LEGEND OF THE HOOVED ADVENTURERS!

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Ah, Manehattan. City of trade, city of wonder, city of industry!

Manehattan is a port city, with all that that entails, but its reputation for sheer diversity and acceptance is nonpareil. Here reside not only ponies, but visiting nobles form all races and merchants from across the sea. Strange and wondrous beings walk its streets and fly between its towering skyscrapers, dodging the clouds of smog from the industrial district and tactfully avoiding the slum areas. There's even a building or two for dragons, should they want to rest. It's not uncommon to see a couple of two different races, and it's hardly rare to find one racing an orphan of a third kind. Yes, in Manehattan, diversity is the word of the day.

And THIS day is by far one of the most important days. Today, you see, is the 175th anniversary of the city's founding. Shops sell their wares at a discount, families picnic en masse at the park, a few less prude individuals commit indecent acts in the alleyways.... overall there is a feeling of boisterous celebration, only compounded by the massive parade that is currently winding down the roads of the city. Wherever the trumpeters pass are screaming citizens, eager to get pictures; Sapphire Shores stops on occasion to hand out autographs to some of her fans, and the amazing Railsong sends a wink to young mares who faint instantly.

At the head of this parade is a float, occupied by the mayor, her family, and the city council. It's rumored that the mayor wanted to play the part of Luna, but tradition is tradition, so she's decked out in solar garb; her husband actually makes a decent princess of the night, and the council seems variably devoted in their fake royal armor. Of course, her five kids are decked out as the elements of harmony, though her sole colt seems a bit frustrated that he had to wear the butterfly; the element of magic is tactfully played by the family dog, who has no idea what's going on but is excited and licking her master happily.

It comes as no surprise that on a day of such import an adventure would start here. But the fact that the adventure would become something spoken of for years to come is not readily apparent. Especially as the adventurers, themselves, do not know each other personally. In fact, the only thing they have in common is that they are on the corner of Eighth Street and Maple Boulevard. The parade is approaching, but it's still out of sight; for now, only the distant but steadily growing sound of screams and cheers can be detected, though an anticipatory tension fills the air. Perhaps this is for the best, as it allows us a few minutes to acquaint ourselves with the heroes before the adventure truly begins.

(Mane enough eh? )

Outcast looked around somewhat apprehensively. She looked herself over in a reflective shop window. Good, she still was in her pony form. She looked into the corners and dark shadows to make sure nothing that was lurking in them was looking at her. Maybe that one over there was? Oh. No. Phew. She let out a relieved sigh. Just somepony creepily staring at another that had passed behind her. Maybe she could relax now. Surely there wouldn't be other changelings here. They wouldn't have been crazy enough to hunt her this far would they? Surely not. No. She looked around and tried to figure out what was going on and what she was going to do now that she'd did finally feel like she'd evaded her hunters. For the longest time escape had been her only thought and now that she finally seemed to have done so she really had no idea what she had been running towards, only what she had been running from. Well, this was some sort of celebration right? Maybe she should try to enjoy herself. Or at least absorb some local culture so she would better blend in.

(Okay, so let me just remind everyone ahead of time that I haven't done this type of RP too often, so be gentle please. Otherwise though, here we go...)

As the overly apprehensive pony (can you give a description of your character, Ramsus, so I know what to describe?) glanced all around nervously, a figure in a black cloak moved towards her, making way through the crowds on the corner as he did so. His head was bowed and hooded, and he pushed a large, box-shaped object along before him, covered with a black tarp so no one could tell what lay beneath.

A police pony passed by on the street, and the cloaked figure froze, glancing out from under his hood, waiting until the officer moved on down the street before he continued on his way.

He stopped next to Outcast and let out a long sigh - then he pulled back his hood, revealing a white face full of black stripes and piercings, a pink mohawk, and eyes hidden behind a pair of shades - a zebra.

He looked at Outcast, sliding his shades down his nose low enough to make eye contact, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement. He grinned and nodded, "Yo, how's it go?"

Outcast nodded in recognition and the zebra grinned, "Z-Rock's the name - rockin' this town, that's my game. You look a little nervous, I see that's true - is it reasonable of me to say, you must be new?"

Before Outcast could respond, a young colt walked up to Z-Rock and pulled on his cloak. "Hey mister, what you got under the tarp?"

Z-Rock's grin widened as he turned to the colt. "Why I'm glad you asked my little friend, for you see, for me, it's time to set a new trend." Z-Rock grasped the tarp in both hooves, "What I have here is under a tarp, but let me assure you it is no harp. It's much louder you see, made just for me, and I think it's time to unveil it to thee." Z-Rock pulled back the tarp, revealing a large black and white speaker on wheels - a wireless headset and a blue, double-necked guitar resting atop it.

As Z-Rock slipped on the headset an turned up his guitar, the colt stared at him with his mouth wide open. "Wooooooah..."

At this point, a few more ponies in the crowd had turned to look in Z-Rock's direction, and another pony called out, "What is it?"

"Oh, it's nothing, nothing to see..." Z-Rock plugged in his guitar, "But to hear? I fear it may be... MY BASS CANNON!"

Z-Rock strummed his guitar - and the speaker erupted with sound. The force of the music sent physical waves of force washing through the crowd. The Pony's manes were blasted back from their faces like they'd just been thrown through a wind tunnel, hats and toupes were blown away, and before Outcast could do anything, the sound waves had washed over her too.

Z-Rock let out a long and loud whoot, "MY NAME IS ZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEE-ROCK!"

(You guys know I had to do this.)

(Edit: I pictured Z-Rock playing something along these lines - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6J9ayHYClw8)

(Well, my avatar is actually what Outcast looks like as her default. One suggestion I have for you right off the bat is that it's generally considered poor form to control someone else's character without their permission (barring particular circumstances).)

"What?" said Outcast, clearly confused. "Who is this and why are they approaching me? What's going on? What is that thin-" she thought. "Loud! Eeeeee!" Outcast shouted in alarm as she quickly backed away, hiding behind a convenient (possibly PC?) somepony and just generally cowering while trying to figure out what had just happened and why.

The awful thundering chord blasted Balthazar's ears flew back to smack the sides of his head. The gray donkey tumbled back, crashing into a black pony cowering behind him.

"Oh my! I'm most terribly sorry!" He said, appologizing to the black form burried under him. "Allow me to present myself, I am Balthazar, King of Jesters and Jester of Kings... I think I have a card somewhere."

He busied himself looking for the card in his mane... Then paused. "Ah, I should likely get off you first." He clambered to his hooves, offering one to help the poor pony up.

"ow ow ow." Outcast took the offered hoof and righted herself. "Thank you. Oh um.... pardon me. Nice to meet you Balthazar, my name is-" *hiccup* The dirt under her hooves rippled like a stone had been dropped into a pool of water as Outcast reflexively shapechanged into whatever form she happened to be picturing in her mind of at the moment, which was of course the donkey she was speaking to. "Great. Just great. Well, it probably would have been a lot of work to make up a name and personality and keep the lies straight and bother trying to not get lynched or whatever and not die anyway. Sigh." thought Outcast. She changed back to her "normal" form quickly, hoping maybe, just maybe not too many sober people had noticed. "....Outcast." she finished, rather vexed.

Ramsus wrote:"ow ow ow." Outcast took the offered hoof and righted herself. "Thank you. Oh um.... pardon me. Nice to meet you Balthazar, my name is-" *hiccup* The dirt under her hooves rippled like a stone had been dropped into a pool of water as Outcast reflexively shapechanged into whatever form she happened to be picturing in her mind of at the moment, which was of course the donkey she was speaking to. "Great. Just great. Well, it probably would have been a lot of work to make up a name and personality and keep the lies straight and bother trying to not get lynched or whatever and not die anyway. Sigh." thought Outcast. She changed back to her "normal" form quickly, hoping maybe, just maybe not too many sober people had noticed. "....Outcast." she finished, rather vexed.

Balthazar's eyebrows crinkled at her rippling hooves, the sudden graying of her black coat, the green flicker of her eyes. He was a perceptive ass, a wise fool, a jackass of many trades...

... What had he been thinking again?

Ah, yes, the clear masquerade playing in front of him.

"Oucast is it? A grand pleasure." He dipped a courtly kiss to the mare's hoof. "Though perhaps Masquerade might be more appropriate." He tossed a wink her way.

"How are you enjoying the parade?"

A fine trick. He could appreciate that.

"Hey!" A police pony managed to push his way through the crown and glare angrily at the rock zebra. "We're having a parade here sir! I'm afraid street performers are going to have to be asked to leave the area, under the city organizational planning committee's orders. Put the guitar down quietly." He levitates a pad in front of him and begins writing a ticket.

(A wise ass indeed. Outcast is a Changeling not a Vampire.)

Outcast smiled, as she had been expecting a reaction much the opposite of a gentlestallionly greeting, and asked with a touch of whimsy, "Do you try to re-name everypony you meet Balthazar?"

Considering his other question she looked around. "Ah, so that's what this is. I've heard of them. My current feeling is that many apparently equate volume with enjoyment. By those standards I would say I am 'enjoying' it a lot?" (I do not know how it'd be physically possible but, she totally just did airquotes there.) "I have only just arrived though and perhaps I am missing something important. Hopefully something that doesn't involve people walking up to you and screaming and police." she says, eying the Zebra and the attention he'd gathered.

(Some phrases are tricky to convert. I just made a wild stab at gentlemanly. Gentleponyly sounded even stranger.)

Ramsus wrote:(A wise ass indeed. Outcast is a Changeling not a Vampire.)

(And a Masquerade refers to far more than a vampire game)

Ramsus wrote:Outcast smiled, as she had been expecting a reaction much the opposite of a gentlestallionly greeting, and asked with a touch of whimsy, "Do you try to re-name everypony you meet Balthazar?"

Considering his other question she looked around. "Ah, so that's what this is. I've heard of them. My current feeling is that many apparently equate volume with enjoyment. By those standards I would say I am 'enjoying' it a lot?" (I do not know how it'd be physically possible but, she totally just did airquotes there.) "I have only just arrived though and perhaps I am missing something important. Hopefully something that doesn't involve people walking up to you and screaming and police." she says, eying the Zebra and the attention he'd gathered.

(Some phrases are tricky to convert. I just made a wild stab at gentlemanly. Gentleponyly sounded even stranger.)

"When an appearance flows as easily as yours, why not a name as well?" He dipped into a bow, cocking a hoof. "I've entertained in all the courts in Equestria and speak a ready wit in their every tongue, yet parades remain exciting. I trust you haven't seen many before? Whence come you, or need you time to concoct a story?"

Aha! His royal speech was working well. That correspondence course was invaluable.

Masterweaver wrote:"Hey!" A police pony managed to push his way through the crown and glare angrily at the rock zebra. "We're having a parade here sir! I'm afraid street performers are going to have to be asked to leave the area, under the city organizational planning committee's orders. Put the guitar down quietly." He levitates a pad in front of him and begins writing a ticket.

Z-Rock didn't hear what the police pony had said over the sound of his rock, but he knew all too well what was going to happen as soon as he saw the officer break out his ticket pad. The Zebra ended his song early and rolled his eyes beneath his thick, black shades.

"Ah, always the same story with you. Your tickets are unwelcome, they make me blue. I guess it can't be helped, this is true..." Z-Rock slung his guitar back over his shoulder (the whole while glancing discretely around for the closest exit), "but is this something you really must do? On a day of party, a day of play - to make me put my mic away? Come on, have a heart, what do you say - can I play a bit more today - or at least not get a ticket?"

He always tried reasoning with them first, but if that didn't work - and it usually didn't - there was always plan B.

Run.

(Z-Rock will officially flee the scene if he can't persuade the police pony to not give him a ticket. He'll try to outrun the officer and sneak away, then double back for his Cannon later.)

(What are you talking about? Things can only have one meaning. And clearly it's the newest one. Clearly.)

"This would be my first." "No, no. I don't need any time. You might think what I say a lie anyway. There are two answers to your question. Or rather two questions to your question." She paused to let that important sounding statement sink in because if you don't have style what does the rest matter? "If you mean where was my body born, then the answer would be in what is known to Equestrians as the Wasteland. If you mean where who I am now comes then that would be Canterlot."

As she continues she has a far-away look in her eyes. "I was a mage brought there by Queen Chrysalis in preparation for...well, I'm sure you've heard the tale by now and perhaps told it yourself a few times if you're an entertainer. When the others were repelled by" here she sighs longingly and a blissful look comes over her, "Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Shining Armor, their love flowed over me. Consumed me. For it was a deep love. A great love." Here her voice changes to a deep masculine otherworldly one, "A love powerful and formidable. A love that crushes like a mace." Her voice returns to normal as she continues, "When I awoke, I fled for I was confused and afraid. When I found those who were once my hive again, I fled as they thought me abomination and sought to end me. And so, I have found my way here."

Snapping out of her trance, Outcast realized she had just shared her entire life's story with a total stranger, she blurted out the only thing she could think of. "So...uh...where are you from?" The question was phrased less like she was asking the question itself and instead as if she was asking if the question was an acceptable thing to be saying.

(A cookie to anyone who gets the reference.)

((In the future, roll for persuasion on your own.))

The cop gave Z-rock a long look... then tore off the ticket, folded it up, and stuck it in his hat. "Okay, kid, you're off this once. Remember, don't screw with what the city's doing and the city won't screw with you, got it?" He shook his head as he walked off, muttering something about over-eager child musicians.

(Okay, so I roll my own checks? I'm still trying to get all of this straight. My apologies.)

As the police pony went on his way, the one thing Z-Rock could think was - Kid? Really? And who said there wasn't racism in Manehattan... Bet this never happened to DJ PON-3...

Z-Rock breathed a sigh of relief and laughed in spite of himself, looking up at the sky and stretching. "Man, how I do dislike the cops, 'specially when they pull out all the stops... They wouldn't know good music if it hit them in the head - such a sad fate is worth a tear to shed."

As he was contemplating whether or not to continue his gig, Z-Rock's zebra senses (actually his ears, but zebra senses sounded cooler) picked up something along the lines of - "A love powerful and formidable. A love that crushes like a mace."

He turned to the black pony he'd barely met before and the fancy-pants donkey standing beside her. He waited for Outcast finished her speech, then he slid his shades down so he could make eye contact with both her and the donkey. "A love like that sounds quite formidable indeed, excuse me if I do not feel the need, to have a love quite as powerful and true - but my apologies if my music did scare you."

"Well quite the tale that... I must recite the story of my life some time. It rhymes." His hoof snapped up into the air. "As to your question, allow me to present myself. I am Balthazar the Incomparable! King of Jesters, Jesters of Kings. I've entertained in all the courts of Equestria and speak a--... Wait."

His gray brow crinkled, "Have I said that part already?"

A striped form suddenly moved between them and his eyes snapped to the newcomer, "Aha! The loud zebra." His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer - hooves clacking across the stone.

Zebra. That race that effortlessly exceeded all his toils in rhyme... The natural enemy of an honest jester.

Outcast just stares at Balthazar trying to figure out if anything he said actually meant anything. She gives up at the interruption of the loud zebra.

She gives Z-Rock a confused look, "Formidable? I...well, yes I suppose you could put it that way. A bit odd way of saying it though I'd say. Of course, I'm not too knowledgeable about your customs and I guess if you two are any indication, everypony in these parts talks a bit more.... stylistically than I'm used to. I'm ok now, thank you. I was just caught a bit off-guard and it was quite loud. And sudden. Suddenly loud."

After a bit of thought Outcast asked, "Well, I'm sure you wouldn't expect to achieve a love like the prince and princess' but, it is an ideal to strive for is it not? It would be such a shame not to feel love. It's just....wonderful."

"You said your name was...something ear-shatteringly loud. Sorry, I guess over you shouting it out I couldn't hear it? Sorry. I'm Outcast. It's a...." she looks over at Balthazar and remembers what he said. "pleasure? To meet you?"

(Stairc, I sense a rivalry)

Z-Rock nodded to Outcast. "The pleasure is mine, I do assure - no need to look so very demure. Indeed, love is something worth striving for, but I have my eyes set on another score. Wonderful though love may be, music is what calls to me. I play my ax and I play my cannon - in the hope that someday soon, I might raise a fannon." Z-Rock grinned, "'Fandom' - the word I mean to say, but you can't get the perfect rhyme every day."

Z-Rock raised a bro-hoof to Outcast, "Z-Rock - that is my name. Rocking this town - my claim to fame." But then Z-Rock's Zebra senses began to tingle (more like he caught sight of the fancy-pants donkey closing in on him out the corner of his eye).

Hmm... Z-Rock thought. This one looks serious... Very mysterious...

(*laughs* Balthazar has a funny way of looking at things - I wouldn't take it too seriously. It's funny that he's more put off by a rhyming zebra than a changeling though)


'Demure' and 'for'? That didn't begin to rhyme! 'For' rhymed with, 'oar' and 'demure' rhymed with 'fur'. And then the 'fandom' crack? Volume wasn't everything after all. He could out-rhyme this upstart! Certainly. Probably. Besides, he didn't care if some zebra could out-rhyme him anyway. Well, of course he cared - anyone would care - but honestly; he didn't.

"Perhaps if your volume was a little lower and your pace a tidbit slower
You'd take the oft-required time to find yourself a winsome rhyme
Instead of this severe disgrace upon your proud and rhyming race."

Upon saying that, Balthazar puffed out his chest and felt his frustration melt away. Score for the donkey-taking-royal-speech-classes. He held out a hoof.

"Balthazar myself. A pleasure to meet another artist, however different the form."

Outcast looked at the zebra's hoof. What a strange looking gesture for an offered hoof-shake. She shook it tentatively. "Nice to meet you Z-Rock." she said in a non-committal way as she was trying to puzzle out what he'd just said.

Then Balthazar said something, something so shocking she couldn't help but blurt out a comment, "Really? All zebras constantly rhyme? Doesn't that get...I don't know... boring? Where's the diversity?" She stopped there realizing something important. Sure, for a changeling monotonous repetition and a lack of variety might be horrible but, perhaps this was not so for other races. They did have to keep the same form all the time. Maybe they were just used to being disgustingly stable. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't judge. I will endeavor to embrace your ways. Afterall a still picture is still beautiful and wonderful no matter how many times you view it, no?" she said with a warm smile.

"I find it rather tiresome myself." Balthazar guffawed. He liked the black one. She was a nice monster. "But I doubt constant rhyming is much less diverse than constant lack of rhyming, especially with couplets as... 'Creative' as Cannon and Fannon."

He tossed a wink the zebra's way. "I jest of course. It's what I do."

Unfortunately, while not all the heros have shown up in this scene yet (don't worry, they're there!), the story must go on.

As the parade finally turned the corner and came into view, screams drowned out all other noise and cheers filled the air. Yes, the mayor and her family waved at everypony and everything that looked upon them, proudly displaying the banner marked '175 and stilllll going!' It's not really a surprise that some things got lost in the noise; heck, with everypony's eyes on the floats it was likely that neferious deeds were being performed just behind the crowd.

Z-rock, ever the trusting zebra, didn't notice the diamond dog that Outcast and Bronx caught sight of. In Manehattan, of course, a diamond dog isn't too unusual; a diamond dog acting so calm and leaning on a cane while in the middle of a crowd that should have deafened it, however, is. He too was watching the float, a smile on his muzzle...

"Ahem..." Coughed Balthazar, gesturing with his right forehoof, "Does the dog seem a little... Too calm? So many shiny things to pant over and he barely twitches."

Batlthazar searched his mind for what such an affair in the city might mean, studying the dog intently before scanning the float for signs of trouble. (Streetwise and Perception checks?)

He started to move closer to the float. This promised to be interesting.

(Outcast will make those checks too! She could have overheard something relevant to explain Streetwise.)

"That is a bit unusual isn't it." Outcast followed Balthazar and kept an eye out for anything else that seemed out of place. For the situation. Or at least about the diamond dog.

Zero 'Z-Rock' Zevran had always had a sense for trouble (when it came to cops and bouncers) but he didn't see the other's reason for such interest in the sharp-dressed mutt. He had a nice cane of course and Z-Rock could appreciate his sense of style - but as for his seeming calm?

"It's obvious he's been to obedience school," he called after the others, "why else would he not look like a fool?"

Perhaps they didn't hear him over the cheering crowds, ah well. He shrugged. The donkey had insulted his rhythm and his rhyme, but now was not the place nor the time. For payback, he'd show Balthazar exactly what he could do, but for now he'd just follow him and Outcast and see what they were up to.

Z-Rock grabbed up his Cannon and started rolling up after the others.

If nothing else, he thought, those two seem like fun.

(So, I'm still confused. When should we make our own checks, and when should we leave it up to the GM? I see everypony else is explaining their actions, but not noting their die rolls.)

XandZero2 wrote:(So, I'm still confused. When should we make our own checks, and when should we leave it up to the GM? I see everypony else is explaining their actions, but not noting their die rolls.)

(I'm Assuming MW will be making checks for us. If not, I expect he'll let us know shortly to clear the confusion).