Dust and Memories

WIlhelm hated complying. He looked around at the soldiers escorting the group, and - as if he was a sergeant again - mentally chewed them out for their posture and weapon maintainance. You call that a halberd? Drop and give me twenty, then clean it until you can see your big lug's face in it like a mirror! With a toothbrush. It was a coping mechanism, to be honest. If the Household Cavalry were really taking Wilhelm to the King, then something very, very bad would happen. Then again... the sun had risen. Years, and it was here again. It reminded him of Celestia, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards as he thought about her Day Court, and the old times. However, the thought was soon banished by the thought of the demons possessing the bodies of his sworn princesses, and Wilhelm latched onto the goal of finding Doctor Tome with renewed vigor. Wilhelm wasn't a demonologist, and the only pony he knew with expertise in that area was Tome. However, he first had to get through the meeting with the King... He shivered at the thought.

Good game, miss Silver. It's truly been a pleasure, and any animosity expressed in my raps was merely for the purpose of the battle. As for today... The universe is infinite But this battle is finished WHO WON WHO'S NEXT YOU DECIDE! Eeepic! Eeeeepic! EPIC RAP BATTLES OF MLPF!

I'm sorry that I don't need to use profanityMy words speak for me You speak of supreme tactics Yet act like you got off winning a game of Risk As for my brohoofs, it's true they don't matter But at least I'm not as crazy as Miss Silver Mad Hatter Are your friends speaking for you? I don't see them in this thread Perhaps they're just sleeping, or they stepped to me and got a verbal fist to the head I acknowledge your skills; they certainly fit the bill That is, of the check in a McDonalds that serves radioactive spills This arrogance is typical of those who speak of wisdom without knowing what respect is Or, on a more basic level, knowing the difference between literal statements and poetic license But hey, this isn't poetry, this is the big leagues Good raps are as complex as spycraft's intrigues You've done well, and I have to give you credit But your insults sound like they were pulled off 9gag or Reddit As for your suicide comment, it shows the size of your mind That you can't realize the difference between "Commit suicide" and "Rapping against me is as much of a sin as wanting to die" I'm painting this black, like Luna's night sky The sun's setting on your raps - this is the night this battle dies You suggest that I'm giving off a fake vibe; can you elaborate? Or are you simply here to hate? Thank you for the compliment on how real Mssr. Sky is! I always like hearing about my OC writing Now, if you excuse me, it's time to go flying Get in an airship, drop some lyrical bombs, people giving me flak can't touch me Rhymes of this quality are a rarity Like a veteran of the psychic wars You better pull back from the battle lines before you wet your drawers Artillery blasts and shattered glass We could destroy a city with these raps I'm giving it my all, so it's time to face your permanent fate Like the Daleks say - Exterminate! I won't talk about dear ol' Sunny any more Let's not make this a rap battle over who can be her best whore All I'm hearing is threats from a wannabe Brutus with no discipline Yes; this is practice for me, thank you for asking! This is my rap christening Yet somehow, for all your professed prowess, I'm beating you; you rap like you were just born For the sorry state of your verse, I'll surely mourn But you better take your shield of words and hide under it You're screwing with the most triumphant, while you're just another who came here as a misfit Have you heard of the Roman punishment of decimation? The same numerical type for this Gottes Strafe But instead, it's ten lyrical punches to the face Your rhymes aren't worthy of a whole 'nother stanza; frankly, like you, they blow This is not war; this is pest control Now, allow me to finish with flair, a little pizzazz, and a prescribed dose of pyrotechnics Some exothermic rockets to cool my rhymes even colder; truly, this battle was hectic Thank you for taking a bit out of your part of time and space, fraulein. Jezt die Hölle out of mine.

(Don't worry, it's fine.) What? Give me a Tylenol Stop rhyming, y'all Silver, you got no style, dog I'm the king of dialogue There's only one thread I know you from And I've seen sicker raps when I coughed on one You tried to battle MC Caelum but couldn't do that I laid you out like a sucker punch on the mat And now you're getting back up, on the ninth count Trying to scale an impossible mount I'll toss your hopes in the air - Yahtzee Like a boot grinding on a face for eternity Let me paint you a picture, hon Portrait of a sore loser after verse one You were stirring up some raps for a bunch of people Tasted awful, like your lyrics had weevils You penned a few lines; got the bronies fired up You did a whole verse; got them fired up When you tried and get me riled up You might as well have put a gun in your mouth and fired up You dumb little shit, didn't anyone let you know? When you try to battle me, bring a fire extinguisher, yo While you're rhyming and pretending to be ballsy I got 501 brohoofs; they testify for me My characters all ride for me Yo homeboy, finish this rhyme for me [Constellation "Constell" Sky] If you mess with my creator, you're messing with me I'll beat you as black as my morning coffee I have a professorship and two suns of military rank Your raps are a whole different kind of rank You cross that portal, you'll head straight into a massacre And get bucked by more than just Sunset Shimmer in Equestria! Now, to finish up - I'm iller than the plague [Orion Caelum] I'm chiller than a deep freezer [Constell + Orion, simultaneously] And we've conquered you like Julius Caesar!

Your insults are hypocritical You focus on your waifu Sunset too much - just a little Bacon Mane wasn't good until Rainbow Rocks Until then, every brony wanted to ship her off in a coffin box Because, honestly, what's so appealing about an archetype? I never understood the hype And now with you here, I understand even less - Using you as an example, "Best Pony"'s fans must be a mess. Besides, what are you even trying? All I hear is whining That'll be sobbing by the time I'm done I'll burn you like rocket ignition - T-minus three, two, one I couldn't find a decent rap in your lines This battle'll surely be mine I'm committing verbal murder; veritable crimes Now, for my next few rhymes. So, let's move on to your illiteracy What is this? Soon, you'll be history Like all the others who dared to rap against me And didn't even proofread their bars - really? This is like Charles's Law, temperature and volume - yes, this can be edifying Perhaps not; you've filled your battling with hot air, so you should be flying Although you definitely aren't fly, and your raps sure aren't hot Allow me to revise my hypothesis - perhaps I should just say your rhymes are worth naught. I don't call myself a brony; why would I? I term myself a "fan of the show" because - call me M.A. Larson - tonight, a fandom's gonna die I'll not turn this into an argument about Best Pony; such a thing distracts from the purpose of rapping This isn't hard at all; heck, it's almost as boring as chromosome mapping Here, let me give you something to bow down to I have a whole list of books on how to construe A rhetorical argument Clever thought is a requirement! Two-time state debate champion From Parliamentary to simply being contrarian You'd probably prefer to rap against a mind your own size At least, that's what your vacant expression implies Here, I brought a chair Go ahead and battle against this; get outta my hair You better duck and cover, as I've brought pandemonium I hope you've learned your lesson; don't bring those weak raps to a lyrical symposium. It's evident A mercy killing would be benevolent You'll never be my kind of mental brethren So prepare for a nuclear armageddon I spit raps so hard, I shoot down all your jet bombers Like a battalion of antiaircraft gunners Let me end on this note; I'm a scientist nonpareil, and a maestro of rhyme So, frankly, you can kiss my posterior region; but you'll have to wait in line.

Dang, I have a good one from a random shortfic, but it's based off of an Epic Rap Battle of History, so I'm not sure if it counts.

Wilhelm looked around the plaza, categorizing all the possible escape routes. He didn't like the look of the golem, and as he thought about it, his gaze drifted back to the crystal creature. Strangely, it now shimmered with many different colors, through what seemed to be the whole spectrum. Perhaps more notable, Wilhelm thought, is that red, indigo, and green were missing, replaced with a pure white and a bright pink. So it's cerulean, lavender, pink, yellow, white, and orange. What could that mean? Fascinated, he crept closer, hopping over a small gap between windowsills to get closer. Immediately, as if Wilhelm had crossed an invisible barrier, he was hit with a magical surge akin to a buck to the chest. His wings flared backwards to keep his balance, and - thankfully - he didn't fall off the sill. However, Wilhelm did have to endure a bit of embarrassing bobbling and wobbling. Slowly, he turned to face the golem, which felt like turning into a wind tunnel. He edged backwards into the building, and the force abated, though still strong. This, Wilhelm thought, is a bad time to be magically sensitive. As he thought this, however, something caught his attention between the golem's forelegs. It appeared to be cradling some kind of orange crystal, which Wilhelm just... felt as the source of the power. His feathers shivered at the sight of it. "Strange," Wilhelm whispered. "Such a crystal could power a shield spell like this for years; decades, even. But how could this crystal even have such magic? That would take a team of unicorns charging it for a 24-hour-shift week, and it would evaporate quite quickly... if it were enchanted by anything less than an alicorn." Wilhelm thought for a long moment. "Princess Twilight, maybe? It could have been, her laboratory used to be here. I used to visit, awhile ago, before all this..." At that moment, everything snapped into place, and Wilhelm reeled. The Ponyville sign; the demon posing as Cadance; the crystal; the colors shimmering through the golem; Princess Twilight's lab... It all fit together somehow, but in the middle of the puzzle was a solid blank void. And that crystal... "It could be coronium, the airship engine crystal... But no, that's blue, and usually enchanted for transmogrification. Definitely not rubedo, or oxium, or pallasite..." Wilhelm paused in his train of thought to squint at the crystal. "It's orange, and with that degree of modularity and capacity, it'd have to be Celestial citrine. A massive formation of it. But the rarity and difficulty of finding it would be prohibitive..." As Wilhelm thought over what he just said, something tapped at the edge of his mind about 'rarity' and gem-crystals, plus the golem's light-shimmers. However, it was immediately jarred out of his head by the sound of pounding hoofsteps, and Wilhelm realized too late that he had forgotten the mutants...

Ooh, I have an idea for this... But I'm too lazy to actually write it. Oh well; I'll see if I can write a few thousand words on Fashion Horse's Christmas before Real Life Christmas.

@[mention]Comet Tail[/mention] Wilhelm thought for awhile, his expression turning from serious to bashful - complete with reddened cheeks - as he realized Luna already knew that he asked her on a date. Setting his wineglass down on the checkered blanket, he raised his hooves in a gesture of surrender. "I can't hide anything from you, can I? You've already figured it out, so I might as well tell you." He took a deep breath. "What I meant by that was that... well, I was being a bit overblown. But... this could be the best night of my life. Maybe not the worst, but depending on how this..." Wilhelm removed his spectacles with a hoof to rub the bridge of his muzzle, then put them back on, blinking owlishly. "Depending on how this date goes - I mean, if you want it to be a date - or..." Under his breath, Wilhelm got halfway through muttering something vulgar in frustration before he remembered who he was in front of. "Let's just put it this way. I like you, quite a bit. And so I invited you out here so we could get to know each other a bit better over dinner. It doesn't have to be anything more than that if you don't want it to be." But I want it to be...

Wilhelm kept a close eye on the big... thing. He was reluctant to term it anything else; it didn't appear to have a gender... like most strange, blue-colored crystal golems. The odd thing is, Wilhelm thought, I've seen old paintings of Princess Twilight's old castle. Could this be... no. The infused friendship magic would keep them from forming into anything... too nasty. I hope. Taking a deep breath, Wilhelm spiraled down into the square, banking at a sharp angle to land on the sill of a window. His hoof went to the quiver of arrows on his flank, and he cursed softly as he remembered he lost several during his escape from the massive mutant horde. Looking meaningfully at Lavender - the most impetuous of all his young students - Wilhelm lifted a hoof to his muzzle, in the universal gesture for "quiet". OOC: Sorry I didn't post. I've been really distracted for awhile, and all my roleplays have dropped by the wayside. MLP < RL, sadly.

November 7th Update: Wrote five and a bit more pages today. Full plot outline developed, character bio sheets written, motivations sanity-checked. Transcribing my written work onto Microsoft Word, and then onto NaNo. Thinking of getting some cover art from one of the forum request shops.

Well, for this NaNo, I've decided to write a Minecraft totally not a fanfiction fan-adventure, since apparently, those can be published now. (Who knew?) So, yeah, I'm writing that. Prologue finished, main conflict introduced, and protagonist introduced; I'm working on slowing down my pacing right now. Wordcount goal is 20k, but we'll see how far I actually get.

((Continued from last date on the old page.)) Octavia's Bow, on 19 Jul 2015 - 01:17 AM, said: "Indeed, milady." Wilhelm nods and pours into two glasses, taking a preemptive sip from his own and hoofing the other to Luna in one wing. "I was with your sister a few days after you came back to Equestria, during your official court introduction; Celestia had asked us to give you privacy while you acclimated. Nevertheless, I remember your voice..." Wilhelm cleared his throat, adopting a more posh accent, similar to that of the oldest lineages of Canterlot gentry. "Wherefore couldst We ev'r forgeteth the compliment extern of such a fine mare?" He laughed, and a small smile flashed across his face. Perhaps thanks to the wine - Wilhelm had an exceptionally low alcohol tolerance - or, more likely, to the fact that Luna hadn't rejected him outright yet, Wilhelm was letting down a bit of his guard, some of the stiffness removing itself from his posture. To her next sentence, however, he made a point of pausing to think. "Perhaps, but is responsibility not enough to claim ownership? Then again, a mare does not so much own her child, no matter the part she's played in raising it. But no matter! Away from such philosophy. After all, it's not every day that a Princess of the Realm accepts one's invitation to a da-" Wilhelm corrected himself mid-word. "To dinner, I mean." He chuckled awkwardly, and it was clear that he was still uncomfortable around Luna for some reason. It was also clear he had run out of subjects to speak about; the words having fled his mind in the moment they were most needed. Besides, a niggling thought tapped at Wilhelm's consciousness, whispering that Luna wouldn't want practiced words anyway, words said in front of a mirror so many times they appeared casual.

"Well, I suppose it was when I was stuck reading fiction for a while. The fiction of the time for ponies of my age back then - I was fourteen - was, to be honest, tripe. Something about a dystopia, and explosions, and kissing? I wasn't entirely sure what I was reading. So, I thought: 'You know what? I can probably do better.'" Wilhelm pauses, his cheeks coloring red. "..I didn't do better." He takes a brief sip of tea and continues. "Nevertheless, I felt I should keep trying, and eventually managed to turn out a short novel in my early twenties. Took until a year ago to actually finish it well enough to publish, of course." He shrugs self-deprecatingly. "To be honest, it's not an experience that I'm willing to repeat, but I continue writing little drabbles for my own entertainment."

As - Wilhelm mentally paused for a moment, thinking over this impossibility - Cadance, or whatever demon was possessing her, shifted her form - its form - Wilhelm finally realized that he was in very, very serious trouble. The chaos magic was nothing too terrible, as Lavender was apparently half-draconequus, or at least wielded chaos magic like one, and as such, his only worry was staying out of it. But now... This hadn't been on the permission slip, he thought dryly. As these thoughts ran through his head in the space of a second - including the strange reference to an "old pony," which Wilhelm dearly hoped wasn't him - his hooves moved out of combat instinct towards the blade at his side, springing into the air. Or, rather, attempting to spring into the air. Wilhelm glanced at Zayoh, the steady sense of unnerving magical silence from the zebra not decreasing in the slightest. At that moment, one of the mutants barreled into Wilhelm, sending him sprawling. The mutant's unnaturally sharp teeth gnashed at his throat, and during the tussle - using one hoof to hold the mutant by the neck - Wilhelm took up a fallen arrow with one wing and stabbed it up the mutant's open mouth and into its brain. Throwing the corpse off of him, Wilhelm rolled over into a crouching position, unslung his bow, and began firing arrows into the onrushing mutant horde with military precision. However, like the mutant that had attempted to disembowel Wilhelm, other frontrunners - faster mutants, what used to be pegasi - were already with the other party members...

Yep, NaNo is here tomorrow. Good luck to everyone, and let's do this!

After a few moments, Wilhelm opened the door. His mane and clothes were a mess, and he was cradling some sort of boxy assembly in his forehooves. He looked up from the ground, and saw Annette. His mouth opened, then closed soundlessly, and the shiny bit of metal held between his teeth fell out and skittered away into a pile of scrap. Wilhelm stood there for a moment more, his expression somewhere between disbelief, sorrow, and relief. Then, he slowly stepped forward and embraced Annette. His lips touched hers in a light kiss for but a second, and then he pulled away, holding her at leg's length, a wavering smile on his face. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... He didn't realize he was speaking out loud.

"Indeed, milady." Wilhelm nods and pours into two glasses, taking a preemptive sip from his own and hoofing the other to Luna in one wing. "I was with your sister a few days after you came back to Equestria, during your official court introduction; Celestia had asked us to give you privacy while you acclimated. Nevertheless, I remember your voice..." Wilhelm cleared his throat, adopting a more posh accent, similar to that of the oldest lineages of Canterlot gentry. "Wherefore couldst We ev'r forgeteth the compliment extern of such a fine mare?" He laughed, and a small smile flashed across his face. Perhaps thanks to the wine - Wilhelm had an exceptionally low alcohol tolerance - or, more likely, to the fact that Luna hadn't rejected him outright yet, Wilhelm was letting down a bit of his guard, some of the stiffness removing itself from his posture. To her next sentence, however, he made a point of pausing to think. "Perhaps, but is responsibility not enough to claim ownership? Then again, a mare does not so much own her child, no matter the part she's played in raising it. But no matter! Away from such philosophy. After all, it's not every day that a Princess of the Realm accepts one's invitation to a da-" Wilhelm corrected himself mid-word. "To dinner, I mean." He chuckled awkwardly, and it was clear that he was still uncomfortable around Luna for some reason. It was also clear he had run out of subjects to speak about; the words having fled his mind in the moment they were most needed. Besides, a niggling thought tapped at Wilhelm's consciousness, whispering that Luna wouldn't want practiced words anyway, words said in front of a mirror so many times they appeared casual.

Wilhelm's hoof edged around his sword, but didn't exactly touch it, though it came close. The chaos magic wafting off of Lavender was exceptionally strong, and he couldn't explain it if he tried; it was simply like riding a thermal, the feathers on his wing shifting in a phantom wind. Suddenly antsy, Wilhelm shifted his stance so he happened to be facing Zayoh, and when he did, the wind cut off abruptly, to be replaced with an... an absence of the wind, as if he was floating in a vacuum. Wilhelm opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it and simply turned to Lavender again, the phantom wind resuming at an even higher pitch than before, Wilhelm subconsciously leaning into it, so that to any observer, it would appear he was leaning on... nothing. Under his breath, Wilhelm said "Chaos magic? Perhaps that's why the creatures like her... Then I wonder, how would they react to a complete absence?" Here, his gaze briefly flickered to Zayoh once more, not without concern...

Can you explain why a Baneblade, two Shadowswords, two Chimeras, and a handful of Adeptus Astartes supported by six Inquisitor psykers is so overpowered? (I want to get some more Chimeras, but my wallet already hates me.) I'm pretty sure it's because it blends psychic power with artillery, heavy infantry, and anti-tank units for efficient combined arms, but I'd like advice from a more experienced 40k player. (Also, reading the Macharian Crusade right now.)

Wilhelm slung his bow back onto his flank, the immediate threat over with. Frowning, he gazed into the crowd of ponies, his brow furrowed. However, at the mention of a king of chaos, he looked up sharply. "Don't invoke Discord. That's one of his ancient names, technically in the Ancient Language if you really want his attention, but..." Wilhelm gestured to the city all around them. "From what I've heard of Discord, if he saw this, he'd make two of those mutants the size of buildings and have them duke it out, hoof to hoof. Or he could make it rain lemonade. Or airship engine lubricant. Or flaming arrows. Needless to say... We don't want that kind of attention." As he said this last part, his eyes briefly flickered towards the newest member of the group and then focused back onto the mutants without any further comment. They began to trot away, and Wilhelm sharply exhaled and flew down to where the rest of the ponies were, gathered around a fountain. Cocking his head to the side, he said "Are you sure that's... safe?"

Wilhelm slowly shook his head and crossed out another line. Yet another line; one of thousands, detailing what had happened over the past few months in Bangcolt - what an interesting name, with unfortunate connotations - and, as Wilhelm read through the lines, a quill pen held in one wing, a muscle below his eyes began to twitch. Finally, with a growl of frustration, he flung the quill onto the desk and rose from his chair, pacing around his small room. Over the past week since the ball disaster, he had gone outside a few times for things. Never, though, had he encountered his... marefriend, he supposed, nor had he encountered any of his other friends. Wilhelm sighed deeply, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside. "She would have come to me if she wanted to see me, right? I can't... I don't want to hurt her, and if she doesn't want to see me, I... I suppose I'll just not see her, either." There was a long, pregnant pause, and then Wilhelm spoke again, monologuing into the space of his room. "Maybe I should see Ice... Heh. I remember when I telling him what to do about mares; now, it'll be the other way around. He'll appreciate that." A wry smile crept into Wilhelm's expression. "Why not?" He quickly pirouetted on two hooves so he faced the door and slung on a jacket, opening his door into the chill autumn air. Briefly, Wilhelm made a mental note about Nightmare Night, and buttoned up his jacket a bit closer. Whistling a short tune, he set out to Ice Blizzard's dormitory.