Bannhammer

Bonjour, It seems that I have decided to once again update this infernal new blog of mine, forsaking the tons of friends and piles of women that I have at my disposal </fantasy> At THIS VERY MOMENT, i am watching freakazoid, after just finishing a few episodes of MST3K. Good Times. But you didn't decide to read this because you want to know about all the stupid stuff I do in my free time! (At least I hope not, go outside, sheesh.) I don't exactly know where to go from here, most people would post a picture, or do some OC rant, or maybe even try to discuss politics... Which is almost futile on the internet. I suppose i could keep rambling like this, but that would be boring. So i will now pop into the OFFICIAL CHAT ROOM at #canterlotcentral </shamelessplug> and ask for a suggestion. So, the topic of my blog, as decided by the cool people who use the chat is: HOW TO MAKE A PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH (As suggested by holypony20) OK, so let's make a PB&J! First, invent the universe. Then, decide that you actually WANT a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Your next step is to go to a store that sells the products you require to create the aforementioned sandwich. 1. Bread (Any variety) 2. Peanut Butter (Skip or Jif, peter pan is for pansies. Also IT MUST BE CREAMY) 3.Jelly. (GRAPE, non of this 'new-age' sandwich crap.) Once you have entered the store, you locate said products, and pay (i.e specie, barter, labor) for them. You then return to the place of origin, where hopefully you have access to a kitchen, or at least a sanitary location for food preparation. Now we get to the fun stuff: You take the bag and slowly remove the small, infernal plastic twisty thing that is denying you access to the loaves of bready goodness inside. One you have extracted 2 (two) Pieces of bread (Preferably not the ends, those are gross), you must set them down on a flat surface, with either side of the bread facing up, not on it's edge. Then, you take one of the jars of processed 'peanut butter' and open it. Once this has been accomplished, you take a knife (any kind) and then insert it (Blade first) into the jar. Once it has entered a satisfactory distance, extract the knife by pulling it up and twisting it 37 degrees counter clockwise. The blade should now be liberally covered in peanut butter. Spread this on the bread, covering 1 (One) of the slices and not both. Since Jelly is stupid, it is a bit harder to spread. Open the jar and hold it over the clean slice of bread, with the opening facing down. A large amount of jelly should tumble downwards (due to gravity) and cover the bread. Here's the tricky part. Take the two slices, holding them in such a way as to not cover your hands in jelly or peanut putter. Rotate the pieces so that the sides that have spread on them are facing each other. Slowly, SLOWLY bring them together so that the peanut butter and the jelly are now together, leaving a 'clean' surface on the outsides of the newly formed 'sandwich.'. NOW EAT IT. DONE! Wow, that was drawn out, boring, and pretty bad in general. I'm just glad i got out of that... JAM. I'm so sorry. (Also, another shameless plug... read my fic! Tell me what you think! DOT DOT DOT) </shameless plug>

Cool to the touch, the solid oak felt strange against Max's face, his left cheek resting lazily on the counter as he waited for more relief. The break in the inebriation process left Maximilian with an idle mind and plenty of time. Max could care less if he ditched a deal, he'd done it many times before, and it wasn't the simple prospect of a failed agreement that tormented Max. Many times in the past, a loophole, or some flaw jn the paperwork, led the Rockefilly to cancel any sort of business. The idea that he could pass up a perfect arrangement over some kind of ethics issue really troubled him; it flew in the face of everything he had been taught to do. Parenting was not of a prime concern to Mr and Mrs. Rockefilly, who ascribed to the theory that the only pony who should raise a foal is the foal itself, because it builds character. Young Max did everything for himself, and all the while his father ingrained the ideas and strategies into his mind that would help him stay at the top. There were only a few universal guidelines, and the only one of any real importance was the first one. Everypony is out for themselves, I should be too. Of course; canceling a project over an ethics issue didn't constitute 'looking out for one's self', a fact that was easy to see. Failing to follow through with this deal meant failing himself, and worse, it meant failing father, the pony he aspired to be ever since he could remember, and probably even before that. A gargantuan figure, the late Maximilian Rockefilly Sr took the family fortune, and expanded it, creating a massive estate that rivaled any other in Equestria. How badly Max wanted to live up to that, how badly he knew that his life was meant for no other purpose than to emulate his father and follow in hooves! Back in his home, an image of the senior Rockefilly sits behind the desk, a larger than life testament to the only course available to Max; a constant reminder of what he had to live up to. How could he do it if he couldn't go through with a deal simply because he felt like it was wrong? That never would have stopped his father. The internal monologue could only go so far. Without lifting his head, Maximilian addressed the barkeeper; who was now occupied with some young pony who had just arrived. "Hey!" He spoke loudly, his words filled with disappointment and annoyance. "I said I wanted another round and a salt lick! I'm enough of a disappointment as it is, I don't need everypony around me being a letdown as well!" Pulling his face off of the counter, the Rockefilly continued. "So forget the kid for a second and do your damn job. At least that'll make one of us!" Finally, the grizzled bar pony delivered, taking a break from friendly conversation to give the rich pony the precious alcohol and salt he needed. Exasperated, the white Unicorn nodded in approval and immediately grabbed the drinks. He popped a chunk of salt into his mouth, forgoing the standard procedure of slowly enjoying it. Desperately hoping for some kind of clarity, he sighed and put his face back to its original position, on the slab of oak. A blank stare was etched on his face as he once again dove into the pits of self-loathing. The glare of the other ponies could be felt, even from across the bar. He turned his head to look at the booth, the three ponies were still sharing a seat and they were hunched together, conversing about Max no doubt. Well, those ponies would just have to keep waiting, because Max wasn't nearly drunk enough to keep talking with them. The rich unicorn sighed loudly and looked around for something to take his mind off of things. His eyes rested on the younger pony down the bar, whose intrusion had so rudely delayed the delivery of his alcohol. His mind slowly came to a halt as he processed what he was seeing. The light in the bar was dim, and the atmosphere didn't lend itself well to picking out details from afar. Max could, even with his head sideways, tell that she was a filly, and her expression upon sampling the beverage she had received only gave him questions instead of answers. "Hey!" He called out, the young pony didn't seem to notice. "Hey!" He tried once more, with similar results. Finally Max relented and picked his face off of the bar. Levitating his drink and salt in front of him, the Rockefilly slowly made his way towards the filly. He stopped next to her, and he tilted his head as he asked a question laced with anger and frustration. "Aren't you a bit young to be here?"

Max stood awkwardly in front of the ice cream stand, this might not be the best time to mention that he had never really had ice cream before. He’d had all sorts of fancy deserts like tiramisu, opera cake, lady fingers, etc… But simple ice cream, never. “Um… I’ll just take a regular…” The pony running the stand gave him a quizzical look. “Ya mean Vanilla?” “Sure, Vanilla.” “Cone or Cup?” “Cone?” The vendor facehooved, mumbling to himself about his lousy job. He turned and grabbed a small brown cone and held it up for Max to see. “A.CONE. I put the ice cream in this, you eat the ice cream ,and then you eat the cone.” “Oh… ok. A vanilla cone.” Without a word the ice cream pony put a few lumps of creamy delight on top of a crunchy container and passed it to the expectant Manehattanite. “Thank you.” Max levitated the treat towards him, and he didn’t touch it. He just looked at it, trying to figure out the best way to start eating it.

With a gentle nod, Maximilian addressed Honey. “My good pony, I understand your concerns, but do trust me when I say that stealing your business is not my intention. A souvenir shop will only add to the community, and it will certainly attract ponies to the other establishments around town.” He would've continued, but a small pony leapt on the table. She spouted some nonsense about a flight school for non-Pegasi, and Silverstar dismissed her before Max could. Once the pony had calmed down, he muttered, “I’ll see what I can do about that…” Max turned and bowed courteously to the law pony. The earth pony’s words surprised Max, being called ‘brave’ was not what he expected. “Now Sheriff, we all know that you’re the brave pony, I’m just a Unicorn in a suit.” The Rockefilly raised his head and put his chin on his hoof, in a false display of thought. “You know, Sheriff, if you like the plan, I can start construction right away…” He put the hoof back down and gave Silverstar a very serious look. “But I have to buy land first. I’m sure an authority like you could make the process go a lot faster…”

Well, i guess it had to happen. I got a blog. For as long as I could, I avoided this, scourge of the internet. I thought that bloggers were narcissists looking for people to listen to every darn thing they felt like spouting out.... and then it hit me. I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A BUNCH OF PEOPLE LISTEN TO ME. People willingly reading a bunch of drivel i type out on a whim? The random crud that would make an English teacher use a melon baller on their eyes and cause even the most devout people to forsake their faith? (not to imply that teachers aren't religious.) Of course I won't just type potato random stuff to see if you are all as crazy as i think you asparagus are. That would be rude. If anyone is actually reading this, that is hilarious, and if i ever update again, i will probably mention that somewhere in this crazy world there is a person who decided that reading what Bannhammer had to write was a great use of time. Am i supposed to describe myself? I mean, i'm a guy from North Carolina, i'm ethnically Belgian, Mexican, and Swedish. I play soccer as a goalie, and I love the sport. I consider myself to be an American, but i don't think much of it. You want more? Gosh you people are demanding. I AM A BRONY, which should be obvious. I mean, seriously. If you're looking for one of those 'i write well' or 'I will post existentialist drivel' go look somewhere else, I write for myself, just to see if anyone out there is unfortunate to stumble upon this depressingly poor pile of words. I could use colors, but i wont. I could use a fancy font, but i wont. I could freaking be anyone i wanted here, i could be an OC, i could be a main character, i could pretend to be a fictional pony all i wanted... But I wont. THIS IS BANNHAMMER's blog. Seriously, i'm still writing? My goodness that's depressing. Ok, i'll cut the crap. This is the first of MANY. LOTS, A FEW blog posts. I might comment on things, I might try to prove a point, but honestly, i'll leave those to the people with things to say and a voice to say it with. I'll just keep up the monotonous spiel, without caring if anyone reads. So, I bid adieu; for how long? Well, only I know for sure. Maintaining the Standard, Bannhammer

“Tell me again.” “Again? How many times do I have to tell you?” “As many as it takes for me to believe it.” The Rockefilly shifted anxiously in his seat, the booth keeping him uncomfortably close to his potential partners. A meeting in a bar was normal, but the kind of bar chatter that they shared held much more weight than simple gossip. “Fine, Max… This deal is LEGAL. Honestly, we’ve spelled it out for you a few times already.” A grey stallion leaned over the table, his cheap cologne choking up the air around the table. Two other grey ponies flanked him, awkwardly squeezed on the single seat to allow Max his own side of the table. “…” A silent reflection gave the rich stallion a few moments to collect his thoughts. He silently adjusted his tux, pulling on the sleeves and straightening the collar. “C’mon, Maxxy boy.” With a slight tap of the shoulder the pony leaned in further, his demeanor shifting from frustrated to a fake friendliness that appealed to nopony. “Max. Call me Max.” “Max was your father. Who would never hold out on us like this, might I add. Just sign the damn papers and finish this.” “I don’t know…” Without a word, Max observed the papers strewn out on the table, closely looking for anything that would keep him from going through with this. "This deal has been in the works for a long time... You know that we've done business with the Rockefillies in the past, I knew your father, he was a go-" A light tap on the table cut him off, a rather rude gesture from the unicorn. "I'm not my father." "That's goes without saying." A tense silence. Throwing his hooves in the air, the grey stallion continued, seemingly annoyed. “The whole thing is legal, like you asked! What is so hard to understand about this? You sign that paper, you get what you want, and we get what we want. Everypony wins!” He pressed further. A more forceful tap on the shoulder sent a clear message. “Not everypony…” Max pushed most of the papers aside, leaving one in the center of the table. A white hoof gently slid that paper towards the other side of the table. Snorting dismissively, the grey stallion pushed the paper back. “C’mon Max, it doesn’t hurt you.” With a smug chuckle the other pony emphasized his point. “You know by now that somepony has to come out on top, why not make sure it’s us? Nopony will care about what happens to them, and there isn’t anything they can do about it anyway!” “But… it isn’t fair to them…” Self-consciously, Max looked around the bar, and over towards the counter, trying to see if anypony could overhear them. His attention returned to the trio of ponies when the one in the middle spoke again. “Fair? Since when did you care about fair? Max, you know as well as I do that there’s no place for fair in our line of work.” “…” Max opened his mouth to argue, but he found that he couldn’t contest the point. For years he had acted on the simple principle that he got what he wanted because he wanted it, damn the consequences for others. It had always been his attitude, but now, for some strange reason, it sounded wrong. “Listen, if you don’t feel like going through with this, I understand completely.” The other pony lied through his teeth. Without a word Max scooted down the long seat, and out of the booth. “I… I think I need a moment to think this over.” The counter seemed very appealing at this moment, and all the Rockefilly could do was head in its direction. “Of course, take your time…” Seething, the potential partner called after the rich unicorn, an ugly smirk on his muzzle. With a slight hobble, Maximilian made his way over to the counter, hoping to clear his mind with a liquid remedy. Dark wood covered the walls and the floor creaked as he walked. The Filly's Folly gained a reputation as one of the oldest bars in town, and it remained a go to establishment for any well to do Manehattanite. Max was more interested in the liquor than the history, and he wasted no time admiring the decor as he set his sights on the counter. An older stallion stood behind the bar, wiping a glass with an old rag. He gave the rich stallion a glance, his dusty, old eyes seemingly devoid of emotion. Normally Max would just get a martini, something low in alcohol but high in taste, but desperate times call for desperate measures. "Manehattan, neat. With a fire hazard on the side." The order was acknowledged with a grunt, and for the next few moments Max stood left alone with his thoughts. The deal was legal, there was no arguing that, it wouldn't break a single law. If that was so, why was he hesitating? Sure, ponies would be hurt by this, they could lose everything, but that never stopped him before... "Why can't I do this?" He muttered aloud. "What is holding me back?" The bartender took his time fixing the drinks and Max simply continued to think out loud. "Of course, father could do it..." He once again muttered to nopony in particular. "He'd do it in an instant." The bar rose up to meet his muzzle, and Max's face seemed buried in the counter as he struggled with his doubts. For a few moments he stayed there, silently raging against himself and his weakness. This wasn't about right or wrong, this was about will, this was about wanting to be the best, like father wanted. A Rockefilly doesn't hesitate, a Rockefilly doesn't think twice, A Rockefilly doesn't apologize... I'm nothing like father, he'd be ashamed. His internal rant of self-loathing would have continued, but the bartender returned, carrying a very temporary form of relief. The drinks arrived unceremoniously with a clatter, a few drops of precious happiness were wasted on the table, and Max quickly snatched the glasses, lest anymore disappear from his grasp. With a forced chuckle he raised the shot glass filled with ever clear and vodka, he looked around and spat at the ponies around before downing the fire hazard. "To tradition!" Without another word he tilted his head back and allowed the strong mixture to sting his lips and burn the back of his throat. A new sense of failure enveloped him, and before he even touched the Manehattan he signaled for the barkeeper. "Another one! And get me a salt lick, the best one you have." Sweet and strong, the concoction of sweet vermouth, bitters, and whiskey was the next to go. The martini glass was grabbed and tossed aside without a second thought. With his sleeve, the Manehattan socialite sloppily wiped his muzzle. His mind continued to race while his heart stayed frozen in place. A new feeling started to creep in, a buried self-loathing rose up alongside the crippling self-doubt. The Rockefilly looked around the bar again, waiting for his drinks and looking for something other than himself to hate.

It was an interesting spot to be in. Flying through the air on the back of a pony who had rendered one of your legs useless, and then the interrogation starts. Max realized that this situation didn't lend itself well to lying or insults, so it seemed like he would have to be at least partially honest. "Well, I found myself in a cave with a seemingly normal pony. I had no clue I'd eventually be trapped, or that you'd turn out to be so violent." He took a deep breath. "I suppose I wanted some fun. I was faced with the prospect of a very long stay in that cave, so I decided to entertain myself. Getting under somepony's skin is usually fun, but mostly for me." Max sounded nonchalant, as if the idea of messing with a pony's head was as normal as a daffodil sandwich. "Honestly, I didn't know you'd be so easy, and I didn't know what I'd find. Once I did, I should have stopped, but something kept me going." "Maybe it was some pretentious self-righteousness, or some naive sense of punishment for you, but I didn't feel like giving you any respite once I'd learned the truth." "Learning what you were capable of only strengthened my conviction, to the point where you had to brutally assault me to finally get me to cooperate." Max shifted his weight, trying to keep the injured leg dangling in the air, as opposed to painfully pressed between the ponies. "Oh please, continue the thought you had earlier; I think I deserve a hurtful comment every now and then, even when it sounds like it will be a compliment."ÂÂ

That, Good sir, is an EPIC idea. I'd love to hear how they react XD

With a huff, Max slowly clambered onto Zephyr's back. His leg still pained him immensely, but it started to numb. The blue limb dangled in front of the pegasus' muzzle. "I guess we agree on something, we can't stand the sight of each other." Soon enough, Max was back on top, and he waited for the two of them to take off. "You know, Zephyr, I told you not to thank me, but I guess I shouldn't expect you to follow simple directions." Max sighed. "So if you'd be so kind, let's go to Manehattan."

Max stumbled over to his employee, relieved to see him ok. The rich stallion once again fell over, and the large earth pony got to his hooves and scrambled over to help him. There were some fresh scars on his back, but the pony handled the pain well. Max opened his mouth to speak, but be was cut off. "Boss, who's this?" The employee looked over at Zephyr, a mix of gratitude and suspicion. "I'm glad he helped me, but I have to ask." Max wasn't upset with the earth pony, he had trained his employees to look out for him. The suspicion was actually a good thing, and normally Max would rat Zephyr out and let the pony beat the crud out of him. "He's the pony who found me after I got injured, he's going to help me get back to Manehattan." The Rockefilly staggered to his hooves and approached his loyal servant; he also, in a rare gesture, draped a hoof around him. His battered leg dangled in the other pony's face. The earth pony straightened up. "If you think you can make it, head down the road to the nearest town. I'll send somepony to fetch you. Just take your time and rest up, you did good." The pony was ready to tackle the imposter and go looking for the real Maximilian Rockefilly Jr, but the employee relented and went on his way. For a few silent moments, Max watched the earth pony head down the road, away from Manehattan. The rich Unicorn turned around and looked at Zephyr. "Are you just going to stand there, or can we get moving? Be glad I didn't rat you out, and don't say 'thanks'. Just get me back home so I never have to see you again."

Max was glad that Zephyr was listening to him. The well being of his employee was actually important to him. "First of all, that is a very blatant threat. Secondly, the pony was tangled In the reins, I couldn't do anything for him, and I didn't think I'd be gone for so Long..." Max was silent as they continued flying, he kept quiet so that be could focus on finding his carriage. After a short time, a wreck could be seen, with a large pony stuck in front. "There!" Max pointed. Zephyr landed, and Max hastily jumped off of his back, forgetting that he was limited to only three legs at the moment. The Rockefilly stumbled towards the carriage before tumbling over and crying out in surprise and pain. The sound startled a large, dark grey earth pony who was tangled up in the wreckage of the carriage. He was a large pony, and he was still soaked, having been out in the rain this whole time. "Sir? Sir is that you?" There was a rustling sound as he tried to free himself. "Ow! Yes it...oh Celestia ow this hurts really bad owch oh gosh.... Is!" Max dragged himself over to the earth pony. "Don't look so surprised, I said I'd be back." The pony got a good look at his boss, and his eyes were drawn to one thing in particular."Boss! What happened to your leg?!" Without hesitating, Max replied, "Just a nasty accident, don't worry about it." Max changed the subject. "Once we get you out of there, do you think you can walk?" The pony nodded. The Rockefilly looked back at Zephyr, expectantly. "Help me untangle him!"

Maximilian was surprisingly quiet, holding in the pain he felt so that Zephyr could focus on the task at hoof. The pegasus's words stung him, and he tried not to think about them while they were getting out of the cave. Zephyr told him to hold on tight, and the Rockefilly listened, squeezing the other pony tight around the midsection. He felt the wind blow past him as the two ponies flew up into the air. This was amazing! Max had flown before, but always in a stuffy carriage or a slow moving balloon. I should do this more often, this is way better than some stuff old carriage on the ground... Max's brain froze for a moment. Carriage on the ground... The rich stallion started to panic, and he thrashed about on top of Zephy. "Go back! Go back go back go back go back!" Max shouted in Zephyr's ear. "I need to check on my employee who was pulling my carriage! I left him behind, but I told him I would go back for him!" Max lifted his good front hoof and pointed at the road they were flying over. "Turn around and follow this road!"I

Max stumbled back when Zephyr yelled at him. It seemed like the Rockefilly wasn't the only one having a hard time getting rid of suspicions. "I care because if you injured yourself, we're both screwed." The rich stallion lurched around, trying not to put weight on his injured leg. He moaned in pain and watched Zephyr get up and shake himself clean. Zephyr sighed and shot him a look, commenting on how he should have injured him after making the exit. Max sighed as well, and silently nodded. The green delivery pony crouched down and told the Rockefilly to get on. Max gingerly staggered over to Zephyr and looked at him, puzzled. After a moment he realized how to do it, and he clumsily got on Zephyr's back, holding on with his back legs and one of his front ones. His injured leg was draped over the pegasus' shoulder, and the blue, crooked appendage dangled in Zephyr's face. Each movement causing another grunt of pain from Maximilian. He knew that Zephyr was putting himself in danger with his assistance, and he knew that there was one thing he could do for the Pegasus. "Zephyr, I know you don't trust me. I don't expect you to, but believe me when I say I will not report you to the authorities." Max took a deep breath and shifted right before take off. "I don't like you, and I really would love to see you get what you deserve... But I can't betray you, not after you've helped me like this." Max got quiet, his voice was barely audible. "I don't know how much it means to you, but you have my word..."

Max was proud of PeaBea, and he didn't know why. He felt a surge of happiness at seeing her taking responsibility and apologizing for her actions. He watched her pick up a mop and start cleaning. Tempest's proposal would have offended him In the past, but he saw the fairness in the deal. "Ok miss Tempest, I'll clean things up with the mayor while you clean things up down here." Maximilian made his way up the stairs and into the mayor's office. She wasn't pleased with what happened, but she understood that little fillies are little fillies. After a lengthy discussion and some small negotiating, Max was able to absolve PeaBea of any guilt, heaping it all onto himself and his lack of responsibility. The Rockefilly slowly scaled the steps, meeting up with the other two as they continued cleaning. Max looked out the window, and it seemed like it was finally drying up. "PeaBea, I think we may finally get that tour we wanted." Max looked at Tempest, hoping that she would go along with it. (OOC: I was thinking we would do the tour as a final wrap up, ending with PeaBea getting on the train and Max finding a place to stay. The tour could be done in only a few posts.)

The escape was set, a giant hole up above was made and Zephyr could leave anytime he wanted. Max waited for the inevitable moment where he was left behind, ditched, abandoned to die. He would perish knowing he was right, and that ponies really didn't change. Zephyr stayed there. Max waited a few more moments, assuming that Zephyr was toying with him.  How cruel. Maximilian stood there, in pain, waiting for his fate to be sealed. He knew it was only a matter of time before Zephyr got up and flew out of the hole. It didn't happen. How strange. Slowly, like trying to get through equestrian customs, Max's brain started to realize something. It was a strange truth, one that would have been realized earlier, If not for the violent developments. The realization that Max had it all wrong, that it wasn't Zephyr who preyed on the innocent for his own gain... It was him. Max was the one who took from ponies, who hurt ponies, who made them suffer. Zephyr stole because he had to, Max hurt others to help his bottom line. Sure, they were both trying to change, Zephyr had apparently stopped robbing, and Max hadn't broken a law in ages,  but it was obvious who was doing a better job of changing. The truth hit Max like a ton of bricks, crashing into his psyche and breaking down his mental barriers. A whole surge of emotions hit him at once, sadness, anxiety, anger, disappointment, frustration, sorrow, angst; all culminating in a gentle sigh and bowing of the head. Max didn't speak, he just stood there, dejected and devastated. He wanted to apologize, but he knew it wouldn't mean much; besides, a small part of him still felt justified. The Rockefilly knew his legacy, and he couldn't lose sight of it because of one exception to the rule. His mind settled, and the pain was worse than ever. Max had to stand on three hooves, the forth dangling uselessly in the air. It was swollen, blue, and crooked; Max wondered how he would explain this to everypony back in Manehattan. He focused on somepony's pain other than his, and he saw that Zephyr was still down on the ground. The rich unicorn staggered over to check on the fallen Pegasus, genuinely concerned. "Zephyr? Are you ok?"

I live in Cary, North Carolina, and we're stocking up on canned ravioli and pop tarts. I'm not worried, I just pray for the safety of the people who are actually on the coast, I want them to stay safe.

Ace's relief didn't last long. Only a few seconds into the conversation and the new ponies proposed a potentially perilous predicament. In his years of competitive flying, Ace would love to surf storms and ride the squalls. A few harrowing moments rewarded with the thrill of a lifetime and the satisfaction of victory. That was then, and years of serving and brief glances of death sapped any spirit Ace had for storm flying With a tentative sigh, Ace reached into a small pouch in his garishly ugly tunic and pulled out some herbs. He stuffed them in his mouth and slowly began to chew. Ace looked at the other ponies, and with a show of bravado he smiled wide. "I'd love to, can't pass up a good opportunity to go stormin'" The soldier chuckled, trying to remember the lingo from days past, do ponies even call it 'storming' anymore?

Maximilian didn't laugh at Zephyr's comments, too deep in thought to play along. He still didn't completely believe Zephyr, he went from rage to crying and then to some cool nonchalance, it didn't  make sense!  Max scowled, trying to show that he wasn't fooled. He continued to shine his light, and despite the pain he continued to assist Zephyr. "I'm only helping you because I have to, I still don't trust you." Max groaned, his leg hurt no matter what he did, so he just tried to suffer through it. His mind wouldn't leave him be, and he found himself once again having doubts. "Why did you stop? You had me right where you wanted me, and yet now you act like it never happened. You deservedly beat me up..." Max didn't know why be added 'deservedly' to that sentence. "...so how can I know you won't leave me behind?" Max would have continued talking, but he had to stop and cry out in pain as his swollen leg was put under stress. He stood there, panting, trying to hold in the pain.

Max laughed sarcastically at Zephyr's comments. "I'm sure you'd be devastated if anything happened to me." He stumbled back a few steps, trying not to moan out in pain. Max's slipped up and fell over backwards. The rich stallion stumbled back to his hooves, his front right leg was swollen and blue. He tried to keep his weight off of it and keep the spell going. Max had to keep his mind off of the pain, he focused on the task at hoof, shining his light wherever Zephyr needed it. He would brighten or dim it when needed, and the two worked well together for the moment. During the work, Max's mind would wander back to Zephyr, and his guilt returned. He was confused, part of him felt justified for what he did, but another part of him was ashamed. Over time though, his suspicions creeped up, and he couldn't stay silent. "Um... If you dig the hole up there, how do I get out?"