Widdershins

Buuuuuhhhhh~~~ @Randimaxis? Would, like, it be, like, rude or whatever? If I, like, asked to completely drop everything we done did gone and do on the character I'm doing now to just completely restart with a whole new character of which I have almost nothing on but vague, wildly emotional descriptions? Thet askin' too much? I wanna be a Kirin! Yeeh!~ Derp~

Gonna... cover only part of it for now. Figure @Sekel might need a bit more time to catch up too. Oh, and for reference, @Blitz Boom? This here be the Saddle Arabians: Less Little Pony and more Actual Sentient Horses. That's what I mean to get across. Monolith is inherently, accidentally, magically handsome. Got the good end of the stick in the process. Sort of the Large to Sunny Flush's Extra Large, heehee!

@Pastel-chan & @Blitz Boom It had been the Timberwolf that led the chase and the first to catch sight of the prey. Timberwolves were opportunistic predators for good reason. At this point each of the three pursuers were mostly just following the one in front as they each ran at their own progressively slower runs. While not fully aware of this new change in prey, it took advantage of this new, small, defenseless filly. Attracted by the cries and throwing of rocks, it lunged after the two young fillies and hit the tripwire just as Jelly had planned... and immediately bust into a pile of inert sticks like a stack of pins at the bowling alley. This is precisely why they were opportunistic predators. A Timberwolf needed the fight to be over and done with quickly. They weren't held together very well. It would take by noon tomorrow at the latest before the light would blink back into these now scattered twigs and reassemble. The threat of the Timberwolf had been dealt with quite easily, in barely ten seconds. What must be quite the ego boost to the two! … Until right behind it, the low rumble of an animated rockslide came into view immediately following the defeat of the stick-construct wolf. The Cragadile was so named for its hide so thick that it was near indistinguishable from rock itself. It would take a full team of grown ponies to drill through a sleeping Cragadile before they even caused it enough pain for it to care to wake up. Low to the ground, sturdy and thick with rocky hide and sharp teeth these fillies stood no chance against so big a threat. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To B.B. again! In a blur, Flit was up in the air as if yanked upwards by an unseen, small hand. As each implement slid off the shelf downwards, it would be immediately snatched by a green & red streak to be piled haphazardly in the nearby corner before it had so much as dipped. Flit was unmatched in agility in the air and about as hard to hit as most flying insects were; the buzzing of his small wings telling an obvious fact of what routinely eating your weight in sugar did to a pony. As equally obvious was his intent on ingratiating himself to the mare with such a show of prowess, as he stood buzzing over her in the room, smugly grinning down at her as if he knew what she was trying. "Fine a' Dandy, Sweetcheeks! Na' hows about that knowin' each other bit? O' do I got to carry ye off into the sunset in me arms?~" Which, if his agility hadn't shown before, was actually an empty threat of Flit's. Part of his remarkably aerial capabilities was due to his being severely underweight and fickle for a Pegasus. Contact would be rare, but quite effective if it came to it. Whether that was from magical intervention or just something that happened when you went years only eating sugar was.... was probably more the sugar part.

@Randimaxis With a long stride on powerful legs and a single-minded focus on... well, that he was walking, a few miles were a quick jog to Clod Hopper. As far as he could tell, he was still on Blackwater property. Same buildings, same fences and other stuff. In the sense that those were things found in both places. Besides, what sense was there in having another, smaller set up right next to another one when both would likely start some sort of war with each other? That was far too outlandish to even be considered by a farmpony like he was. Hopper trotted right past the sign without even bothering to notice it. Signs didn't exist where he came from. Your territory was how far you could launch a pitchfork, that usually gave outsiders a pretty darn clear view of what to stay away from. And if you couldn't defend your farm, well you didn't keep it then. As simple as that. Such notions of workplace subterfuge would have to be explained in very careful detail for him to not wave it away as backwards City Folk Larnin'. If you were gonna be dishonest and steal from somepony's farm, then you better have a good explaining for the right quick whooping you were going to get and if he was working for one side of it, that probably meant he was going to have to do whooping. A notion the likes of which most ponies would worry about coming from him even if he were a peaceable colt. As it would stand, this big lump of stallion would come trotting in merrily within mere hearing distance of the sprinting mare before him right through the front gates of a station that likely didn't appreciate innocent bypassers.

I love you. … But like, suuurely there's a way to do it. Because the narrator is basically the author and I'm a colossal dork and will rant about nearly everything...

@Catpone Cerberus Well, that there's the trouble there, it is! The draconequus bobbed alongside Cerberus as he walked like a long flag waving in the wind. They Shouldn't be eating! It's how I designed them, after all! What better than to have the little Snack Cakes reproduce when just about anything happens to them? A slight bump, and you have more sweet treats to eat! They're not supposed to DO the eating! Granted, it might look that way if certain soft things like apples or other foodstuffs bump into them and destabilize by matter. I never HAVE been that good at creating stable things. At least makes things more interesting that way! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @Blitz Boom The long necked and lanky stallion bobbed his head to a side sarcastically in response. "Aye. That because a' prolly done sucked it in wit' the rest o' the sugar. Or broke it, whichever. You know ta rule of nature, Lass. If it ain't grabbed, it should be. It'd just be wastin' around anyhow. You a right catch-on, ain'tcha?" As he said that, he buzzed his wings shut to his sides having fanned away the sugar cloud and sauntered up to the mare, puffing his chest out an inch in front of her face and smiling down at her with a grin that said that not only had he gotten slapped a great many times... but rather preferred that outcome. "Sharp as a tack, she is. Got everythin' figured out, aye?" "Yeh wanna %#&^?" Discrete tact and appropriate word usage was not something the Cephalli Family was known for and Flit was the foremost in that quality. The word he used was not only rare by Pony standards but left absolutely no room for any doubt as to his intention with having met a mare. Or really anything that was moving, living... and even those lacking those categories. Flit led life by heading directly to what things he considered greatest in life and saw no reason to complicate matters by lengthening the process to get there. Flit was a stallion that was as superficial and skin-deep as they come. Second guessing ulterior motives or suspecting anything of anything meant having to think and not immediately gain gratification. He was a stallion that wore his... well, perhaps it wasn't his heart he thought with first. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And also @Sekel! Sunny Flush pouted after the retreating Nightguard while holding in her arms both her older brother and the female dragonpony, voicing aloud her concerns on her mind... one of the few trends in the Cephalli Family. "Poor baitpony man! He needs a mare to huggle him close at night so he can feel better!" " *Grunt* We've been over rubbin' yerself on stallions, Sunny. As many times as I've tried to teach ya fightin too." "It's called Hugging. You never learn about bein' nice neither... Oh, hey Miss Scarcity!" The two siblings both turn to address the unicorn in an oddly synchronized movement. The smaller brother responded just as much the same, despite his position adorably dangling under his "Little" Sister's hoof. "Ah ain't a cog in yer machinery, Stiff. Ya let the Coppers bin me and we'll see who comes out swingin'. An' I AIN'T SHORT!" Shortstack shoots a rebellious grin out from under his sister before being cut short by pat on the head as a reminder from her. "That was a compliment she was paying you, Stackie. It's also your name, by the way." "... T'ain't no name ah woulda done picked." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *And Meanwhile!* "Two? I suppose that would depend on which two of my brothers were accosted. And again, I am sorry Miss Mayor Mare. We'll help fix the town in any way we can. I don't know what other evidence I can su-" "Objection." "Ack!" Blither flailed backwards in surprise, as a large hoof rammed through slamming the front door open, having missed the officer from just minutes beforehoof. One large hoof stood straight as steel outstretched in declaration as Monolith filled the doorway. Saddle Arabian in frame as much more horselike and wild in handsome bone structure, Monolith left an impression on people as a large black unicorn stallion, a rarity by most accounts. Even as Alonsus was tall & muscular as ponies went, a Saddle Arabian had the finely chiseled, angular features and a good foot on the more usually soft and rounded features ponies had making him look every bit like one of the heros and knight-errants of justice Alonsus liked to pattern himself after. Monolith's wispy mane fluttered in a breeze that wasn't there like one of the cover models for cheap romance older mares like Mayor Mare certainly kept under their mattresses at home; a dreamer she certainly had to be, ever since a certain school newspaper unveiled that the mayor dyed her hair to make her look more serious than she really was. For whichever reason, Monolith demanded respect and awe wherever he went for it was quite hard to do elsewise with a pitch black unicorn that filled up any room he went into like the protagonist of Pulp Fiction Novel had walked off its pages. Though how he talked tended to decide minds rather quickly. His hoof sank back down, straight legged, and clopped clearly down like the gavel of a judge. "T'wouldst be Judgement of Character verily. Hereupon actions notwithstanding attest unprevalent. To whit, what thou hast not done, has yet to thusly be. If thy accused wouldst present a threat to thy livelihood, thus a threat would be present. As such, heresay. Your argument is invalid." Blither scrambled back ontop his seat laying across it on his belly to direct himself, gasping from surprise, to his younger brother. Monolith had, in the course of his diatribe, not so much as flinched from his straight, perfect posture from where he stood in the doorway like the sudden prow of a ship wedged there and had made no attempt whatsoever to address or make eye contact with anyone else in the room. "M-... M-Monolith! What-... This isn't a court trial! Why-... what are you doing?!!?" "Presenting thy Defense." "I don't need you to defend me... How do you even-?" "Past results imply present. Thy envelop thyself thusly as this." Reluctantly and defeated, The smaller, blue, elder brother gestures to the Mayor and Alonsus by means of introduction. Monolith remains stocked in the doorway like a stone soldier and keeps his gaze firmly locked to the far corner of the room as if his thickly muscled neck was incapable of turning. "Hheh. Miss Mayor Mare? Sir Alonsus? This would be my younger brother, Monolith. Sorry. This is... what I meant by... not quite used to interacting with ponies." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ B.B & @Pastel-chan! It is a widely known fact that, even in the disparity of worlds in the multiverse, anything screaming and trashing around a lot n the wild areas tends to attract predators no matter what that being is. Anything that eats meat tends to know a weak-minded, panicky target when they see it. A following rumble comes from the same space in the forest the figure from before burst out from. Trailing behind the victim from before out stalks a Timberwolf loping along in fast, long strides followed by slow, steady charge of the rocky, near invulnerable Cragadile…. and a tick after that, the slow, confident waddle of a badger. All three predators disappear right back into the forest off the path so intent on following the very, very easily trackable path of their intended victim that they make no attempt to notice the two fillies. And the leaves of the forest flutter back to silence as the badger waddles back into the chase. ...Until the orange streak from before comes right back across the fillies path, giving them a much more noticeable glimpse that it is, indeed, a pony. "Hhhhheeeelp Me!" The pony speeds past before zipping right past again along the same line. If one had the capacity to fully access all their logic and common sense, this would strike most as being clearly obvious that said "Victim" could very, very easily outrun any threat and didn't really need outside help, but... "Theeeey're Gonna EAT ME!!" Clearly, we weren't dealing with a particularly "calm mind" here. NUMBER TWELVE!!! What was needed, seemingly, was a way to stop one side of this panicked chase. Either by stopping the sprinting madpony or confronting the three chasing predators. One way or another, somepony might get hurt and the forest was getting torn up. Neither result of which seemed to bother the Everfree for very long anyway.

Aye, I'm a knee-jerk critic myself. As they say, the term Cynic came up in ancient greek as derived for the word for the roving packs of wild, viscious dogs that roamed the streets sometimes. Its in the family, most of my family is Extremely Critical. Cynicalness runs in the veins, Like venom. Been attending the local Writer's Club here and sometimes its tricky. One doesn't want to just say that it simply "doesn't sound right." Because when reviewing somebeing else's work its easy to start saying things like how the goals or actions of characters doesn't really make sense and how you think the character should act when the Writer can just lean back and get that little bug in the bonnet with a rightful "Well, I'm the one that Wrote Them. Think I know what my characters act & think, since they've been that way since I thought them up." Like, Bro. Sometimes we want to creature characters that really are intended to be fully Asinine! ...that's what i'm working on now. A story where just everyone are jerks. More realistic that way!! I think the important thing to remember is that when it comes to critique, there's no Right Way. As is most creative endeavors. When you're critiquing (and by the way, have I mentioned I made a Critique Thread?!!?) it's important to keep in mind that you or they aren't asking you to change how you think or anything else about you. Creators can Baby their work and think that its been that way since first generated in their head and that there's no way it can't be perfect as long as it stays TRUE TO MY SPIRIT AND ITS COMPLETELY FLAWLESS! I'M PERFECT!!! NOTICE ME WORLD!!! -Cough.- So maybe I can't take what I dish out.