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Turgidly attempts to disguise himself as the hostage. With some subtle changes to attire, Turgidly starts to look more and more like the prisoner, perhaps he could pass for the scientist. The decryption still has four minutes top go, so you complete the disguise.

Lokk attempts to move his arm, but the extreme pain dissuades him from that action. The bones are likely melded, so that arm is out of business until you get some surgery done. Still, Lokk-Agar keeps going, spitting on his knife and walking up to the Mothers. The one that was already downed looks dead, but just to make sure Lokk slips the knife into her armour. Moving to the next one, the one he blasted, Lokk is able to finally get a look at what kind of face is hidden beneath the mask, as the full armour helmet was blasted away by the magic. It isn't a pretty sight. Her sunken eyes and grey-brown, wrinkled skin tells you that the Dread Mother basically lived in this armour. Just when he is about to slit her throat, the Mother's eyes open. It only takes her a fraction of a second to leap up and onto Lokk, baring her rotten teeth as she lets out a furious roar. Her dull, yellow eyes stare into Lokk's as she forces him to the ground and pushes her forearm against his neck. Lokk instinctively stabs at her side, but her armour is too thick to be penetrated by wild slashes. He tries to spit, but he already used up the gland poisoning his blade. She puts her full weight down onto Lokk's neck, fully intending to choke the life out of him.

NOOOO! the weapon bellows as the Mother lets out a scream of pain. This gives you the opportunity to push the Mother off you. She rolls to the side and clutches the sides of her head, before falling limp. Lokk notices he is bleeding out of his eyes and ears, and feels a bit nauseous. Shrugging off these feelings, he finishes off the downed Dread Mother and loots her card key. This will get him into the containment area, but is he sure he wants to enter?

They're not all there yet, but Armoth expects the remaining four mercs to be here soon. That means there will be eight total.

"Sir, shouldn't we wait for gen sec?"

"If we don't stop them from releasing that item, we'll need a lot more than general security to stop them. As soon as the others get here, we're moving in."

Both Bekter and Alexis watch the next round of fights. The matches get closer and closer, as the best of the fighters are further distilled into a small group of 6. Well, it would be 8, but two matches end up with both fighters seriously injured, and the winners are unable to continue fighting in the tourney. As such, the tournament master decides that instead of the traditional one vs one fights, the next round will be comprised of two free for alls between three fighters. A few fighters complain, but the crowd seems to think it's a great idea.

In the next round, Alexis will be fighting Shammy and Rang the Undermining. Shammy is a big guy, but his true strength lies in his defensive style of fighting. This means he has suffered few injuries so far. Rang is a Ramok. Besides the fact that that means he gets free armour via his chitinous plates, he also has a natural aptitude for brawling. He's suffered several injuries so far (a battered face, a cracked plate in his right forearm, a bad right foot), but they haven't slowed him down. Before the fight begins, Shammy approaches Alexis.

"You're a pretty tough bitch. I can respect that. That's why I'm comin' here with a plan. Hows about me and you both team up to take out the Ramok, hm? If we team up and fuck him up, it'll mean me an' you can fight squares. How about it, lass?" the man asks. His square jaw, curly red hair, and foreign accent shows you that he's from the island chain north of here. The Depths are lousy with Islanders, you've noticed. People say Islanders have a strange way about them. Something about bestiality. Or was it incest? Regardless, Islanders aren't well liked on the mainlands.

Bekter (and Alexis) finds the odds are skewed in favour of the woman this round. She's a crowd favourite. As such, the payout is decent. The best odds put her at 2:5, while the worst odds put her at 4:3. The takers are getting more cautious with their odds, but are accepting higher bets. How much would you like to bet this round?

The clan ring seems impressed with your speech. A few of them nod, while the others whisper among themselves. Clover the Clever, though, stays neutral as ever.

"Next is Autumn Switch of the Swift Dogs. We have chosen you for your versatility, keen insight, and loyalty. Your primary potential sponsors are Magister Regal Silver, Master Farmer Smart Cookie, and myself."

The orange mare steps forward with confidence. "Thank you, honourable Chieftess of Equestria. I come forward today, determined and humbled, intent on being chosen by you wise ring members. But why should you choose me, of all these impressive prospectives?

"Not only are my exam scores near perfect, and not only are my trials record-breaking, I come forward with something these other prospectives can not match. An unerring, unstoppable drive to learn.

"Are pioneers not only warriors and explorers, but also scholars? They must be, for their main goal is to learn about the creatures they meet and the creatures they kill, the empires they aid and the cults they target. Pioneers must be observant above all else. They must yearn for that forbidden knowledge just on the horizon. Not only to survive, but to bring home the knowledge they were meant to retrieve. They are the eyes, the ears, and the hooves of the ring. They must have the motivation, the drive, to learn and advance Equestria.

"A pioneer could be strong, yes, but does that mean they know how to apply this strength? A pioneer could be skilled, but does that mean they know how to take advantage of these skills? A pioneer could be smart, but does that mean they know how to see the world in the right light?

"You can have the strongest, smartest, most skilled prospectives, but without the right motive, they can all be lead astray. I give you my motive, pure and simple: To learn, and to advance my knowledge. And everything I observe, everything I learn, is sent back to you.

"My motivation is unmatched. I will become a pioneer. And when I do? I'll personally see to it that your knowledge, and my own, is advanced to the greatest of heights. Thank you." With that, the unicorn steps back into the line. The ring mutters among themselves, some unsure of what to make of this speech.

"Next is Mead Mix of Equestria. We have chosen you for your glib, your specialized training in the arts of espionage, and your extensive knowledge of alchemy. Your primary potential sponsors are Tipped Scales, Master Farmer Smart Cookie, and Master Interna Rosy Tint."

The tan and orange earth pony jumps forward dramatically. "Gee, thanks! I'm so excited to be here! I mean, with all these great ponies and griffons and minotaurs and zebras around, who'da thunk I'd be here?! Anyways, I think I'd be great as a pioneer! I mean, I know how to see threats and eliminate them! I mean, I guess Sam could do that too, and Sasha. But all I need is a little bit of poison, and I'm set!

"That also means I can take care of mean ponies, too. Like, say, some upstart king or rebellious vassal. Just one invitation to a dinner party and zip, zop, zoop! Dead! But I don't always have to kill them. Sometimes a joke or two will set them straight. I'm pretty good at figuring out a pony's sense of humour. You'd be surprised to see what a difference that makes!

"Back in the guild, they called me Two-Faced Mel. Isn't that awesome? I mean, it's such a good name. I can befriend a pony, and get him to tell me all about his plots. Then, BAM! Oubliette city! Pretty crazy, right?

"Anyways, yeah! I can do all that stuff for you. Pretty cool, right?" With that, the earth pony hops back into the line, a smile on his face.

Half of the ring looked dumbstruck by the speech, as if completely unaware of Mel's special set of skills. Tipped Scales just chuckles to himself.

"Finally, Basayan of the Extra-farlands. You have been chosen for your extraordinary and alien set of skills and knowledge, and your logical outlook. Your primary potential sponsors are Master Interna Rosy Tint, Judge Stalwart Mind, and Master Negotiator Pale Seer."

Sorry about that. It's hard for me to post on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, as I work most of the day during that time. I will try to get my turn over with as quickly as possible.

The girl looks out of it. She's bleeding heavily from the shoulder, on the edge of consciousness.

"S... Stay away!" she mutters as she swings her rusty scissors around weakly, attempting to fight Sam off.

Daniels steps up behind Sam. "I don't think we can trust her, Sam. Just leave her, we need to help the others."

Francis stands vigilant over the guard post. Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to be very helpful, as the battle is behind him.

"No! My people are dying, I'm not going to take this slow!" she yells with uncharacteristic emotion as she slaps Gaze's hand aside and charges into the town. Do you charge after her, or stick with the stealthy approach?

Simega hides in the alley way and waits for the raiders to retreat.

You never get ahead in life helping others for nothing in return.

Kassen sizes up the men. Do they appear very strong? What are they wearing? Do they have weapons? More importantly, did they have coin pouches? Kassen wouldn't usually consider killing someone unless justified or sufficiently desperate. He wasn't desperate, at the moment, but protecting a weakling from bandits was a good enough excuse to draw blood. It is what his people would call a 'Dim echt moore', a lawful killing. Something of a misnomer, for there are very few laws among desert nomads. Still, there was a kind of honour among his kind, not to kill another unless justified. Much of the time, a killing is justified if times are desperate. A clanless nomad with no wealth can kill pretty much anyone he comes across. This would not forfeit his 'honour', but it gave anyone else in the area a dim echt moore on him.

In this situation, attacking these men would be completely justified. But that's not the main concern. Is it really worth the risk? To determine that, Kassen would have to take a closer look at the attackers.

Sam and Daniels both open fire on the raiders beating up Clair. [8+2+3=13][20+2+3+1=CRIT] Sam's first shot gets one of the raiders in the back of the leg, forcing him to his knee. His next shot ends the raider's manic laughter. [10+3=13] The ground kick employed by Clair sends the other raider to the ground once more. It makes him a harder target for Daniels, but the officer is still able to shoot the bastard in the head.

[4+6+8+5+2+2=27] The combined fire from Rachelle, Witt, Gaze, and Francis mean the two raiders kicking the ghoul on the ground are quickly killed. The battle was over, or so it seemed. After a few moments of recuperation and silence, Witt looks over her shoulder. "Shit! Do you hear that? The town!" She was right. The din of battle masked what was going on behind them. Screaming. It seems the town was under attack from more than one direction. "Everyone, into the town!" she commands, running to the ladder leading to the ground.


Simega withdraws into the shadows, but stays within earshot of the raiders.

"Fuck, forget it! Just grab who you can, let's get the fuck out of here!" With that, the slavers begin to retreat from the town.

"I pledge allegiance to the flag, of the blah, blah, blah. Yeah, of course I accept the call," Sasha says, annoyed.

"I accept the call, and share Aurora's enthusiasm. It is good to meet you, Clover the Clever, as it is good to meet the rest of the ring face to face."

"I'm Mead Mix, and I'm happy to accept the call!"

Clover the Clever nods without acknowledging anyone in particular. "This is how the selection will be decided," she starts, neutral but authoritative. "Each one of you will have a chance to present your case to the ring. We already have the results of your trials and tests in mind. These trials enabled us to narrow down our search to the few prospectives that were truly worthy to join the ranks of the pioneers, but they did not reveal everything about you. We know your past, your skills, your weaknesses, and your faults. But these are merely pieces of the puzzle. Now I call upon you to show us that you are more than a score on a test, or a time on a trial. Tell us why one of us should sponsor you, why you deserve to be chosen, why we should trust you."

"The following person was chosen randomly to speak first. Sasha of the Tibe Mountains! You have been chosen as a prospective for your exceptional skill in combat, your keen senses, and your ability to assess danger and to command fearlessly. Your primary potential sponsors are Commander Hurricane and Judge Stalwart Mind. Begin now."

Sasha looks to the others and gives a look saying, 'What am I supposed to do, exactly?'. After a few seconds, she steps forward and begins to speak. "Alright, well, let me go over the facts. I've fought in several wars over the course of my life, and I've always ended up on the winning side--"

"But you switched sides during two of the wars. Once when you were on the losing side, and once when you were paid a hefty sum to betray your contract," the Judge points out calmly.

A look of surprise crosses the griffons face for but a second, but she quickly recovers. "Doesn't mean I didn't win in the end, yeah? Besides, that's two of eleven, and I betrayed the Sloths when I was young and foolhardy. My honour as a mercenary has since recovered."

"Anyways, the facts. I've been in wars, I've seen tribes rise and fall, I've lost comrades and friends, but I've never given up. If you select me, your getting a soldier-- a leader that doesn't quit, that doesn't relent until she sees her goal accomplished."

"But being a pioneer isn't the same as being a soldier. You need to be ready to use other methods to solve your problems, not just your talons," the Farmer corrects. This attracts a glare from Hurricane.

"I'm not a soldier-- I should've been more specific. I'm a mercenary. Mercs get the shit end of the stick when talked about by most folks, yeah, but we're not greedy deserters. Well, not all the time... Mercenaries are as multifaceted as a warrior can get. We need negotiating skills, survival skills. Every merc I have worked with could outwit a common levy. Killing's what I'm good at, but I'm no one trick pony."

"You're right. You are not a one trick pony. In fact, you are no pony at all! We already let one non-pony into the ranks of the pioneers, and he caused all sorts of trouble," the Magister says.

"What? The dog? I thought that was his fault," she says as she points to Tipped Scales. This was the wrong thing to say. Most of the ring members tried to speak at once, and their corrections and defenses soon turned into squabbling.

"Enough!" the Chief says over the noise, quieting the rest. "We have heard enough from you, prospective. Now, next is Sam Harvey of the Wilds. You have been chosen for your strength and fortitude. Your primary potential sponsor is Tipped Scales."

"The only one, too. I believe in you, my cow-like friend," the trader says as he winks. Sasha steps back into her place in the lineup with an angry expression on her face.