to teleport to close the distance-

Now

His legs swam through the air, still sprinting along the ground that was no longer there. The hall spun around him - a suddenly bright, half-blue, half-green hall as his stomach lurched from whatever hit him. No, not lurched, crap, I'm falling, need to stabilize and suddenly the ground was coming at him very, very fast, losing precious time kick the thrust are those houses straighten out are those houses don't land on the houses as the erratic tumble straightened into a more horizontal, though no less breakneck curve too late to land straight this is gonna be rough of crap are those people DON'T LAND ON PEOPL- Quinch hit the ground almost horizontally, tumbling and spinning along the street with an ear-piercing - at least from the inside - clatter as though someone picked a particularly poorly-shaped pebble to skip on the water and, against all odds, succeeded, scraping and rolling his way down the road until he came to a rest in a thick cloud of dust.

[Kitty_Cat 376]

@Quinch

In the midst of his panic, Vincent hears a crash and sees clouds of dust close by. Something bad must've just happened. He collects himselfs and accepts he is a pony and runs over to the area to see what had happened. When he arrives he sees a male human on the ground. He sees their injuries from whatever happened. He has appeared to have fallen from the sky. He looks around and calls out to some people.

”Does anyone here have a medic kit?!” he shouts. Thanfully someone (or somepony) did have one nearby. They gave it to Vincent and Vincent uses the medic kit to try to heal this man as best as he can. A few minutes later he finishes and returns the medical kit back to its owner and then sits next to the fallen person, waiting for him to get up.

AAAARGGHH STINKING THRESHOLD IS TOO LARGE AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHSHHSHSUSJJSJWKSK

Edited November 30, 2018 by Kitty_Cat