So I've been reading a lot of Conan the Barbarian stories recently. So far my favorite is The People of the Black Circle.

Why? Well, for one thing, they're classic examples of the Sword & Sorcery genre...actually, they're the ur-example of Sword & Sorcery. Tolkien may have invented the standard fantasy world, but Robert E. Howard invented the standard fantasy feel, the adventurer that goes around and fights and slays and kills and loves and lives and dies as fate and fortune strike him. And personally I enjoy Conan more than Lord of the Rings, but I admit that's a taste thing.

The big reason why I've been reading them, though, is because I've wanted to start writing a bit more like Howard. Which sounds more like a guy you want to read about:

"Conan the Cimmerian came here, black-haired and moody and armed with a sword. He was a thief and a killer, depressed yet joyful, and he walked around a lot."

- or -

"Hither came Conan, the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet."

Me, I think it's way more interesting to read about a guy who tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet, then it is to read about a guy who walked around a lot.

Purple prose is best prose when you have a good writer behind it, and Howard was the master of purple prose alongside H.P. Lovecraft. It's derided a lot these days largely thanks to that dick Hemmingway and others like him, who felt that using anything but the most basic and simple of words in a story was bad. Me, I paid attention in English class and I did not learn nearly a half-dozen synonyms for "blue" just to never use them (azure, cerulean, sapphire, cobalt, marine). To my mind, using as simplistic words as possible to describe a scene is the literary equivalent of trying to paint the Sistine Chapel with crayola paint.

Of course, if the reader has to go to a thesaurus every third word, that's a problem, most likely on the writer's end. There's a balance that has to be struck. The writer shouldn't be trying to show off his command of English; rather, he should be focused on trying to use the most appropriate words for any given setting. Hence, Conan's hair is black because it doesn't really need to be described as anything else. But the Master of Yimsha's heart and soul are as ebon-hued as the moonless night.

Now I know what you're thinking: "What in God's name does this have to do with ponies?"

Well, like I said, I've been reading a lot of Conan 'cause I want to write more like Howard, specifically because Season 2 of the Lunaverse is likely to have more adventure-y bits and so I think it'd be fitting. Most specifically, I wanted to learn it for The Return of Tambelon, which I think could only benefit from having a Howard-like approach to its writing.

This, it turns out, is immensely amusing, because I have just finished reading a Conan story - the thirteenth that he wrote - which in many ways comes across very much like what I intend to do for Tambelon, or parts of Tambelon, anyway. The parallels are uncanny, but it's also different enough that I don't feel it's a bad idea to present it to you.

So, without further ado, may I present for your reading pleasure, and as something of a preview for The Return of Tambelon...

The Devil in Iron.

Fighting with friends over something minor...without even realizing that we were in an actual, serious fight because apparently it's not as minor as I thought it was.

My life is Lesson Zero and I am five of the M6. Guess which one I'm not.

And it was GOOD. I have no complaints. I do have highlights, but 99% of them would be spoilers.

Here's the 1% that isn't really. We see a line of model ships at one point, starting with just a basic Earth orbiter and all the way to the Federation's newest model. But do you know what one ship in particular stood out for me?

This coupled with one other spoilery thing - the fact that the Klingons had head-ridges - tells me one thing.

ENTERPRISE GETS THE LAST LAUGH.

Enterprise was my favorite iteration of Star Trek, and the day it was cancelled as a direct result of Trekkies trying to get it cancelled was the day I stopped self-identifying as a Trekkie. But now - now, and forevermore - Enterprise is canon, everything else was wiped, and though we lose good OST, TNG, DS9, and VOY episodes in the process, it's a small price to pay for Enterprise getting the last laugh as it so rightly deserves.

All is right with my world.

My entry into the May writing event is now officially waiting approval. Keep an eye open!

Trixie gets a surprise visit when a pony wearing a wedding veil teleports into her house. The pony has pre-wedding jitters and is just looking for some time to clear her head.

She also looks suspiciously like an adult version of Dinky Doo. But surely that's just a coincidence, right?

This blog post also has nothing to do with anything, so feel free to ignore (I'll be working on Crisis throughout the rest of the day - and maybe an update to In the Heat of the Moment as well).

Anyway. So, there's this roleplaying game, called Spycraft, which was published ~2002-2006 or so and runs using a slightly modified version of the d20 system. The basic premise of Spycraft is that you and your fellow players are secret agents in the modern world, and you do secret agent-type things. It's possibly my favorite tabletop RPG - which means it beats out both Dungeons & Dragons 3.5 and Star Wars SAGA Edition, which should tell you something if you know me. A lot of what Spycraft developed eventually went on to serve as a basis for d20 Modern.

Anyway. So the default assumption of Spycraft is the modern world. But, naturally, they knew most people wouldn't be satisfied with this. The publishers, Alderac Entertainment, planned on releasing a number of "Decade Books," each one detailing play styles and suggestions for different decades. Unfortunately, only one was ever published: the 1960s. I just recently acquired it.

And reading it through, for some reason, really, really, really makes me want to play a Spycraft game, set in the 1960s, but as agents of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

I have no idea why. I'm not Communist or Socialist. My sociopolitical views tend towards the rough center of the political spectrum, even somewhat right-leaning at times. Certainly I believe in capitalism and democracy. And I know that, for the majority (maybe even the entirety) of its existence, the Soviet Union was a bad place to live - maybe not as bad as, say, North Korea, or Rwanda, or Detroit,, but still pretty horrible.

I think what it is, is the 1960s Decade Book has a bunch of suggested missions (all of them based on historical events) for the Gamemaster to run, and basically all of them can be run from an American or Soviet perspective...and all the Soviet ones tend to create alternate history, which is neat and appeals to my love of alternate history.

Like, wouldn't it be cool, for example, if Kennedy's assassination was a conspiracy, but not by the Soviets as a whole, but rather a rogue KGB faction looking to start WWIII?

Or better yet, ex-Nazis?!

The players would then play as loyal KGB agents infiltrating America in order to track down the ex-Nazis and liquidate them before they can continue with their plans to destabilize America, while simultaneously having to hide from the FBI which is on high alert 'cause the FBI thinks that the Soviets may be behind it all!

Or, in 1966, France left NATO, or at least the larger NATO command structure. Historically, Du Gualle had issues with American foreign and military policy and so wanted French forces to be independent from American decision-making, but France was still basically committed to all the same goals as NATO as a whole and still a US ally. But In Soviet Alternate History, the players could be KGB agents looking to ferment hostility between France and NATO, eventually turning France away from NATO entirely and having it join the Warsaw Pact! Not as a Communist nation, of course, that's just a bit too far out there, but still as a Soviet ally in the heart of Western Europe!

...so, yeah. This concludes this utterly pointless blog post.

SPOILER WARNING!

Originally I wanted to open the chapter up with Corona in her lair, but this seemed...well, funnier. Chapter 1 will contain Corona in her lair extensively, though; in fact it'll be there that we get most of our exposition.

Anyway...here we go!

Poor Carrot Top...

Carrot Top blinked a few times when she heard a knock at her door – naturally, coming just as she was about to take a bite out of some of her namesake product. Frowning, she glared at the door, mentally willing it to tell whoever was on the other side to go away, even as she crunched down on a carrot in a very determined and, she believed, threatening manner.

Naturally, the door remained inanimate and powerless to stop a second series of knocks. The farmer stood, looking forlornly at her lunch even as she trotted over to her front door. She’d just spent all morning plowing her fields for the next round of planting, and still had a long day ahead of her. She didn’t need an interruption to the one break she was likely to get today, least of all while her stomach was growling at her for having only half-finished her breakfast. With a beleaguered sigh, Carrot Top opened her front door.

“What?” She demanded of Luna Equestris, Shepherd of the Moon, Caretaker of the Sun, Mistress of the Star Beasts, Sovereign of the Three Tribes, the immortal, eternally youthful Princess of Equestria, and not the kind of pony you wanted to make demands of, and certainly not in the tone of voice that Carrot Top had used.

Carrot Top slammed her front door shut and willed herself to not exist.

Then she realized that the only thing worse than shouting at Princess Luna was slamming a door in her face.

Carrot Top slowly opened the door again, peeking out cautiously. Princess Luna was still there, looking at her with a bemused expression. Standing beside her was Trixie, looking like she was trying to decide whether to be sympathetic towards Carrot Top or else doubled over with laughter. Behind the two of them were two ponies of the Night Guard, both earth ponies, and behind them, another earth pony with a dozen adolescent foals from all three tribes, each in Colt Scout uniforms.

Luna smiled beatifically at Carrot Top. “Is this a bad time?” she asked.

---

My little pony, My little pony

Ahh ahh ahh ahhh...

My little pony

Friendship never meant that much to me

My little pony

But you're all here and now I can see

Stormy weather; Lots to share

A musical bond; With love and care

Teaching laughter; It’s an easy feat,

And magic makes it all complete!

You have my little ponies

How’d I ever make so many true friends?

---

Some part of Carrot Top’s brain that didn’t value life very much tried to make her say yes, this is a bad time. The rest of her mind fell upon that part and trampled it within an inch of its life even as it passed a message along to her vocal chords. “Um, no,” Carrot Top said, opening her door fully and waving a hoof. “Um, c-come on in, your majesty…”

Luna inclined her head in thanks, striding in with all the grace and poise that was expected of her station, making her way to Carrot Top’s living room. Trixie followed, having settled on smiling at Carrot Top. She leaned in close to the earth pony. “Don’t worry,” she said, the volume of her voice perfectly normal as she continued with “believe me, it takes a lot more than that to offend the Princess.”

“Shh!” Carrot Top demanded in a harsh whisper.

“Why?” Trixie asked. “The Princess can hear our heartbeats, probably.”

“Well, Miss Carrot Top’s, certainly, given how hard it’s beating,” Luna chimed in.

Carrot Top jumped, turning to face her sovereign. “I – I am so sorry, your majesty, I didn’t mean to – or shout – or slam – ” her front hooves gestured wildly as though she was physically trying to point out her excuses. Trixie ducked under one wild swing, backing away a few paces lest she be beaned in the face by the panicked earth pony.

Luna held up one hoof. “Please, calm yourself,” she insisted, inclining her head. “I’m the one who showed up unannounced while you were trying to eat – ”

“Food!” Carrot Top exclaimed, eyes widening. She rushed towards her kitchen, clambering about as she began digging around in cupboards and her ice box, looking for food fit for a princess and failing to find, at least to her eyes, food fit for even a baronetess.

Back in the living room, Princess Luna looked to Trixie, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Will she be alright?” she asked her student.

Trixie waved a hoof. “Give her a few minutes.”

So, I'm pretty sure I've made it known that I live in Massachusetts in the past. I love it. I love New England. I love the climate. I love the turn of the seasons. I love the culture. And I love, I love Boston, our capital city. I don't live there, but I try to visit as often as possible. My favorite spot in the entire world is atop the Prudential center, a restaurant there from which you can look out across the city, into Massachusetts, or out to sea, at the Atlantic Ocean.

For those of you who don't live in America and may not be aware of what happened, the Boston Marathon was today. It's fairly well-known across the world, with runners from everywhere taking part in it. Earlier today at work, I made a joke wondering if a Bostonian will actually win it this year or if it'll be a Kenyan again. Little racist of me, I know. I apologize for that now, and I don't mean anything by it. But the African runners to tend to do very well. All the power to them. There are charity runners, people running for their own reasons, etc. It's a great event. Heck, if it's a nice enough today then sometimes it becomes the first cook-out of the year. At least I remember a cook-out once.

...

Two bombs went off near the finish line today. Additional ones were found, I just heard up to five. As of this blog post, three people are confirmed dead, and more than a hundred injured, with some of them in critical condition. One of the dead may have been an eight-year-old.

Now, for the record, no one I know was injured or killed. No one I know was at the Marathon - but my brother does live in Boston, and my grandparents, visiting from Ireland, were planning on seeing the Marathon today. I had the fright of my life today, and I managed to get lucky...but I know that a lot of people didn't get lucky.

I know the numbers of dead and injured don't really compare, I know that I managed to get lucky and that no one I know was hurt...but I love Boston. Today has just become my 9/11, my December 7th.

...suffice to say that this is something of a mood killer. Don't expect an update to anything for a few days, though I'll try and power one out anyway, but I'll give a 50-50 chance right now.

Incidentally, listening to the songs of this playlist can only enhance your reading experience.

You might notice a common theme with every song title in the playlist. You may further notice that one song on the list is the title of the first chapter. This isn't a coincidence - every chapter of Crisis is going to be named after a song with "magic" in its title.

Anyway. Enjoy!

Oh no, I dropped something! Oh well, probably isn't important.

At last!

Read it here first!

The password is crisis

And...what more needs be said?