Scene #5927: Late Visitors and Early Guests

Owner	Pose
Penelope Vasquez	One Penelope Vasquez eventually finds her way into Ponyville. More than a little hampered by the fact that she is incredibly weirded out; primarily due to the fact that she is now a colorful horse. Or, really, a not-so-colorful one- primarily black, with white trimmings, and a white-studded circle on her flank. Hair is mostly intact, at least, and she's gotten the hang of quadrupedal movement. Eventually, after asking the locals, she approaches the fabled home of Old Man Balman.
Mortimer Balman	Out at the edge of town is a fairly large house by Equestrian standards. Not arrogantly so, not like say Filthy Rich's manor. But large, because it is designed for people as large as Adeptus Astartes to be able to walk in and out of it. It is a cozy-looking abode, two stories tall with large round windows and a chimney made of blackened bricks, steadily letting smoke drift up into the night air. The smoke carries with it the smell of freshly made apple pies, and buttery breads. It has a long porch and a sizeable awning, with chairs for people both huge and tiny. Two acres of land attached to the house, running along the edge of the haunting Everfree Forest- which as Penelope nears, she will swear that malevolent little eyes stare and sometimes glow out at her from the treelines, but for whatever reason do not dare take action toward her- are dedicated to farming. Meat is growing from the ground, chunks of.. Beef, oddly enough. Not bloody or messy, just.. Meaty. Traditional vegetables grow alongside these meat plants, as do a variety of fruits and berries- most of which she should recognize as things like grapes, and watermelon, and strawberries, and raspberries, but a few of the bushes are Pokemon berries and would thus probably be quite alien to her. When she arrives at the house she will hear a TV in the background coming from one of the windows- the only TV she would have heard anywhere in Ponyville, in fact- but before she can knock the ground will tremble a little under her hooves. A wolf sticks its head out from above the house- a wolf big as an African elephant, thousands of pounds of raw muscle, staring down at her with bright yellow eyes that shine with an almost human intelligence. It sniffs at her and lets out a deep 'whurf' sound, sniffing at her inquisitively.
Staren	There's a cat in the grass watching Penelope. Black-furred and hard to see in the night. Once she's on the way to Mort's abode, though, it approaches -- and then is suddenly Staren. "Walking is easier if you don't think about it, by the way. Centipede's dilemma, you know?" He skates along with her -- his shoes are like hover-rollerblades-- if she doesn't stop him. "So is this your first time here? I guess it must be. You sounded like you knew about the place, though." As they approach the everfree, he gives it a wary gaze. When the wolf shows up he steps back.
Penelope Vasquez	The urge to further investigate the garden is strong- very, very strong. The meat plants aren't even the most fantastical part, though they are certainly weird; Ponyelope eyes the grapes and berries like they were gold growing from the vine. Her hoofs edge closer to the neat little rows, eyes up for anyone watchful. After a short time, however, she decides against robbing the fields. Making one of your first acts in a new world thievery probably wouldn't go over well. She does take her sweet time trotting through the acreage though, enjoying the natural view of it all. Not something you see every day; or, at least, it isn't for her. Eventually, she arrives at the comfy home- or, tries to, before she's ambushed by the shapeshifting catboy. She jumps at the sudden shifting, forehooves moving like they're reaching towards her back- before she frowns, looking back at herself as if for the first time. Shock fades to frustration, which eventually fades out of her features as the pair stride along. "I figured it out. And, 'course I have- heard about it from Twilight. At least a little bit. It's... colorful. Very..." Whatever 'very' Ponyville is, it dies on her lips as the gargantuan wolf makes it's presence known. She stiffens, eyes cutting side to side- before just going still, as the creature approaches. She doesn't smell good, to the sensitive nose. Not in the unwashed kind of way, in the way that seems more like she's been soaked in pollutants, the faint stink of smoke and chemical deep in her skin. Or, her hairs, in ponyform.
Mortimer Balman	The great wolf sniffs at Penelope first, and then releases a massive sneeze across the ground- fortunately a dry sneeze- and then sniffs at Staren. Its tail begins thumping on the ground as it recognizes his scent. The catbot thing is friendly! It smells a bit like the ponies and it's a friend. It emits another, louder 'whurf' sound. Penelope will probably bounce a bit from the tail-wagging. The door to the house swings open, and an oversized butterfly with an oddly British mustache will flutter out, mandibles twitching irritably, "<I say what is going on now, Ulbrecht? What are you-oh!>" The butterfly floats out, "<Young master Staren, I did not know you would be arriving. And... With another visitor? You don't look like any of the townies- no matter. The Master's door is always open. Do come in, and don't mind Ulbrecht, he's a good beast. I shall put some tea on immediately. Please wipe your hooves if you would be so kind, and do take your shoes off master Staren.>" Back inside the butterfly goes. Ulbrecht lets out a yawn and curls up against the house, which must be well reinforced to handle his bulk, and watches the new pony and Staren intently.
Penelope Vasquez	Penelope remains still, for a moment, as the gigantic butterfly flutters from the home and postitulates at the pair. Eventually, she just wheezes a laugh, mixed with some kind of murmored 'what,' but it's too breathy to make out more of the sentence. A glance aside at Staren. A shake of her head. Ridiculous. She rubs a forehoof across the bridge of the gigantic canine's nose gently as she passes it, a murmor of 'good boy,' before she makes her way inside- scuffing her hooves on the welcome mat obligingly, before stepping over the threshhold.
Staren	Staren is slightly uncomfortable being sniffed, but knows Ulbrecht is friendly and holds out his hand for sniffs, then tries to pat Ulbrecht's head. He does not seem to find a giant talking butterfly surprising in the least, although once he removes his shoes, he comments, "It feels weird walking around with no shoes on. If I'd known I'd have brought my moccasins." He glances at Penelope, then back in the direction Switchbait went as he heads further inside. "I'm not vouching for her. I think this sounds like a heck of a ritual and Mort should ask what he's contributing towards before he gives them the literal ashes of his own failed dream."
Mortimer Balman	Ulbrecht reacts to the affection like an oversized puppy, nuzzling at the petting hands and hooves but not hampering their ingress into the foyer of the house. Old Morty is waiting not too far inside, in his unicorn form. Tall, tired-looking, but still with a magnificent mane that's colored like a blazing fire that hasn't lost its brightness just yet. "I did intend to do just that, Staren." He's chewing on a pipe, a highly ornate one for something that looks like it was cast from old pig iron. "Welcome, welcome. Make yourselves at home." The living room once past the foyer was.. Something like a storybook cottage's main room, but modernized a fair bit. Couches and ottomans and large, comfortable chairs. The 'TV' was a holoprojector box that was creating a 3D holographic image which was being lazily watched by a meter-long Wartortle with a sharply deep blue shell, curled up next to a snoozing Delibird. A commercial was playing. o/~ "Crumbly Crunchies are the best, look delicious on your vest! Serve them to unwanted guests, stuff the mattress with the rest!" o/~ Apple-scented tobacco smoke drifts from Mort's pipe as he hops into a chair. "Reder, we have company. Would you be so kind as to carry Roll off to bed?" The Wartortle yawns and stretches out, "<Sure, Sarge. Can do.>" It then wriggles under the snoozing penguin and starts waddling off up the stairs with her. The butterfree would flutter back out, psychically carrying a silver tray with tea kettles and cups. "<Snacks will be ready momentarily, if you all please.>" "Carrot cake for me, Switch." "<Of course, sir.>"
Penelope Vasquez	The cast of colorful animal-likes continues to give Penelope pause, though the snoozing creature and penguin-thing are slowly wearing down the surprise factor. The guy keeps sentient animals. Or is... roommates, with sentient animals. Something. Penelope makes herself comfortable as requested, settling down in the space previously occupied by the Wartortle. She clears her throat, giving Staren a deadly glare, before looking back to Mortimer- managing a bit of a smile. "Well, I'm an open book. Ask away. But if you're looking for details, I'm probably gonna come up short. Like I said on the radio, I'm the grocery girl here." Her voice is earnest, easy and relaxed.
Staren	Staren plops down into a comfy-looking chair. Penny's glare is answered with a roll of the eyes. "If that's true, maybe you should be more concerned, Penny. If you don't know what this is for, how do you know it's for something /you/ approve of?"
Mortimer Balman	Mort taps his pipe against his chair to knock loose some ashes. "Mmm. Staren is correct, Penelope.. Now whether or not you're just the 'grocery girl', I'd like to think your.. Employer, we'll say, has given you some vague idea of what this all to be used for? And, if not.." He leans forwards a bit while sipping at a cup of tea, "Perhaps I might better ask, what do /you/ get out of doing these chores?"
Penelope Vasquez	"They're going to bribe gods and-or godlike entities with it in order to build a house." Penelope answers, with a straight face. It's punctuated by a pull of the tea offered by the butterfly, a quiet licking of her lips at the taste, before she continues, elaborating with a vague wave of a hoof. "I don't know whose gods, gods of what, or why they want all this weird stuff. This is one of the weirdest things on the list, really." She reaches behind herself again- but, realizing she no longer has her clothing on her, can't show it off. A little shrug. "Most of it is mundane things. Pages from a specific book, origami. It isn't all 'ashes of ambitions' and 'tears of crying puppies' and things like that."
Staren	Staren blinks. He's not sure what explanation he expected, but it sure wasn't that. "Okay... so... what is a god going to /do/ with the ashes of Mort's failed dream? I'm just thinking, we wanna make sure this isn't some weird voodoo stuff that comes back to hurt him, right?"
Penelope Vasquez	"Nah. They wanna eat it." Penelope responds, curtly. "I need to mix it into a stew, actually. It's why I was thinking, y'know, figure out some way to powder the metal before I do anything. Don't just want chunks of steel in there."
Mortimer Balman	"Honestly, Staren, I doubt any 'weird voodoo' that might come back to haunt me can be any worse than what I already deal with... Besides-" A wraithly presence suddenly makes itself known, a ghostly sock puppet-looking thing floating out of Mort's head with glowing blue eyes and an eerie grin, and an echoing sing-song voice comes from it- "<I always enjoy a challenge, darling Staren~>" The little ghost floats around the room, focusing her unblinking gaze on Penelope. "<A witch's brew for gods of unknown intent, eh? You're quite the gambler, young lady~>" The creature giggles, which echoes like the fading cries of the dying. "<But you have not answered my Master's query. What do you get from such a deal, that you are willing to take such risks~?>" She- it's definitely female- floats closer. "<Vengeance~? Power~? Something more, something less~?>"
Staren	Staren nods at Mortimer's assessment. "I guess if they just want to eat it, it's no more innately malign than Nettle eating bad dreams."
Penelope Vasquez	The ghost causes Penelope pause- for a moment, her expression pales, eyes locked to the spectre-thing; it passes, with a very equine whuff through her nose. She leans back as the sockpuppet floats closer, frowning. "The god-thing is of the intent to... build a house, with the proper motivation. I get keys to the house out of the deal. It's not some... black magic, raising the dead, anything. No money, no power. Brick and mortar." She looks aside to give the spirit's master a bit of the stink-eye, at the unwelcome intrusion- but says little more. "Is the third degree really neccesary, here?"
Mortimer Balman	"Down Nettle, down. No need to be quite so brusque." The Shuppet hmphs, "<No, I will disagree this time, Master.>" She settles on Staren's head and cocks her horn to one side. "<You are asking for a powerful Memory. Even if my Master does not see the harm in helping someone else with their little rites, /I/ am somewhat less.. Trustful. You will forgive an old ghost her paranoia, I trust~ I would be horribly upset if something happened to my Master.>" Her eyes flash red, like fresh blood, for the briefest moment. Mortimer rolls his eyes, "You're being overly dramatic. She wants a house. A Memory is a perfectly good foundation for building a house. Though.. I will advise a bit of caution, given some of your ingredients, Penny. I'm sure you don't want or need the third degree, but it's one of those "nature of old fucks" sorts of things, aye? We're always prone to advising caution, even to people who know exactly what they're doing..'
Penelope Vasquez	"I appreciate the concern, really," Penelope lies, "But I'm not the only one with a shopping list, and nobody else seems to have trust issues. I believe them when they say that it's a lot simpler and less sketchy-sounding than it looks." A solid nod, as if affirming her own statement to herself. "I get how much toil went into this- how much what you're giving me means to you. I promise, if it turns out to be some kind of monkey's paw deal, or something like that- I'll break down the walls until I can scrape out the metal and hand it back."
Staren	Staren jumps in his seat slightly as the shuppet freaking sits on his head. "...As she says. I've been operating in the Multiverse longer than most, even more than the faction leaders. Surviving this long and seeing what I've seen has impressed upon me certain cautions. I guess you're new to dealing with magic, but a symbol of someone's dreams, willingly given, sounds like a very powerful sympathetic magic component. We have only your word that it's for a building, even if Mort does have protection." He lifts a hand to point all fingers towards Nettle. "I know I wouldn't give it to someone I barely know if it were me. While I don't know the details of any such magic systems, I mean... that could be connected to some kind of mental control, or eating it could literally destroy some of Mortimer's memories, or replace them with a new dream the caster wants him to follow or remember fondly or bitterly... it's just... dangerous. This may have the trappings of a scavenger hunt, and maybe you and your client are entirely on the level, but from outside it looks damn suspicious." He sits up straighter for a moment. "Mort is my friend, and I'm concerned for him, although he can certainly protect himself and is plenty old enough to make his own decisions, I'm just... friendly concern, you know?" He leans back. "Anyway, if he's cool with this, I won't stop him. But if this /does/ turn out to have been a lie..." He gives Penelope a hard stare. "I have powerful friends, and I have a mind to discourage recurrances of events that hurt my friends. If you're /lucky/ you'll end up right back here, with Mortimer teaching you lessons about what you did wrong." He sighs, "Or your mysterious client will, anyway." He leans back in the chair again.
Staren	As an afterthought, Staren adds, "You know, you're surprisingly un-paranoid about this for someone who's afraid I'll make copies of people and interrogate them just because I want to save lives."
Mortimer Balman	Mortimer nods and claps his hooves together. "Switch, do us a solid and bring out the article?" "<Coming, sir!>" A few snacks- coffee cakes, carrot cakes, some buttered scones- would be levitated onto the tray for Staren and Penelope to indulge. A moment later, Switchbait fluttered back into the room, carrying a few small shards of high-grade steel and polymer composite materials. Only a few small bits, no larger than a finger or two, and all of them scorched and twisted almost beyond recognition. "<The remains of Site Omicron, sir.>" "Thank you, Switch. You can go knock off for the night if you'd like." "<Thank you sir- but dishes first, relaxation later- gracious me, master Staren. You->" Switchbait is cut off by Mortimer waving a hoof. The shards are passed to Penelope. "Penny seems like a decent girl. And.. Frankly, Staren? I'm almost amused by the idea that someone might use this sort of thing to go inside my head.." Mort gives off a dark chuckle. "It's not too pleasant in there, anymore.." Nettle begins giggling again, and if Penelope looks closely she'll see that Nettle's grin isn't actually a mouth. It's a tear in her fabric, like a crack in an egg. The way the tear widens makes it look like a mouth full of Langolier-esque 'teeth' of razor sharp felt. "So I say let her do this rite. She'll be careful. And if things happen... Things happen. That's how life goes."
Penelope Vasquez	"You're a twenty year old boy with cat ears and a suit of armor that looks like a bug who can't even operate a motor vehicle, Staren. Save us both the time and don't do me the insult of threatening me, especially in an amicable host's home, until you demonstrate the ability to look like you can back it up." Penelope responds flippantly, ending her chiding with a popping-in of the offered crumbcake. As Nettle has backed off, she seems marginally more at ease, and her tones have bled any anxiety the ghost's presence causes- but her eyes dart towards the thing every now and then. When the target metal is finally acquired, she makes no show of examining it- just holding it in front of her nose to verify they are, in fact, what looks like the wreckage of some kind of spacecraft, before storing them away. Somewhere. The catboy's additional comment goes unaddressed; instead, she just offers a friendly smile to Mortimer, despite the eerie tones of the sockpuppet. "Thanks for extending the trust, really. It's not cheap where I'm from. If this winds up biting anyone in the rear, I'll send you the video of tearing the whole operation down."
Staren	Staren rolls his eyes at Penelope's attempted insult. "You're a twenty-year-old girl who's half toaster, relies on drugs to fight, can't even cast a simple spell and has never seen a pokémon before." He makes a jazz-hands gesture as he continues, "Ohhh, look at me, I described someone in an insulting way and made fun of them for not doing some easy and mundane task they just never had a reason to do, whoop-de-do aren't I a big deal." He folds his arms. "Next are you gonna make fun of a Cybertronian for never having learned to tie shoes? Ooh, or maybe you could make fun of Finna -- /or the First of the Concord/ -- for not knowing how to program a computer."He unfolds his arms and gestures vaguely. "Or, you could stop being a jerk and making fun of people for superficial shit that doesn't matter. I don't expect you to /respect/ me, /I/ sure don't respect people much if I don't know them... but it's that shitty, surface-appearance thinking that makes folks decide a person's life isn't important, just because they're different from you," he folds his arms again, "And I'm sure as hell not going to tolerate or respect it in anyone else. It makes you look like a damn schoolyard bully." "Also," Staren pulls a tablet from his bag but doesn't turn it on, simply showing Penelope her own reflection in the screen, "You might not want to make fun of people for having animal ears right now. Just sayin'."
Mortimer Balman	Mortimer clears his throat, loudly. "Children, don't start actin' up. Otherwise I'm going to make you stand with yer noses in the corner." Chances are good he could actually DO that too. "...Even if Staren /does/ have a point about the animal ears thing." He puffs on his pipe a bit before continuing. "Penny, you've got what you needed, aye? I dunno about how to help ya with the nightmares... ...Well, not unless you wanna hear some of the horrid shit I've seen in my unfairly long life.. And as fer you Staren, don't further exacerbate the matter by bein' increasin'ly antagonistic. You two are 20-somethings." Mortimer leans forward again. And his voice becomes grave and threatening, "Or do I need to do a long "When I Was Your Age" speech?"
Penelope Vasquez	"I'm closer to thirty, don't know them, don't know them, and if your boss is as much a smug corpie as you, I would gladly." Penelope replies primly- before giving Mortimer a sigh, exchanging a glance that attempts to speak something like 'these damn kids.' Even though she is one of the kids in question. She rises off of the seating smootly, shaking her flank to stretch. "And, while I'm sure I'd love to share war stories, I just don't dream much at all. I'll figure something out." She attempts something like a curtsey or bow- probably saw Twilight do it, and Penelope's own is rather unpracticed and sloppy- before nodding. "Thank you for the contribution, really. Maybe share some stories about acting tough- Staren could use it." And out towards the front door she goes- giving a thankful call to the Butterfree in the kitchen as she heads out.
Staren	Staren looks at Mort, smirking slightly at the acknowledgement that Mort agrees with something he said. He's not antagonistic towards Mort... He's not /worried/ about getting Old Man Lectured at, but he has no desire to provoke it, either. He looks back to Penelope and shrugs. They just won't learn... Once she's out the door, he shakes his head. "Not much point in /acting/ tough. Either you are or you aren't." He looks to Mort. "Well. Long as I'm here, shall I hang out for tea and TV, or were you about to get to bed?"
Mortimer Balman	Mortimer would wave after Penelope. "There y'go then. You have a good night, dear. Be safe!" Ad then he flopped back in his chair and stretched, bones popping loudly. "Sleep is for godless communists and people who have shit to do in the mornings. I'm gonna Sherlock Wars with Switch once he finishes the dishes. You want a beer?"
Staren	Staren makes a face as he puts the tablet away. "Alchohol smells and tastes terrible. No thanks." He blinks, then sits up straight with his hands on the armrests and turns towards Mort. "But that reminds me! About the space brewery, I mean... the raw materials are there for the taking, I'm sure you can find an asteroid somewhere, right? It's a question of power, and time. Turning the materials into mining robots and space ships so you can gather more materials and make the distillers and vats and stuff... Power can be free too, I mean there's solar, but it can be kinda slow. Maybe something using your own fire..." Staren rubs his chin and stares off into space, thoughtfully.
Mortimer Balman	Mortimer facehooves with both forelegs. "Staren, I appreciate the interest in the space-brewery but you don't grasp the scale lad. We're talking about a single space station that would make the Imperium of Man's Machine Cult bow down in reverence. This is a structure of colossal construction. The last estimate I had fer such a stratum ran into the hundreds of billions of credits. And such construction is necess'ry! Otherwise you won't have room fer the.. Well, I'm not going into many details. There's a LOT of proprietary technologies involved, though."
Staren	Staren leans back into the chair again. "Hmm. Well, then maybe it'd take a lot of time. And you'd want to do several iterations of having the robots make more robots. But I don't see why that'd make it undoable. Just slow."
Mortimer Balman	Mort facehooves again. "I lack the investment capital Staren. Fer the love of all Gods- if I were to take all the resources YOU have right now, and started with some one man operation of robots building robots I would need several FIELDS of asteroids and about 30 years. I have already run the numbers, Staren. I have considered thousands of possible angles fer this. The material resources needed would take years of refinement alone to say nothing of the workforce I'd have to start building by hand. This would become the gods damned Intercontinental Subway Project all over again! And I don't HAVE any heirs or vast fortunes left to carry it on once I'm dead!"
Staren	Staren looks a bit concerned. "You don't expect to live thirty years??" He sighs. "Alright, alright. I just thought I should offer. It was sad to hear that you had to give up your dream, and I wanted to do something. But I should have known better than to think it was a case of you just not having thought of doing it with open-source stuff to start."
Mortimer Balman	Mortimer stares blankly at the holoprojected screen. "...Honestly? I'll be shocked if I live another ten, much less twenty." He shrugs a bit. "Unless you plan on puttin' me in some kinda old folks home staffed by robot warrior-monks that can somehow keep me there. Which.. Y'know. Good luck with that, lad. Gwahahahahaa..."
Staren	Staren hehs. "Alright, alright." He smiles. "I wouldn't do that to you. So, is it okay for me to jump in on the latest episodes of Sherlock Wars or is there stuff I need to know?"