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PrinceBlueblood

Senior RP Staff
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PrinceBlueblood last won the day on October 14

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About PrinceBlueblood

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    The Once and Future Prince
  • Birthday 07/28/1991

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    Colt
  • Location
    Maryland
  • Interests
    Books, games, and general internet doings

RP Characters

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

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    rackenhammer
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  1. Norton nodded, considering the question of infrastructure. "I think at first we'll have to work with ditches rather than piping. Some advantage of that is I'm sure the locals will be able to help, as I'm not sure any of them are trained plumbers, but it hardly takes skilled labor to dig a ditch. Common work binds us together, particularly labor for the benefit of all present and future subjects!" The flock of griffons descended upon the ruined site, Norton surveying the landscape with an expression of stoic philosophizing, while Clawson frankly looked a little bored. Though, the younger one's eyes lit up at the sight of the coin. "'at's gotta be worth summit, eh Yer Majesty?" "Indeed..." The Emperor murmured, taking up the coin. He was actually not trained at all in historical numismatics, but the coin itself didn't require the use of such skills. "Well, I can tell you exactly what it's worth. Half an Aquellian thaler, about 20 bits in the current exchange rate. Not from the Imperial days at all; more likely dropped by some tourist or perhaps an unscrupulous archaeologist. Well, I'll consider it a donation to the Imperial treasury." He pocketed the coin. "It doesn't tell us much, and if some Daring-Do type passed through here already, I wouldn't count on us finding any other identifying artifacts. Fate so rarely gives us the easy path, even on matters so ancillary."
  2. Sky was glad to see that Windy wasn't *too* disappointed, but the facts had to be stated. Still, the ice and snow visualization was an intriguing idea on its own, particularly in a place like Los Pegasus, where such things were never seen naturally. Or, at least, never were scheduled by the local weather team. Hm, that might present an obstacle in getting it approved, if the strict environmental control types won out over the showbiz lovers. Admittedly, not likely, so he didn't say much on the subject, though Windy did give another reason why alternatives might be wanted. "Hm... Colored lights? Reflections?" Not being a unicorn himself, he had only a vague sense of what would be possible. "I've only worked with indoor special effects, so I couldn't say. Maybe we're focusing a bit too much on spectacle in any case, you think?"
  3. Norton nodded crisply at Gerrard's assurance of thoroughness. "Commendable, commendable! I'll leave the technical details to you; I trust my delegates, Sir Gerrard, and I hope to have my trust rewarded by results!" Less than two hours after they met and already the Emperor had knighted him in his head? Well, better to be thought of positively than negatively, though it would perhaps not be a good idea to disappoint the griff, after all was said and done. Emperor Breakbeak seemed to bear the burden well enough himself, remarking that, "Not as heavy as the rucksacks in basic!" But Clawson and the others had no similar military experience. And water was by no means light for air travel, so the route took closer to an hour than half. One or two of the groundbound locals looked up at the strange party overhead, more with resignation than curiosity, though one of the younger residents waved, cautiously. Norton returned a mid-air salute, and flew on.
  4. There was a lot of starting and stopping, as such or more as when Sky had to actually write the music. It made sense, he supposed, with creativity sometimes happening in fits and starts, other times presenting a clear beginning and ending, but leaving the middle to be filled in later. He didn't mind, setting his playing and record back as many times as was needed for Windy to set down the swirling thoughts in her mind to fixed figures upon the page. "I did kind of notice. Though, if you look at ponies a lot of the time, they don't really stay still. There's a lot of little movements, hoofing at the ground, and the like. Actually standing still is a skill as much as anything else." He shrugged. "I had a lot of time to practice that myself all the nights I couldn't sleep. Closest thing to rest I could make myself get sometimes." It was a good thing he knew his own songs backwards and forwards, since it allowed him to watch Windy and play at the same time. The next break that came around also had an idea within it, carried up by the dancer for consideration. "Oh! That would be something, though I wouldn't think ice is a good dancing surface. Even if you're a pegasi, it's still a big slipping hazard. Once had a coworker slide on a patch while carrying a whole palette of ice cream, and... well, it wasn't pretty. Actually, if it's a big crowd... gonna be a lot of sliding and bumping into each other." The more he talked through the idea, the less he liked the sound of it. "Yeah... I don't think so. It's a pretty idea in theory, but there's a reason they have an occupancy limit at ice skating rinks. And don't turn them into mosh pits."
  5. "Of course, that phot must wait. I still have not secured a Royal Photographer." In what was becoming apparent as a patter, Emperor Norton was taking entirely seriously remarks that Gerrard had perhaps meant in jest. This could cause problems if not adequately accounted for at the outset of any conversation. "That pose, though... it might work, though honestly something with the tools of the trade. Speaking of which- Clawson!" He barked out to a young griff stationed by the imaginary doorway. "Digging tools, as many sets as you can find. We are commencing a water-hunt!" It quickly became apparent that the Emperor was going to be bearing a shovel as well as the few workers he could spare at this task. He hadn't the population yet to delegate all such work, but more important than that, being willing to undergo hard labor himself no doubt cemented loyalty among his followers. It was an old military officer's tactic to boost esprit de corps, sharing the hardships of the enlisted. "I hope My presence will not throw you off your task, but it is important, as Emperor, that I am one of the groundbreakers for our future. Samo, my assistant, shall hold things down while I am out. I trust my delegates, and that now includes you. Lead the way!"
  6. Norton peered with a keen eye at Gerrard's markups on his makeshift maps, nodding along. "Rather like how empty supply depots limits where you can put an regiment, I see." The tone was... different, than any he'd used before, as if a mask of madness had slipped off, or a guise of lucidity slipped on. A brief moment of sanity and understanding, that sadly was over by the time the irrigation expert would meet the Emperor's eyes, which once again shone with their mad light. "Well, my good lad, I'll tell you this much; if you pull this off, you'll get a statue in Our glorious new capital!" He clapped his counterpart on the back, in a most un-Imperial gesture, though he seemed not to notice. Perhaps he was going for a Griff-of-the-people vibe. "Civil engineers rarely get those, you know, less often than they deserve, frankly. And as for We Emperors, well, we get them whether we deserve them or not! But, if you help me deserve mine, I'll help you attain yours. Have to do my duties as sovereign to my people, after all!"
  7. The Emperor did notice the salute, with a raised brow, though the expression was less that of an offended monarch receiving insufficient acknowledgment, and more that of a military officer receiving a different service's salute. His beak actually curled into a sardonic smile, and he returned the aborted Equestrian salute with a crisp, parade-ground salute from the Aquellian Marines. "As commander-in-chief, I'll thank you to do that properly next time." He said, in a half-jesting severity. Nonetheless, protocol wasn't the business of the day, irrigation was. Gesturing for Gerrard to come up to a side table, he splayed the variegated papers on the surface, pointing out at various markings as he summed up the situation. "Now, at this time, the pools and wells sustain the current population, who mostly hunt in the scrublands or scratch out a few soil plots. But that's not going to support a real city. This is never going to be a breadbasket, but there might be some possibility of pasturage out by the flatlands here. Now, over the the mountains, the soils drain water faster than it comes in, but that makes it very good for wine grapes. Export products bring in the money, and luxury goods bring in the tourists. Getting an economy going is Out first duty; and for that, we need water. Now, I took the liberty of finding where the old well sites were, almost all of them either dried or blocked. Couldn't tell you how many are worth unblocking, but that's your job." The maps were sketchy, and not anywhere near to scale, but readable enough when the poor quality of ink or paper didn't result in smudging. Mad or not, Norton was taking his work seriously. But then, the truly insane are not frivolous; their mind has no breathing-space.
  8. If he was being perfectly honest, or indeed if he was ever lucid enough to actually notice, Gerrard had just given Emperor Norton the first proper, traditional bow such as the Emperors of old had demanded that this new 'Emperor' had ever received. Previously, all genuflections had either been perfunctory or mocking. All that said, he accepted it with a graceful gesture of his claw. "Rise, Sir Gerrard." And then with a hearty *smack*, he slapped the motely stack of papers in his hand against the throne. "Now get up here, my good griff, Our people require your services!" Formative experiences told, and anyone experienced with Canterlot culture could tell that Norton Breakbeak I had never so much as sniffed the air of any existing royal palace. His public air and manners were not formed in such environments, where etiquette and protocols choked out the light like thick jungle foliage. No, his public manner had been formed in the streets of an industrial city, where demagogues roared like lions across the Unyasi savannah. In one sense, that made him more relatable, and in another sense, less predictable. "In case you had not seen the deserts on the way up here, there's an awful lot of work to be done. Groundwater to locate, extract, and feed the life of our people. And their economy, what's more."
  9. It was the middle hours of the morning, when most cities would be thrumming with the varied activities of workers and machinery, making, selling, buying, shipping, receiving, all the labors of life in an urbanized environment. Perhaps, in times past, Griffonstone had hummed with this activity more than any other, being the core of a mighty Empire. Now, however, the remnant populace huddled in huts, gaunt, barely willing to scratch a living that less scrupulous sorts waited to snatch from their hungry claws. A sad state of a fallen land, settling like a blanket of quiet, bitter despair. And yet, there remained one beacon of light and noise, surrounding what was now, thanks to dedicated effort, only half of a total ruin. Within it all, at the center, Emperor Norton Breakbeak I held court. The local populace still wasn't sure what to make of the fellow, who had come in on one of the rare trains up, bringing with him a flock of eager-eyed catbirds from the formerly-dirty corners of Breakbeak city, following their favorite eccentric. To be honest, it was uncertain for some of them if any better alternative than unrecognized factory labor awaited them, so better to do their hard work in the sunshine for a boss that was at least funny. Others might have been here more or less as a working vacation to the old site of their forefathers, feeling it no bad use of their time to fix up an old place with historical memories, make a nice picture at the end of it. And perhaps, just perhaps, there were some here who actually believed this was their true Emperor, returned at last. Whichever they were, Emperor Norton treated them all the same, as beloved subjects for whom their liege would spare no effort. Many a time he had held a hammer alongside his crew, and the very floor in front of his makeshift throne had been swept clean by himself, personally. Now, though, his labors were in the mental space of command, as he reviewed before him some... well, if they were on bluepaper, you could call them blueprints. As it were, any scraps of writing material had to do. Backs of old manila envelopes, for example. "We are now ready, send in the Civil Engineer!" He called out to a youngling out by the "front door", an almost entirely fictional construct consisting of a chalk marker for when they'd eventually rebuild the wall and put a door in. The Emperor was most looking forward to this first meeting; Gerrard's skills as an irrigation engineer would be most welcome in these drylands. When that griffon entered the scene, he would see a sight that never failed to amuse and faintly impress all who beheld it. A male griffon, going up in years but maintaining vigorous health, with the most absolutely magnificent pair of moustaches that a mortal beak could support, clad in a gussied up dress uniform, bedecked with medals both genuine and superfluous, topped off by a hat that was a cross between a field marshal's cap and a tropical aviary. The glory of griffonkind, ladies and gentlecolts !
  10. My goodness, welcome back! It's good to see you again, and I am, of course, available for RP. Hit me up if you want to brainstorm any ideas.
  11. The maids, transported over from Platinum Manor in Canterlot, had grown used to their liege's funny little ways. At this point, it was almost the ideal training for Ponyville-branded weirdness. Almost. In any case, there was no panic in their eyes as they formed a disciplined line from the nearest faucet to the flames, sending filled buckets down and empty buckets up as they snaked through the corridors, dousing each flame as they went. However, as forgetful as Blueblood could be, the servants were not. When they caught up with Iggy, the last bucket was going to be poured all over the small dragon... Meanwhile, the aforementioned Prince was doing his level best to track down his stray students, which was to say, not very well. Much as he didn't want to admit it, there was still a social distance between him and the students. Something would have to be done in the future to bridge that gap. Perhaps a tea party or two? As a point of fact, he caught up with a half-unexpected student on his way. "Smolder! Are you looking for your friends, or snacks? Because the latter are back in the foyer, but I'm still looking for Gallus and Silver." Not wanting to look totally clueless in front of Tiger Blood, he pursed his lips as he desperately tried to think. "I believe they should be-" "Run! RUN ITS GONNA EAT US!" "-That way!" He finished with considerably more confidence than he began, charging off in the direction where he heard Gallus's panicked cries. Making decent enough time, they were able to catch a glimpse of the griff and hippogriff as they hid behind a crystal pillar. "Hey, what are you doing back here? Why were you shouting?" He asked, in a loud tone that totally gave away that he hadn't yet noticed the boney boy that was in pursuit. ~***~ All things considered, it was probably a pity that Chipper Demise wasn't in the Castle by now. He was just the sort of colt who'd love to see a cute skeleton walking around the place! Usually one had to go to so much trouble to get them animated; he certainly couldn't do it for a pony-sized one. He would barely manage a crow, really. Still, he was having a fine enough time, now that he had chocolate and a fellow student to talk to. "Oooh, Neighpon? One of the caribou bulls who dropped me off here talked a lot about that place. Said it was pity there was so much bad blood between us, but that some cherish old enemies like old friends. It's how they're like, really; if someone can always give you a really good fight, and the only kind of death you feel is worth it is in battle, well! That really gives a new meaning to the word 'battle-buddy', Nyahah!" He laughed, then shrugged. "Still, never believed in that whole 'Valhalla' thing myself. Dead in battle, dead in peace, dead all the same. Much better to be alive; there's chocolate here!"
  12. "I can't say it surprises me. Back in Cloudsdale, whenever you got your cutie mark in something, you generally started working on it, at least part-time. I had a few classmates who got performance marks, and they set out to make it big pretty early. Because that's what they were meant to do, they thought it would be an easy ride to the top." He sighed, shaking his head. "My mark's a little more abstract than that, and my folks are a little more... grounded, if that's the right word for pegasi. In any case, I did my time as a cold storage worker while I built my skills and studio. Left town a real adult, at least." Somewhat sorrowful musings on the likely life paths of past classmates were put aside as the work of the day resumed once again. Thoughts of the future had to wait until it was secured, and that happened one day at a time. One of the lessons learned from a few years among the working public who now bought tickets to see them. "Hm, well, lets start with Hello Seaddle's remix; that has distinct sections that I think we should go through, since I think they would be distinct moods. There's the soft intro, the psuedo-dubstep body, and the melodic bridge." The keyboard strumming began again, this time with a certain degree of deliberation. Windy was right enough, he suspected, in thinking that one song would have to be choreographed per day. Then, cane the practice sessions, which would be considerable. But labor done out of love hardly feels like work.
  13. Princess Bluebelle had arrived just in the nick of time, if not a bit after, trailing behind Applejack's other bridesmaids. The ensemble was, in truth, a bit eclectic; neither of the marrying mares were the type to care about coordinating bridesmaid outfits, leaving each to come with whatever they felt would look the nicest. The tradeoff between visual cohesion and authenticity was probably one that both considered profitable. Well, Applejack probably did; Rainbow didn't seem to have eyes for any but her bride today. The Princess supposed it really didn't matter; she was here for a... friend? Could she go so far as to call either AJ or RD a friend? They certainly spoke less with each other than many ponies the unicorn royal scion did consider friends. But they were colleagues in the school of friendship, and Blue had personally volunteered at the last Cider Season, so if they weren't friends yet, this probably made them so. Her musings drifted from friendship to love, just as Rainbow's recounted relationship did. Was a wedding like this in her near future? She knew who it would be with, if so. *Only issue might be, there are two who would be with me.* Not, according to the letter of Equestrian Law, illegal, but definitely outre these days. Something she should really talk with Twilight about. All those thoughts aside, she joined with the chorus of sighs, then cheers as the brides were kissed, formation breaking up into a celebratory party. Being in position, she managed to catch the happy couple before the reception began in full swing. "Congratulations, you two! I think I speak for many of us present when I say that it was about time you two were wed!" She giggled, before adding in self-deprecation, "But I'm hardly one to talk myself, I suppose. There are just... so many other things I have to arrange in my case. Ease of marriage arrangements is one thing I envy all commoners."
  14. Sky had to laugh at Wind Dancer's worries. "From what I hear from my musical friends, that 'overbearing manager' type is a bit of a stereotype, though you do see it sometimes when a celebrity gets famous when they're very young. They're not quite ready to take care of themselves yet, so their manager steps in. Unfortunately, that often means they never bother growing up the rest of the way. But I like the idea of bringing in a small-town pony to serve that role. Part of the reason I built all this," He gestured back at the recording studio, "Is to help other artists record as well as myself. Nopony's singing career lasts forever, but most of the industry lifers stay in by helping the next generation take the stage. Always thought there was something beautiful about the continuity there. A bit like becoming a father, really." He blushed a bit, considering that if he and Windy continued on as they'd been doing, he would become a father in the near future! With a nod, he flipped to the page where he had put the score for the Hello Seaddle remix. "How do you typically write to the music? Do you do full passes, or do you stop and re-start segments until you've got something that looks and feels right? I can do either, just want to make sure."
  15. "Don't forget, you're not on tour." Sky Sailing pointed out, when Wind Dancer questioned his need for a manager. "You really only have to deal with one venue whose owner you have a long-standing relationship with. But all that has to be arranged from the ground up with every stop when you're traveling, not to mention the host of complicated things that come up when you go overseas, which I really want to do, eventually." He sighed. "We're good with the creative stuff, but I don't think either of us are really talented in matters of business. All the same, I don't think it's healthy to go through life being distrustful. Sure, the Countess had one famous example of a bad manager, but can you name two? I can't. I don't think most managers, most ponies are like that." It might have been naivete as much as optimism on the stallion's part that made him say that he hadn't grown up in the big city, but in a mid-size factory town. Never in his life had he been betrayed, and it showed. Wind Dancer's last suggestion for a freeform song really perked his interest, though. "Ah, yes! That would be the perfect opportunity to use the illusory fireflies we talked about. Send them into the crowd, and let them play with the swirling lights too! And the nice thing about that, is that the encore never looks the same way twice; nice little way of injecting some variety into the show." Gathering all the papers together, he slipped them between to pinfeathers to straighten the stack and slip a paperclip on it. "I think that's our set! I still need to work through the finale tune, but we can get the first drafts of the choreography going for the starting four. What do you say?"
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