Kobold King

I have a cold and I had to carry a full bag of deer corn to our storage building and the air was cold and wet and irritated my sinuses and then when I opened the bag a big cloud of dust poofed out of it and made me choke and the two measly steps back to the ground were wet and slippery so when leaving the building I slipped and hit both of my arms really hard, and somehow jerked my head in an odd way so now I have a really bad crink in my neck so now I'm in physical pain and generally suffering from this infernal cold and I just noticed that I scraped my arm in my fall and I'm bleeding and everything just plain sucks. * gasps for breath * OK, I'm done. You may continue now.

I guess we've been pretty desensitized to schizophrenia, haven't we?

Vinyl Scratch! Octavia is best music pony, but you've earned yourself a solid 9.9/10.

It applies to practically every time travel story ever written or broadcast.

Trying to stargaze? Pugs are magical creatures capable of staring through the Sun's radiation, through the nigh-infinite blackness of space, and making out galaxies on the far side of the universe. When they're sneezing, they're actually creating tiny sub-space passages in their nostrils and communicating with advanced alien races.

According to both Coraline and the works of H. P. Lovecraft, cats are actually interuniversal travelers who know all things.

I'm sorry. Edgedancer beat me to it, but would you like a pug and a kitty?

So. Sleep No More. Are we all in agreement that this was a thing that happened?

Pardon me if I'm being thick, but is that a joke? If multiple universes exist, then there can be no "alternate universe where alternate universes don't exist." The existence of alternate universes would be independent of whatever laws and quirks govern that universe. Like I said, probably a joke but I've seen this stated enough times that I begin to wonder if people are being serious.

As an army of cloned pink ponies would say: FUN! FUN! FUN! So no. No deeper meaning at all that I'm aware of, save to give characters something interesting to do.

Well, all you need for the first is a regular prom dress and some water balloons filled with dye...

Even your thoughts and state of consciousness are just encoded molecules in a specific pattern. Which means that in an infinite creation, you and everything you will ever, could ever be already exists, and you could create a library of potential brain configurations just like the Library of Babel.

"Now, Michael, I want two coats of wax on the MoNA, not just one.""Yes, right away Mr. Sperry!" "Ah, Michael. What a character..."

That actually makes a lot more sense than a live animal. Who was Jennifer? I'm curious to know who your subconscious mind ships Nathan with.

...does that make Funtimes Doc?

Know what would be cool? An RP about bees. We'd all play honey bees, except TwiLyght would be the queen and the rest of us would be out pollinating flowers and gathering nectar and dodging praying mantises and dying from untested pesticides and stuff. You know. Cool bee stuff. The overreaching conflict would be about the Giant Beekeeper in an unbreachable suit coming to take our honey. But what's this? He's new to the business and has no knowledge of responsible beekeeping methods! He's going to take too much honey, not leaving us with enough to survive the bitter winter! We'd have to organize a bee revolution! We'd fight the beekeeper! Reject our state as domestic insects and question the ineffective monarchy headed by the villainous TwiBee! We would rise up, and

If mail-mi's okay with it, sure. Feel free to have her murder the Guards. They'll shoot at her, but I imagine that won't have much of an effect on her.

That should be "beside him." It's his other Guards firing a couple of rounds. I left it open for you to decide who gets to kill the Guards--you have a couple of people there who are more than capable of doing it. Of course, if you need anything changed, just let me know and I'll get on it. I'm sick and exhausted right now, so my apologies if my prose hits an all-time low or just flat-out doesn't make any sense.

Something was wrong. Colonel Carney leaned back in the patrol car, trying to put her finger on it. Obviously things were wrong in The Dalles as a whole. Just that morning her colleagues had shown up tortured and mutilated, and the day before an army of sparking panda bears had nearly overwhelmed the city by sheer force of numbers. Now they were on a city-wide manhunt for what amounted to the Epic mafia. And yet, listening to the status updates rolling in from the few houses in front of her, Carney knew something was amiss. Then she realized. It was her job to realize. A single failure to realize the obvious could spell the city its doom, which was a principle the Guard's command knew very well. Of all the status updates rolling in and being logged on the record, one was missing. Cayden. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Cayden is unresponsive." The words had struck Sergeant Moore like a whip, but no time had been wasted in his response. He and five other soldiers were in the truck in an instant, and now were pulling up beside a gray beaten-down building in a sparse district of the city. The dumb slontze better actually be dead, causing this ruckus, Moore thought irritably. If we get another round of status update drills from the old man at HQ because of this, I'll-- His train of thought derailed as he swung out of the vehicle, spotting a bright yellow school bus parked outside the building in front of the doorway. Things met his eyes, and for a strange moment he found himself wondering why the bus seemed so polished and spotless when everything else in the city was rundown and decrepit. Then his mouth fell dry as he spotted the body in urban camo lying stiffly with its head under the bus, in a pool of its own blood. Immediately the squad raised machine guns in unison, barrels pointed at an old man rushing several other people into the bus parked over Cayden's corpse. The man seemed terrified at the sight of them. "Man down!" Moore reported through his radio, grinding his teeth before raising his own gun with a finger inching the trigger. "Freeze, or we will shoot!" The shout hung in the air for just a second, before gunshots sounded from beside him and Moore lived his final moments. The city was alive with activity. Despite the stress and his advanced years, Arsenal couldn't help but find it invigorating. He stood in the command center among rushing aides and crackling radios, around urgent voices coordinating search teams and bright monitors visualizing all searched parts of the city. The city was big. Small as far as cities went, even smaller since Calamity, but still big enough to make the Guard's task in sweeping it a long and arduous one. Arsenal would speed the process if he could, but he was content with how things ran now. He found that a part of him liked envisioning an increasingly panicked Quicksilver watching the inevitable come to him, wondering whether to make a mad dash for freedom or risk facing the strong arm Arsenal had been preparing for this very day... His reverie and organizing was briefly interrupted by the sight of Edgerunner entering the room. His face creased into a frown like usual, but he found something different in the way she walked and carried herself. She was stiff yet slouched, and made her way straight to him as opposed to her usual meandering stroll. "Sir, I'm here," the girl said, stopping short in front of her commander. "Where do you want me?" Arsenal nodded approvingly at her; a rare gesture for him, but he wanted to encourage the girl's new found work ethic. "We have begun sweeping the city for Quicksilver's faction," he began crisply. "You will accompany search teams in suspect areas, lending your support if needed in the event of--" His radio crackled to life dramatically, the strained voice of one Colonel Carney coming through. "Carney to HQ. We have engaged renegade Epics. Renegades currently fleeing the area in a yellow school bus on Liberty Street." Arsenal frowned. Epics already? Either the search parties had gotten lucky early on, or Quicksilver had more forces sprinkled through the city than he'd anticipated. Either way... "Change of plans, Ms. Runes. I believe you are needed on Liberty Street."

Alright. Current events necessitate an immediate City Guard reaction. I am going to post for Arsenal at the bare minimum as soon as possible--if everybody could hold off on posting just long enough for me to initiate the Epic car chase, that'd be great. I promise I won't keep you waiting for long.

Ah, the "Grandma Longbottom" look. A daring choice, but I think you can pull it off.

Sigh. There goes my sly attempt at tricking you into embracing gender stereotypes in front of a rolling camera, thus discrediting you and your organization from the inside out. Well played, Lady Delightful. Well played.

Shall I drop grapes into your mouth while you lounge around in a Cleopatra costume, your wiseness?

HAIL TO THE CIVILIZED RELATIONSHIP GURU BRING HER SACRIFICES OF GRAPES AND SEARED GOAT FLESH. ALL GLORY BE TO THE CIVILIZED RELATIONSHIP GURU