TwiLyghtSansSparkles

Probably for the same reason finding any songs from Koschei's perspective is impossible: Because anyone who wrote a song that creepy would drive themselves insane.

Like I said, it's extremely vague at this point. I don't even know what most of the lyrics would be... Ooh, I like that one. Here's an outsider's view of Koschei.

Speaking of, I recreated the Remington pony code and added it to my previous post. Also, I have an extremely vague idea for a comic compilation based on "A True, True Friend" with the human characters.

I figured that was a desperate yet coded cry for help, since Nighthound was in her apartment when she wrote that. Edit: Recreated the Remington pony code: 33250F70028C9B4F9677590400017D8FENN183750D21100071C7C6C754452405107F3FCC004CB2 Accessory code: 066CC66066CC66066CC6673E7F4B066CC6604E8FBAFFFF8C5000000066CC66066CC66066CC66 Cutie mark:

Speaking of, I didn't know Nighthound wrote a book.

First Funtimes and now Nighthound. Should I rename this RP "One Million Ways to Annoy Lightwards"?

I think Joe said they're like Lifeless from Warbreaker—they're human-esque, but with no souls. Since I'm pretty sure Lightwards could raise them (I think? CorpseMaker can kill them, so it sounds like Lightwards would be able to raise them) Nighthound would probably be able to control them.

I think it would. DC characters short out his powers, but it's the Watchmen characters that cancel them out entirely. Surrounding him with Batman, Robin, and Alfred would have the same effect on his powers as him seeing The Comedian come striding down the street—he'd want to burn them, but would find the fire lacking.

Enemies? Panacea thought, unconsciously frowning at the word. It was an ugly word, one that implied no common ground, no mercy, no basis for reconciliation. There were no enemies in a house strewn with bodies, throats and wrists slit, waiting for a miracle that— She felt her eye begin to twitch and stuffed the image—and the bile that filled her throat—down. Altermind wanted a loyal healer, one who followed orders and tended allies only. If she were to have any hope of fixing those who needed to be fixed, she would have to be that healer. One who followed orders. Panacea at last smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir. Allies only. I understand." She hoped Altermind's men did not wear uniforms. If not, she could claim it was impossible to tell the difference. If so….well, no one had to know she healed them, did they? There was no mistaking the look that crossed Sam's face, the wide-eyed fear followed by determination not to remember, not to slip back to whatever moment had given her that fear. "Sorry, did I—" he began, but Sam deliberately turned her gaze to the wooden slats through which an unsettling red glow drifted. "Yeah, I suppose you're both right," she said. "At any rate, she's better than Lightwards the Leprechaun or Twilight Sparkle up there." Twilight Sparkle. Remington felt another stab of pain, but not the sort that came with mentions of Koschei. He remembered one of his and Laurie's early dates, back when Calamity was still throwing scientists into a tizzy trying to figure out what on Earth it was. One spent in her parents' house, holding hands on the sofa while a cartoon for little girls played on their TV screen. "So which one of those ponies am I?" Remington asked it with a smile. "Please tell me I ain't that—what was his name? Prince Bluehoof?" "Blueblood," Laurie corrected with a laugh. "And you're not him. You're more of the Big Mac type." "You mean like the burger?" "Eeyup." The shouting above died, and the red glow vanished as a sound like falling water filled the cottage. A moment later, the buzz of a chainsaw came from some feet away. A square of wood was lifted and set aside, and Traveler's voice floated through: "We're heading into Portland. Get what you need and we'll go." It was like an arranged marriage, Nathan decided as they landed in Portland. Like those books his sisters had read before Annexation Day, those about spirited princesses and noblewomen who bolted for freedom at the first inkling of a future spouse. That was what he had with Funtimes. An arranged marriage to…. Sadly, not one of those books had explored the intricacies of a perfectly ordinary young man's arranged marriage to an unstable nuclear warhead. Dry leaves crunched beneath his feet as he walked, Funtimes skipping along beside. "Darling." The word felt awkward now that it was no longer simply a line Traveler used. Now that it was something Nathan would have to say, and say sincerely. "Why did you have me take you here, instead of the museum?" She giggled and turned to the Unicyclist. "Can I fix your bagpipes?" He hugged them close. "Not forever. Just for now. I'll put them back when we get up to the MoNA." ​"The…." "Museum of Natural Awesomeness! It needed a name." "Didn't it have one?" "MoNA is better. Anyhoodle," she said, waving Nathan's concerns away, "I just want you to ride around in a circle and play. Pretty please?" After a moment, the Unicyclist shrugged and did as he was told. Orange glitter flew from the bagpipes and was carried by the wind, over the treetops and out of sight. Before Nathan could ask why that was so important, a flash of movement caught his eye. They had landed near a clothes shop. Light from an either unstable or overworked generator flickered lazily behind a window display. But it was the shadows that drew Nathan's attention. Penumbra? ​He waited, but they did not coalesce into that familiar form. Something human, then. Nathan cast a glance over his shoulder as three-inch pancakes fell from the sky. There was a message burned into them—something about joining Doctor Funtimes in the town square at noon for a 'beard-a-palooza,' but he was more concerned with the woman who had written it. She jumped and clapped her hands as the glittering wind became a pancake rain across the Empire. Surely she wouldn't mind if he…. Nathan slipped inside the shop, bell tinkling as the door closed. A sewing machine chattered from the back, a man sitting hunched over it. Cloth moved through the machine's teeth, slowly but surely. Then, a sickening crunch as the thread jammed, but the man did not swear as some tailors were inclined to do. He stood as though moving through molasses and set abut correcting the jam. His fingers shook. "Sir?" The tailor did not turn. The thread only became more tangled. Nathan cleared his throat as the bell tinkled behind him. Talk like an Epic. "What do you think you're doing?" Only when he reached the tailor and the hopelessly jammed sewing machine did Nathan see the reason. The tailor's eyes stared vacantly, filled with a bleariness that attested to a sleepless night. He seemed to be sewing some sort of jacket lining from green silk, though where he got silk in the middle of Portland was anyone's guess. But it was those eyes, eyes that remained on his task long after his mind had lost focus, that told the story. Lightwards. "Calamity, man, did you sleep at all?" The tailor did not respond, which only confirmed Nathan's suspicion. Lightwards had told the tailor to make a jacket. Not to sleep. He had obeyed, working long into the night until his fingers became nearly useless, his eyes unfocused with exhaustion. "The Emperor wanted new clothes." Remington's voice startled him. Nathan nodded, following Remington out of earshot of the tailor. "This is what he wants," he whispered. His hands were shaking. "This. People too…too…" "Too broken to obey anybody but him." Remington's words were soft, but clipped. The tailor tried unsuccessfully to lift the needle from the jacket lining. "He didn't even sleep," Nathan whispered. "You try telling him?" "He doesn't listen to me." "Only follow his voice." Remington's jaw was clenched as he turned away. "I get it." Nathan nodded. He had to get out of there, out of the flickering light and away from the tailor. Any longer and he would wrestle the tailor from his work, or do something equally un-Epic-like. Remington stopped him at the door. "Take a minute and calm down, all right? You calm down, and you think about what you'll do to that fool Lightwards." "What would you do?" "I'd shoot him 'till he got sick of coming back to die." And be shot for his trouble, no doubt. "It wouldn't help him." "Well, what would?" Nathan paused. "I don't know." "Think of something. 'Cause this, right here?" He jerked his thumb toward the tailor. "That's what he wants. That's the future, if he ain't stopped." Nathan said nothing. He could feel his hands shaking and stuffed them into his pockets. Remington gripped his shoulders. "I'm teaching you to shoot. Today. Every time you hit a target, you picture his face. Picture that bullet going through his chest. You do that right now, or everyone in Portland's gonna see you for what you are." Nathan had never imagined shooting a human being, let alone an Epic. But when he thought of the tailor, the poor sleepless tailor with a failed task and a ruined sewing machine, it became possible. Easy, even, to see a bullet tearing a second bullet hole in that awful coat of his. "Now you got it." "How do I look?" "Like you actually gave me this." He pointed to his black eye. "You keep seeing that, all right? Keep thinking about how much you want to shoot that son of a gun." Remington opened the door, and they stepped out onto the street. ---------------------------- Five minutes later, they stood in the jungle. Lightwards was some distance away, speaking to someone hidden by the foliage. Funtimes raised both arms, her hair glittering with diamond dust, and announced their arrival to Lightwards. "We're here!" Remington smiled and gave a mocking salute, while Nathan acknowledged the Emperor with a curt nod and a condescending smile. A plan was forming.

I'll have that up in a minute, then.

Penelope will work at Pottery Barn to pay her way through Penn State. Edit: Is Panacea or Strongsteel next, and should I have Funtimes get everyone to Portland?

There, there. The wait will make it all the sweeter when the book finally hits shelves. Once again, looking on a rather dim bright side….

No kidding. I think you're right, but I also think there is a difference between insanity and evil. Control is a major factor. Are Epics fully aware of what they're doing, or are they to some extent Calamity's puppets? (And yes, I fully expect a death metal band called Calamity's Puppets to release an album within the year. ) I think Deathpoint is the best example of this distinction. He mentions "it" asking him why he wanted to rob a bank, with "it" assumed to be Calamity. Deathpoint hears voices in his head questioning his reasoning, yet he chose to rob a bank. This implies, to me, that he was acting under his own free will, Calamity's corruption notwithstanding. He stopped, he questioned his motives, and he went on with the heinous act anyway. We really could continue this forever....

Well. It's 2042, and Apple has become not only a worldwide corporation, but a mega corporation, with world leaders looking to Apple for leadership advice in this digital age. A current controversy surrounds what will most likely be a successful attempt to upload Steve Jobs' consciousness into a computer, whether he will be truly alive, and whether the iSteve will be legally able to run for President, as many in the Apple Party hope.

That brings up another question: Is exposure to their weakness tantamount to withdrawing an Epic from Calamity's range? At this point, the argument could be made rather forcefully for either side. Yes: Calamity gives them powers, weaknesses remove powers. No: Weaknesses only make powers inoperable, Calamity's influence is much more pervasive. If the final answer is yes, then a Epics should be held accountable for their crimes, since Steelheart only became angry in the presence of his weakness and slaughtered more innocents the moment it was removed. If no, then their crimes merit special consideration.

That is an interesting question. And if they failed, would Calamity's influence over her personality die as well, or has she already passed her Moral Event Horizon? We need it yesterday. January 6, why must you be so far away?

An excellent idea. Let's lock him in a pocket universe with a hundred or so mannequins and maybe some beer and never ever EVER return to check on him. And then we can banish Lucentia to the moon. The second moon. Of Jupiter. I'm not sure, but if I do, it's on my laptop. I might have to recreate it, but it shouldn't take me long.

Wait till you meet Koschei. Who are you using for the Halloween RP, by the way? I'm pretty sure you mentioned, but I don't remember which page and I want to know how many nightmares to prepare for.

Oddly enough, I hadn't heard "September" when you told me about Project September. And now I just listened to it. While thinking about Project September. 0.o ….yeah, I'm not going to sleep tonight…. If I had the Mobius code and a little time, you would see the next line sung by Mobius and her new friend Funtimes.

Shes coming gracing her subjects, she ain't leaving no choice, she's gonna blow you all back with her Equestrian voice...

Just...stuff.

Also, I think I thought of a plausible reason for a canon meeting between Funtimes and Mobius. o.0 Sorry, Voidus.