Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)
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In case people didn't know what we were talking about:
^ the best
Sorry but one pony doesn't make it a pony thread, it makes it a furry thread(maybe) but that's about it.
Just wait 'til you see what's coming.
But first, an update.
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Mission Failed
"No! It's too soon!"
Strop looked up, aghast, as raindrops splashed on his nose. In the one second it took for his brain to process this development, the clouds stopped hesitating, and in the next moment he was soaked to the bone. So too was Devoidless, and Dragonmistress, who had frozen, seeds of salvation still in her hand, poised to throw into the great inferno below.
But the inferno of the Free Market was already changing. The billowing black clouds of smoke had turned white as great plumes of steam replaced ashes. "Way to ruin a perfectly good fire," Devoidless remarked dryly. For before their eyes the fires were dying, as were their hopes.
"ABORT THE MISSION," Strop screamed at DM and 'voidy. DM looked back sharply. "But the pills-"
"The pills won't work properly in these conditions, they'd be wasted. Keep them for another time."
DM, understandably, looked confused. "What time is that?"
"I don't know!" Strop shouted in exasperation, for the umpteenth time that afternoon. "I don't know."
As the rain beat down on them, the only sound left was the waves of rain striking the dragon's wings as they beat upwards. Everywhere below, confusion reigned. The cobblestones became slimy and slippery, and the debris and dust from ruins mixed with the running water and mired everything in layers of sludge that stuck to legs and sloshed around as everybody waded in to do battle, and soon, the sounds and cries of mortal mudfighting reigned. Fighting, Strop thought. But isn't everybody supposed to be at the Ar-
The three thought the same thing at once, and collectively their breaths caught. "The other mods!"
Devoidless didn't even need any telling. In an instant his wings were folded, and he rolled into a headlong dive.
---
The cold of the wet chilled Zophia, stiffening her muscles, slowing her down even as she flailed with her brush. The paint was diluted and streaked, washing off and undoing her work, freeing her opponents to claw at her and try to rip her brush away. But since the handle itself was so slippery that she herself could barely grip it, her assailants all slid straight off, stumbling and falling over themselves on the pavement.
At her back, Dank and Asherlee were locked in their own battles. Great splashes and trails of droplets arched through the air as shockwaves rippled outwards from the mighty blows of Dank's hammer. As his name suggested he was perhaps the only one left who might actually have been strengthened by the rain, and it was as just as well for so long as he still had the room to swing his hammer, he was the only one capable of clearing room for the three of them, and thus ensuring their survival. Waves of raiders fell backwards as he struck the ground again and again, punctuated by Asherlee stepping forward and butting the hilts of her swords against the head of whomever strayed too close.
"We need a plan!" Zophia panted, scrabbling for her palette, only to find that she had run out of paint. A raider, who had snuck into the blindspot, reared up, club poised to strike, but was miraculously knocked back with a glassy thunk.
"Necessity is the mother of invention," the increasingly able Moe remarked. "But it's just as well I'm not trying to reinvent the wheel," he added as his latently rediscovered telekinesis faltered, and he clattered to the ground again.
"That's one less thing to lug around," Dank grunted. "But I still can't quite believe you could regain your powers just like that."
"These are but the most rudimentary abilities," Moe reminded Dank. "Which I haven't regained control of. What else I'll discover remains to be seen."
"It's great and all, but shouldn't we work on getting out of here?" Asherlee clashed swords with another raider, before using her off hand and catching him in the gut, sending him skidding through the water, only to find another four charging in.
"We're hard pressed enough as it is!" Dank retorted. "And I think we're losing ground!"
"I can't wall us off like last time, either," Zophia reported.
"It looks like we're out of answers for now," Asherlee grimly acknowledged, as the fallen raiders stood back up, reforming the ranks that steadily closed around them, threatening to overwhelm them with sheer numbers.
At that very moment, the four of them were blown over as a large and heavy net closed around them. "What the hell is this!" Dank roared, unable to reach his hammer. The raiders similarly roared, charging forward at the opportunity, but a split-second later they stumbled back, cowering, as the whole street lit up. Even in the pouring rain, the blast of fire was hot, searingly hot, and as it billowed over the trapped team, it literally cleared a path around them. In the blink of an eye, a giant shadow passed over them, and in another blink the net lurched, tightened, and they were yanked into the air, looping dizzily until they landed unceremoniously on Devoidless' back.
"Gotcha!" Strop, still riding atop Devoidless' flanks, said as he sawed through the thick netting with his emergency kunai, to mumbled thanks. Everybody sat up, gripping the spines on the dragon's back, as he flapped, hovering menacingly over the street of people who glowered back.
"Since everybody is still awake, I take it the plan didn't work," Moe suggested. Strop hung his head.
"Yes. We've failed our mission."
"I never would have thought," Dank snorted. "We failed, but somehow we're still alive. So is there a plan B or are we all doomed?"
"Does it involve burninating everybody here while we still can?" Devoidless asked, blowing a few small licks of fire at the more daring punters among the largely cowed crowd who had seemingly never been so close to a live fire-breathing dragon.
Strop rubbed his head. "No, no, no. AG isn't doomed. Not yet. Not while our castle still stands. But that castle is in danger now, because the courts are gone, and as soon as people figure out that they can cross through there, then we'll have trouble."
"Defend the castle huh?" Asherlee stretched her broad shoulders, then tilted her head back to look at the endless black and the falling rain. "It sounds like another last stand in a series of last stands doesn't it."
"At least we can hope that we survive until the administration arrives," DM said, unconvincingly. "At least, assuming they saw the distress signal."
Even in the chaos that enveloped them, they shared a single moment of clarity, the reflection on the irony behind the whole tournament and its course, and the problem that they faced but no longer felt capable of containing. In that moment, the true nature of their problem was revealed, a nature beyond anything that the Way of Moderation could ever have hoped to address.
"It's simple, really," Strop concluded. "Either we survive, or we fall. Until we find out, we'll just do what we can."
"Agreed." DM reined Devoidless around, pointing him in the direction of the castle. Even as some of the raiders tried to follow, and others fled, they set off towards the courts, half-hoping to see the end of the day, and half-dreading what might otherwise happen.
---
As you may already have expected, surely things weren't going to go so smoothly. Manta, if you are reading this, it's time to post your latest submission! As for the rest, I'll get back on the emails and we'll go from there.
For some reason, I've been thinking for a while that it would be kinda awesome to see what all of the main characters would look like in pony form.
I would like to say "Cen and I were way ahead of you" but, well, Cen apparently doesn't draw ponies.
lolololololol The Bullman would be horrified.
I would also like to say I'm actually pretty much tracing Cen's sketches with miniscule alterations, but again, Cen doesn't draw ponies.