Dio

Nightmare at Hooligans’

Diomedes

The Clinic

Hoofington

11:00 PM

Nightmare Night. Tricks, treats, and tribulations all in one. It’s not that Argent Rook hated holidays; he just wasn’t in a festive mood tonight. The week had been trying at best and insanity at worst. He was a surgeon, not a pediatrician, not a veterinarian, not a professor, and most definitely not a psychologist. The black unicorn snorted before floating his mug to his lips, taking a sip of his tea.

Four rambunctious foals in for checkups. A hoof full of university students asking for help with biology papers. A crazy mare and her equally crazy dog. A flustered, paranoid stallion that had somehow attracted the interest of a mare and didn’t know what to do about it. These were the cases he had to deal with. Rook would never wish traumatic injury upon anypony, but pushing unrelated cases outside his area of expertise upon him was really starting to grate on his nerves.

“I didn’t come back to Equestria to do this,” he muttered quietly to himself.

The clinic was open late as usual, but many ponies were out and about having a wholesome good time. Such prudence was simultaneously a curse and a blessing. Hoofington clinic was merely a job to bring in bits until he could secure more permanent employment, but the lack of work related to his area of expertise left him in a state of uncomfortable ennui. The need to do something had never quite left Argent Rook in spite of his experiences in Aquellia.

“Well,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I suppose I could close up shop and peruse the festivities. Perhaps somepony will have a good Oktoberfest brew for sale. I could use a-”

Before he could finish, a purple unicorn burst through the break room doors. “Doctor, we have a pony here who requires your immediate attention.”

Rook took a deep breath. Always at the last minute. Always. The doctor slid off the couch onto his hooves and floated the mug over to the sink. “Walk and talk, nurse,” he said as he trotted through the doors, the unicorn nurse in tow. “Preliminary assessment?”

“Pegasus stallion, approximately 26 years of age,” she said, “He was in a fight, but now he’s incoherent.”

“Alcohol poisoning?”

“Negative. His marefriend reported them both as sober when the fight began.”

“No physical injuries?”

“Bruises, scratches. Split lip and a black eye; nothing serious.”

“Whoever he scrapped with might have hit him harder than he thought,” Rook mused.

He’d seen things like this before, especially in Aquellia. A griffon or rough and tumble pony would be brought in after a “mild disagreement” insisting that they were fine, but suddenly take a turn for the worst while in clinic. Triage by spell and by sense was always necessary.

“Nurse? Doctor? You have to help him!”

Rook’s attention snapped from the nurse to the jet black mare at her stallion’s bedside. Her mane was powder blue, tied back with a bandanna for her Nightmare Night costume. The mare sported a corset and additional accents that served only to emphasize her curves and show off her figure. Here was a girl who knew she was attractive and wasn’t afraid to show it.

Rook would have snorted in contempt, but her labored breathing and the look of genuine worry in her eyes gave him pause. Unlike much of the dross that flaunted their bodies to the town on such nights, there was nothing disingenuous about this one. Her simple concern and the fact that she remained with her stallion after he was downed brought hope to Rook’s heart.

“Please,” she said, eyes pleading. “We were just out to have a good time. We never meant for something like this to happen.”

Her stallion was quite the specimen as well. This one was easily the biggest pegasus Rook had ever seen. On his hooves, he would have towered over Rook’s more diminutive stature. The red stallion was well-muscled and his build was that of a flier; maybe not an agile one, but definitely fast and powerful once he got up to speed.

“I’ll do everything I can,” Rook said, doing his best to reassure her. “My name is Argent Rook, but Rook suits me just fine. You are?”

“Star Chaser,” she said. “Dio is my coltfriend.”

“I need you to start at the beginning,” Rook said, trotting to the bedside. “I’m going to triage him now, but I need you to tell me exactly what happened...”

The Three Horseshoes Inn and Tavern

Hoofington

9:00 PM

“Five more minutes, dad,” Dio mumbled, rolling over in bed. Feeling a hoof jabbing his side, Dio swatted at it absentmindedly. Suddenly, pain. A sharp paroxysm of it shot through his ear, snapping his eyes open in shock. “YEEEOOOOWWWWWWW!!”

Dio flailed all four limbs and blindly flapped his wings, sending pillows, feathers, and covers flying all over the hotel room. He jerked his head back and forth, searching for his assailant, but instantly froze when he felt a warm muzzle against his cheek. Bewildered, Dio turned his head slowly towards the source. A pair of bright blue eyes smiled back at him.

“Mornin’ to you, too, champ!” Star Chaser said cheerfully, pecking him quickly on the cheek. The jet-black lady pegasus playfully licked the ear she had bitten before rolling out of bed, quietly humming to herself as she went about picking up the room. Dio yawned and stretched his wings.

“I thought you wanted to stay in tonight?” He said through the yawn. He was promptly hit in the face with a pillow.

“Maybe not,” Dio said, tossing the pillow behind him, and flopping on his back so his head rested on top of it. “I didn’t think there was anything going, though...”

BAP. The comforter flew off the floor and wrapped itself around Dio’s head. Star Chaser continued humming to herself as she perambulated about, leaving Dio scratching his head after removing said blanket. “Okay, maybe there is. But what- OOF!”

Dio was cut short as a loaded backpack landed on his belly. Dio recoiled at the sudden weight, looking down first at the clothing-filled pack and then back to Star Chaser, who was already turning away.

With a wink and a flick of her tail, the lady flier stepped into the bathroom, calling out, “I’m hitting the shower. Like it or not, we’re going out tonight. Saddle up, cowboy!”

“Only for you, honey,” Dio muttered to himself as he prepared to assume the guise of Skopa the Terrible, Sky Pirate Scourge of the Aquellia-Stalliongrad Trade Spine. Tonight was Nightmare Night, after all, and the boardwalk would be the prime party spot!

Hooligans’ Hooves

Hoofington Boardwalk

10:24 PM

“Talonopolis Bourbons, two singles, shot glasses, chief,” Dio said, throwing a couple bits on the bar to pay for their drinks.

Nightmare Night was usually a night to stay at home, swap stories with the boys, and have a few drinks, but having a girl changed everything. Star Chaser kept Dio on his hooves and wingtips whenever she was around. The former Wonderbolt hadn’t lost any of her spunk or brinkmanship in spite of her forced retirement. Lately, Dio found himself out and about more often, which, according to dad anyways, was a good thing.

While the griffon bartender went about pouring, Dio turned back to Star Chaser. “Star, sweetheart, I’m going to go see if I can get the band to play something that’s not utter horse apples.”

“Do what you gotta do!” she chirped. As Dio trotted off, Star Chaser leaned her front legs on the bar, a goofy grin on her face. Tonight, she had one plan and one plan only: have a good time!

The noise of the amplified music and the chatter of nearby bar patrons covered up the clip clop of approaching hooves. Only the distinctive jingle of bits on the table and the creaking of worn floorboards under the bar cushion gave away that another pegasus had arrived on the scene. This flier was trim and slim, very different from Diomedes’ Clydesdale frame and hurricane-maker wings.

The green pegasus flipped his white mane, a smug smile on his face as he settled down in the seat next to Star Chaser. His demeanor spoke volumes of his mindset, as did his costume; a cheap imitation of a Royal Equestrian Army Aviator. If nothing else, he had the cockiness down pat. Star Chaser cocked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Hopefully he was only there to get a drink...

“Two Celestia Sunrises,” the smug flier said, settling into the cushion. Star Chaser rapped her hoof on the bar impatiently. He was certainly making himself comfortable. With any luck though, his marefriend was in the back of the bar and-

“I simply LOVE your costume,” he said, leaning in to speak to Star Chaser. The stallion had obviously been drinking. His breath stank of cheap liquor and his eyes looked like they’d been glazed in a donut shop. The Wonderbolt’s ear twitched involuntarily at his advance. Who did this creeper think he was? He was planning on staying. He’d even ordered TWO drinks.

“Thanks,” she said curtly, not even bothering to make full eye contact. Maybe if she didn’t pay him any attention he’d get the hint...

“Stallian raider, right? I’d recognize that getup anywhere!” he chortled. GODS his laugh was annoying. “But what good is a costume without a pretty mare to fill it out? Hmmm?”

“You flatter me,” Star Chaser said flatly, rolling her eyes. Was this stallion serious?

“Feisty, but coy,” he replied, that incorrigible grin still on his face. He brushed Star Chaser’s hoof with one of his. “Both qualities I admire in a mare. But where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself yet. Winter’s the name, flying’s my game. I roll with the Shadowbolts, which makes me kind of a big deal.”

Star Chaser snorted in contempt. To her, the Shadowbolts were nothing more than wannabes, showoffs and braggarts who made up for lack of skill with copious amounts of spectacle. Apparently it was the new cool thing for a Pegasus to join, to become one of the “bad boys of aerobatics.”

“Oh the wannabes. Now isn’t that cute?” Star Chaser retorted. Sarcasm dripped from every word as she pulled her hoof away. There was no getting around this. “And do you mind?”

“No, not at all!”

Star Chaser glared at him, but said nothing.

“Oh come now, I’m just having a little fun!” Winter giggled. “It’s Nightmare Night! A night for parties, for frights, for MAGIC to happen!”

“Yeah, right...”

“And believe me, sweetheart, I can work magic like nopony’s business!”

“Buster, I don’t care what or who you do for a living,” Star said, jabbing him in the chest with a hoof. “But I’ve had about enough of your horse apples!”

“Star, you wouldn’t believe how long the request list was with the-” Dio paused, seeing the other stallion immediately set off red flags. He could tell Star Chaser was quite agitated and that the other stallion was quite drunk. “Am I interrupting something here?”

The green pegasus waved a hoof dismissively. “Go play with the other colts, sunshine. The adults are talking.”

It took a moment for it to set in that Winter was serious. But it took far less time for Dio to decide that he disliked Winter with a burning passion. Rude. Entitled. Sleazy. He was every quality Dio hated wrapped up in one self-styled prettyboy package, ripe for the smashing.

“You have the nerve to tell me to step away from MY seat at the bar and proposition MY marefriend who obviously isn’t interested in you?” Dio said, glowering. “Chief, you’ve got another thing coming to you. Now if you’ll kindly step away from the-”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Dio said nothing, instead silently sliding between Winter and Star Chaser at the bar. Suddenly, Dio found himself shoved out of the way, stumbling over his hooves back onto the aisle, crashing into a table and flipping it on its side. There was that damn pegaus, his eyes twinkling and that cocky grin inextinguishable.

“What’s that? Were you actually going to-” Dio didn’t let him finish, delivering a rage-fueled jab straight into the stallion’s muzzle.

Winter stumbled backwards into the bar, laughing as he did. Dio stared incredulously. This guy was unbelievable. He had just been clocked in the face and he was still laughing? What the hay was wrong with him? Dio didn’t have much time to think about it as suddenly he was beset upon by a flurry of blows.

Winter lunged forward, fluttering his wings to give him an extra burst of speed as he tackled Dio in an attempt to knock him to the ground. Dio winced as he soaked up the strikes with his forehooves, using his greater mass to sweep the pegasus’ feet out from under him. Winter, however, was just as quick on wing as he was on his hooves. The green pegasus fluttered around him like a persistent mosquito, landing jabs and probing Dio’s defenses.

Dio’s boxing training had been rudimentary and it showed. Though he was able to block some strikes, Winter’s speed and agility made it difficult to counterattack. BAM. Dio reeled from a direct hit to the face. There would definitely be a shiner there in the morning. The red pegasus shook out his mane, grunting from exertion.

“Dio! Dio, stop! I’ve got a bad feeling about th-” Star Chaser said, tugging on his tail in an effort to rein him in.

“Baby, I’ve got this!” he said, cutting her off.

Dio lunged forward, slamming into Winter like a living battering ram. The green pegasus stumbled, the wind knocked out of him by the sudden charge. Dio reared up, kicking out and hammering Winter with massive hooves. The dull thud of hooves against flesh told Dio he had hit his mark. Winter cried out in both pain and surprise as one wing visibly spasmed in pain. One finally blow from Dio knocked him to the ground, where the bigger pegasus pinned him with a hoof.

“I’m going to tell you one last time, buddy,” Dio spat, venom dripping from every word. “Don’t. Mess. With. My. MAREFRIEND.”

Dio glared at Winter, looking for any sign of acknowledgement in his blank eyes. But rather than show fear or remorse, Winter simply began giggling. Giggling turned to chortles. Chortles turned to guffaws, and the guffaws echoed across the bar.

“May your hefty frame become dead weight,” Winter spoke matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?”

“I curse you now with clumsy gait! Hooves so heavy, nosed plugged up! Breathing shallow, fever's cusp! May your wings grow barren, your feathers molt, be ever grounded you miserable dolt!”

“What the hay is that supposed to m- OOF!” The stallion snapped his wings at Dio’s ears, disorienting him before punching Dio squarely in the jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.

Dio’s head swam. Something wasn’t right. His vision was blurry, his chest was tight, and his head throbbed like it had been hit with a million hammers. What did Winter do to him? Why did he suddenly feel ill? The red Pegasus wiped his swollen, bloodied lip with a matted fetlock and forced himself to stand back up.

The green Pegasus met his gaze, sneering, the laughing in his eyes taunting Dio with every slowly ticking second. The world spun. The music and chatter dulled. Oh gods, no. A muffled, feminine, scream punctured the blurry miasma of sensory stimuli. With a clatter of armor plate, Diomedes Ironwing was on

the ground.

Hooligans’ Hooves

Hoofington Boardwalk

10:24 PM

Fletcher was hoping for a quiet night in Hoofington. But it seemed that even his favorite hole-in-the-wall haunt was filled with Nightmare Night party-goers. The captain shrugged as he quickly destroyed the number grid puzzle in the day’s paper. Despite the noise of the band and the excited chatter of costumed ponies all around, Fletcher found his own bit of quiet in his Oktoberfest lager and a dim corner of the bar.

“By Celestia, Dietrich, how many pumpkins did you put into this batch? I feel like I’m eating a pie rather than drinking a lager!”

“Eh, the locals wanted bier that was sweeter and with more pumpkin, so I made it sweeter with more pumpkin,” the Griffon shrugged, idly polishing a pint glass with a rag-wrapped talon. “Logical, ja?”

“If I had my choice, I’d have more spice and less pumpkin in the Oktoberfest brew,” Fletcher quipped.

“Only you, Herr Kommandant,” Dietrich chuckled. “Only you.”

The clatter of a table being flipped over immediately caught Fletcher’s astute ears. The captain swiveled his head just in time to see a massive pegasus stallion pick himself up off the floor and confront a smaller stallion. The big one was obviously angry, but the smaller one didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Though he couldn’t hear a single word being said, Fletcher could imagine that it was anything but friendly conversation.

“Looks like trouble,” he said flatly.

“I will get the bouncer,” Dietrich sighed. “Do me a favor and keep them from killing my patrons.”

Fletcher got up from the bar, striding over to the standoff, allowing his military gait to show. Maybe some authority showing up would defuse any potential-

“What’s that? Were you actually going to-”

Before Fletcher could intervene, the red stallion punched the green one squarely in the face, sending him stumbling back into the bar. The bar crowd immediately dispersed, forming a circle around the two combatants and handily blocking Fletcher from moving quickly. The Captain methodically shouldered his way through the rapidly forming crowd, just in time to see the rapid exchange of blows.

“Dio! Dio, stop! I've got a bad feeling about th-” a black pegasus mare pleaded, tugging on his tail in an effort to rein her stallion in.

“Baby, I’ve got this!” he said, cutting her off.

Fletcher gritted his teeth as Dio knocked Winter off his feet, pinning him. He had to act now. If the big one hit him, the small one was done for. “Hey! You two! Break it-”

Fletcher’s words fell flat as the green pegasus slapped his attacker with his wings and followed up with a haymaker that left his assailant reeling. The red pegasus stumbled uneasily, his rage and vigor suddenly gone. Fletcher’s ear twitched as Dio went ragdoll limp, collapsing on the floor in a heap. Something wasn’t right. There was no way the green one could have hit that hard from where he was.

The large stallion’s marefriend screamed, making Fletcher wince. The crowd all at once became a roiling mass of ponies as stallions, fillies, and bar patrons of all types scrambled away from the scene. The big one needed to be taken to the hospital right away. As for the little green one... Fletcher jerked his head left and right. The green pegasus had vanished!

“Horse apples,” Fletcher muttered under his breath as he pushed his way through the crowd to the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, Fletcher caught movement. It was the green pegasus! He was making a break for the door! “Dietrich!”

“Captain?”

“Get those two to the clinic! I’ve got a hooligan to catch!”

The Clinic

Hoofington

11:05 PM

“... so Winter got away.”

“Yes,” Star Chaser said. “Dietrich brought us here and said there was a unicorn doctor who could help.”

She and the doctor sat in the dim lamplight of the clinic, backlit by oil-wick and the ghostly blue of Rook’s triage spell. The diagnosis grid hummed softly, the aether flowing over Dio’s body like a cool breeze. Rook cleared his throat.

“Did you notice anything unusual about Winter?” the doctor pressed. “Was he keeping any sort of-”

A labored cough from the infirmary bed immediately caught Rook’s attention. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

“Barely,” Dio said groggily. “I feel like I’ve been... hit... with... a million hammers. Pegasus at the bar... he said some incantation; he said he cursed me!”

Rook raised an eyebrow. “Doubtful. Aetherics is a very precise science that only produces ephemeral effects that only an accomplished caster could accomplish. I would hardly consider an amateur sleight of hoof artist and pegasus of all things to be capable of breaking fundamental laws of aetherics...”

“Not in the mood... for... Stallian... doc.”

“There are no such things as curses.”

“But he did something to me, doc! He- GAAAAH” Dio gasped, his eyes going wide as he looked down at his hooves. His forehooves were now twice their normal size, as if somepony had inflated them with a bellows pump!

“By Celestia, what’s wrong with your hooves?” Star Chaser exclaimed.

“Delayed reaction to something,” Rook said, cocking his head. How had that slipped under the diagnosis grid?

“Doc, we gotta fluuunddddd wennnn-” Dio turned to Rook, completely bewildered at his own predicament. “Whass... whas happening with my mouth?”

“You’ve got numb-tongue?” Rook scrambled for the medicine cabinet, grabbing a cortisol syrette. “Hold still! This should clear up the swelling.”

“GGAAAAAHHHHHH.” Dio was not fond of needles and having a jellied paste jammed into his leg through one was not his ideal Nightmare Night. “Is it over?”

Dio looked to Star Chaser, then back to Rook. Both had blank, incredulous looks on their faces, as if he had just said something incredibly stupid. “Guys?”

Star Chaser pointed. Dio looked down at his fetlock, which was now bright pink. In a panic, Dio looked all around his body. The pink had not just affected his fetlocks; it was now the color of his entire coat.

“OH GODS NO!”

The Streets

Hoofington

10:43 PM

The pounding of hooves on the street echoed across empty cobbles and hollow alleyways. The bulk of the population was on the boardwalk enjoying the nightmare night festivities, leaving the rest of Hoofington a ghost town. Fletcher’s heart pounded in his head as he pushed himself harder, scrambling to keep up with the green pegasus. Why didn’t he just fly away?

Fletcher got his answer as his quarry turned a corner, giving Fletcher a full view of Winter’s left wing hanging limply by his side. Good. No blood or broken bones. But it definitely looks like he won’t be using that wing for a while. Winter stumbled and slid on the cobbles, tripping over his own hooves and landing in a heap of boxes piled by an apartment entrance. But even as Fletcher closed in, Winter proved himself to be tenacious.

Scrambling back to his hooves, Winter jumped up onto a fire escape, clambering up the ladder like only a drunken acrobat could. Fletcher grunted as he continued to pursue, leaping, grasping, and clawing his way up the fire escape until finally he made it to the rooftop, where Winter was already scrambling to get away. The green pegasus looked back at his pursuer, finally showing signs of fatigue.

“Slow it down, buddy,” Fletcher said, panting. “You’ve got a bum wing and it’s a long way down. Just surrender yourself now and make it easy on both of us.”

Winter looked at Fletcher, then looked behind him at the drop to the ground, then looked to Fletcher again. As the captain stepped forward, Winter stepped back. Before Fletcher could get close enough to cuff him, Winter leaped from the rooftop. Fletcher scrambled to the edge, looking down just in time to see Winter open his wings and glide to the ground. Unfortunately, his injured wing didn’t hold, sending him into a corkscrew that ended with a crash in the street. That was the opening Fletcher needed.

The blue unicorn galloped along the rooftop, searching for a fast way down. Seeing an awning covering a storefront below, Fletcher leaped, using the canvas piece to slow his fall into a pile of shipping boxes below. Rolling back onto his hooves, Fletcher shook the cardboard bits out his mane and scrambled after Winter, who had surely gotten his second wind. As Fletcher rounded the block, He ran straight into Winter, bowling him over. As the Captain pinned him, he noted the two Pegasi in REA garrison armor approaching, the apparent reason for Winter’s sudden reversal of direction.

“We’ll take it from here, citizen,” one of them said.

“As you were... sergeant,” Fletcher replied, checking the guard’s rank insignia. Multitasking, Fletcher unbuckled the cover on the crest he kept clipped to his saddlebag straps, revealing the emblem of the Honor Guard. “Captain Fletcher, Her Majesty’s Honor Guard.”

Winter squirmed, coughing and wheezing. Fletcher eased pressure off the stallion’s chest, not wanting to cause injury, as much as he would have liked to for what he’d put him through. “As for you, buddy, you’ve been nothing but trouble. I hope you enjoy your night at the garrison.”

What Fletcher had mistaken for coughing and wheezing now resolved itself into fits of giggles. Despite all that he had been through, Winter was still laughing! Fletcher couldn’t believe his ears. “What are you laughing at?”

“May your horn of light grow ever dim,” Winter chortled. “I take away now, your vigor and vim! Hooves so heavy, nose plugged up! Breathing shallow--”

Movement. Fletcher knew misdirection when he saw it and he wasn’t going to have any of it. Before Winter could reach into his coat, Fletcher pounced.

“Oh no you don’t!” the captain snarled, batting away the bag that he was reaching for with a hoof. The green pegasus struggled, jabbing Fletcher in the chest and knocking him away. As Winter attempted to flee on foot, the street was suddenly lit in blue as Fletcher cast his signature spell.

“You’ve been enough trouble for me tonight. Lights out!” In the space of a heartbeat, a glowing blue ball of aether formed above Fletcher’s head, shooting after Winter with deft precision and incredible speed. Striking him in the back of the head, the azure orb detonated in a blinding flash of white light and a sound akin to a thunderclap.

As the whiteness faded from his vision and the ringing in his ears subsided, Fletcher breathed a sigh of relief. Winter’s limp form was sprawled out on the cobbles, unconscious, but otherwise unharmed.

“Book him, sergeant,” the captain said, levitating the small pouch into his saddlebags. “I’ve got a patient to visit.”

The Clinic

Hoofington

11:05 PM

“Doc!” Dio shouted frantically. “DOC!”

“Nothing is working!” Rook fumed, clearly frustrated.

The diagnosis grid showed nothing. Traditional triage was worthless. Something with magic had taken hold and it was relentless. Rook had never seen anything like it.

Dio flailed, lost inside his own mane that had suddenly decided to grow out of control. It wasn’t just down over his eyes, it was now long enough to cover his entire body. The red pegasus simmered as he blew a bit of mane out of his face.

“Stop laughing, Star.”

“I can’t help it!” she giggled. “I was worried really worried at first, but now this is just hilarious!”

“Oh sure, if I’m suffocating or bleeding to death I get sympathy, but when my dignity and sanity is torn to shreds it’s hilarious!”

“Quite the case you’ve got there, doc.”

Argent Rook glared at the blue unicorn stallion in the doorway. “We’re closed.”

“Captain Fletcher, Her Majesty’s Honor Guard,” the blue unicorn said, trotting up to the infirmary bed. “The local guard detachment just booked the other stallion that was in that fight, so rest assured, my presence is relevant.”

“Indulge me,” Rook said flatly. He wasn’t in the mood for games.

“I suspected that our pegasus friend wasn’t much of a fighter. My suspicions were confirmed when he tried to pull the same trick on me.” Fletcher levitated the small pouch out of his saddlebags.

“Poison joke,” Fletcher said, floating the bag in front of Diomedes. “Winter probably laced his wings with some and dusted your face when he put you down.”

“If this is a joke, it’s not funny...” Dio said, his voice muffled by the mat of mane.

“Oh, poison joke!” A voice chirped from the back of the room. The purple unicorn nurse shrank back as all sets of eyes in the room turned to her. “I’d never seen such extreme reactions so I thought it might have been something else, and I didn’t want to step on Doctor Rook’s hooves, so...”

Rook sighed and shook his head. “You could have saved us a lot of trouble, nurse. You should know that I’m not the be all end all of aetheric medicine. This sort of thing just doesn’t occur in Aquellia, so I literally had no idea what was going on.”

The nurse smiled sheepishly. “Well, um, it’s actually quite common in the Everfree region. We had a few cases of exposure before you arrived at the clinic.”

“Interesting...” Rook mused.

“I’m still here, you know.” Dio huffed. “Now are you going to fix me or not?”

Hooligans’ Hooves

Hoofington Boardwalk

11:35 PM

“Sweetie,” Star Chaser said in a sing-song voice. “I’m sorry for laughing at you.”

“Apologizing doesn’t make you any less of a lightweight,” Dio retorted, deadpan.

“Oh c’mon, you know that’s a load of...”

Fletcher rolled his eyes as Star Chaser lost her balance, falling on Diomedes at the bar, the two pegasi sharing a hearty laugh. The antidote had worked, leaving Dio and Star Chaser free to pursue their own devices for the night. The good doctor had closed up shop, insisting that he deserved sleep after that incident. But the captain had since reclaimed his corner of the bar and his customary pint of lager.

“Oh to be young and in love...” Fletcher mused.

“If I recall correctly, you were once that way, Herr Kommandant,” Dietrich quipped as he bussed the latest bin of dirty glasses and dishes.

“Once, Dietrich,” Fletcher said flatly, nursing his lager. “Only once.”

The band had since packed up and gone to mingle with the Nightmare Night party-goers on the boardwalk, leaving Hooligans’ Hooves that much quieter and less densely packed. This was a much more familiar setting for Fletcher, who often frequented the bar when he was in Hoofington with a pen and puzzle at one hoof and a lager or gin drink at the other.

“You should not linger too long captain,” the Griffon said. “It would not do well to be caught on your past when you have your future ahead of you.”

“That’s the problem, Dietrich,” Fletcher sighed. “The REA, Cadenza, the whole of Equestria... it all depends on the past. I just can’t get away from that!”

“That may be true, captain, but there is a difference between accepting that the past has shaped you and allowing it to continue to shape you.”

“Captain Fletcher?”

Fletcher turned to face the new voice. A pale yellow earth pony stallion stood before him, his wiry frame suggesting a desk job, but his weathered complexion suggesting that he had been through his own share of battles. He wore REA dress greens and the garrison cap with the crest of Hoofington upon his head, indicating that he was an officer of the local REA garrison.

“Major... to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Major Redwood, Hoofington garrison,” the stallion smiled. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m going to cut to the chase, Captain. I was led to believe you had a run in with a certain pegasus named Winter earlier this evening.”

Fletcher immediately levitated a few bits into Dietrich’s tip jar and, levitating his drink, motioned for Redwood to follow. The two stallions settled into a booth not far from the bar. “Hell of a place for a debrief, major.”

“As good a place as any, Captain Fletcher.” Redwood glanced around to ensure that most patrons were out of earshot. “When the guardsponies booked Winter, we got some funny hits back in C-lot with the spooks at REIN.”

“What kind of hits?” The major glanced around the bar again. Whatever was wrong made him uncomfortable. Fletcher remained stony-faced, but his gut told him that he wasn’t going to like whatever the major had to tell him. “What kind of hits, major?”

“Winter is dead, captain,” Redwood finally said. “Or rather he’s supposed to be. He was listed as KIA in an operation in Aquellia four years ago. He was V Order, Captain. Alpha Squadron. If I’m not mistaken, that’s your unit.”

Fletcher stopped drinking in mid-sip. The glass slowly, deliberately floated to the corner of the table, settling on the worn hardwood with nary a sound. The captain’s brooding attitude was pared away as if by a razor, leaving only the hardened sharpened steel of a lance-like focus. The past was the past, but somehow it always found a way to come back to the present. Fletcher slid out from behind the table, immediately heading for the door.

“Where are you going, captain?”

“No rest for the wicked, major,” Fletcher said without missing a beat. “I’ve got a ghost to catch.”

hi hi

Twilight Sparkle has a science laboratory in her basement. I think there's a little bit of blurring the lines between magic and science going on in the setting, but they have enough of an understanding of electricity to construct magical lightning rods and coax it out of clouds with pegasus magic. The thing is, they don't really need technology most of the time so I figure that even though they could use it in some cases, its usually more trouble than its worth.

Keep in mind that a lot of the stuff in the show is played for gags. Twilight's computer was more of a trope played for laughs than an actual attempt to establish a technology level for the show. So while a bowling alley can run mechanically, I get the feeling that its inclusion was more to be a funny than anything else.

"Luna!" Celestia said firmly, looking down into her sister's eyes. It was no use. Luna was defiant-- terrified, but defiant-- eager to help just the same. There would be no sending her away. "There's no time to explain. We need to get out of here. Quickly!"

The Doctor led them down corridor after corridor, dodging the spider-like creatures and bits of loose stone as they went. Dead ends and manasprite swarms broke their route, forcing them to continuously adjust until even Celestia was unsure of where exactly they were in the dungeons.

Finally, out of all the dead ends and near misses, the ponies scrambled through an open door, the doctor quickly slamming it shut behind them and barring it closed. Though the manasprites scrabbled and scraped, they seemed to have great difficulty breaking through a physical barrier. In the ensuing lull, Celestia dared to breath a sigh of temporary relief.

"Are you all right, sister?" the sun princess said, addressing Luna first.

Celestia's ears perked up at the Doctor's words. "Manasprites?"

The term resonated with her somewhere deep inside, whether it was because of some long forgotten memory or the veritable aetheric static they seemed to be projecting, Celestia did not know. Somehow the feeling was familiar… very familiar. That fact alone made Celestia very uncomfortable.

The doctor continued on his mumblings; something about the Elements of Harmony, Discord's magicks, experiments. "Let us stay focused, doctor."

The Sun Princess slowly looked about the room, a conference chamber of some sort. There really wasn't much room for maneuvering, but doors were present on all four walls, meaning they were not trapped in a dead end. Celestia began pacing around the table, trying to clear her head of the static and perhaps think of some way to escape.

"If we cannot use magic to defeat them, doctor," she began, "then what do you propose? I need to know everything you know on these… manasprites."

Ambiguity has been addressed. He's now on the straight and narrow path after having an epiphany. Shall we give it another go?

Sweet. This means I have the weekend at least to draft up a fic idea and start writing!

Finalized. Added cutie mark story, character history, a few quirks, and cleaned up some formatting. Roll that beautiful bean footage!

"Hey are you coming or-- WHOA!" Dio scarcely had time to look over his shoulder as a a black and blue bolt went screaming past him, spinning him about on one wing. As he righted himself, Dio blinked incredulously. In spite of her previous injury, Star Chaser still retained both her need for speed and her competitive spirit!

"I'll race ya!" She called as she blew past.

Dio flapped harder, starting slowly, but steadily picking up speed as he went. Years of practice made saddlebags and crosswinds seem like nothing to his heavy frame and muscled build. There was no outmaneuvering Star Chaser, but if she wanted a straightline race, he could certainly give her a run for her bits!

But they were still supposed to picnic in the foothills that afternoon. They'd be late... and wasn't he supposed to be in the lead? Dio shook out his mane, clearing his head from doubt. Star's enthusiasm could only be answered by one thing... competition. Dio grinned as he powered onward. He wasn't about to let his date put him down!

"You're on!"

May the God-Empress have mercy upon your souls.

Virtue’s ear involuntarily twitched at Cherry’s question. Yes, it did look bad, did it not? Here they were, two perfect strangers waking up in an old inn with nary an introduction and only hazy memories of the previous night’s events. Virtue closed his eyes for a moment to recollect his thoughts.

“I suppose I would do well to start at the beginning,” he said before sliding two bowls of oatmeal down the counter to the seating area. Pony kitchens were designed for convenience, with one-piece counters running from a preparation area to an eating area. Quick meals were usually taken standing, though a lower-set table appropriate for kneeling and sitting was present in this particular kitchenette.

“My name is Virtue,” he said, noting Cherry’s occasional glances towards Aequitas. “I believe you already have some idea of my profession.”

The stallion paused for a moment in consideration before deliberately moving the bowls to the dining table. The young mare before him had a look of quiet perplexity in her eyes. That wasn’t to say she was confused or concussed. The glazed look of injury and the dumbstruck slackness of face were conspicuously absent. Instead, she seemed possessed by a genuine benign curiosity.

“Please, sit,” Virtue said, motioning with a hoof to a spot opposite him at the table. “I apologize for the meagerness of the meal. I tend to travel light and as a result, my tastes are quite simple.”

“I do not have to reiterate that last night was a complex situation,” he continued. “Suffice to say that I disrupted what I had assumed to be a mugging but turned out to be something much deeper than petty theft.”

“I was concerned for your safety after the attack. The chatter of the two thugs made it clear that this was premeditated. There was a determined group of attackers acting under the orders of a master.”

Virtue quietly took a bite of his oats, slowly chewing them over as he considered his next words. “I did not trust anypony else with your safety and triage suggested that your wounds were merely superficial, so I brought you here to recover instead.”

“I apologize if this seems frightening or foreign to you. I will admit that the circumstances seem a little strange,” he said locking eyes with Cherry. “But I swear on the Librum that I acted only with your best interest in heart.”

“But now that you have my name and my version of the story, I believe it would be simple etiquette to reciprocate, miss…?” Virtue, waited, hoping that his charge would be willing to fill in the blank.

I think you should add [WIP] and stuff, I had to add that in my tittle aswell.

Please leave tag enforcement to the staff. As stated in the Application Form instructions, we are moving away from the title tags and using the topic tags system. If you'll observe carefully, there is a string of tags under the topic title in this thread which contains all the relevant information.

I see, I hope the tag would be alright for it then, cause I believe its supposed to be in the tittle.

As for the milking thing, not sure if its needed, but you could always add it to the description.

The "milking thing" is to firmly establish that he does not merely kill the monster to harvest its organs which is a bit much for board RP. Please be considerate and insightful in your comments. We want to help everypony improve their character for the appropriate RP section that they are applying for and this requires well thought out remarks that contribute to the discussion.

Now on to remarks.

There's some concern that the Monster Hunter profession is redundant with the Royal Equestrian Army and the Holy Order of the Destriers, however, the profession is acceptable because some ponies would likely prefer to work with a private specialist than a government generalist. I see him fitting in as a monster expert and consultant in the world for both civilian and government applications. You've obviously put a lot of work into his profession and I think you have a firm grasp of what he's capable of.

However, in spite of the attention to detail on his occupation, there seems to be very little on Shadow himself. I'd like to see more about his psychology and personality. There are some very general terms included in the final paragraph that sort of broach the surface, but never go in depth about him. How does he react in crisis situations? How about normal social situations? Does he deal with other ponies well? Does he treat others as equals or is he truly proud of his excellence in his field? Does he have any long-term goals not related to his profession? Virtues, vices, desires, and personal demons all define a character and in a social RP such as Canterlot.com's, are very important.

I'm also curious as to his living situation. Does he still travel with his parents? If not, what prompted him to leave? Does he work mostly alone or does he prefer working and living with a team of monster hunters?

These questions are there to help you craft your character into a unique person that will be able to interact well in the RP environment and has a distinct place in the world. You can look through the Accepted Apps section and take a look at the most recent characters for examples of what we're looking for. If you have any further questions, do not hesitate to contact the staff. We have experienced RPers and eager helpful ponies here who can give you pointers to put you on track.

- Dio

I'm slowly making changes to it. Follow along... if you dare.

This is a great outline to start with. As Dessa said, however, we could definitely use more exposition on his personality, a glimpse inside his head if you will. It's important to be able to flesh out a character's motivations and desires, virtues and vices, before you can properly interact with other ponies in RP. What is he afraid of? What makes him giddy with excitement? How does he see other ponies?

A more nitpicky tweak I would also suggest would be on the subject of the tool shed. Metal does not automatically attract lightning strikes; it will only do this if it is in the right shape and the right location, such as in an elevated position. He could have been simply concerned over whether or not doors were locked. Rain can cause exposed metal tools to rust and wooden tools to warp, neither of which are good for a handypony.

Also, his name does not seem very pony-like. I remember our IRC conversation and I do recall your explanation of the chisel and hammer. However, as mentioned in the character creation guide, ponies do not use the First-name Last-name structure like humans or other species like Griffons. Also, while Lucerne is certainly a type of hammer, it is a medieval weapon and from what I'm gathering of your character, you do not want him to be combative in any way. Thus a more benign implement might be more appropriate.

Finally, please use the topic tag system to identify your OC as detailed in the first part of the OC application form. This will make it easier for us to identify and handle your character application in the long run. Thanks.

There's one more observation I'd like to make. What is assumed to be the "Common Tongue" is spoken throughout Equestria and Aquellia. It is assumed for RP purposes that anyone from Stalliongrad will be able to understand everyone else from other places in Equestria perfectly. I like to RP the native dialect "Stallian" as merely an accent rather than an entirely different language. I'm going to go ahead and approve this otherwise.

I like this one.

He's a very down to earth pony with a concrete job, great work ethic, and his own set of challenges to face. My only objection is the name, which really doesn't seem very pony-like. Just because Stalliongrad has a strong Slavic flavor to it doesn't mean pony names are not used. For example, Phil's character Snowfall is Stalliongrad born and raised but still has a distinctively "pony" name.

I kicked around a few ideas in my head and one that stuck out to me was Tundra. It's related to the northern territories and it implies toughness, hardiness, perseverance, which I think are all themes that Shot Glass could relate to. One of the other staffers went ahead and suggested Orange Tundra, which has a double-meaning: it is a vodka drink, but also could represent the colors of the sparks thrown when working metal in a factory.

Give it some thought, and let us know what you come up with!

After some thought, I've decided to submit this character for a rewrite, so he's going back into the WIP stack for now.

The Royal Gardens played host to flora and fauna from across the land ranging from the exotic to the mundane. Endless swaths of greenery sprawled across the contoured courtyards, punctuated by alabaster obelisks and shielded by walls of ancient stone. Birdsong wafted through the air, perfumed by the sweet scent of lavender and buoyed by the throaty drone of the rapids and waterfalls that fed the garden’s spectacular collection of flora.

“Good morning to you, as well!” Celestia chirped.

The buzzard perched on a nearby branch squawked acknowledgement before resuming its buzzing. Celestia slowly worked her way through the garden, pausing here and there to softly hum along with the birds or smile contentedly as they twittered and chirped, flitting around her in a merry dance of feathers and song. The Sun Princess closed her eyes and smiled contentedly as a brightly colored finch alighted in her mane, tucking a single orchid flower behind her ear.

Suddenly, the tranquil surround of the garden was broken by the fluttering of large wings. The finch let out a surprised squawk before beating a hasty retreat to the safety of a nearby tree. Celestia winced at the sudden change in volume, but quickly realized what had happened, tempering her surprise with a light chuckle and a shake of her head.

“Oh Philomena, you really must stop terrorizing the gardens!” She said, extending her gilded hoof as a perch.

A shimmering banner of blazing crimson and glittering aurum fluttered across Celestia’s vision before rapidly circling around and alighting upon her outstretched hoof. Philomena, now replete with regenerated plumage crowed in delight. If a creature with a beak could smile, she would most certainly have been doing so. As she did, the small satchel that she had been carrying dropped into the grass with a dull thud.

Celestia gently nuzzled her companion. “I really was about to return to my chambers to fetch it for myself. But since the weather crews haven’t scheduled rain until tomorrow, I suppose it’s just as well. I could always use more time outside!”

The phoenix crowed again, fluttering to perch on Celestia’s back as the princess moved. Celestia levitated the satchel beside her, trotting to a secluded spot on the terrace where she could write in peace. Humming softly to herself and her companion, she unsnapped the buckle, removed her quill and stationery, and began to write.

My dearest Fluttershy,

That sounds like quite the story! I realize that everypony has their own vices and virtues, fortes and fears. It warms my heart to learn that you not only faced your fears, but made a new friend as well. I’m glad that you’ve taken this opportunity to learn both about new animals but also new ponies.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

PS: Philomena sends her regards!

My faithful servant Spike,

I must thank you for informing me of Twilight’s predicament. I appreciate your being concerned enough to call for help when Twilight clearly didn’t know to do so. Your dedication shows that you are a good friend and I am confident in my decision to place you as her attendant.

Twilight does tend to blow things out of proportion, especially when her detail-oriented mindset gets the better of her. Her attention to detail is what makes her one of the best and brightest students at the university and also my star pupil. Still, the idea of being sent back to magic kindergarten is patently absurd; it even makes me giggle just thinking about it! Please reassure her that I have no plans to demote her, but also remind her that she must be careful in her use of spellcraft.

You have done well, Spike, and I expect nothing less of you in the future.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

“We’ve no time to waste, Doctor.” As she spoke, Celestia’s entire countenance changed, suddenly adopting a stolid grimness that wasn’t there before.

The horde of skittering, spider-like creatures poured out over the stone, undaunted, innumerable, and seemingly implacable. The sound of millions of tiny legs scraping stone filled the corridor with a horrible din akin to feedback static. Even Celestia was having trouble maintaining her concentration enough to cast.

There was something deeply unsettling about the skittering arthropods, but it was not the fact that they were creepy, crawling, critters. Celestia had an appreciation for all creatures great and small in the world over which she kept careful stewardship. But with this stewardship and eons of experience came a distinct affinity for the subtleties of the aether. Something within these creatures clawed at her incorporeal senses, testing her magical defenses.

They were close now, too close.

“We’re out of time, Doctor. Guards, escort Princess Luna back to the castle. I will deal with this.”

The Sun Princess firmly planted her gilded hooves upon the cold stone, bracing them for the spell she was preparing to cast. The faint lavender glow about her horn suddenly peaked in intensity, becoming nearly unbearable to look at. Celestia’s eyes smoldered the same shade of lavender, obscuring her pupils to the outside observer, but only serving to enhance her own vision as she partially immersed herself in the aether.

To the princess, the corridor walls seemed to fade away, becoming semitransparent and indistinct. All around her, waves of faint violet flowed, glittering, shimmering, and scintillating like a million diamonds. But something was wrong. Just in front of her, where those creatures were, there were no waves, no crests, no shimmers. There was no aether. There was only void; cold, dark, magickless void.

Surprising, to be certain. But Celestia had little time to consider the ramifications. A flick of her horn and the warp and the weft of the immaterium wove itself together at the Sun Princess’ whim. A glowing wall of shimmering arcane force stitched itself together in front of the advancing horde, cutting off the corridor and isolating the creatures from the retreating ponies, at least for the moment. The creatures’ impacts on the force field set blue ripples shooting across the surface, striking the stone walls, dislodging loose bits of dirt, and throwing brightly colored sparks from where the field met stone.

The creatures clawed and scrabbled, mindlessly slamming into the force field over and over again. There it was again, that feeling of void, like a whirlpool that was slowly sucking down all the ambient aether; the chilling feeling of nothingness given substance. Even now, Celestia could feel the force field spell weakening, as if the very presence of the creatures was anathema to anything that involved magic.

“Doctor, the spell will not hold them for long!” Celestia said tersely, the glow finally subsiding from her horn and eyes. “We must return to the surface at once. When we do, I believe an explanation is in order...”

Who called it on Celestia's letters? THIS GUY.

Also neurotic Twilight is simultaneously adorable and the scariest thing I've seen in a while.

Tapatalk derped. Disregard this post.

That said, love this character. I'm glad that people are starting to populate Stalliongrad and can't wait to see where it goes!

Virtue grunted as he carried Cherry’s limp form up the stairs, struggling not with her weight, but the awkwardness of balancing another pony between his wings and his combat harness on an incline. The knight silently cursed as he nearly stumbled, finally reaching the top of the stairs, a few feathers out of place, but otherwise none the worse for wear. It would have been comical had the situation been one of drunken mirth and not drug-addled repose.

The Destrier hoofed the door open, grimacing at the sudden wash of hot, muggy air from the interior of the inn room. A couch. A kitchenette. A coffee table. A bed tucked into what amounted to a large walk-in closet. The inn had probably been an apartment at some point, a small one bedroom rented to students at the local university or professionals looking for a cheap place to stay in the city. However long it had been there, the owner still had not managed to solve the ventilation problem.

Virtue grunted in exertion, wiping the sweat from his brow with a fetlock before gingerly stepping into the bedroom. Gently, as if handling a basket of dried flowers, Virtue rolled Cherry off his back, using wings and muzzle to nudge her into recovery position on her side. The room was still blisteringly hot; a blanket would be highly inappropriate. Out of the corner of his eye, Virtue caught the glint of light on a reflective surface on the ceiling.

A sigh of exasperation was all that escaped Virtue’s lips when he finally saw the skylight. There was ventilation after all, he was just too blind to see it. Fluttering up to ceiling level, the Pegasus opened up the window and peeked through, his mane billowing out at the sudden rush of outside air. It was noticeably cooler now, the mugginess of post-storm humidity steadily blowing away with the clearing sky. Stars twinkled above and a waxing moon framed itself in the skylight, casting a pillar of milky luminescence into the bedroom.

The knight floated down from the ceiling and made his rounds, opening all of the windows in the former apartment and breathing a sigh of relief as the humid miasma cleared itself in short order. Now a blanket would be appropriate. Virtue gripped the rumpled sheets with his teeth, gently settling them over Cherry’s sleeping form.

Now he was done. Finally beginning to feel the weight of his wounds and combat fatigue, Virtue unrolled his sleeping bag on the couch and unceremoniously flopped onto the improvised bedding. One breath and one flutter of heavy eyelids was all it took for the Pegasus to drift off into dreamless sleep.

Daily life started early in Equestria. Even before the sun had risen, ponies were already milling about in the streets, shopping, chatting, and going about their daily routines. Outside, both foot and cart traffic could be heard, newscolts hocking their papers, street vendors peddling fresh fruit and fast food; everyone had places to be and ponies to see.

In spite of the late night shenanigans, Virtue’s biological clock was still right on schedule. Just as dawn broke over the Equestrian plains, the Destrier stirred, rolling off the couch on to all fours. The knight took the time to clean both himself and his room, going about his morning routine with nary a word.

Virtue’s idea of breakfast was very mechanically executed. Oatmeal, plain and simple, with perhaps a bit of brown sugar from his saddlebags to ease it down. Years of training had given Virtue a very simple outlook on life. As a Brother-Cavalier and later Brother-Captain, he had little use for finery or trinkets. His life was dedicated to the service of Equestria… or so it had been.

Virtue was never one to brood, but his journey had given him ample time for introspection. His thoughts perambulated about his mind like the wooden cooking spoon did about the pan; stirring, churning the mental slurry like so many loose flakes of now soppy oats, but never achieving any sort of definition. Was the Council right? Were his actions out of line?

Or perhaps the Council had lost sight of what was truly important. Virtue slowly scooped piping hot oats into a dull and cracked, but otherwise clean, bowl that he’d found in the kitchenette cupboard. The Librum was merely a set of guidelines, a framework upon which to build a greater Equestria. But the Council… the Council had turned it into a cage; a tomb in which to bury centuries of proud tradition and future generations of greater Equestrians under the weight of immobilism and conservative dogmatism.

Virtue snorted in contempt at the thought. Inside, the rage of betrayal still burned cold. The very ponies to whom he had devoted his life had done away with him, tossed him aside like a broken training sword. Equestria was changing. The forces which acted upon it were far greater than even the Council and all of their Destrier chapters. Virtue had foreseen change and in it had secured his own dishonor.

The faint clip-clop of hooves on hardwood flooring snapped Virtue out of his own thoughts. A polite cough, more to gain his attention than clear a throat, followed, prompting Virtue to turn around. Standing before him was the mulberry filly from the previous night, mane rumpled, flight feathers in disarray, and superficial cuts crusted in scabs, but otherwise healthy and alert.

“Good morning,” Virtue said, attempting to keep the edge out of his voice from his prior musings. “You are just in time for breakfast…”

Hi, and welcome to Canterlot! We pride ourselves on being one of the friendliest brony communities around and a laid-back, fun place to RP and chat about the show.

You only need 3 posts in the intro section, not 3 topics, so replying in this thread is sufficient to unlock the rest of the boards for you

So now that we've made our pitch, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself? After all, this is a community and we love to interact and get to know our members! Do you RP at all? How did you come to the fandom?

Oktoberfest brews at a local pub, but really not much else. It's a Monday and it will be coming up on crunch time for school projects, so we really can't afford to party too hard. However, there is a zombie walk scheduled, and my friends in the political science department wanted to go as zombie social scientists. Wrap your prion-eaten brain around that...

The night rolled in calm, softening the jagged edges of the mountains separating the Badlands from Greater Equestria, sweeping swiftly across the rolling fields of the Saddleveil Plains, draping its velvety blackness across the mountains of Roughrider Ridge, chilling the rocky expanse of the Painted Pinto Desert, and finally finishing its arc far across the sea somewhere west of Aquellia. Pallid phosphorescence from a million twinkling points of light bathed the Foothills in unearthly luminescence, from the cozy cottages of Solstice Heights up mountain roads and winding thoroughfares to the magnificent alabaster spires of the Equestrian capital. Atop a single gold-trimmed tower, guarded by concentric walls topped by steely-eyed sentries, something stirred.

A lone equine stood at the apex deck of the tower, her mane flowing with otherworldly grace, wings folded neatly at her sides, and eyes fixed upon the glittering firmament above. The alicorn nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgement, smiling broadly as the stars danced above her.

“You have done well, sister.” Celestia spoke softly, more for herself than anypony else. Surely Luna was out frolicking in the night by now, far out of earshot.

Gently stepping down the stairs back to her private chambers, Princess Celestia stifled a yawn. It had been a trying day, filled with meetings, public appearances, and the busy trappings of royal life. As she entered, her horn glowed soft lavender, gently shutting her chamber doors behind her with flowing tendrils of aether. Faintly glowing wisps of lavender continued to float around her, weaving in and out of her mane, gently brushing her coat, and finally lifting her crown and mantle away, setting them upon the chamber’s dresser.

Another flick of her horn and twist of the aether and the fireplace on the far wall burst to life, providing both dim illumination and subtly warming the cushion lying before it. Celestia stretched her great wings, moving them to their full extension before folding them back to her sides and gingerly laying down upon the cushion. As the fire warmed her flanks, the Sun Princess went about her familiar routine, brushing her mane and tail, preening her feathers, and finally floating over a bottle of her own private stock of Solstice Winery dandelion wine.

Celestia hummed softly to herself as she uncorked the bottle and gently poured out a glass, careful not to spill it. Her evening routine complete, Celestia raised the glass to her lips and gingerly sipped, allowing the edgy, mildly bitter taste to roll over her tongue before swallowing. “Slightly sharper than before and the pollen is definitely there, but as always an excellent finish...”

Celestia closed her eyes for a moment, reviewing the day’s events, but quickly decided them not worth dwelling upon. The alicorn tapped a hoof on her chin. A tiny thought at the edge of memory continued to nag at her. Whatever could it be?

A smile crossed her face as she recalled exactly what she had been meaning to do all day. The aether tendrils reached out again, this time bringing back to Celestia a quill, ink, and stationery. Delicately lifting the quill on wisps of aether, the Sun Princess began to write.

My faithful student Twilight Sparkle,

I must say that I am very pleased with your reports on your studies in Ponyville. Your learning progress is excellent and I am glad to see that you have made many friends along the way!

This is specifically why I am writing you today. Though your reports are well-written and very professional, I see very little of my favorite student from day to day. It would please me greatly to hear what you think and feel personally, from a non-academic standpoint. I would love to hear all about life in Ponyville; Equestria unscripted as it were! Your friends are also welcome to write to me. I am very interested in hearing what they have to say about their daily lives.

It is a welcome change of pace for me to read and answer these letters and I am sure that it would bring great joy to their hearts to know that their voices will be heard. I look forward to hearing from you and your friends!

Your mentor and friend,

Princess Celestia

--------------------------------------

OOC: this thread is open to all players of the “Mane 6,” though I may occasionally pull in other characters to shake things up.

The post format is as follows: a short exposition or anecdote from your character describing their day or their general mood as they write the letter followed by the letter itself. As this thread is freeform, you can be as meta as you want (even pony-fying events from your life to use) so long as the post itself is in character. That said, this is not an “ask Princess Celestia” tumblr. It’s more of a “dear Princess Celestia, my day went…” thread. Try to remember to be candid! It’s a letter, not homework!

I will respond as I see fit and will occasionally introduce additional prompts to continue the thread. Ready? Set… WRITE.

I'm normally one to appreciate characters who have had it rough, clawing their way up through the dregs of society for a shot at the big leagues. I'm even lenient when it comes to characters with violent pasts or militant professions. But something about the lynching incident rubs me the wrong way. Harming another for misguided ideology or personal gain is one thing, but racially motivated murder treads too far into grimdark territory to be acceptable for Mane RP.

A fight of some sort would still be acceptable, perhaps a foiled mugging or other random crime that happened before local law enforcement intervened. The end result would still be the same, but it avoids the trappings of hate crime.

I'm also interested in seeing if Boxer has some sort of long-term plan, something that will get both him and Arrow out of trouble and on the straight and narrow path.