Dio

Quadruped boxing was something of a novelty in Equestria. The Griffons had been doing mixed martial arts for years, but being a peaceful nation populated by decidedly nonviolent ponies, the sport was not as widespread as it was in Aquellia. The technical side of boxing was unique: it combined hoofwork of all four legs with jabs and strikes from the front legs, blocking with sides and flanks, and delivering knock-out blows with the hind legs. The only hard rules were no grappling and no use of magic during the match for unicorns or remaining airborne for extended periods on wing for pegasi.

Because of their strength and endurance, earth ponies had a natural advantage, something that Stone Bones had capitalized upon during his time with the league in Hoofington. Despite this, there were still plenty of pegasi and even some unicorns who stepped into the ring against him, more than eager to prove their mettle against their earthbound, magickless cousin. As Radiant laid into the bag again, Stone Bones picked at her individual movements with practiced eye.

[colour=#ff0000]"Yes, Sir, Corporal, Sir!"[/colour] The pegasus shouted as she threw herself at the bag again. [colour=#ff0000]"How's this?"[/colour]

[colour=#8b4513]“Dornt call me sir, Ah wark fur a livin'!”[/colour] came the practiced retort.

Using her legs instead of her body. Wings splayed out during the swing. Gritted teeth and neck tilted to one side. And of course, the knock-out blow. Stone Bones braced the bag against the strike, feeling the shock of both of Radiant’s rear hooves smashing into the heavy bag. Bones had hardly budged an inch. The big earth pony frowned behind the bag. Had his prior instructions fallen on deaf ears? This had been going on all day.

[colour=#8b4513]“That's enough fur noo. Sit doon an' drenk some water. We've got quite a bit tae go ower.”[/colour]

Bones picked up Radiant’s towel in his teeth, throwing it past the bag, where hopefully she’d be alert enough to catch it. Slinging his own towel over his shoulder, the brawler ambled over to the break room. Less a room and more a tape demarcated space where no equipment was allowed, the break room hosted a few cushions for athletes to lay down between sets and a water fountain/sink apparatus for cooling off and hydrating. Taking a seat, Stone Bones reached into his duffel and retrieved a canteen, taking a long swig before turning back to address Radiant Steel.

[colour=#8b4513]“How’re ye feelin’?”[/colour]

WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.

The sound of cloth-wrapped hooves on canvas-wrapped sand was a familiar one to Corporal Stone Bones. The smell of old canvas, the bitter taste of adrenaline on his tongue, the tremors of footwork on gym padding and the shock of hooves on the heavy bag swirled around him in a symphony of controlled violence. The barn back home. A dingy arena in Hoofington. An army gym. It made no difference so long as it had enough space so that Bones didn’t need to hold back when he trained. Of these, though, Bones found himself most at home in the REA barracks. The gym wasn’t terribly large, but it was well equipped and gave him plenty of quality time alone when he needed to train.

WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.

But today was different. Today, Stone Bones had a partner, a certain pegasus who had apparently gotten herself wrangled into an intramural boxing match, something she admitted she was ill-prepared for. She was in need of a coach, somepony to show her the ropes so it didn’t go from a fight to a farce. It showed. Stone Bones tightened his hold on the heavy bag as the white pegasus slammed into it again. The big warhorse grimaced, not from the impact, but the pitifully poor form he was observing. His charge was a feisty one to be sure, but at this rate she was more likely to hurt herself than land a solid hit.

[colour=#8b4513]“Stop focusin’ on hittin’ hard an’ focus on hittin’ straight!”[/colour] Bones said, keeping himself braced against the bag. [colour=#8b4513]“Ye have ta’ keep yer heed in the game. Now back up an’ try it again!”[/colour]

What was this? A young knight in training? How adorable! Well, it seemed adorable until Celestia started to read. Though the wording was cute, there was a single line that caught Celestia’s eye.

I am currenty training to be a great Destier knight just like my father was. I have already know all the vitures of the Librum by memory and Ive really been working on learning how to fight like a true knight! I think Im getting good at it though sometimes its scary and ponies tell me what im doing is dangerous and try and stop me and take away my fathers things especially his sword but I dont let them have it since its so important to me and I need it if Im ever going to be a knight like he was.

Everything was in past tense. She didn’t aspire to be like her father, she aspired to be like her father WAS. The innocence of a child belied missing guardian. Her response would have to be considered carefully.

Young Ardent Fate,

I know a good many things, but I wouldn’t quite say that I know EVERYTHING! But I know enough to give you a some of the advice you seek.

Being a knight is about more than fighting. The sword is not merely a weapon, it is a symbol of office and of dedication the values that a Destrier is sworn to uphold. The real mark of a knight is not the strength of her swing but the strength of her heart.

Being taken seriously by ponies you just met is always difficult. Respect is something that must be earned and it never comes quickly. A true knight is patient, humble, and kind, helpful to others, slow to anger and even slower to draw her sword. The greatest heroes win battles without fighting and win friends by the goodness in their hearts, not the number of manticores or timberwolves they’ve fought.

Like respect, a cutie mark is not terribly easy to earn. But if it were easy, it wouldn’t be nearly as rewarding. Try a little of everything, but don’t assume that the first thing that comes your way is your special talent. Have a little bit of fun with it. Who knows, you might find something unexpected that you enjoy a lot!

Finally, never be afraid to ask for help, Fate. An adult you trust can go a long way to helping you realize your dreams. Remember the words of your teachers and remember the loyalty of your friends. Long after swords and armor have rusted away, you will still have those by your side.

I wish you well on your journey of discovery, wherever it may take you.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

And here, a letter from a doctor with a psychology clinic in Canterlot. Heart Healer’s words were disheartening, but not unexpected. Things hadn’t quite returned to normal after the attack, but they would in time. Equestria had survived the Great Exodus, the Age of Discord, the War of Night, the return of Nightmare Moon, and the return of Discord; Celestia was certain they could weather the aftermath of Chrysalis. Perseverance and forward-thinking optimism was in their blood. With some thought, she began to pen a response.

Dear Heart Healer,

It is understandable that feelings of dis-ease remain after the attempted invasion. After all, ponies are creatures of habit and having those habits disrupted is bound to cause anyone distress. Don’t let a momentary peak in negativity get you down.

It is important to remember that feelings are just that: feelings. They come and go with a whim. While feelings are very important to leading a fulfilling life, they cannot be allowed to oppress you or restrict how you choose to fulfill your destiny. Establishing normalcy and staying transparent with your friends will ensure that you stay grounded when things get muddled and emotions run high.

In short, the best that you can do is to continue doing your work as you always have. There is no magic stronger than proper relationship-building and those who support it such as yourself.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

The locations of chapter headquarters and monasteries was deliberately left vague so people could potentially make their own as part of their characters. So long as your backstory doesn't alter the history of Equestria or current canon, you should be okay.

[colour=#0000cd]“Always,”[/colour] Shining Armor smirked.

Despite the playful barbs thrown back and forth and the fairy-tale nature of their courtship, their bond ran deeper than a simple high school romance. That wasn’t to say that looks and charm had nothing to do with it. Even in the early days, there was something irresistible about Cadence that would have any headstrong colt jonesing for a spot with Her Majesty’s finest falling hooves over head for. Shining Armor was no exception. The captain took a long draft from his glass, perhaps a bit more irreverently than intended.

[colour=#ee82ee]"Martini, if you don't mind I'd like something with a little fire to it. You said your family served fruity drinks, right? I think I'll ask to be impressed,"[/colour] Cadence teased lightly. [colour=#ee82ee]"I'd like to really get the night started, since my husband seems oh so hesitant."[/colour]

Shining Armor snorted in mock contempt. [colour=#0000cd]“If you really wanted to get yourself going, you would have ordered 4 shots of Stallianoya and been done with it!”[/colour]

He leaned in closer, holding a hoof up to his muzzle as if whispering, but speaking obviously loud enough for Martini to hear. [colour=#0000cd]“Of course, that’s not saying I’d object to just us and a bottle of Stallianoya for old time’s sake!”[/colour]

Martini, of course, was already in motion, preparing Cadence’s drink order in spite of the captain’s remarks. Shining Armor’s eyes darted back and forth as he watched the show, bottles flying, beverage ingredients sloshing in glasses, out of glasses, and back into glasses, garnish dancing, and finally the tongues of flame licking at the air as their drinks settled in front of them. A smile crossed the captain’s face as he clapped his hooves in delight.

[colour=#0000cd]“Bravo!”[/colour] he said as he levitated both glasses up, one of them drifting over and hovering in front of his wife’s muzzle like an oversized birthday candle. [colour=#0000cd]“Make a wish, dear!”[/colour]

Conclusion: You can do what you want with your stories and your characters. There is a time and a place for everything; just realize that what you do WILL stick with you.

Resolved, topic locked.

Silly mamascotch. We're not allowed to have fun, here. This is the internet!

- sent from my HTC Evo using Tapatalk 2

Duty. In some circles, a word spoken with solemn reverence. In others, an epithet reserved for those who require justification for their continued avoidance of merriment. Party poopers, if one would. The onus was only magnified when the word “royal” was attached to it. For what could be more joyless and austere than managing the day to day activities of all Equestria from the throne?

Celestia sighed. Detached monarch had not always been her sole commitment. Long ago, she had traveled the world of Equestria, crossing continents and oceans to rally the forces of order against those of chaos and end the long reign of the Draconequus Discord. They were heady and desperate days. She had mastered magic, flight, combat, languages, culture, art, and diplomacy. In order to fight the disorder that had gripped the land, she had to become... perfect.

Granted, perfection was truly impossible. Even as an immortal, she was in the end, fallible. The corporeal form she inhabited was still subject to its physiological needs. The corporeal mind she possessed was still in need of stimulation. She had to do something, go somewhere, be something else. Surely there was something exciting for a Princess?

Celestia softly chuckled to herself as she continued through the colonnade to one of the many meeting halls in the castle complex. She occasionally indulged in entertainment of her wanderlust, but her duties to Equestria would always come first. If that meant presiding over a boardroom or greeting foreign dignitaries rather than feeling the wind in her mane and the sun on her feathers, that was the way it had to be. Of course, that didn’t preclude the possibility that she would someday act upon it. After all, she had all the time in the world.

That said, today presented a unique opportunity to both conduct official business AND indulge Celestia’s less sensible side. A certain adventurer had just returned to Canterlot with what she claimed to be the Helm of Commander Hurricane, a relic long thought lost to the cold earth of northern Aquellia and the ravages of time. Hurricane’s time was long before the Celestial Sisters had come to power. While the helm itself probably held little more magic than a simple durability spell, its contribution to the history of Equestria was undeniable.

Celestia had already been briefed earlier that day on the possibility of the helm being a fake. It wouldn’t be beyond a dishonest artifact dealer to try offloading a well-made replica on the Canterlot Museum of History for a tidy sum before disappearing into the Outlands to live off the profit without fear of prosecution. However, based on the account from the REA watch commander handling the case and the analysis of archaeologists and historians from Canterlot University and the Museum, this particular piece was in all likelihood the real thing. Thus, the sun princess elected to entertain a meeting with the adventurer, even going so far as to extend invitations to Mi Amore Cadenza and Luna.

Clip-clop, clip-clop. The sudden changeover from the grass and packed earth of the gardens to the marble floors of the meeting area were just as much audible as they were tactile. Celestia trotted up to the “base” of the u-shaped table where cushions were laid out for ponies to rest upon while they conversed. At the base of the U were three larger cushions for the alicorn princesses. On the side facing the gardens, only two cushions, presumably for the adventurer pony and whoever she had chosen to bring with her. Finally, opposite the adventurer’s place, several cushions were laid for the subject matter experts.

Servants were already in the process of dressing the chambers as Celestia arrived. Each one managed a quick bow before scurrying off to continue attending to their appointed tasks. In the time it took for Celestia to arrive at her seat, there was already a tea set, a modest tray of crumpets, and folio containing dossiers and other important historical factoids from the guard adjutant. Celestia gently settled into her seat, ruffling her wings lightly and pouring herself a steaming cup of tea as was customary for beginning her meetings. She checked with one of the servants, ensuring that an extra strong pot would be brought in for Luna; she would likely need it since her nocturnal sister would consider this the rough equivalent of the “flank crack of dawn.” Cadence would likely be more amenable.

Celestia began to leaf through the folio with her magic, the individual pages of lists, facts, and photographs floating in front of her like a peculiar parchment collage. She could spare a few minutes while Cadence and Luna made their way down to review the facts. And so the sun princess read... and waited.

March, they'd said. Telling an airborne unit to march was like telling a unicorn to pick things up with her hooves or giving an earth pony three horseshoes and telling her to run a marathon. It wasn’t that Acclaim hated walking. By Tartarus, she loved the feeling of earth on her hooves and getting dirty on the pitch with a hoofball in front of her. But that ruck march had been mockery of everything great about the great outdoors.

The field training exercise, or FTX in army parlance, was to be a simple patrol with her squadron with the minor twist of a ground exfiltration. This would not have been an issue had it not been for the inclement weather. What started as a light drizzle turned into a monsoon, complete with howling gales that effectively grounded the entire platoon. What began as a stream that they were following quickly became raging rapids. What started as a 12-mile hike turned into a 20-mile forced march to a new area of operations and the corresponding hike back to the barracks. The need to rapidly transition to search and rescue duties after a dispatch came via runner further complicated matters. Needless to say, by the time the SAR operation was complete, the ponies of Alpha Squadron, III Order were exhausted, dirty, and sopping wet.

Given the extenuating circumstances, the platoon commander saw fit to dismiss her soldiers early, suspending the drill until the following day. So it came to be that Sergeant Acclaim found herself seated alone at the far corner of a hole in the wall bar in downtown Canterlot called the Ponyland. The airborne trooper sniffed at her shot of Talonopolis Bourbon before downing it swiftly. She’d probably need another soon. It had been a very long day.

[colour=#0000CD]"Heya, 'Keep! Thanks for stayin' open so late! Three waters and three slice of apple pie to start with, follow that up with a trio of hard cider, and keep the apple pie coming till I tell you to stop!"[/colour]

At the mention of apple pie from the rainbow-maned pegasus a few seats down, Acclaim rapped her hoof on the counter before subconsciously waving it in a circle above her head in the “rally up” hoof sign. Food sounded excellent right then... as did another drink.

[colour=#daa520]“Yeah, I’ll have one of those, too,”[/colour] she said. [colour=#daa520]“... and another shot of Talonopolis bourbon... and a tall Hoofington Pale Ale... and maybe a water, too. Yeah, let's go with that.”[/colour]

“It’s...” Celestia paused a moment as she gently ran a hoof over her sister’s mane, hardly believing her eyes at first. “... just as it should be.”

Where there was once merely hair, there was something much, much, more. The dust that had once clung to her mane and tail slowly fell away, gradually revealing the whole majesty of the princess of the night. The full resplendence of the night sky blossomed in Luna’s mane-- quasars, pulsars, swirling galaxies, shifting nebula clouds and star clusters; all suspended in the midnight blue of flowing aether. A smile spread across Celestia’s face as she held her sister.

“Your magic has returned, Luna,” the sun princess said. “Welcome back!”

“I hate to interrupt your majesties,” one of the guards quipped. “But the cavern is no longer stable. It would be best if we left as soon as possible.”

“Indeed,” Celestia said, standing up. She offered her hoof to Luna. “Let’s head back to the surface... together.”

My, my, the mail was busy today, wasn’t it? The publicity campaign seemed to be off to a grand start, its flyers attracting a multitude of letters from all across Greater Equestria. Celestia gently sipped at her tea the saucer, teacup, and freshly inked quill floating around her head as she read and scribbled responses on her parchments.

The first response came from a geographer who, appropriately, had a question about geography, geology, and... aesthetics of all things.

Dear Earth Writer,

Canterlot is an ancient city with a very storied history dating back thousands of years. The castle proper began its life as a military fortress during the Age of Discord, a shelter for ponies whose homes had been turned inside out by the trickster spirit’s antics. When Discord was finally defeated and the world was returned to harmony, those who had sheltered in the ancient stone found themselves attached to it. The inhabitants of the fortress brought life and beauty to the mountainside, growing their gardens in and around the flowing headwaters of the Rissette River. They brought with them stone from Germanean quarries, construction techniques from the duchy of Trottingham, and art and magic from all over Equestria, laying the foundation for the city we know today.

So in a way, you are right. Canterlot castle was built from necessity, but the ponies of Canterlot stayed and flourished because of harmony, camaraderie, and in no small measure the breathtaking beauty of the mountains. Thank you for taking the time to write me. I enjoyed answering your question and hope that my response finds you well.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

The next letter came from a tablemaster at one of the many casino resorts in the vacation town of Las Pegasus. Celestia giggled to herself as she read. This young mare was certainly a lively one and if the princess weren’t older and wiser, she may have taken Seredipity’s perky pronouncements and giggling gab for flirtatious foolery. Of course, that was all part of the game as a croupier; was it not?

My dear Serendipity,

I do my best to keep up with the letters that come to my desk. While regrettably I am unable to answer each and every one, it seems you’ve just made the cut

To answer your question, though, there are cozy little vacation hideaways all over Equestria; one merely has to go looking for them. The resort hotels of Las Pegasus and the little log cabins on the Mount of Dawn near Stalliongrad each have their own charm, but I’ve found my personal favorite to be a little hamlet on the south coast of Unyasi. The Zebras call it “Amani,” a local word for “peace.” It’s a rustic little village right on the beach, surrounded by nothing but clear sky and flawless landscape as far as the eye can see. White sandy beaches, purple mountains, grassy rolling hills, and ocean blue as polished sapphire beckon to you in the day and an unspoiled view of the stars and moon gently tuck you in at night. Something tells me you were expecting some place rowdy and exciting from the get-go, but I think you should give it a try. Amani has a little something for everypony!

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

PS: I’ll hold you to that the next time I can afford to take a vacation!

And finally, a curator for one of the museums of military history, dedicated to the legacy of the Royal Equestrian Army through the ages. The question was easy to respond to, but difficult to answer. Why hadn’t there been a holiday for servicemembers in ages? It was after all, only proper for a nation to honor its heroes and their sacrifices. But that was what the previous meeting was about, was it not? There was no holiday, but there would be... as soon as the bureaucracy was placated.

Esteemed Dr. Spin Tale,

Are you sure you haven’t been peeking at my meeting minutes?

I have been consulting with current Royal Equestrian Army administrators about creating such a holiday for the mares and stallions in uniform. This, of course, is no simple matter. As you have said, Equestria has not been at war in over a thousand years, nor do we have foreign commitments to watch over as the Griffons do. Thus, the role of the extant REA will be substantially different from those of the Aquellian Republic Marines.

Such a holiday must be tailored specifically to the Army of today, both honoring our current serviceponies while simultaneously discouraging the poor impressions (ie: saber rattling or any show of force for that matter) that overtly military parades and celebrations springing from nowhere could bring.

That said, be rest assured, doctor, that the matter is being discussed and will be implemented in some way, shape, or form in the near future. Thank you for your considerations and deliberations, as well as your blessing upon my reign. If the gods decree that I may serve Equestria another thousand years, I shall do so.

Servant of Equestria,

Princess Celestia

The Viridian Commons, one of Canterlot's many open-air common areas, was bustling as usual for a Thursday afternoon. This one's primary feature was the eponymous café and its attached restaurant. It was a low-key affair by day, being nothing more than a coffee shop and small bakery, but by night it transformed into a happening place with a busy restaurant and a bustling bar, a prominent fixture in Canterlot’s night life.

Thusly it was the perfect place to post announcements. Diomedes Ironwing was not normally one for poster duty, but the packages had been assigned to somepony else today and this job was very important. After all, who could say no to a princess’ pronouncements? Hammering the last tack home with his hoof, Dio wiped the sweat off his brow with a fetlock before closing his saddlebags and taking wing for the next spot. There was a full pack saddle of these and they all had to be up by sundown!

Upon closer inspection, the poster was in fact a clever facsimile, written in script and stamped with the royal seal of Celestia. These posters had recently gone up all over Canterlot, advertising a new program from the Canterlot Royal Public Relations department, an AMA or “ask me anything” presented by the princesses themselves. Included in the advertisement was a letter from Princess Celestia herself:

My dearest subjects,

With the success of the latest Canterlot Royal Public Relations open house, I have decided to open up additional avenues for the ponies of Equestria to contact the palace and get to know the Princesses better. For the next month, Luna, Cadence, and myself will be answering letters from you! You can ask just about anything within reason. We will answer your questions within our abilities, time, and prudence. Thank you all for participating!

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

OOC: This thread is open to all players!

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. The letter should pose an in-character question that your character would be interested about knowing about the princesses or alternately how government is run. Just be aware that questions may be screened at the palace’s discretion.

Ready? Ask the princesses (almost) anything!

Did some tweaks to her personality and switched the application over to Mane RP. As ruled by the staff shortly after Luna Eclipsed aired, the dragon wings come from a cosmetic spell built into the armor of night guard pegasi. They are otherwise normal pegasi when not wearing their armor. Marked final, ready for evaluation.

Functionally, the application is complete, but I still feel like she's missing something. I'm going to get some more feedback for her before I decide to bump her to final. So yes, I'll be keeping her.

The dome burst outward in one last act of defiance against the stacked stone. As the dust swirled about, the silhouette of an alicorn princess stumbled uneasily out of the debris, quickly followed by those of several unicorns. She’d saved them-- every last one. Celestia quickly moved to Luna’s side, enveloping her with her protective barriers as her legs buckled, sending her to the ground.

“Celestia. You made it,” she rasped.

“I had to,” Celestia said as she picked her sister up in her forehooves and tearfully embraced her. “After all, I made a promise...”

The assembled company stood in silence, their faces bathed in the soft glow of magic as the sisters were reunited. Celestia held her sister close, gently wiping the caked dust and tears off her face with a wingtip. Suddenly, Celestia realized that the glow was too strong to be emanating from the edge of her barriers several yards away. The Sun Princess looked down at her sister.

“Luna...” Celestia gasped in surprise. “Your mane!”

“Twilight?” Shining Armor cocked his head as Twilight zoned out for a moment, looking through him rather than at him. “Twilight? Oh, no...”

This was one of the things that she did. It didn’t matter how old she was. It didn’t matter how many assignments she’d turned in. It didn’t matter how many books had gotten coffee spilled on them. It didn’t matter that she was the Princess’ personal protege. Twilight Sparkle was having a freakout moment. Having known her for as long as he did, Shining Armor had seen his fair share of them. It was simultaneously comforting and exasperating that she had yet to shed the habit since her move to Ponyville.

“Twilight, why don’t--” Shining Armor was cut short by Twilight’s outburst.

"Spike.... Fluttershy has her? When did you give PeeWee to Fluttershy? Because I didn't give PeeWee to Fluttershy and I thought you've been with me this whole time!"

Twilight jumped up from her seat, giving the table a good knock and setting it precessing about its circular base. While Shining Armor saw it coming, his timing was slightly off, resulting in a fumbled attempt at recovering his half-full coffee mug which was now teetering off the edge of the table. One last grab with a combination of front hooves and the violet glow of unicorn magic and the cup shot upwards to the ceiling, hanging in the air for a moment before overturning, emptying its contents out upon Shining Armor’s head. The mug itself landed face down, squarely on the captain’s horn, gyrating around wildly until it finally settled down. Thankfully, the coffee itself had cooled to the point where burns were not going to become a part of the night’s course of events.

"Oh my gosh, she's gone isn't she? this is all my fault I should have been watching her! How could I just LOSE her! "

“TWILIGHT!” Shining Armor ordinarily didn’t raise his voice unless he was addressing hot shot recruits who had let their hormones and egos get the better of them. But when he did, he was heard; it was just part of the job. His voice seemed to echo all throughout the shop, ringing in everypony’s ears for a moment. “You need to calm down! We can find PeeWee, we just need to look. Can you remember where you were when you last saw her?”

The truth was, Shining Armor’s heart had skipped a few beats when his sister had pronounced PeeWee missing. A baby phoenix with no control over her powers and no idea where she was running around a mostly flammable town in a panic was a disaster waiting to happen. Still, he had to keep it together. Big brother, REA captain? That was part of his job description, wasn’t it?

Acclaim

There’s nothing quite like the rush of night ops. The high altitude drops, the frigid air, the sparkling starscape above. THIS is why I enlisted!

RP Type: Mane RP

Name: Sergeant Acclaim

Sex: Female

Age: Mare

Species: Pegasus

Acclaim with Lunar Guard armor. Dragon wings are a cosmetic spell as part of the uniform.

Coat colour: Citrine yellow (#E4D00A). Wings are also citrine with black pinion feathers. Night Guard armor has a cosmetic spell that changes her wings to appear like dragon wings. When wearing her armor, the "fingers" of the dragon wings are the same citrine colour as her coat. Webbing in the dragon wings is a dark umber (#635147) colour.

Mane/Tail colour & Style: Black mane with streaks of dark grey, kept trimmed to regulation. White forelock that is allowed to grow longer. Average-length tail is also black with a single streak of dark grey, usually kept tied at the root.

Eye colour: Blue

Cutie Mark: A black queen (chess piece silhouette) with two crossed lightning bolt silhouettes underneath it. Signifies both her tactical prowess and ability to think on her hooves.

Physique: Limber but tough as is typical of REA airborne troopers.

Origin: Cloudsdale. Moved to Canterlot as part of her assignment to the then newly-reformed Lunar Guard.

Occupation: REA Night Guard, recent transfer to III Order Honor Guard into a team specializing in night operations.

Motivation: Live her life well, keep her teams safe, and perhaps some day meet Luna in person. Winning.

Likes: Late nights, stargazing, sports (hoofball specifically), symphonic metal, classical music, dogs, piercings, breaking expectations

Dislikes: Waking up early, being talked down to, obviously flawed plans (to her), happenstance ruining her own plans, letting others down, reptiles

Character History

Acclaim has been many places and done many things. Born in Cloudsdale, she was raised in and around the highly competitive environment of flight academy, being exposed to both the Wonderbolts and the 45th Regiment of the REA that trained in the twin cities nearby. Almost every day she would find herself watching the Wonderbolts in conditioning and choreography or REA airborne soldiers on maneuvers.

Her deep appreciation for the hard work and physical prowess that was required of both soldiers and athletes led her to join a local hoofball league when she was old enough to do so. Playing both around Cloudsdale and Trottingham on earth and sky, Acclaim soon proved herself a capable leader and striker. Hoofball quickly taught her the value of teamwork, as a lone, unsupported forward would quickly fall victim to the superior numbers and stamina of the other team’s defenders.

Acclaim received her cutie mark during one of these hoofball games. With the score dead even at the start of the second half, Acclaim quickly realized that they did not have the stamina to match up against their opponent’s larger and stronger players. Calling a timeout, she quickly rewrote her team’s plan of attack, allowing them to break the tie without breaking their own defense. Suddenly, everything seemed to click. Acclaim didn’t just see her opponents, she knew them.

Acclaim continued calling the shots. Each time the opponent made a play, she had a counter-play to stop it. Each time her team possessed the ball, Acclaim found a weakness in their defense that left the enemy scrambling to keep up. Her team ended up going on to win the match, and as she reveled in her victory, she noticed a tingle on her flank. One glance down was all it took for her to jump for joy, as she finally had her cutie mark: a queen with two crossed lightning bolts underneath, representing her tactical prowess and her ability to think on her hooves under pressure.

Though she would continue to play hoofball well into her education, Acclaim would forever be enamored with the the ponies who ruled the air. She enlisted shortly after graduation, securing a spot in an airborne unit shortly thereafter. With the return of Princess Luna, volunteers were called to reform the Lunar Guard. Acclaim quickly jumped at the opportunity. A few years later, her faithful service netted her the rank of sergeant and gave her in-roads to III Order of the Honor Guard, with which she is now training.

Personality

While she enjoys the spirit of competition, Acclaim is still a team player. If she is in charge, she pushes her team to its limits in the interest of maximizing their performance. If she is a subordinate, she gives it her all. Working alone (especially on duty) is alien to Acclaim, though she is perfectly content to go for flights or do physical conditioning by herself-- things that allow her to improve herself without burdening others.

Acclaim excels at thinking on her feet, leveraging all of her experiences, senses, and knowledge of her allies and opponents to defeat any problem that is thrown her way. Her tactics are often unconventional and unorthodox, but she thoroughly enjoys successes that hinge on thinking out of the box and turning weakness into strength. This of course, is a double-edged sword at times.

While she is capable of great things when pushed to the limit, Acclaim has a tendency to rely too much on quick thinking and snap decisions. Even for things that require careful deliberation such as finances and education, she applies her “make decisions or die” mentality, sometimes with less than stellar results. She is passionate about what she does and may come off as a bit too intense for some ponies, especially when it comes to her physical prowess, the most recent rounds of REA wargames, or discussing the latest plays of the local hoofball team.

Because of her strategic talents and knack for pulling wins out of her flank, Acclaim does not take losses well. At the same time, her desire to be a strong leader and the expectations placed upon her by her parents and peers leads her to bottle up her feelings about it, only presenting the friendly, humble, and cheerful face to her platoon- and teammates; even more so for strangers. It is something of a constant existential debate for her. If her destiny is turning defeat into victory, then what is she to do when failure is inevitable?

Miscellaneous

• Acclaim was the vocalist for a symphonic power metal band out of Cloudsdale, Wing Power. From this, she proudly retains piercings in her right ear and a small stud in her nose. These are of course removed for duty.
  
• Acclaim has a soft spot for dogs. To her, every dog is a puppy. She would like to raise one some day, but is afraid that she has no time to do so because of her REA commitments. Her favorite breed is the akita.
  
• Acclaim is mildly claustrophobic, in spite of her affinity for dark places. Her home is the open night sky with clear air and a full star field, reveling in Luna’s night.
  

If you feel that more substantial welcome posts are required, then you are welcome to do so yourself; no one is barring you or any of the other members of the community from welcoming new users. Being hostile about whether people should or shouldn't do so wastes your time and ours.

TL;DR - Welcome others the way you want to welcome them. Don't get on people's cases for the welcomes they choose to issue. Thread locked.

Sure, why not.

Celestia continued to sweep the light from her horn around her like a magical searchlight, feeling, grasping for anything that would let her know Luna was still there. The static from the Manasprite queen was gone now, leaving nothing but eerie silence in its wake. In spite of this, there was still interference from all around. The residual magic had not yet dispersed, leaving not only visible silvery sparkles among the rocks, but also glimmering incorporeal shards that glinted brightly in the darkness.

“LUNA!” She shouted again, her voice trailing off into a dry rasp.

The princess’ strained cries echoed in the darkness. Surely Luna had managed to shield herself as they had? Surely they had more time before the rest of the cistern caved in or they suffocated in the choking cloud? Celestia’s mind raced as she ran scenarios in her head at lightning speed. How would she find Luna? How would she treat her injuries when she did find her? What would she do if she was...

Celestia pushed the thought from her mind. Luna was alive. She had to be. There was still time. She could channel more energy into the spell, expand her barriers, light the darkness, and find her sister! She had to!

Suddenly, Celestia felt a tingle go up her spine. The search spell had discovered something beneath the rubble. Uncannily in sync with her thoughts, Doctor Whooves charged forward and began clawing madly at the dirt and broken rock that constituted the pile. There was something there. Could it be Luna? It had to be!

“DIG! NOW!” She ordered the guards. The two unicorns complied, shoving pulverized rock away and working together to lift larger chunks.

Reaching through the aether, Celestia grabbed hold of the large slab that had fallen atop the mound and pulled with telekinetic tendrils. Sweat dribbled down her neck, leaving glistening rivulets in the caked dust and grime that covered her otherwise white coat as she channeled what power was left inside into the lavender tendrils that wormed their way beneath the slab. Slowly but surely, the giant rock began to budge. The ground beneath their feet rumbled as the Doctor and the guards continued to dig away the debris at the foot of the slowly rising monolith.

With one last might heave, Celestia broke the stone free of the ground, sending it flying across the cistern to shatter into a thousand pieces on the far wall. Her roar of exertion and anger faded into pants of exhaustion, having had to pull the magic from her body’s own reserves rather than drawing on the turbulent aether in the base of the cistern. It had been a long time since she had pushed herself as she just had, but now was neither the time to rest nor sit on her laurels.

The guards continued to excavate, revealing a shimmering dome of translucent blue that once lay beneath the monolith. Having caught her breath and witnessed the unearthing of what could only be her sister’s barriers, Celestia galloped to the edge of the dome.

“I'm here, Luna!” She said, tears streaming across her cheeks. "I'm here!"

Shining Armor sipped at his wine, a small smile playing at his lips as Martini asked about their first meeting. It wasn’t that he minded recounting meeting his wife. But it was a long story; where would he start? Deployment? Garrison duty? ROTC? The years they spent separated by their jobs? High school?

To be sure, Cadence probably remembered it very differently than Shining Armor. The captain tended to remember things by events and experiences. There was school. There was downtime between classes. There was studying and homework. Then there was “ studying and homework.” There was deployment and diplomacy and tearful goodbyes. There were letters, many of them. Finally there was the reunion and of course, the wedding.

It was quite a tale and perhaps, it would have been best to start at the beginning...

“It was obviously love at first sight!” the captain laughed, flicking his tail in jest and grinning smugly at his wife. “I mean, look at this? Who could resist?”

Of course, it was much more complicated than that. But what did he care? Everypony was here to have a good time, Martini included. Besides, Shining Armor was certain Cadence would have some equally witty barb to return.

“Isn’t that right, honey?” Shining Armor said, leaning against Cadence and gently clinking his wine glass against hers.

Shining Armor winced, suppressing the urge to backpedal as the Princess addressed the company at full volume once again, paying no attention to his proximity. His momentary lapse in concentration resulted in the pages of the report spilling out of his folio and scattering about the room, borne on the sheer force of Luna’s pronouncements. The captain snuck a quick glance at the mug shot of Private Tick that had stuck itself to Sergeant Bonfire’s horn, replacing his all-business face with a flat image of a nervous and terrified enlisted colt. It was all he could do to keep his inner cadet from laughing it up in front of two NCOs and the Princess. A quick clearing of his throat gave him enough time to regain his composure.

Shining Armor sheepishly rubbed the back of his head as the “snowfall” of papers finally settled upon the dungeon floor. The same dampening field that kept magically-inclined jailbirds in check also greatly inhibited his ability to do even basic manipulations like holding his papers. Were he down here more often, he might have requested a more selective solution from the artificers. But for the moment, the cooler was the cooler, and Private Tick’s file was 52 pickup.

"Your Highness," Bonfire said, "These are the palace's holding cells. Ponies who have broken the law in the city are held here for trial. There is a field in place to prevent unicorns from using magic while they are in custody. I don't understand the spell myself," he continued, "but the Captain and I are affected as well."

"What the sergeant says is correct, Princess. By the way, welcome to the 'Cooler!'" Shining Armor said, attempting to inject a bit of levity into the situation. Luna was a bit shaken perhaps, but she appeared unharmed and was in no way distressed. If she was in pain, Shining Armor was sure that she would have let them know by now. After all, she was the far more vocal and direct of the two royal sisters.

"We were just in the middle of conducting an investigation," he continued. "If it pleases her majesty, we would like to continue."

It had been years since Fletcher had been in a competition that hadn’t been sanctioned or mandated by REA brass. In fact, the last time he had competed for sport was just out of school; the very same competition where he had been “poached” for the army’s pathfinder program. Why he was back on the pitch after having graduated from it so long ago was anypony’s guess. Perhaps it was a break from the monotony of garrison rotation in Canterlot. Perhaps it was a chance to keep his skills sharp with a new weapons system. Or perhaps it was that bygone rush of competition, the roar of the crowd, and the sheer visceral joy of putting rounds downrange.

Though the competition’s weapon of choice, the slingshot, was similar in operating principle to a bow, the numbers, the materials, the handling-- the feel-- were all different. Fletcher had spent hours at the workbench tuning his particular slingshot to work with his shooting style. Hardwood handle, hoof-carved from teak grown in the Gallopocus and etched with miniature depictions of the spires of Canterlot. Billet steel fork frame, milled from a single block of tool steel, reforged in a private smithy in the crater of Mount Fieryfoal and oil-tempered for maximum strength and resilience. Furniture and running gear made of the finest synthetics from Aquellia and Stalliongrad: high-tension braided fiber cords, rubberized hoof brace frame, and a reinforced canvas cradle shaped specifically for its hoof-made match-grade ammunition. All bore the fitment and finish of a professional marksman’s custom-made mosquito-swatting, hydra-blasting, jar-breaking, bottle-smashing implement... of competition!

Removing his baseball cap emblazoned with the rearing alicorn emblem of the Royal Equestrian Army, Fletcher faced Lana Longfletch and snapped off a wave of acknowledgement. The captain did a quick about-face and gave the gathered crowd the same courtesy before seating his cap upon his head once again. Fletcher stepped up to the shooting line and took careful stock of his available targets. There would be no easy shots today. The captain was hunting bigger game-- all high-tier targets!

Holding his left hoof out to brace his slingshot, Fletcher floated a single match-grade sling bullet from its pouch on his combat harness into his slingshot. Like its launcher, each bullet was painstakingly crafted for maximum performance. At its core was a lead slug rolled into a rough teardrop shape before being coated in a layer of copper and polished to mirror sheen. Heavier than river stones, more aerodynamic than glass marbles, and made to much tighter tolerances than the stock metal pellets offered at the competition, the match bullets were a heavy, if extremely accurate alternative to the basic gear that the griffon judge had laid out.

The bullet nestled itself into the canvas cradle as unicorn drew back with his magic, carefully feeling out the tension on the cords. As the slingshot hit its longest draw, Fletcher’s mind went into overdrive. The world around him faded, desaturated hues and indistinct shapes replacing the bright and vibrant crowds gathered around the greenery of the shooting pitch, megaphone-amplified announcements and the crowd’s cheers and applause blurring together into a dull murmur. The extraneous had faded out and Fletcher’s hyper-aware senses gathered every possible bit of data about the shot he was going to make.

Fletcher could feel the wind on his skin, a light breeze blowing northwest; not enough to force major corrections, but enough to throw off a shot if not adjusted for. His first target, a green glass bottle, stood no more than 25 meters before him, slightly elevated to place it above the level of the targets in front and the creature cutouts in the middle. The unicorn adjusted the angle of his slingshot, reworking the numbers until they looked right in his head. Satisfied that his calculations were sound, Fletcher slowly exhaled, zeroing in on the target and counting his heartbeats as he hit his respiratory pause. One beat. Two beats. Three beats.

Break.

Fletcher released the tension on his sling, sending his first round hurtling downrange. Fletcher quickly drew another bullet, loading, aiming, and firing his slingshot with practiced precision. Two rounds. Three rounds. Four rounds. The steps played out the same with each shot: load, sight, calculate, aim, fire. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Fletcher drew his last round and sighted his slingshot. There, amid a cluster of bottles, cans, and one particularly cheeky-looking hydra head cutout, was a golden glimmer. Whether the golden trick of the eye was accomplished by clever confection, excellent enchantment, or molded metals mattered not. This was the true prize: THE GOLDEN CUPCAKE! The captain smiled as he took aim.

Break.

Fletcher paused for a moment as the world gradually brightened to its normal vibrant self. The captain breathed deeply and stowed his slingshot in its holster, giving the cheering crowd a wave and removing his hat again as a show of respect for the competition judge. It had been a bit of a risk, selecting only high-tier targets; an even greater one given that he had been shooting an unfamiliar weapons system with only a few hours of training. But at the moment, Fletcher couldn’t care less. The roar of the crowd, the feel of the slingshot fresh on his hooves, and the sheer satisfaction of getting the lead out was enough.

This was sport.

(67, 69, 73, 76, 77, 83, 85, 88, 91, 99)

Nomination for best adventure thread: Adventure of Unorthodox Proportions (featuring Cutlass, Radiant Steel, Novaya, and Martel)

Not finished yet or very far along, but we've got plans for it and we demand quality posts and good character work! I might also have to badger Halide for a name that's less of a mouthful.

Fletcher mentally facehoofed at the exchange. Instead of going in as a group or exercising any semblance of caution, they had all blundered into the labyrinth at once, becoming strung out and lost in the process. The guards weren’t stupid enough to leave their posts and come looking for the rest; they might have even sounded the alarm by now given the racket the civvies were making and how tough it was for them to find their way in.

He had to make his way forward and take out the guards quickly before things got out of hoof. Recalling a mental map of the clear spots in the labyrinth, Fletcher took a deep breath and focused. The air around him thrummed with aether. With a blast of exhaled breath, Fletcher leaped forward. Only instead of floating through air, the captain floated through the aether, reappearing in real space near Martini’s position with nary more than a faint clip-clop as his hooves touched stone.

Fletcher moved again, working his way through the labyrinth with a combination of leaps between stones and short teleport hops to work his way through shelves. The hops took him behind and around Martini, perhaps even ruffling her tail as he passed. However, as he was the only one with the benefit of a darkvision spell, Fletcher was sure to go unseen and unaccosted, though his presence was likely to be made known if only by ears and touch.

Completing his last teleport jump, Fletcher caught his breath in one last alcove near the exit of the maze, taking deep, quiet breaths to control his pulse. He collected several small hoof fulls of aether, each ball of magic orbiting around his head perceptible only as a quiet hum at the edge of hearing. The bolts were ready, his mental trigger was set.

“Time to clean house...”