Home
Game Rules
Characters
Combat
Quick Reference
Each Zachling has found contentment in simple, meaningful lives - working humble jobs, cherishing their families, and seeking quiet moments of peace. They would prefer to tend their gardens, read bedtime stories, and enjoy quiet dinners with loved ones. Yet they carry the weight of a solemn duty: greed and selfishness are as perennial as the grass, always returning, always threatening the innocent. When the call comes, they set aside their personal happiness to stand between the vulnerable and those who would exploit them. They serve not for glory or adventure, but because someone must, and they have the power to help. In their hearts, they dream of a world where their vigil is no longer needed, knowing that day may never come.
All Zachlings emanate a subtle chromatic energy signature reflecting their inner peace and satisfaction. This aura is only visible to those who have also found contentment - the greedy and desperate cannot perceive it because their endless wanting blinds them. The aura:
By day, Blaze works as a school crossing guard at Elm Street Elementary, standing patiently in all weather to ensure children cross safely. At home, they help their elderly mother with her medications and share quiet dinners watching old movies together. Their small apartment is filled with plants they tend carefully, finding peace in watering and pruning.
When the call comes, Blaze feels their heart sink. Not from fear, but from the knowledge that another family dinner will go cold, another evening of helping mother with her crossword puzzles will be lost. They understand that their intensity, once a source of personal struggle, is now needed to protect others - but they would trade it all for a world where such protection wasn't necessary.
During peaceful moments at the crosswalk, watching children laugh and play, Blaze often wonders how many more generations will need guardians like them. They find bittersweet comfort knowing their vigil lets these children live carefree lives, even as they themselves cannot.
Sunny coordinates volunteers at the downtown food bank, managing schedules and ensuring dignity for all who come seeking help. Their own life is simple: a small house shared with their partner and two rescue cats, weekend farmer's market visits, and Sunday morning pancakes made from scratch. They find joy in organizing community potlucks and helping neighbors connect.
Each time duty calls, Sunny must abandon the volunteers who depend on their steady presence. They know that their natural ability to inspire and coordinate - gifts that bring such joy in peaceful service - become weapons in times of conflict. The responsibility weighs heavily, knowing that their absence might mean empty stomachs go unfilled while they fight distant battles.
Standing in the food bank storage room, watching families leave with full bags and grateful smiles, Sunny sometimes feels overwhelmed by the contrast between this simple goodness and the darkness they must sometimes face. They hold onto these moments of pure kindness as anchors during the storms of conflict.
Spark works night shifts as a janitor at a homeless shelter, arriving when others sleep and leaving before they wake. Their quick mind helps them efficiently maintain the facility while respecting the dignity of those seeking refuge. At home, they live alone in a studio apartment, spending mornings reading library books and tending to a small collection of electronic repair projects they fix for neighbors at no charge.
The hardest part isn't the danger - it's leaving the shelter understaffed during their absence, knowing vulnerable ponies rely on the safety and cleanliness they provide. Spark's rapid responses and electrical mastery feel like curses as much as blessings, ensuring they're always first called when speed is essential. They often wonder if their quick thinking is a gift or simply another chain binding them to duty.
In the pre-dawn hours at the shelter, moving quietly through halls of sleeping refugees, Spark feels the profound weight of life's fragility. These moments of protecting others' rest - ensuring they're safe, warm, and undisturbed - feel more meaningful than any battlefield victory. They cherish these peaceful duties, even as they know dawn might bring another call to conflict.
Grove tends the community garden in the city's most neglected neighborhood, teaching children and elderly residents how to grow vegetables and herbs. They live in a tiny house surrounded by fruit trees and medicinal plants, sharing what they grow freely with neighbors. Evenings are spent caring for their aging father, helping him with physical therapy and preparing herbal teas for his arthritis.
Every mission means abandoning growing things that need daily care - seedlings that might die, elderly neighbors who depend on fresh vegetables, and children who look forward to garden lessons. Grove's healing abilities feel like a beautiful burden; they can mend wounds in moments but cannot heal the deeper damage that conflict inflicts on communities and ecosystems. They often question whether saving lives through violence truly honors the interconnectedness they cherish.
In the early morning garden, hands deep in soil while helping a grandmother plant tomatoes, Grove feels the simple rightness of nurturing life. These moments - watching seeds become food, seeing children discover the magic of growth - remind them why they fight. Yet they know that each battle scars the earth in ways that take generations to heal, making their protective duty a source of both purpose and sorrow.
Tide works as a nursing home aide, helping elderly residents with bathing, meals, and gentle exercises. Their calm presence brings comfort during difficult moments of memory loss and physical decline. At home, they share a small lakeside cottage with their spouse and teenage daughter, finding peace in morning swims and evening fishing. Family dinners around their old wooden table are sacred - simple meals filled with laughter and quiet conversation.
The most painful sacrifice isn't risking their own safety, but missing precious moments with their daughter as she grows up, and leaving elderly residents who have come to depend on their gentle care. Tide's adaptability - their ability to flow like water around any obstacle - means they're called upon whenever situations require flexibility and patience. They sometimes fear that their loved ones see them as unreliable, never knowing when duty might pull them away from family dinners and bedside vigils.
During evening shifts at the nursing home, holding a frightened resident's hand during a storm, Tide understands the profound responsibility of being someone's anchor. These tender moments of simply being present - offering stability when the world feels uncertain - feel more heroic than any battle. They carry the weight of knowing how desperately both their family and their patients need this quiet strength, even as the world demands they use it for conflict.
When two or more Zachlings coordinate their Primal Elemental Surge: