Halide

Okay edited it a bit, still working on it. Cutiemark I'll do tomorrow morning.

...Oh dang, son. Alright, changed the cutiemark up a bit. ...It's less legible now - it's supposed to be a quill writing in a book. That any more distinctive?

Will come up with an update soon, have been rather busy due to programming assignments and other madness. It's okay to give him a 'family' of non-canon characters that haven't been actually written up thus far, right?

This thread will last until some mod closes it, I swear... In the meantime, it is buffering my postcount! Victory or defeat by thread, that third apple will be MINE!

In the words of Harry Partridge.... *Run run run run run* no You Bucking DON'T!

Yeah, thanks for that, Firefox decided to stop showing me where spelling errors lie, and his particular keyboard seems to delight in skipping the occasional keystroke, I'll fix that right up and see about punching up his story a bit, while I'm at it. Edit : Fix'd and slightly punched up!

It will be a second apple. AND THEN NOTHING, BECAUSE THE PRIZE WILL BE MINE!

My poor, lyrical post, buried beneath countless posts vying for victory, smashed upon the rocks of defeat and so pushed there by an ocean of other shorter posts. Sleep well, fresh prince, we hardly knew ye.

Right, let us make up some INCREDIBLY SILLY and COMPLETELY BALONEY STORIES that are meant to be PATENTLY RIDICULOUS. I will begin. Son, lemme tell you about the time I demolished a brick firehouse from the inside with my bare hands. So there I was, fightin' this brick firehouse - It was me against it, and it wasn't giving up. 'Course, I wasn't about to be beaten by a bunch of brick that man put together! A man made it, a man could unmake it! I thought to myself, what's the biggest weakness a firehouse has? Dalmatians, of course! Didn't have any. So I thought, second biggest? Carpet bombing! Didn't have that either. Third biggest? Tactical artillery strike! Didn't have that either. Got all the way down to seventy-fourth biggest, and that was me, right between hurricaine and an army of men with sledgehammers. Lucky Seventy-four. Year I bought my favourite car, but I didn't know that yet. Anyhow, I thought, shucks, this ain't gonna be so hard, I just rolled up my sleves and punched that building square in the door! That didn't work. Glass door, maybe, but this was no pushover. This was an 1880 firehouse, and those were gnarly and older and meaner than anything you ever did enter in yer whole life! So I decided to let it think it was winning. I marched right in, plain as day, walking in the door, taking a stroll, remarking on the architecture, all the while in my mind I was playing a little game I learned back when I was two : it's called 'find the load-bearer', and it's real simple. You just go around a building, find the biggest, thickest, solidest pillar in the centerist of the building, and you let 'er rip. So there I was, me against this brick firehouse, and I was letting it win, just a little. Me, my bare hands, and my brain versus a hundred and thirty years of brick. And then, I thought of it - the guts. You couldn't kill a beast like that by whackin' at its arms and legs and eyeballs and windows. You had to go straight for the belly, reach through it like a hideous lovecraftian nightmare-meal, and grab it by the spine! Show it that even if you got inside it, by god is it gonna regret even thinkin' of lookin' atcha! So that is what I did. I casually, slowly strolled down to that beast's basement, and I gave it a big ol' hug, right around the central pillar. I could hear it laughing at me, I could hear them old bricks breathing, rasping, wheezing, and I could hear it thinkin' "what's his game?" And I tell you that is the last thing it ever thought, cuz right then and there, I pulled that whole fifteen-inch cast-iron pillar right out from under it, held it over my head, and that brick monster came tumbling down like a house of cards, louder'n the hooves of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, angrier than every man who ever lost his job, an' harder than the hailstorm of '62. And that right there is how I saved christmas from the Alien Space-Mongols.

What do you mean, NOPE!? What on earth was wrong with that post!? Sheesh, the nerve. I do but jest, poison in jest. And, hey, I got another apple. What es thees? MON DIEU!

NEW CHALLENGER! IT BEGINS! Seriously though, this thread is.... *INHALE* *Starts up some Gilbert and Sullivan* Ridiculously meticulous, oh my, most insiduous Confoundingly desk-poundingly sadistically incredulous Incredibly indelibly inedibly satirical And I am writing freeverse in it why I do not really know... It's ponyfilled madlibs for gibs and fibs are rampant in the air We're posting one after another, we won't stop, we just don't care about the state of bandwidth or of refresh rates in addenum we'll keep on pressing F5 till we lose our fingers, palms and thumb. In forum jousts, there are no doubts, the winner is the last to leave we're dodging infractions, downvotes, dislikes while we most surely weave the most incomprehensible thread ever made imag'nible But no one knows the reason for it really is a load of bull It's true in matters forum-based, on IRC or imageboard I am the very model of a brony who's got very bored!

A pony with midichlorians is a new type of pony, to be sure! Welcome to the land, and have fun!

Name: Writ "Storyteller" Phillipe Sex: Male Age: Elderly stallion Species: Unicorn Pelt Color: "Salt and Pepper" Mane/Tail/Markings Color & Style: Long, slightly wavy silver tail and mane with traces of black Eye Color: Aquamarine Cutie Mark: An open book with a dreamcatcher on the pages Physique: Fairly tall, fairly thin Origin: Canterlot Roleplay Type: Mane Occupation: Storyteller Motivation: Keeping both himself and others entertained in his old age through the use of stories, though teaching younger ponies about some of life's lessons is also something he enjoys. Likes: Stories, attentive listeners, adventures, happy endings Dislikes: Giving up, ruining the story, boasters, being called a creepy old stallion Character Summary: Writ is a travelling storyteller, pulling along his cart from city to city, setting his tent up along major roads now and again. Anypony can walk in, but once they do, they may be in for an experience unlike any other. Writ is a Unicorn, and though he only knows a few spells, one of them has been very well-practised and has become quite popular - a spell that controls and joins the dreams of other ponies. It is this spell that Writ uses most often, and it is this that he often uses to tell stories, placing his 'listeners' as the protagonists of the story, letting them truly become the ponies of the old tales of adventure and heroism. Not that he would do this to an unwilling audience - for that matter, as soon as somepony tries to wake up, they are almost always able to. There are smelling salts and spells for the ones that have trouble otherwise. Still, his manner of 'storytelling' is far more involved, both for him as the storyteller and for the listeners and the protagonists, than the usual campfire tale. Writ can, of course, simply narrate a story normally, but much prefers his way of doing things, as to him it provides so much more depth and so much more fun than simply listening to an old stallion talk. But, he realizes he is getting old, and he only has so many stories left to tell, so he has also taken to writing his stories down for future generations, while looking for a talented unicorn to learn his spells. His life started long, long ago in Canterlot. As he's raised 5 foals of his own, 23 grandfoals among them, and so far 3 great-grandfoals among -them-, he feels reasonably accomplished with his bloodline. Not that any of his family have really had his talents for dream-mastery spells, as much as a few of them have attempted to learn. But, of all his family, he lives with none of them; his wife, a mare several years his senior, has passed on, thus leaving him alone. With no ties, but still a small bit of spring in his step, he has decided to travel, meeting whomever he happens to meet, spending the money from selling his home on his expenses as he goes. It's an adventure, of sorts, as far as he is concerned. Though, as far as he is concerned, the stories he offers are much more interesting than his wandering his last years about Equestria. As a foal, and later as a colt, Phillipe's life remained fairly mundane – a unicorn born to a unicorn mother and father in Canterlot, their first of five children, and one of two sons. His father, a gem-cutter, and his mother, a teacher; he was raised in a fairly well-to-do environment, and was afforded the magical education his parents could provide. Though he was a bit quieter than his brothers and sisters, he nonetheless got along with them easily enough, spending time with them when their parents were busy, acting as something of a baby-sitter and teacher for his youngest two siblings, as any eldest sibling might. However, the time which he found he was appreciated most was when it was time for a story; in this, he surpassed his father in availability, but with practise, so too did he surpass his father in emphasis, explanation, and entertainment. As time went on, his stories started seeming more tangible, he and his siblings able to get a more vivid idea of the story, as though they could see glimpses of what it would be like to actually be there. Soon enough, Phillipe started dreaming of these stories, vividly, and quickly found he could control them – upon waking up one morning, this gave him an idea. If he could control these stories, in his dreams, perhaps somepony else could too – and what better way for a unicorn to experiment than with magic! And so, Phillipe began to understand his capabilities better – research, study and experimentation started to come into his storytimes, which initially made them more boring, as far as his older siblings were concerned. With time, though, progress began; he began with basic hypnosis spells, being able to talk to somepony in their sleep. From there, he worked on dream spells, slowly being able to shape and influence a sleeper's dreams. Storytime was becoming exciting again, at least to his youngest brother and sister. There were backfires, of course, such as nightmares and restless nights. But, with time and practise, Phillipe slowly brought his idea to fruition; one night, there was abruptly no storytime from the oldest brother. There was simply going to sleep – but it was then that the story began. It was crude, simple, and short, but it was a successful start. Phillipe woke to a cutiemark on his flank – thus encouraged, he began to refine his art, making the magic of dreams his field of study throughout the rest of his school career. As a stallion – a much younger stallion – Phillipe was a bold, outspoken pony. He adored speeches, though he gave few of his own. He engrossed himself in the more virtuous shades of personality – courage, honour, bravery, integrity, honesty. He loved the classic 'hero', the champion, and though he knew he wasn't particularly cut out to be such a stallion, he still tried to portray some of the personality involved, simply because he felt that being a generous, honest, upstanding citizen was simply the right sort of thing to do. It didn't hurt that he had a love for hamming it up a bit here and there, either. However, though this was certainly a hobby of his, it was not really his specialty – after all, so many ponies enjoy tales of heroism. But, as he grew older, he fell in love, and thus lost some of the theatrics. He raised his first foal, and learned to be cautious. He raised a family of foals, and learned to be humble. He lost a colt, and learned to be sombre. He watched his mares and stallions move out, and he learned to take the beaten road. He watched his children have children, and he learned how to share his wisdom. And, with time, his wife said her final goodbye to the world, and he learned to love the past a little more than the present or the future. Perhaps he would have been a hero, had he been bolder or stronger. Instead, he spoke of heroes, and he offered other ponies a chance to be heroic in various stories, and as he grew up, he realized that he was far more satisfied with being a storyteller than a story character. He now spends his time as a nomad, wandering the main roads between the major cities, often showing up whenever or wherever festivals may be held, and simply choosing his own route at any other times, taking his wagon with him wherever he travels. Sometimes, he chooses to set up his tent and entertain whoever might be interested, and other times he simply watches the modern-day lifestyle and appreciates the changes around him. Perhaps he will settle in a small apartment someday, perhaps not.

I'mma probably dress up as Luigi, or a pirate, not sure which one I will go to campus in my costume like a -boss- and I just won't care!

I WANT to say that my theme song is GUILE'S THEME from the Snes version of street fighter two, because that would be AWESOME powered up to A REALLY BIG EXPONENT. But, more realistically, I think my theme song is more along the lines of... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaYR5lwzomE

Actually, on this note, Earth Ponies -could- use projectile weapons just fine, just not ones that we with our fancy opposable thumbs are capable of handling. It strikes me that the bucking and kicking of mundane ponies can be both powerful and accurate, as seen in such cases as Applejack. One could conceivably make a sort of thrown spear with a 'handle' on the side which the pony could buck and kick, sending it soaring in a reasonably straight path at reasonable velocity. A rack of these, reasonably well placed, could turn a pony into a small, mobile ballistae. We've also seen Applejack (who is probably a fairly good model for earthpony combatant ability, now that I think about it) using a lasoo - such actions could also be used for a sling - one of the oldest projectile weapons known to man, and certianly one of the most effective against unshileded and unarmored opponents. It strikes me a flail or spiked chain could also be used in such a manner, but that would likely provide a fair bit of risk to the wielding pony. Speaking of which, mounted weaponry such as a ballistae would also be feisable, with ponies in teams of two or three working together to load, aim, and fire such a weapon - it would be cumbersone and require more hoofpower, but it would still beat trying to engage in melee against an opponent with melee and movement superiority. Pointy end goes into the other guy and all that. There has also been evidence of reasonably advanced pyrotechnics, though whether this is earth pony chemistry or simply unicorn magic is, to my knowledge, unexplained. It strikes me that explosion-based projectile weaponry, Finally, my curiosity lies in all the talk of Pony V Griffons - it strikes me that the two species are sentient and reasonably able to get along. There is of course the question of them coming into conflict, but I find the Ponies V Monstrosities to be a more likely scenario. We've already seen dragons, which are capable of speech, empathy and reason, but there are also hydras and the Ursa minor/major species, which seem much more feral, though equally dangerous. Siege weapons would likely be more effective against these, so such weaponry as ballistae seems more likely, whether the system is tension-based or uses chemical explosives - the ponies have iron-casting technology, as seen by the single-piece snowploughs used in Winter Wrap-Up though they seem to like using gold(plated?) armor for ceremonies. However, it also seems that many of the ponies don't have access to weaponry or defensive structures - we see no evidence of any weapons in the show, in spite of such dangers such as the Hydra, the Ursa Minor, and a couple of Dragons. On the other hands, we're perfectly fine with the idea of pony military, while the target audience of the show probably isn't.

Name: Quilhorn Sex: Male Age: Stallion Species: Unicorn Pelt Color: Light blue Mane/Tail/Markings Color & Style: Well-kempt, somewhat long dark-blue hair, gray 'highlights' in hair, tail simply dark blue. Eye Color: Turquoise Cutie Mark: Quill writing in a book Physique: A bit smaller than the average stallion, and fairly skinny, but nonethelss healthy Origin: Manehattan Roleplay Type: Equestria/FiM Occupation: Writer Motivation: A love of artwork, in all its forms, though Likes: Writing, creativity, higher society, puns, wit Dislikes: Pugilism, brutishness, noise, censorships Character Summary: This pony is, by no means, a jack-of-all trades, nor a heavyweight in terms of magical ability or in body or a terribly strong one, but what he does, he does well, and what he does is write. Quillhorn has always been a fellow of creativity, though he has a reputation for being a bit eccentric. He is not an inventor, mind you, though he would suppose that he invents settings and ponies, albeit temporarily, in the minds of other ponies. His creativity lies solely in words and ideas based thereupon. He has a very strong habit of speaking in something akin to older English prose, though not so much as to be indecipherable or overly complicated - rather, he simply speaks in a manner slightly outside of the norm, using a bit of older english, and remaining fairly verbose. That aside, he is also liable to 'narrate' out loud as he considers something or begins doing something, though this is entirely on purpose and seldom done. In terms of magic, Quillhorn knows but a little magic, which he handles with pinpoint accuracy. He can create and shape rather small, translucent illusions, which he mostly uses for better-visualising what he's writing and as an aide when storytelling, and he is extremely good at fine motor co-ordination when holding things with magic, though his strength at such is a bit minimal, suited for quills, parchment, and books. As for his personality (ponyality?), Quillhorn is a fairly energetic pony in his own right, fairly enthusiastic while keeping his voice and his language well in check. He enjoys the company of other ponies, especially of those who have interesting stories to tell, or for that matter a desire to listen to interesting stories he's heard, read or written before. His favourite works are often fictional, though he finds accounts of real adventures to be much more fascinating. He is a fairly respectful pony, and a fairly respectable one in return. He has a bit of a love for jokes and puns, as well as witty turns of phrase. He`s a reasonably charitable pony otherwise, though the occupaion of scribe doesn't earn him a huge amount to be generous with. Still, he enjoys life, and will often do favours for another pony in need, simply because he believes in karma. He is happiest when those around him are happy and-or fascinated in what he has to say, which is the driving force behind his story-telling and his writing. As such, many of his stories have happy endings - he personally enjoys stories with twists, tragic endings, or perhaps no real sense of a heroic end, but realizes that these aren't as popular with younger audiences. Quillhorn was born in Manehattan, one of several siblings brought up by his parents - a reasonably well-to-do couple. His mother, an accountant and his father, a teller, his foalhood was fairly well off. Though he didn't really pick up on his parent's penchant for economics or mathematical skills, he did at least appreciate some of the stories of their clientele, though even the most interesting ponies one meets in a bank are all to often fairly mundane in the greater scheme of things. He did, however, pick up on their sense of grooming and fashion, and thus he keeps himself fairly presentable. His mane and tail receive plenty of care each morning, and though he would rather avoid getting either dirty or dishevveled, he accepts the idea if such must happen. The youth of this unicorn was spent, largely, exploring possibilities. Of course, his parents suggested mathematics and economics, but those he found much too dull for his liking. Magics and sciences, however, he followed for some time, but in spite of his efforts, he never really excelled at either, and though he found each interestingin its own right, he abandoned such notions as being more struggle than success, though he had managed to pick up magic to some small extent. But, those were not his passions. Though art tickled his fancy, and fashion was a way of Manehattan life, neither of those really caught Quillhorn's attention, either. Stories, however, did, and it was in these that he engrossed much of his time. At first, he simply read, but soon enough, he started to write stories. As soon as he had learned to read - learning at a fairly young age, at that - he started to surround himself with books. Guides, studies, papers, manifestos, biographies, but most of all, stories. Despite his love of stories, he hadn't actually considered that stories would be his vocation - after all, as far as he knew, nearly everyone could read and write, and nearly everypony enjoyed a good story. He didn't consider himself to love stories and writing more than anypony else. However, as he continued through foalhood, he realized that he did, in fact, read and write far more than other ponies of his class and age, and for that matter more than many mares and stallions did. It was through this that he decided to embrace love for such, and it was in this that he started enjoying literature fully. He began putting much more effort into writing than before, putting quil after quill to use. He wrote short stories at first, simple nursery rhymes and tales for young foals, much like himself, then pushing on to try and match the literature meant for cols and fillies, engrossing himself in the ideas of high adventure with parties of amusing adventurers. He began researching and asking more questions, to better undersand a range of ponies, and the motivations of those older than him. Soon enough, he was writing plays for his class, and upon the successful finish of his first play - The Tale of Ursa Minor - his cutiemark appeared, much to his own pride; he now knew that writing was to be his vocation, and he couln't have been happier with anything else. From there, he studied literature almost nonstop. His colt years were largely spent furthering his knowledge of the literary world, solitary, yet quite happy amongst his many written works. However, a writer is often not one who earns huge amounts, and as he got closer to becoming a full stallion, he ended up moving out of manehattan for cheaper residence, and a place where theatre still runs strong. He's still looking, though his 'freelance' work as a scribe, cartographer, playwright and editor leave him with enough to feed and house himself reasonably well. He has a fascination with exploration and adventure, at times when stronger, bolder companions are about, but otherwise keeps to the beaten path more often than not.

Sorry, Yogi Bear started channeling and it was all "Stronger than the average bear! No wait I mean mare." So it kind of fluffed itself up in my head. Other'n that, forgive me for lousy MS-painted prosthetic, and otherwise, fix'd!

Name: Hammerhoof Sex: Male Age: Young stallion Species: Earth Pony Pelt Color: Milk-Chocolate Brown Mane/Tail/Markings Color & Style: Short, dusty brown hair and tail with dark-brown tips Eye Color: Golden brown. Cutie Mark: Anvil Physique: Slightly taller than the average stallion, noticably more muscular than average, though a little front-heavy. Rather strong 'upper' body, but only slightly above norm for back half. Origin: Stalliongrad Roleplay Type: Equestrian/FiM Occupation: Blacksmith Motivation: Hammerhoof believes strongly in being able to take pride in who you are and what you do - do not be arogant, and do not be sloppy. But also, do not work so hard that you are never happy. He is a hard worker who simply desires to be respected for what he does, and to be loyal to Equestria. Likes: New experiences, honesty, loyalty, determination, armor, gems, and rivers. Dislikes: Shoddy workmanship, confidence ponies, liars, rust, disrespect, and mountian-climbing. Character Summary: Hammerhoof is a Stalliongrad pony, born and raised by his parents - ponies loyal to Equestria and to their trades. His father, a blacksmith, and his mother a tradeswoman - both believed strongly that hard, thorough work was the surest way to a decent future. As they raised him, these values were of course passed along to him, and he has taken them to heart ever since. They did not force him to learn their trades, nor did they force him to follow in their hoofsteps - he simply respected them and listend to them, and found that he agreed with what they believed in. He has always been a 'tactile' sort of pony, interested more in practise and in hooves-on opportunities more than theory or study, though the latter being a pat of the former, it's not all physical work. Still, the work keeps him strong and active, and he is happiest when he is busy and productive. His love for smithing came on at an early age - he was always fascinated by the way molten metal could be poured to create sturdy cast-iron trinkets, or how thick steel could be heated and reshaped. The idea of creating something so strong always allured him, and unfortunately, it was through this that he lost his front-right hoof after an inadvertant slip near a vat of molten bronze. Though this cost him a hoof, it taught him more than anything that caution and taking time almost always came at less cost than being quick or careless. Through this, he learned patience in the smithy, and indeed, patience in all things. When he next dared to work in the smithy - after receiving his prosthetic and letting it heal - he returned with renewed vigor, the hammer-head on his peg-hoof doing wonders for his dexterity. He became nearly as productive as his father, earning his cutie-mark upon delivering the first order that he, himself, had wrought. The metal prosthetic makes him a little unsure on his feet, simply because he doesn't have entirely even footing, and between his uneven footing and cautious attitude he is not much of an 'adventurer'. Still, all his time putting steel to the anvil has made him strong, if not a touch scarred here and there, and he lends his strength where it can be put to use. As an aside, Hammerhoof admires excellent craftsmanship, especially when materials of high value are involved. Though he lacks the dexterity for making fine jewelry, gemstones and precious metal trinkets have always caught his eye, and he has a bit of an eye for appraising such things, though it is merely a hobby. Overall, Hammerhoof is a polite, patient, and hardwrking pony who values loyalty, respect and perserverance. He is a bit quiet, but this is simply because he is cautious about trodding upon anyone else's hooves, despite his size.

Honestly? I've been enough places that let people just drop in. Trust me, the filtering method of making people apply and get to know the community is a much better filter that results in a lot more players willing to do nice things. Anyhow, it's great to meet a fellow musician, and I hope to hear more from you later on!

Oh, wow, this forum is big and really well organized, I'm impressed. Hokay, so, hello! I'm Halide, and I'm a person who loves ponies and roleplaying and programming and music and writing and singing and voice-acting and talking and laughing and joking and blithering relentlessly without pause sometimes. HOWEVER, I will spare the lot of you a fair bit of rigormorale, if not a bit of cringing, and spare you all but the writing and roleplaying parts. Seriously, I'm not about to sing for a bunch of strangers. Narrate, perhaps, but not sing. Anyhow, now that this is out of the way, I would like to say Hello! I'm here to write about ponies and unicorns and birds and fish and all that fun, cute, light-hearted stuff. I'm very much a light-hearted sort of person when it comes to the majoity of playing, though I can manage a lot of scenarios - I've been at this sort of thing for nearly a decade now, I ought to have learned a thing or two. That aside, I'm more of an IRC-player than a forum player, but I can work both, no problem! Anyhow, I am just tickled pink to have found this place and I will be more than happy to meet everypony here! In the meantime, I'm just going to go make a profile up.