Chapatrap

Fallout: Equestria - of RP and Bellyrubs

I have subscribed to it and I'll see about an app over the following days.

Being the Bad Guy

They will know it's you if they read this thread.

Free Winds [Reboot]

I think we should. If Pie hasn't posted by now, they're probably not going to at all.

Besides, it'd be nice to get some fresh blood in.

Fallout: Equestria - of RP and Bellyrubs

Posted for all you motherfuckers out there. Lets get this started again.

Fallout: Equestria - of RP and Bellyrubs

Beaner Territory, Northern Equestrian Wastelands

A mountain range, copper red in the rising sun, cast long, cold shadows that were slowly shrinking back into the mountains as the sun climbed the cloudless sky. Sacred trotted slowly, leaning on Decimus for support. The stubborn Zebra had refused to take breaks over the night for fear of losing another slave to the wastes. During their last rest-stop, one of the slaves had laid down, closed her eyes and never woke up. Her carcass was dragged along behind the group by a slaver. The rest of the slaves were in a state - their tongues lolled out of their mouths, dry and swelled. But the worst were their flanks and backs - 2 long days of whipping by the slavers had left them bloody and raw to such an extent that Decimus explicitly banned the use of whips until they were handed over to the Beaners, the clan that owned the slaves.

A sea of tents sat at the base of one of the larger mountains, covered on three sides by a high wall. The Beaner's, despite the silly name, were actually a rather important faction in the slaving world. After the fall of Fillydelphia, a significant minority of slavers made their way in the lawless wastelands of the North-West, where NCR control was weak and slaving was still commonplace. The Beaner's took the name due to their former control of a large bean plantation in the South, which had since become overrun by the NCR. The name had stuck, unfortunately. The Beaner's were pushed into the North West with their small contingent of slaves and had finally settled near a small, dusty mountain range, where they had taken a particular interest in the hills around the area. There, they had exploded, with an army of slaves surpassing 500, giving them the largest slave stock in all of the North. From what Sacred could gather, the slaves were had been used to mine into the hills to presumably extract ore. The Beaner's were lead by a rough, one-eyed stallion who called himself the Grand Beaner. The Grand Beaner fancied himself as a successor to Red Eye and often spent time rubbing flanks with the rich and affulent members of Vanhoover, the closest city. He rarely took visits to "Fort de Beaner", as it was commonly called and controlled his empire from the confines of his Vanhoover mansion.

As they approached Fort de Beaner, signs of life began appearing along the beaten track. Broken wagon wheels, used cartridges, empty needles and even bones lay littered along the path. The slavers had erected a rough wooden sign at the top of the final hill. "Beware! Beaner teritoree iz ere!", it warned. Sacred squinted as the evening sun stung his eyes and blinked several times, the bright light leaving its mark on his eyesight for several moments. He had seen many slaver camps in his years on the wastelands but none as big or mighty as this. The ragtag group was fast approaching the camp now and the tracker could see the walls clearly.

They were made of sheets of iron, crudely stuck into the ground and supported by planks. The fort was backed against the hills and mountains, so there was only three directions to escape from. For roughly 100 feet on all three sides was clear of all signs of life, presumably so the watch ponies could see any runaways with ease. Towers sat along intervals and the occasional glint of a shining rifle in the sunlight could be seen. The gates were an equally simple affair - two towers sat on either side and the gates themselves looked like they'd been specially made. Knowing the pure grandiose of this camp, they probably had. They were made of a thick metal, painted a deep maroon. It looked as though they were a pain to open and close (for the slaves, anyway...)

"Well..." murmured Decimus. "This is the famous Fort de Beaner". One slave behind him groaned audibly at the sight of it. The slavers wooped at its sight and gave one of the slaves a kick on the rump in joy. "You'll be working hard, now, won'cha?" smirked a slaver, looking around his stock. They didn't even lift their heads to answer. Those that had lifted their heads just dropped them again at the sight of the infamous slaver fort.

Except one.

The unicorn the slaves called Lank, the unicorn with the shaved mane who proudly kept her head up and her eyes forward. She was the one that Sacred had been thinking about the whole walk to Fort de Beaner. That image of her beautiful smile had stuck to his mind and although he tried hard not to, he had occasionally glanced back at her. She kept his line of eyesight and smiled softly, although it was nothing compared to that first smile. She was rather plain to look at but there was something about her that had Sacreds heart racing. It was possible he was in love. But Sacred had been in Equestria longer than that. He'd heard tales of Unicorn mares so beautiful they'd gobble up poor, unsuspecting stallions and wrap them around their left hooves. He'd even seen such a mare once- while in a bar in Manehattan, he'd seen a relatively plain Unicorn followed by a group of drooling Earth pony stallions who would follow her command without question. They felt such "love" for this mare they'd stolen and killed. Perhaps thing had happened to him.

"All right, Sacred, stay in my sight all the time we're in there. Things should be all right but I don't want to lose my star stallion to some greedy, butt-fucking slaver" muttered Decimus to his tracker, glancing back at the slavers. They were too busy flirting with Bliss or berating slaves to notice. The pony from Prance nodded and shifted his weight unsteadily so he no longer leaned on the Zebra and instead stood alongside him.

"Right, you lot. Buck yourselves up. We're going into Fort de Beaner and I want to get my money's worth" barked Decimus, giving the slavers a death glare. "Bliss, up here with me". Bliss gave a longing look at the slaver before bounding up to be beside Decimus. Sacred saw a pang of jealousy appear in the Zebra's eyes. He clearly didn't like Bliss talking with the slavers or the way they stared at her backside as she bounded towards him. He didn't say a word to Bliss - he didn't need to. She scared any potential mare-nappers off with her horrific smile and the rifle strapped to her back. The slavers set about organising the slaves, who obediently got into a straight line. The unhooked the dead slave from the chains and tossed her corpse aside like rubbish before hooking the rest back onto the chain line.

"Lets go then. Let me and the slavers do the talking. I'll see if I can get you some food while we're in there, Sacred. You look like you've been starving yourself for too long" said Decimus, smiling at his tracker. Sacred only nodded, his thoughts engrossed on the unicorn known as Lank. He'd almost forgotten about the pangs of hunger in his stomach and had supplemented them with water. He took a swig from his water flask only to discover not a drop had entered his mouth. It had all been drank already. The Prench pony let the bottle drop around his neck in annoyance before continuing his walk towards the forts red gates.

They were almost there. By the end of tomorrow, Sacred would be asleep in a bunk somewhere in Vanhoover with a full belly and a throat drenched in as much as wine as he could drink. He'd need it after all this.

After he abandoned the most beautiful unicorn he'd ever seen to the chains of slavery.

Fallout: Equestria - of RP and Bellyrubs

Action tiem

Name:
Sacred Grey (Sacre Gris)

Race:
Earth Pony

Physical Appearance:
I made a tasteful nude for this
A slim yet small stallion with a white coat and a dull grey mane, Sacred is by no means a pony you would look twice at. His mane and tail are cut shorter than normal, as is traditional with the tribes of Prance and his eyes are a glittering grey. As a foreigner, his way with words is considerably slower and heavily accented, as his first language is a Prench dialect (jesus christ....) He stands in the prime of his life and age has not yet effected his youthful features but the sand and dangers of the wasteland have left their mark in the form of scars and bad memories. A cutie mark appeared some years ago and has manifested itself into a fleur de lis.

Clothing is worn and discarded by Sacred on an almost weekly basis, depending on his line of work and how bad it smells. His only constant piece of clothing is a filthy, camo bucket hat that keeps the sun out of his eyes. Weaponry is non-constant, as he finds larger weapons too heavy or jangly to drag around the wasteland. A machete is sheathed around his neck for use from the mouth but most guns are cumbersome and practically useless in his hooves. In the case of a firefight, he will run or try to find a place to hide to avoid being shot. A leather pouch around his neck serves as a small bag, usually containing some supplies and a wallet.

Backstory:
Sacred Grey was born into a tribe of Prench ponies in Prance, an area to the far south inhabited solely by Earth Ponies that caught the downwind of war. With the destruction of Equestria came the violent implosion of nearby countries into civil wars. Like dominoes, country after country fell to anarchy. The misty moors of Prance were turned into an overgrown, dangerous wasteland full of tribes, factions and families all vying for control. Before the war, Prance hadn't exactly been prosperous and the poverty only worsened after the war. Many Prench ponies began leaving for a different life abroad and Sacred's small tribe were no different.

Traders trickling from the northern badlands told stories of Equestria, of the wealth of its cities and the prosperity of its ponies. Of course, these stories were exaggerated to the extreme, as Equestria was in no better condition than Prance but the Prench ponies clutched to this sliver of hope with their lives. Sacred's tribe of 60 ponies began their journey across the Badlands, all looking forward to their new lives. Six years later, Sacred Grey emerged from the Badlands alone, 59 of his companions having fell to the sands. Sacred's entire family, his friends, his world, had all been killed two years previously and the little pony had spent up to two years wandering the badlands himself, forever pushing himself to go north and complete his families dream of a new, prosperous life.

During his six years in the Badlands, Sacred learned a lot with his father. He'd already been rather young when they'd entered the Badlands and along with his father, learned skills for living in the wasteland. His cutie mark appeared while in the badlands and manifested itself into a fleur de lis, which probably relates to his love for the flower or the fact his first language was Prench. As the years passed, the tribe was slowly whittled down by attacks on raiders, hunger, dehydration and disease until only Sacred remained. For two years, he continued his journey north alone, determined to finish the journey so many had died to finish. He exited the badlands a different pony than the one that had entered. Once inside Equestria, he found the stories his tribe had told to be far from the truth. In fact, the Equestrian Wastelands were just like Prance, if not worst. However, the journey across the Badlands had taken a lot out of him and he doesn't wish to make the journey back to Prance anytime soon. He settled into simple extermination and hunting jobs out in the small towns for folk. His Equestrian was poor but slowly improved as the weeks turned to months. He drifted from town to town, offering his services to anyone who'd have him, good or evil.

After spending a year like this, his tracking skills caught the attention of slavers, who began calling on him to hunt down their runaways. Slavery was a concept he was initially uncomfortable with but he settled into the job when he realised how easy it was to track scared, weak ponies. Plus, the pay was great. Eventually, he went full-time with the slavers but has always made sure to distance himself from the families and tribes. By not affiliating himself with anypony, his market opened widely and he doesn't have to get into the often turbulent world of Wasteland politics. After a few years of drifting from slaver group to slaver group, Sacred found himself working with a small group led by a charismatic Zebra called Decimus who shared his ideas of not getting involved with slaver politics and offered his services to anyone. This suited him fine. This professional group of trackers has become well known amongst the slaver community for their efficiency and neutral stance in politics.

Decimus' group of trackers often fluctuates in size but has always included Sacred as a tracker, who gets his hunches right 8 times out of 10. Decimus stands as the groups leader and the groups main barterer, often meditating negotiations between the more demanding members of his crew and the slavers. Almost twelve years have past since Sacred Grey left the Badlands behind and he has well established himself into Equestrian society. His Prench receives rare use in real life but Sacred uses it as a first language, often speaking a pidgin Prench/Equestrian. Old memories of his tribe, lost to the badlands, have faded like his scars from his days in the Badlands and he no longer associates himself as the last member of them.

Sacred Grey had to adapt to life in the Badlands and to life in Equestria. Now, as the winds of change begin shaping the Wastelands again, Sacred will be forced to adapt again. But it won't be hard. It never was before.

Karma Title
Smelly Parfait - Neutral but leaning on Evil.

Traits

Rat de Friche
You've survived in the wasteland for many years on your own and have done disgusting things to yourself in order to stay alive. GG! As such, you now know how to look after yourself in the wild, wild wastelands but unfortunately for you, your social skills are better suited to a 13-year old kid who likes comic books.
+5 Medicine, Survival
-5 Speech, Barter.

Cheese-eating-surrender-pony
You have embraced your natural instinct of 'flight-and-hide' and will probably be better off escaping than trying to fight off raiders due to your small stature and general cack-hoofness with guns. However, you're better at hiding and will fight if stuck in a corner.
+5 Sneak, Melee Weapons
-5 Guns, Repair

[Open] Self-Discovery Quest!

What a cheery thought.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Chill out, Chapinlap.

@Vilageidiotx

Okay, Villajidoit.

[Open] Self-Discovery Quest!

Posted! Lets keep this going.

[Open] Self-Discovery Quest!

"What the hell is that?" gulped Artemis, rolling onto his front. He watched through the bars of his cell fearfully as the big creature lumbered towards them. "Woahhh, hold up a minute, big boy. I'm not very tasty, you see, I'm a fish who has been out of water for a while now..." He watched in horror as the monster spat on the top of the bars and burnt the bars. "Jesus Christ...." gasped Artemis, slowly flopping backwards in fear. The creature took a bar in its great jaws and slowly began bending the bar in a downwards direction. "Now come on, now, we don't need to do that" soothed the blobfish, a crack in his voice revealing his fear. This creature was obviously trying to break in and eat them. There was no other explanation for it.

Images of Artemis's body oozing blood and guts in the creatures mouth flashed through his mind. He might be immortal but goddammit, that would hurt! "Seriously, boy, you don't have to do that" whispered Artemis, finding himself in the very back corner of the cell. He whimpered in fear before noticing his companions looked unfazed by the creature at their door. "Yeah, don't worry guys, there's just a huge freaking monster breaking into our cell, I'm probably just overreacting here!" he barked sarcastically. "Sorry that I don't want to be digested over the course of next week and slowly push myself out of a monsters rect-OH JESUS".

The creature had broken down the bars and Artemis was pretty sure he'd shit a small stone.