Kobold King

Whooks and Alans. We'll have our very own WHIO dialect before too much longer. I just realized that neither I nor anyone else has yet ponified Stephen Vondra.

...though am I the only one who reads that acronym phonetically? "Whook"?

Funtimes didn't transform a single gun into a rubber ducky there. Reader didn't do something punchable a single time. Backtrack didn't have a chance to wander into the town and become horrified about something that happened years ago. Not a single shippable couple surfaced for the town's entire onscreen appearance. It almost feels like a wasted opportunity.

And now Blackwave's crew is going to burn the whole place to the ground. That's What Happened in Cannon Beach.

Would it be beyond the realm of reason for Skinwalker to be the Epic who took control of the village?

Cool. If no one finds it overpowered, I'll incorporate it then. Cannon Beach, perhaps? I know nothing about the place, but it's a very small coastal town in Oregon with a pirate-y kind of name.

Joe, what city is the Tidebreaker docked in at the moment? Also, after reading a bit about phantom pains, I'm considering incorporating a minor precognitive sense to Sharkbait. I'm considering the idea that he feels twinges in his missing arm just prior to being attacked, giving him a sort of immediate danger sense sort of like Spider-man's. Thoughts on the matter?

Could this further Operation And Then Blackwave Died?

So I guess that this means Operation Uber-Super-Duper Awesome Oxygen Submarine Party is officially a bust?

Your [EXPUNGED]ish is gran[EXPUNGED]ed. All ins[EXPUNGED]ances of [EXPUNGED]he selec[EXPUNGED]ed le[EXPUNGED][EXPUNGED]ers have been replaced [EXPUNGED]i[EXPUNGED]h [EXPUNGED]he [EXPUNGED]ord [EXPUNGED]. Also, your en[EXPUNGED]ire family has been [EXPUNGED]ransformed in[EXPUNGED]o [EXPUNGED]ere[EXPUNGED]olves, so I'd sugges[EXPUNGED] s[EXPUNGED]ocking up on silver bulle[EXPUNGED]s. I desire a pony.

Blackwave's POV built up Sharkbait's evil so much that I feel like I need to somehow top Blackwave on the ATTD list. At the same time, I don't know if I want to.

We all do. Also, I found a .gif maker online and wasted a couple of minutes toying with it. Just wait till I figure out how to do a gif of Funtimes turning Fruit Loops into Cocoa Puffs.

Don't be too hard on him. He's been dead for a hundred and fifty million years. I want to write a POV from a pug so badly. Of course she would.

I might do that. Short Lightwards post up, with a surprise POV for those of you who weren't in a certain PM conversation.

They walked in silence for only a scarce couple of minutes before Lucentia stepped up her pace, coming to walk closely besides Lightwards himself. “Now that we are in a more exclusive company," the diamond queen began, her voice as annoyingly haughty as always, "I think there are two matters we should discuss. I would suggest we start with Altermind’s little slip up.” Lightwards didn't look to the queen, but made a non-committal noise as he processed what she'd said. Fortunately, his head seemed to be clearing from the inexplicable headache he'd had earlier, so thinking was getting easier. Even with his head clear, he still had no idea what she was talking about. "Slip up?" he asked, flushing contempt into his voice to mask his confusion. "Altermind's hardly a model for ruling Epics to follow, but I spotted few major errors in the way he conducted his faction." They continued walking, the night silent except for the screaming and roaring that grew more silent with every step they took. "For the sake of argument," Lightwards continued slowly, his eyes flickering to her briefly. "What perceived error would you be referring to?" Meat between the teeth. Blood against the scales. The cries of prey rattling in the ears. The stomach nigh overflowing with the fruits of the carnage. The allosaur felt good to be alive. Alive. Now that was a strange thing. Once the allosaur had a very good understanding of what it meant to be "alive." Alive was moving. Alive was hunting. Alive was smelling prey and following their tracks. Alive was sniffing out females and courting them with slabs of bleeding meat. Last time he'd tried mounting a female was when the problem started. There were few things to be feared as much as a female allosaur that was not ready to mate. She had been bigger than he was, and completely unimpressed in with his gift of regurgitated herbivore. He'd moved in and attempted mating regardless, and she had killed him. She had knocked him to the ground and taken his head in her jaws, snapping his neck like a brittle tree trunk. After that, he had been dead. Dead. That was not moving. Not hunting. Not smelling prey. Not smelling much of anything, actually. Dead was nothingness. Death was the long blackness. And yet here he was, moving, hunting, killing, and smelling the fear of mammals as he trampled over a landscape like none he'd ever seen. There was little to explain the abrupt change from being dead to being alive. It had happened even more quickly than going from alive to dead. All there was to explain it were the Words. Walk north across the city. Kill every human you come across. Scatter their bodies. Roar to proclaim your might. Did anything else matter? The allosaur didn't think so. He barely spared a thought for the strangeness of his surroundings--the forest of steel and stone that surrounded him, that hadn't been there last time he was alive. These odd two-legged mammals hadn't been there last time he was alive. The strange red star that hung in the sky--the one that looked like a bleeding wound in the universe itself--that had most certainly not been there. But these things, strange though they were, weren't important. As long as he could hold the weird two-legged mammals in his teeth, and so long as they dissolved into crunchy goodness when he bit down on them, then all was right with the world. "Yippee!" Well, almost all was right. There was still the matter of the mammal that was sitting on his back, making its shrill and raucous calls. Of all the herd of strange things that the allosaur had seen, this mammal was the strangest. In looks it was much like any other of the mammals, though more brightly colored than most; but the mammal didn't seem to have a smell, nor could the allosaur quite manage to touch it. The one time he'd come close, his claw had merely passed through its body as if he'd stricken at a reflection in a pool. It was a very frustrating mammal, but the allosaur did his best to ignore it. There were more important things to be about. Walk north across the city. Kill every human you come across. Scatter their bodies. Roar to proclaim your might. The allosaur dutifully ground a screaming mammal into giblets in his mouth, gulping them down his gullet and finishing with a world-shattering roar. Walk north across the city. Kill every human you come across. Scatter their bodies. Roar to proclaim your might. Did anything else matter? Crunch. Of course not.

And then Blackwave died. Which I mean in the best possible way, of course. Let me know when you need a Sharkbait post of some size or another.

She lives in Australia. She is a member of The Newcago Court's royalty. At one point she had a picture of Anna as her profile picture. She wrote an amazing story set at a Hanukkah fair for a writing prompt on Creator's Corner. She is, in both name and demeanor, delightful. Name three Robins. ("Robins," in this case, referring to one of the colorful sidekicks of Batman in DC Comics.)

So? I want a million dollars. Nightwatcher grants wishes, not wants. We kid, of course! The Nightwatcher doesn't play semantic games. (Not unless she finds them fair or amusing, of course.) Dusters become the standard fashion, but they're all that anybody ever wears. Think about that. I wish for a million dollars.

Aldo/Wes has more upvotes than most of my hard-written Portland posts.

Aww. I was going to turn Nighthound into a black mamba and Ray into a mongoose.

A LARGER comic? It can't be done! It simply can't be done. I've definitely writing the pug one later. Can it be expanded to thematically appropriate small animals, like a hamster for Revolution or a chihuahua for Backtrack?

Vanillas and vanillas who are Epics in a parallel universe stick up for one another. Glad I could... well, not glad that I almost killed you, but I'm glad you laughed. Out of insanity, I compiled all 18 panels of the comic into one .png file here. Also, 18 panels makes this the largest single pony comic I've ever created. Possibly that any of us have created.

Thanks. (Have you ever had someone mistake you for an Epic in public, and then try to offer you their firstborn child in reparation for an imagined crime? Let me tell you, it's awkward. ) Calamity's Cupcake had it coming.

Unrelated, but since I'm a slave to my baser instincts (read: making pony comics), I ponified a portion of the (in?)famous Cocoa Puffs stories, based on a prompt by TwiLyghtSansSparkles. I hope you enjoy, because trying to put a rifle in a pony's hooves isn't nearly as easy as it sounds. Split into four sections because my computer is dumb slow.

And not one of those dinosaur ships involved a dinosaur romancing a fellow dinosaur.