Jump to content


Senior RP Staff
  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won


PrinceBlueblood last won the day on March 20

PrinceBlueblood had the most liked content!

Community Reputation

1,101 Excellent

About PrinceBlueblood

Profile Information

  • Gender
  • Location
  • Interests
    Books, games, and general internet doings

RP Characters

  • Main Character
    Prince Blueblood
  • Character 2
    Earth Writer
  • Character 3
    Feng Yinhaitao
  • Character 4
    Wordsworth Psmith

Role Play Information

Contact Methods

  • Skype
  • DeviantArt
  • Discord
    PrinceBlueblood #8840

Recent Profile Visitors

7,218 profile views
  1. "If you want to know why communication is failing," Earth Writer pointed out, "You should probably look at the institution which shows up at most everypony's doorstep in the morning to tell them what's going on in the world, or at least what's going on that they ought to care about. I could tell you thing or two about how the Fourth Estate works. Or doesn't, as the case may be." He finished with a sardonic smile. If anypony was in a position to know how the news business was failing in its mission, a living embodiment of that failure was one. Now that the room was slightly warmer, Earth Writer settled in. "Well, there's two bodies of evidence. One was the trail that led to you, and the other is everything about you that makes my supposition plausible. The first starts with a remark that a zebra clerk made over lunch. He works for one of the Unyasi tribes that got rich from mineral exports, talking about one order he processed for bilithium. About the only industrial use for that is the lining of airship engines, but what was unusual about this order was that it was unpaired from any other mineral associated with airship construction, which his tribe also offers with a bundle discount to public and private dockyards. But the order was much larger than what one would expect for any experimental lab use. Well, it might be nothing, unless there were other isolated orders for those minerals and parts...." Here he drew the first sheaves of evidence from his folder, copies and photographs of invoices. "Had to do some gumshoe work, and not every part is accounted for, but it all adds up to a dreadnought, at least. But no government agency or known private company is associated with any of these transactions. Curious." "And many of the minerals come from the same part of Unyasi, but they entered our continent by different ports, some quite distant from each other. But, if we assume that they all come to the same destination..." He pulled out a map, circling all the Equestrian and Aquellian ports where the minerals had come in through. Rail lines were marked by average travel time, and the ones converging into Los Pegasus were circled in red. "Minimizing the travel time between all ports of entry, this is the closest transport hub. Not to mention, not five miles out of city limits, desert and badlands begin, where few residents or tourists ever venture. Enough wealth and wealthy ponies pass in and out of this city to afford to buy and transport all that stuff, so as a potential build site and secret base, it makes sense. So, that's the what, where, when, and how. As to who... well, there was only one major move in shortly before all these purchases were put on the record, when a plot of urban land was transferred over from a certain Swift Squall to one Ice Storm."
  2. "Traveling? Is great coincidence! Flying Brick has no roof to call her own, and scarcely ever shares that of others. Save when it rains, then sharing commences! On note, would be grateful for sharing over the night, as rain is imminent." Indeed, the sea breeze was already carrying clouds from the vast ocean where weather pegasi did not patrol. The mare's spirits remained undampened by the threatened weather, however, sweeping up her half of bits with one sweeping bow. "And there is nice cafe three blocks down which piles on the stroganoff like Mount Canterhorn! You are following, da?" The question was directed at Toboe and Nensho, who seemed inclined to stick around, even as the crowd had dispersed back into the chattering, scattering masses.
  3. Taking a seat at the table, Chrysalis' plate was empty. Her literal, material plate, at least. She planned to fill up her metaphorical feeding trough from the emanations of love from the loving couple, but first she'd have to clear out the weeds of business and mere intellectual curiosity. The trick was to do so with finesse, and not mash their faces together like a preteen filly making her dolls kiss... Shaking such urges out of her head, the Queen smiled as genuinely as she could. "Your icy lover has it right in one, Raven. It's also worth pointing out that few of my children are intrinsically literate; infiltration and glamour magic allows us to take on the basic skills of our targets, without needing to study hard to build up a library of, say, languages. It's a fantastic shortcut, but it leaves us rather lazy when it comes to taking up new skills. It's why a lot of my children in this environment are disguised, even though some of your kind have grown quite comfortable among us. They simply cannot operate in a civilized society on their own knowledge." She sighed. "With some exceptions, of course, but not enough to make an actual, independent kingdom with." Leaving aside the thanksgiving, she simply rested chin on hooves and watched the pair of mares. "But enough of such heady subjects! Tell me, what are the sort of things you enjoy about each other? I am endlessly fascinated by the subject of attraction; there are so few general rules, so many individual quirks. Had we libraries, I would rather put records of those in books than sad, sordid historical narratives."
  4. A city like Manehattan may never rest, but mortal ponies eventually must, and nopony here was an alicorn. It had been a bit of a strain on Brick, not so much the dancing itself, but restraining herself from pulling in the batpony DJ in for an impromptu number. Granted, whatever number it would be was likely to be more "club" than "ballroom", though the earth pony's high kicks and leaps were almost 'ballet.' Once one knew her origins, of course, that all made sense. Stalliongrad was known for dance, both high-class and lowbrow. Having finished with her signature cultural move of duck-walking high kicks springing into a somersault on top of the table, Brick took a bow in the shower of bits, shooting a wink back at the thestral. "Is of pleasing day to meet you! I am Flying Brick, name and nature in one." The growl of her stomach in response to Ruby's food question prompted a laugh from the boisterous mare. "Ahaha, will be glad to be joining! We split check as we split profits, da? To each according ability, from each according need." The crowd was beginning to disperse as Brick dismounted, though as usual some individuals were coming up to meet the performers. "Bwahaha, Of course we are! Lifelong friends since three songs ago!" She punctuated this paradox with a hearty slap on Ruby's back, which must have felt like a half-brick in a velvet sock. "Stalliongrad mare makes friends quick! Never know when might be needing, or if ever see again. Time is not to waste."
  5. The pounding of Ruby's base soon became the dominant rhythm guiding Brick's hooves, pulling them across the street as she danced around traffic, at one point taking a standing leap to clear a cab roof, rebounding off to stick the landing in front of her! The stunt prompted a foul look from the cabbie as he drove off, but the audience loved it, tossing bits towards the now-paired up performers. '"More where that come from, tovarich!" The earth pony shot a grin over at the thestral, her tones betraying a far northern origin. She was, as she would put it, "Stalliongrad built, strong like bull!" Not fed well enough these days to bulk out, but the lack of any fat on her showed off lean muscle as well as a textbook. "So, what is next number? Bring the beat!"
  6. There was a rhythm to every city, if you could hear it through the cacophony of traffic and advertisements, feel it through the thrums and rumblings in the paving stones, loosen yourself to let it carry you through alleyways, up and over walls. It was a dance, a dance of life through a jungle of concrete and bricks, asphalt and cobblestones, steel and glass shining in the morning and evening lights. And during the nights, you could take a boat out to the harbor and see that the very stars themselves had left the sky, clinging to skyscrapers to be led in a waltz through the city that never slept... Were Flying Brick a poet, she could have made a decent living crafting these thoughts and feelings into words for those ponies who could only live through books. But she was not, she was a dancer with a simple voice, who could only touch the sublime through movement, barely scraping by on the bits thrown by ponies brave enough to face the light of the sun intensified by a hot, bright sidewalk. Her hooves, tough and calloused, cared not for the heat of the surface, dancing in the street where the musicians busked. While she could feel the city through her hooves, more often she would dance according to the music being played. Syncing up with her fellow street performers often ended in them getting more pay together, and hey, a mare has to eat. Colored Dark umber and rawer red-orange, the colors of old and new bricks, the Earth pony mare could dance, jump, and flex like few could, in a free flowing movement for a measure, before breaking up into staccato steps, on four hooves and two as if it made no difference. And so she did, pitching an ear to the sky for the next guiding strains of music...
  7. Earth Writer briefly considered disputing Ice Storm's allegation of 'slander'; that wasn't a term any journalist took lightly. Legally, slander was defined as a defamatory false statement of fact, as distinct from opinion (even wrongheaded) opinion presented as such with reasons for the author coming to it. He had never been guilty of slander against Equestria's rulers or its citizens (dissidents against Heart Stopper were another story). Ultimately, however, he decided to let it pass; it wasn't as if it would be worth her time to prosecute him for damages, and if she sued the Chronicle? No skin off his back anymore. Against her claim of being uninteresting to him, however, he had to speak. Laying out his folder, he picked out a sheaf of note-paper that had been ruined by an ink-spill. Scraps of barely-legible shorthand were visible, enough for Icy to recognize the interview notes. "I knew you wouldn't believe me if I just told you my fountain pen exploded. But without that contextual fact, your conclusions regarding me and my character were off. It's possible that I lacked similar context myself when I wrote that article on the sisters. Part of the reason I wrote so provocatively was in the hopes that somepony would take notice and provide the factual context. Editors print letters from the public for a reason; I never received one that answered my objections to my satisfaction." While Ice Storm may not have written such a reply at the time, she gave it her best go now. The stallion couldn't call himself wholly convinced. "If we lived in a democracy, that argument would be admittedly unanswerable. But isn't the whole point of supporting a monarchy on the public dime for them to lead, rather than follow? Especially when we're all being idiots, as I well know we often are." He shrugged. "Eh, I could argue forever on this or most any position; I'm a veteran of the Veiled Garden debates. But that's a bit beside the point; if you're aim is to solve our security problem with a bit more than love and tolerance, I'll try to restrain myself from pointless gadfly bickering." Finding his teeth starting to chatter, he shuddered. "Um, I'd be glad to go on, but there's a lot-t-t of det-t-tails I collect-ed t-to go through.... Could-d you let-t the room get-t a litt-tttle warmer? Please?"
  8. As much as Niilavin said that he admired the way in which Equestria gave dignity to the lower classes, he still had an insufficiently broad definition of those to whom dignity was to be afforded. Of course, it would take some pretty powerful juju on Prince Blueblood's part to overcome the natural hatred between dogs and cats, but for the sake of avoiding mass hysteria, something had to be done. "[Enough of that.]" Blue gave an ineffectual but symbolic bap between his sphinx's ears. "[You shouldn't let your irritations define your actions, that only lets them control you.]" Not exactly an order, so the magic might not compel Niil. But if discipline could be instilled, then the magic would be redundant. *I really ought to see about hiring an obedience school trainer...* Speaking of which, there were the dogs. "Apologies." He dipped his head to Hogo-sha. "He isn't quite... housebroken yet." Was that an unintentional slur to diamond dogs? Or... was Hogo-sha actually a diamond dog? A Changeling? No, they rarely adopted bipedal form. Perhaps a yokai? Was that still insulting? Gah, it was stressful being a diplomat. The anubis newcomer was only complicating the situation. Good grief, had the Prince brought home a nationalist? Shaking his head, and resolving to ignore Niil's little snit, Blueblood addressed the Saddle Arabian canine. "I heard little of his kind; he will grow larger in time, though that will be some years off, sphinxes being quite long-lived. Truth be told... I'm not sure if any yet living remain besides he. I freed him from a petrification curse when accompanying an archaeological dig; he was buried with the pharaoh that had ensorcelled him." He decided against revealing that the amulet was the source of said ensorcellment. Didn't seem like the safest policy to go about leaking that information. "By the way, I don't believe I ever caught your name...?"
  9. It didn't take long for Earth Writer to get a gauge of Ice Storm. True, he'd done his research beforehand, and carried it with him in a stuffed manila folder, but a lot of scattered facts crystalized into a clear picture of the mare, her opinions, and her intentions from the few words she said in opening. Truth be told, the reporter wasn't all that impressed by her reserach; all of that information was published publicly, most of it had his real name in the byline and the headline. Compared to the digging he had to do, it was small potatoes. Still, he had to acknowledge the thoroughness involved; it would make his explanation a little easier to furnish with context. But first, some evident elementary confusion had to be cleared up. Starting with the article he published on the Crystal Faire attack. "Ah, now what you have there is what we in the business call an editorial. Specifically, an opinion column, the sort the Chronicle begin with 'The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Chronicle etc., etc.' Which context I note has been clipped off, so if you want to talk about propaganda techniques..." He chuckled, unable and frankly unwilling to keep condescension from creeping into his tone of voice. "I was asked to give an opinion on what happened and why. I believed, and continue to believe, that Equestria's historically soft foreign policy made us tempting targets to foreign adversaries, and encouraged excessive complacency at home. This has increased the frequency of attacks, and decreased our preparedness for them. The result, as you said, is the death of hundreds. Like most right-minded citizens, this event disturbed me, and I wished it to not happen again. As I am not a soldier, but a writer, I could only identify the source of the mistaken policy, which must in a monarchy ultimately be the monarchs, and call them out for their wrong decision. I was far from insincere, note how little I cared how much offense I gave to the readership. A propagandist takes more care in such matters. Honestly, though, a change on the sister's part would satisfy me; I'm not out for their overthrow. I would just not dismiss a proposed change in management out of hoof. And honestly, I'm not sure they would, either. But that's another topic." "Now, if you want an actual example of the fine art of propaganda, I recommend my later work." Exchanging the articles with a wry smile, the condecension in his voice morphed into self-deprecation. "Note the care in the chosen verbiage, neutral-sounding adjectives subtly valenced into positive and negative conjugations, making Lady Heart Stopper out to be the Good Mare in every possible confrontation, no matter how tribalist her actual attitude. This implants doubts, but no more than doubts, into the minds of those schooled into integrationism by our history teachers. And through slowly growing doubts larger and larger horseapples can be lodged into the mind, until finally..." He pulled out the last article of his that ever appeared in the Chronicle. "We have this lovely stinker, for which the editor should have been fired along with me for putting into print, I wasn't even pretending to be objective. I think I was drunk, to be honest. She gave good wine. Good stuff all around, hence why I wrote so well concerning her." He took a deep breath. "Well! I wasn't expecting to be that honest with you, but at the end of the day, Truth is your only defense against the facts." On that cue, he lifted the manila folder he brought with him. "So... I'm thinking you'll be wise to respond in kind."
  10. Las Pegasus, and life in general, looked much different from below. That simple fact could so easily be forgotten by the high-status ponies as well as the high-altitude ones, which was why writers of the irreverent bohemian type were laudable and necessary. That, or something like it, would be Earth Writer's answer if you asked him to justify his existence and recent actions. The pony himself looked to be the sort of stallion in need of justification. The tan unicorn's black mane and tail were overdue for a trim, stubble coated his muzzle, and his hat and shirt had a general travelworn and neglected air about them. Life had hit him hard in recent years, that and bad decisions, if Earth was being completely honest. Which wasn't always, these days. Hence the bad decisions. Once, he'd been a star reporter of the Canterlot Chronicle newspaper, traveling the world, seeing the major events up close, and reporting the action to all the ponies back home. But, the influence had gone to his head, leaving him in an unsober state when a powerful foreign mare sought to corrupt his pen for her own interests. The whole sordid scandal left him without his position, or any visible means of support. He took hack jobs, now, little pieces from customers who didn't mind an author whose reputation for honest dealing was shot to pieces. Not the most savory of company, and he well knew that if he kept this up, he wasn't ever going to get out of this morass; it would suck him under like quicksand. Enough cash to not be dependent on those ponies anymore... Desperation of this kind often brought ponies like Earth Writer to this city, but he wasn't here to play the slots. No, he was about to sit at a higher-stakes game than baccarat, with what he hoped was a winning hand, gathered through gumshoe work at docks and shipping ports, late nights at the public archives, and a few bummed rides out with desert barnstormers. Those were flights he'd never forget, though the pictures were amazing... His meager clothing was not enough to suppress the chill from entering Ice Storm's casino. There was something altogether... comic book-y about the aesthetic, but that wasn't uncommon on the Los Pegasus strip. Up through the ice castle our fearless hero went, to confront the princess in her front office. Suppressing his discomfort, knowing full well this conversation wasn't going to be the most pleasant he ever had, he nonetheless put on a polite smile and tipped his hat. "Good morning. I'm Earth Writer, I take it you're familiar with my work?"
  11. "[There is one other major difference you are forgetting.]" Blueblood gently reminded Niilavin. "[Your old masters are dead, and we are not. If we say we are superior, that would inspire jealousy of our majesty; if we say we are equals, they see themselves in our majesty. It is wise to allow everypony as much dignity as one can, for if we strip it all away.... well, you remember what happened to your last master.]" That, Blueblood felt, was sufficient catfood for thought, and his sphinx could be safely left to chew on it as he addressed Hogo-sha. "Dignity is granted by how tall you stand, not how wide you rule." A wise, but not unmotivated saying; the Prince's rule not being particularly 'wide' as far as actual power went. "And Niilavin can understand common speech as well as you or I; it is simply that he is not always comfortable with using it. But that is a good question; how large can a sphinx get?" A good question, but again, not an unmotivated one. Right now it was feasible for Niil to live in Blueblood's back garden, if he didn't mind converting the rock patch into a litter box. But if he grew to legendary size? Canterlot could hardly hold up under him! The Prince's worries were compounded as the sphix confided further. "[What, you mean changelings?]" Blueblood still couldn't help that small tingle of fear down his spine, in spite of the fact that half the hive were now multicolored hippie bugs, and the other half were at least following a Chrysalis who was not pursuing an invasion plan. At least, she said she wasn't, being content to run a tropical resort that 'farmed' love. But was Blueblood wise to believe her? Probably not, actually, considering the Queen's known penchant for deception. His eyes scanned the crowd, then the roofs. A useless exercise, for a disguised foe. But, of course, it may all be a false alarm. After all, there were good changelings, and it wasn't only changelings that could shapeshift. Blueblood had met, and befriended, at least one Yokai. "[We are not hostile to all such populations, Niil. Some, yes, but not all. Don't cause panic yet.]"
  12. Ever the diplomatist, Chrysalis let no other emotion cloud her face, save perhaps a slight, casual air of boredom as she stretched. "Mmm, history, really? We have as little need for that as for tradition. After all, it wasn't very pleasant to experience, and less so to recall. Suffice it to say, I wasn't the first queen, nor was I the only one. I really can't say how long we're supposed to live; no changeling queen ever dies of natural causes. Unless, of course, you count the effects of malnutrition. I plan myself to live forever, talk to me later on how that turns out." With a bit of a hissing chuckle, the Queen got to her hooves. "Enough, we have fed, but you have not. How rude for a hostess! Please, allow me to lead the way to the dining table." She gestured to the guards to open the door wide, as she led them out in a small procession out the door. As she walked, a bit of sway in her hips as much by habit as anything else, the flooring and walls slowly became more bamboo and less chitin, until coming to a room that let in actual sunlight, dappling a table laden with plates piled high with tropical delights! The sweet smell of mangos and pineapples hung in the air, batted hither and thither by the salt breezes.
  13. It was of some relief to know that he wouldn't have to deal with potential psychological disintegration or personality re-writing forever. Altogether, the prospect of being an apprentice was more and more appealing to Blueblood, which he expressed through a grateful smile. As his teacher crafted her disguise in front of him, Blueblood watched with interest, and a bit of frank relief as the wings were ultimately preserved. "Thank you; if I can help in your practice of dexterity, that will at least be something towards paying back everything you're doing for me." That was actually not an irrelevant question; what was Ossia getting out of all of this? A place to stay and cover for her identity, naturally, but that seemed hardly sufficient for what she was willing to invest in this relationship. Was it, perhaps, the Prince himself? The unicorn would certainly be flattered to think that was the case, though perhaps the full implications of that hadn't fully sunken in. It was a bit hard to be contemplative, in any case, in the presence of an alicorn, even a disguised alicorn, that continually brought to his mind her sheer physicality. Just the touch and feel of her musculature was a unique sensation in and of itself; and Blueblood couldn't help but infuse his caress with a bit of reverence. They had to break for now, but he would gladly lead her upstairs, to his manor and the bath, where no doubt some closer acquaintanship would be developed. In the meantime, no harm giving her a good view of himself. "Alright then! Just into the elevator here..." The doors slid open, cracks in the rock parting to reveal a fairly lush scarlet interior; a portal to a much brighter future, the Prince couldn't help but think.
  14. Was it a bad sign that the first citizens to welcome their new feline wonder were canine? Prince Blueblood sincerely hoped not; he had neglected to ascertain Nilaavin's opinion of dogs. Nevertheless, he waved down at Hogo-sha from his perch, keenly aware of other eyes from the rooftops. "Greetings, sir! I see from your garb and bearing you are a dignitary; it is good to see I was home in time to meet you!" Homecoming or not, the diplomatic work was never done. However, housebreaking his new cat would have to take first priority. "[We are first amongst equals, not gods amongst mortals. Auntie will be very upset if she catches you talking like that.]" Could Auntie Celestia actually understand Nil's ancient language? Probably, actually; she had lived for just long enough to have conversed with its last living speakers. Well, second-to-last, now. All that being said... Blue had pretty much given up by now correcting Nil's impression as to his own power levels. Modern magic was quite a strange power, compared to what the ancients could muster. Plus, actually getting the sphinx to shape up would take every bit of authority the unicorn could muster...
  15. The deal-cutting done for now, Chrysalis began to switch to another mode, one that she enacted more often in her "Island Queen" disguise; that of the generous hostess. Generous in accommodation, knowledge sharing, and of her beauty in general. Of course, this was more than mere courtesy; charm could smother suspicions yet unvoiced from their previous conversation, after all. "Why, certainly! Though, I have to admit what we are now is rather different from what we used to be. We're a very adaptable species, and while we don't have a lot of native traditions, aside from due reverence and obedience to the Queen," She preened a bit at the remark before continuing, "That in fact allows us to adapt flexibly to whatever circumstance we face." The queen gave a light laugh at the mention of physiology. "My, my, that's a rather forward request, wouldn't you say? Not that I mind..." She leered at the pair, before laughing again. "As for ethnicity, well, there's not much to say. We're all one color and kind, or at least we were until recently." The sour look didn't linger on her face, but would have been obvious to all observers nonetheless.
  • Create New...