17-The Exilarchy of the Named Ones
Chapter 17
High above the green swath of wild land known as Everfree Forest, there floated a small cloud.
It was young, having newly formed from the aether, yet it was old, having been made from the same water that had been on this planet since the beginning of the world.
Regardless, the cloud was happy.
Well, as happy as a cloud could be, considering.
It got to be a wild cloud this time, unchained by the wills of pegasi, able to ride the winds as it so chose, and unleash it’s torrents when it wanted.
And then the cloud heard a voice.
The voice.
Apparently not so wild.
The cloud heard her though, and it could not disobey.
The voice spoke again.
Well, that wasn’t too bad…
So be it.
And with that, the young, small whiff of cloud began to make its way north.
<<<|Ω|>>>
Twilight Sparkle was happy.
Really truly happy.
Wrapped up in warm, fuzzy blankets, and a pair of strong arms she hovered between the realms of sleep and consciousness and was certainly in no hurry to pick.
Something stirred around her, but she did not move.
“My Little Star,” a strong, familiar voice said, “Twilight, it’s time to get up.”
Something nuzzled her jaw, and she smiled. “Not now, I’m having a wonderful dream.”
She could almost hear his smile. “About what?”
“I’m dreaming you’re alive.”
Another nuzzle. “It’s not a dream, Twilight...I’m here.”
“Then I’m dreaming that you’ll let me sleep for a few more minutes.”
There was a laugh, a gentle laugh that sounded like the roll of thunder in a summer storm to her. “Alright, ten more minutes, but no more.”
She hummed, content with this plan.
And then she fell back into the realm of sleep.
Around ten minutes later, she shifted, this time alone.
She yawned, and sat in bed, before checking the room around her. Light filtered into the air through what looked like a storm drain up at the top of the opposite wall, and sure enough she could hear the faint street sounds of Canterlot’s City life emanating from the hole. She then also noticed the numerous pine-scent air fresheners hanging from the ceiling of the small draining room they were in.
Well, ‘room’ was perhaps a little generous. It seemed closer to a sectioned off area of the street drain, closed off with wood and loose stone. A makeshift door, made from a plank of plywood hung from leather hinges, sitting slightly askew. The bed itself was a sad little fuuton, with hardly a mattress to its name.
Still, Twilight was willing to forgive it in light of the fact that her husband was alive.
She sat up, making sure to keep the blankets from touching the muddy cobblestone floor, and stretched.
She smiled again. Alan was alive.
A knock sounded on the door, and Twilight turned to the door. “Come in.”
Two figures entered the room. “Good Mornin’ Mrs. Sparkl’. ‘Ow you’ve been lately?” the first figure said.
“She’s doing better now, I wager, Grim,” the other figure said, following the first.
Twilight stared.
Before her were two Changelings, smiling at her with their fangs and bright, almost luminescent eyes.
They also had cutie marks on their black chitin. The comedy and tragedy masks that belonged to Grim and Ghastly.
She blinked.
The Changelings continued to smile, before the one on the left, with the tragedy mask, suddenly blinked, followed by a horrified look on his face. “Oh, no.”
“What?” the other asked.
“You bloody idiot!”
“What you on about?”
“‘E hasn’t told ‘er yet!”
“What?”
“”E hasn’t told ‘er we’re changelings!”
The comedy mask-ed one balked. “You sure?”
“Just look at ‘er! She ain’t got a clue.”
“Oh…” the comedy one said again. “Bloody Tartarus…”
“We’re sorry ‘bout that, Mrs. Sparkl’,” the tragedy one said. “We’ll uh...we’ll just get your husband, and—”
“Oh, right, that’ll help. ‘Ello, Miss! Here, let me show you someone who looks like someone you love. But don’t worry, ‘e’s real and we’re not going to eat your love, we’re changed, honest!”
“Well you come up with something, numbskull!”
“Oy! You were the one who wanted to know what she wanted to eat, shell fer brains!”
“Me? You volunteered for food duty!”
A cough interrupted them, and all three heads turned to the golden-hoofed stallion who stood in the doorway, a newspaper floating next to him.
“Uh...’Mornin’, Sir.”
“Good morning,” he said, his voice a deadpan.
“We just wanted to know what your lovely wife wanted fer breakfast…”
“Two eggs, cooked through; coffee, cream, two sugars; toast, lightly buttered on one side; and a glass of apple juice,” he said, never raising his deadpan glare from them.
“Right,” the tragedy changeling said, “You would know her favorite breakfast…”
“Of course you would, heh heh...” the other said.
There was silence for a moment or two.
“So! Grim! Let’s go get that!”
“Right behind ya!”
And with that, both changelings ran out of the room.
Alan sighed, and walked into the room, and turned to his wife. “Alright, hit me.”
She blinked again, still incredibly confused, with no real end in sight for any sort of relief. “What?”
“The spell you’ve been working on, the one to identify changelings? Go ahead and hit me with it.”
Twilight stared at him. “I...I don’t think that’s necessary...”
“Twilight,” Alan said, “I don’t want any doubts. I want you to know it’s me. Now, hit me with the spell.”
Twilight nodded, and quickly fired a blast of purple magick at her husband.
When the magick subsided, Alan stood before her, shaking off dizziness but otherwise alright.
He smiled. “There. No Doubts?”
“No doubts,” she said.
“Good, now, um, I guess you’ve learned by now, but I’m working with changelings. Speaking of, welcome to the afterlife,” he said, handing the newspaper over to her.
Twilight read the headline aloud. “Twilight Sparkle Suicide!” She skimmed the article, feeling odd as she read about her funeral planned for the afternoon, as well as slight embarrassment when she read about the guard finding her string board.
“They blame it on insanity,” Alan said, sitting down next to her, “probably because you were trying to prove that I’m alive.”
Twilight gave a laugh at that.
And then there was silence between them.
Twilight set the paper aside, and Alan didn’t look at her, hanging his head.
The lavender unicorn looked over at him with gentle eyes, and leaned on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. Her voice was calm, and cool, without an ounce of hurt or anger. She had been through enough of both of those for long enough, now.
Alan sighed. “Let me start at the beginning.”
<<<|Ω|>>>
Alan sat in his cell. It was the morning of the tenth day, and he was ready.
For three days, he had been checking his door, using hard-mana picks to work the tumblers in the lock. He managed to cut time to ten seconds to open the door.
Once the door was opened, he need to head down into the common prisons, but that was step two. First, he had to get out of here.
The door to the Guard rooms up above opened with a clang, and down came a guard dressed in golden armor. “Morning, Sir!” the pony said, as he slowly came into view.
“Morning, Brass Gleam,” the Pendragon said, greeting the guard as he came to drop off breakfast.
“How’ve you been, sir?” Brass asked.
“Well enough, I am in jail after all.”
“Not for too much longer, I’ve heard,” Brass said. “In fact, there’s a chance the the Princess will be coming down to see if she can’t get you released.”
Alan shook his head. “I doubt it.”
“Especially if Chaos has anything to say about it.”
“Oh, don’t be like that, sir. Sergeant Arrow’s even going to put in a good word for you.”
Alan smirked, and took his bowl of oatmeal with his hooves. “Tell him I appreciate it.”
Brass nodded. “Will do, Sir. See you at lunch!”
Alan nodded, and ate his breakfast, quickly.
He didn’t move yet. He needed to be sure that he was alone, and the guard normally did double back.
But he did need to get ready.
Taking a second to slash off a piece of cloth, Alan threaded a the makeshift cord through Twilight’s earing to make a small necklace.
Other than that...there weren’t too many things to take care of.
Sure enough, the guard doubled back within about ten minutes.
The door closed behind him, and that’s when Alan moved.
Ditching the ring and slipping on the simple necklace, Alan’s mana-picks got into the lock and quickly began working the tumblers.
One click and an open door later, Alan smiled. Ten seconds flat.
Now assured that Dash would approve, Alan then created a series of small platforms, and, using them as a temporary set of stairs, he quickly began his climb up to the ceiling.
Now, ever since he had arrived in Equestria, Alan had always been thankful for the greatest invention of man and pony kind, indoor plumbing. Now, however, with the exposed pipes that ran along the ceiling of the hallway he loved it all the more.
Grabbing onto one of the pipes, Alan then began to crawl along it, using his magic as a little extra support as he made his way forward. Stealth was the word of the day today.
Now, he needed to head to the police station.
<<<|Ω|>>>
That sneaky, low-down, snake-in-the-grass!
Chaos was here! Talking with the commissioner no less!
He had shimmed all the way down here and now Chaos was literally in his way.
Chaos stood before Golden Shield, oblivious to the the unicorn that hung from the ceiling a dozen feet away. “So, tell me, Commissioner Shield, what worries you?”
The commissioner stared forward as if he were in a trance. “The guard are still stepping into my jurisdiction, I feel like they are losing focus…”
“My,” Chaos said, staring into the pony’s eyes, “what a terrible thing. Maybe, though, perhaps, you should let them, if only to show them the error of their ways.”
The commissioner nodded. “Yes...that sounds like a good idea…”
Chaos smiled. “I know it does. Now you best get back to work, Commissioner.”
The commissioner nodded, and returned to his typewriter with grey eyes.
“Wonderful,” Alan thought bitterly. “The police aren’t an ally either…”
Chaos paused.
“Get down.”
Alan dropped, just as Chaos looked up at the pipe the Pendragon was using a second ago.
Pinning himself against the wall, Alan mentally cursed. His plan to leave through police station was now practically impossible, and Chaos was making his way here.
He needed an out, and he needed one now.
An image, a memory of a closet he had passed by, just around the corner, flashed in his mind.
Good enough.
Backing up quickly, Alan’s eyes checked the hallway. There was a turn, followed by a short hallway to the archway that led to the common prisons. Still no signs of the guards.
Sure enough, a broom closet door stood waiting for him.
“What was that?” Alan heard, the voice of Chaos following after him.
Alan dove for the closet, opening the door quickly and shutting the door quietly behind him.
Alan’s mind was a flurry of obscenities not suitable for print as he tried to hide behind a set of mops and brooms.
He needed to find a new way out. He needed to—
His hoof touched metal.
Looking down, Alan saw a metal panel labeled “Maintenance.”
That...that would be too lucky…
Hesitantly, he opened the panel, and blinked when he saw a ladder descending into the depths, and the stink of sewage wafted up from below.
A muffled voice sounded through the door. “I thought I saw something.”
And with that, Alan hesitated no longer, and dropped into the hole.
<<<|Ω|>>>
A leaf-shaped, hard-mana blade hovered next to Alan as he made his way through the darkness of the sewers.
The faint glow of his magick was the only light he had, and it was not much at that, but he made do.
Still, he was walking through a sewer, so things could certainly be better.
“Really wish I had a nose plug, at least…” The Pendragon muttered.
Silence answered.
Alan kept walking, his mind going through a dozen different thoughts, ranging from the police to the Princess to his...wife…
Oh, Twilight…
He looked down at the earring around his neck.
Oh, Twilight...what am I going to do with you?
He needed to get in contact with her, but...but she’d just turn him in again now that she was under Chaos’ influence.
But he couldn’t just leave her.
Ker-plunk!
Alan’s head came up, and ears perked.
The splash was then followed by a soft string of curses.
Alan went low, as if ready to pounce.
He wasn’t alone…
Dismissing the sword, Alan was engulfed in darkness, and began to crawl along the stonework towards the sound.
Eventually he saw two figures in the darkness, lit by an acidic green aura of magic holding up a pair of large rats.
Their black forms reflected the light, making it obvious it was neither skin nor fur, and the gossamer reflections of blue along their backs spoke of insectoid wings.
Alan’s eyes narrowed. Changelings...what are they doing here? Are they working with Chaos? Is another Queen after us?
His teeth grit at the thought of the two monsters working together.
They need to be stopped.
A smile crept on his face. Besides I’ve got a moment or two…
With that thought in mind, Alan followed them deeper into the sewers.
<<<|Ω|>>>
Alan’s quarry was easy to track. They were slow, and frequently misstepped, drenching a hoof in water and unmentionables.
Still, Alan wanted to be sure that there was no chance of being found.
He was almost half a block away, completely hidden in the darkness, and always watching the two of them.
Eventually, they stopped at a door and pushed it open without any sort of care at all.
They even left it ajar.
Alan pushed his way in, and descended a set of stairs.
Something wasn’t right. Changelings wouldn’t be this careless.
This was a trap.
Alan paused, halting at a landing.
He couldn’t go in there by himself, not unarmed and unprepared. He needed something…
He could make a blade, but it would make light and make him easier to detect. If there were expecting him, then that wouldn’t matter, but if this wasn’t a trap…
Alan made a small knife.
It would have to do.
He continued on, pausing at every intersection, and checking every hall.
It seemed perfectly emptied.
Finally, he came to a square room, a cistern by the look of things, and it was filled with changelings.
Alan dismissed the knife, engulfing himself in darkness, trying to keep himself hidden from the swarm inside.
A quick count revealed about forty of them, and Alan knew that there had to be more.
And then he noticed something.
They were all just...sitting there…
They all simply stared at the center of the room, toward the floor.
Finally one spoke up. “This One shall begin to split them.”
The other changelings nodded.
Alan kept silent, as the one who spoke up descended from view, lost in the crowd. And then small slivers of red meat began to get pass around.
Alan blinked. Were...were they eating the rats? And two of them at that? Surely they had more?
Still, only the small slivers went out, being passed changeling to changeling.
Alan watched, confused.
Surely they had more.
And then he saw her.
A changeling looked at him, and was definitely staring at him from across the room.
Her surprised stare was straight forward, straight into his eyes, and Alan practically felt the fear in her.
Her mouth dropped, and she let loose a horrified scream. “It’s the Queen Slayer! He’s come for us!”
The others turned, looking at where the changeling had pointed, and in turned screamed as they caught sight of the Pendragon.
The room erupted into chaos, and Alan formed a blade as he prepared for an onslaught.
That never came.
The changelings ran to the sides of the room, finding any nook and cranny they could fit into to hide from the terrifying form of the Pendragon.
All but one, who sat frozen in fear, staring at the Pendragon with wide eyes.
And then the cistern was empty, save for the single changeling, who was too afraid to move.
Alan stepped forward, his body moving without his mind as he stared down the changeling.
The thing cowered, throwing its hooves over its head as the changeling threw itself at the feet of the Pendragon. “Don’t kill This One, please. This One doesn’t want to die…”
Alan looked down at the changeling.
“Don’t kill This One, please.”
Alan said nothing, even as the image of the changeling he killed flashed in his mind. The one that surrendered all those years ago…
You can’t trust them Alan.
You have to get rid of them.
They’re dangerous.
“I…” he said. “I’m not going to kill you…”
The changeling looked up at him, hope flooding its eyes.
“...as long as you tell me the truth,” Alan said, giving a slight growl to sound threatening.
The changeling whimpered.
“What are you doing here?” Alan asked.
“We were sent here by the Queen. We were to be a forward attack swarm.”
Alan blinked. “You’ve been here for a year and a half?”
“Two years,” the changeling corrected.
“Then why are you still here? The Queen is dead, you know that.”
“We have no where to go…” the changeling whimpered. “We cannot go above, we would die. We cannot go back, our hive is gone. We can only stay here and die…”
“How many of you came?” Alan asked, still sounding firm.
“Two hundred. We are all that’s left.”
“What happened to you?”
“Starvation.”
Alan grimaced. So they were eating the rats.
“S-so you’re not going to kill This One?” the changeling asked, still bowed low before him.
Alan looked down at the changeling.
He…
He could use some allies…
Alan blinked at the thought. “The Changelings, though? These monsters? I can’t trust them.”
An image of a massive humanoid, made of shadow and holding the Queen of the Changelings by the mouth flashed in his head.
Be careful with the word “monster” Alan.
Alan looked back at the changeling.
He sighed, and dismissed the blade. “No, I won’t kill you.”
Its two tubular flaps of soft chitin that served as ear perked. “R-really?”
A dozen changeling faces poked out and stared at him from the darkness around the cistern.
“I-I can’t afford it mostly...” Alan added before speaking loudly. “Changelings! As Pendragon of Equestria, I have authority to grant you amnesty and I may petition to Princess Celestia on your behalf. Unfortunately, there is an enemy at the gates. If you help me bring him down, I will do everything in my power to make sure you are granted safety. At least, as long as you prove yourself worthy of it.”
The changelings all looked at each other, and apparently that was enough.
<<<|Ω|>>>
“After that,” Alan said to Twilight as they sat on the bed. “I managed to access some funds for them, and they went grocery shopping. It was enough to keep them from starving, but not really enough to get them fighting fit. They needed love for that.”
“I was wondering why were a couple of hundred bits short,” Twilight said, “despite the fact that you hadn’t shown up around any banks.”
Alan nodded. “So we set up shop down here, and we got to work. The changelings, or, Chess Piece anyway, have a knack for breaking down strategy, they were able to figure out Chaos’ angle, and we’ve been working at trying to stop that ever since.”
“Chess Piece?” Twilight asked. “He has a name?”
“She...she does now.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well…”
<<<|Ω|>>>
Alan nodded as he watched the last plywood board go up, forming the last wall to the last room. “Good job, guys,” he said, while the changelings began securing the walls in place with goo.
They were...kinda dull, if Alan were honest. The changelings had almost no character to them, they were simply bodies.
Of course, he had been told that. He had asked a changeling for something to call her by, and she simply responded with “Changelings do not have names.”
“Alright, I guess I’ll give you one, uh...what do you like to do?”
“Changelings have no character. We are simply plaster that fits to a mold. The Perfect Actor becomes his Character.”
“Well...what Characters do you prefer to play?”
The changeling just blinked, and then sat there, apparently deep in thought.
In fact, that particular changeling was still sitting there, in the middle of the cistern, staring off into space.
Alan was slightly worried that he broke her.
The others however, had gotten used to it, and began simply walking around her.
Still she did not move.
“We have returned with more food!” A cry came up from the stairs, followed by a changeling carrying a couple of more bags filled with grains.
There was no cheer, hardly even an acknowledgement they had done their job, as instructed, and that’s what was expected.
“Thanks guys!” Alan said, to which the changelings gave a nod.
Alan sighed, before putting on his scottish accent. “Ya’d find more cheer in a graveyard…”
And that’s when it happened.
“Sweet Mighty Celestia!”
Every pair of eyes fell on the changeling that had been sitting in the middle of the floor, and her...ear to ear smile…
“It makes sense! It all makes sense!”
The changelings looked at each other as the one in the middle began to babble.
“Painting! This One, no I! I like painting! I do! Not some random pony, me! Me! I’m a Me! Haha!” she laughed.
The others said nothing, but merely stared on.
“I like painting! I like oats! I love going to the opera!” She laughed again. “I love it! I love all of it! Comedy, color, the taste of fresh carrots! It makes sense now! It all makes sense!”
Alan blinked as he stared at her.
Yup. Definitely broke her.
“Oh you have to try this!” She said, grabbing a changeling by the shoulders. “You have to try being a Me!”
The changeling stared at her, confused.
“Think!” she insisted. “Think about it! That thing, that thing that you could just do forever! The thing that sings into your soul and speaks to your mind! That thing! Think!”
Alan blinked again, before a flash of white light emanated from the changeling’s flank, and a painter’s pallet sat there.
That changeling had a cutie mark.
“Th-This One…” the changeling she was staring into said. “C-carpentry?”
The Painter smiled. “Yes...yes!”
The other changeling blinked, before repeating itself. “Carpentry. Carpentry…”
And then a smile appeared.
“Carpentry!”
“Tell me!” the Painter screamed.
“Chisels! Boards! Screws! Fitting together with glue and nails! Working with my hooves to build something! Carving faces and animals!”
“What else!? What else do you like?”
“This...I like oranges! The citrusy taste, plucked fresh off the tree! Pulpy juice and delicious lemonade!”
“More!” the Painter screamed.
“The smell of fresh grass! Log cabins! Rosewood walking sticks!”
Another flash of light, and a chisel appeared on the Carpenter’s flank.
“We’ve got to show them!” The Painter yelled.
“I’m on it!” The Carpenter answered with a smile.
And Alan watched as they went, spreading the idea like a virus, and the cries began to fill the air.
“Comedy!”
“Tragedy!”
“Math!”
“Writing!”
“Chemistry!”
“Astronomy!”
“Cooking!”
“Suit making!”
The list went on, and Cutie Marks began to appear everywhere he looked.
And as he did, he could only think one thing.
“What did I just start?”
<<<|Ω|>>>
“By the end of the night, they each had their own names,” Alan told her. “Grim and Ghastly included.”
“So…” Twilight began. “So they were actually Grim and Ghastly?” she asked.
Alan smiled. “Had to make sure someone was watching you.”
“And the actual gravedigger?”
“Won an all-expenses-paid trip to the Empire of Gryphus.”
Twilight’s brow furrowed. “How did you manage that?”
Alan smiled bigger. “A Mailpony arrived with a package that had gotten ‘lost.’ It had the Pendragon’s signature and everything.”
Twilight smiled. “That’s illegal,” she pointed out.
“I’m dead,” Alan said. “Can’t try a dead pony.”
Twilight shook her head and nuzzled him, kissing his cheek.
Alan smiled and continued. “So, once they all had names, they decided that the Hive wasn’t their home anymore. So they came up with a new name to call themselves.”
“What?” Twilight asked.
“The Exilarchy of the Named Ones.”
Twilight smirked. “Really rolls of the tongue, doesn’t it?”
“They’re still kinda new at names,” Alan said. “It was their idea, and I wasn’t going to crush their dreams.”
Twilight shook her head.
“Anyway, soon after, we found ourselves having to make a move.”
--------------------------------
Alright guys, that’s the first Chapter of Alan’s half of the story, and more are soon to come.
“There better be! Cause this only started explaining stuff.”
Oh trust me, there will be. Besides, we still need to get to the Mare Do Well Corps.
“The what?”
You’ll see. Anyways, next chapter, the Pendragon’s death! From the Pendragon’s side!
“We’ll see you all next time, guys!”
Bye!
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Changelings with cutie marks? Alright...
...somehow, this plays into some ideas that Changelings are cursed ponies and their role limits themselves from becoming all that they could be.
That being said...I LOVE THIS CHAPTER!! Well done on bringing in the Changelings and showing how they might evolve in your Equestria! Looking forward to more and how things will continue forward.
5619307
Not cursed ponies, but creatures that had a demonic ancestry, but do have a chance. I had set this up back in the last book, Chapter 21.
Smooth Alan, you broke the changelings. Or fixed them depending on your point of view.
This is really freaking cool.
I swear.... that scene. Painter and Carpenter. I almost cried from the pure Joy I could sense from them.
... Always had something for constructs gaining sapience and this isn't far from it.
Screw what anybody thinks, I like the name
Oh god, that scene with the changelings getting cutie marks...
Oh, Chaneglings! All this time I thought it was Trixie.
Didn't see that coming.
Now things are getting good for this fic. Looking forward to more.
Keep up the good work. Deus tecum.
alan is now the changling king!!!!
Changelings. I might've guessed that, however I thought they would've just scattered into the winds (Considering that the Changeling prime directive is to hide until instructions are given.) How is it that Changelings are getting cutie marks, but other beings like minotaurs, griffins, horses, etcetera do not? Also, how is it that a new Changeling queen hasn't been chosen/recruited yet?
For some reason that part with Changelings suddenly realizing, that they are not just mindless drones, that they indeed have their own individuality, thins that they enjoy, that was really heartwarming. :D I even got me some goosebumps.
Great chapter, love the direction that you're taking with this :D.
5620701
Maybe they should be getting them? I don't know.
I just know that changelings are getting them.
As for a Queen, who says their chosen? It could be that the changeling who landed the final blow to the Queen that takes the throne, it might not.
Point is, right now, it's pointless to the story, and isn't necessary to know.
5621349 ...Fair enough. Besides, I'm more than certain that my stories have plenty of plot holes in them. Just stating is all.
I like where this is going. This was a really nice chapter.
Wait, changelings? The obvious consequences from that reveal probably clears up about half of the outstanding mysteries.
My god, it's like we just got Buggy Jr. One through Forty.
Heh.
Downvote switched back to an up, I'm tired of being butthurt about this story and I love the direction it just took.
5621831
I hope so. I'm tired of the butthurt myself.
5621936
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DAMN IT, I'm caught up. Now I have to wait.
That was so heartwarming, and even strangely adorable to watch the changelings discover themselves. That moment of pure, unadulterated joy they experienced when it came to them brought a smile to my face. Well done sir, as always. Still waiting for that explanation on how your faking deaths. I was kinda hoping you would do something original and keep him dead, but now that you have confirmed he is alive, lets see if you can give a good enough reason. I want to see this epic plot device you 'obviously' have now, thank you!
CHANGELINGS FUCKING CALLED IT!!!!
so how often is this being update and how long until the next update?
5646741
About a week from now. I try to update every two/two and a half weeks. All my free time goes to writing with the exception of a day or so to play games, if that gives you any ideas. However, more often than not, I follow old Blizzard rules; "It'll be ready when it's ready."
5646758 ok, i just ask cuz i just got up to date with a story that hasn't been updated in two years, obviously it ain't one of yours but seriuosly...... TWO FREAKING YEARS!!!
5646779
Those do suck, don't they...
5646782 yea, especialy when its a sequeal. just don't do that yea?
5646831 I'd have to be in either a coma, or be stranded on a desert island for two years...or...dead...but yeah.
Love how your characterized the Changelings.^^
I actually have a number of theories on Changelings. Some fit with what you have, but not all. I do like the thought of them getting cutie marks though. It's an interesting theory, actually.^^
Damnit!
I wanna lich!
I hated you, I truely did, but I fought on and kept reading knowing you'd done such a great job before he died. Now I'm glad you did and love you again. I feel sorry for those who left prematurely.
I have read, debated, crafted and criticized countless changeling theories.... From hive mind to naming scheme.... Never once have I thought or, encountered someone who has, to give changelings cutie marks..... I like it! Another! *smashes a random glass*
~In all things, keep it casual.
Dude. They are the TENOs