Mudslinging
Princess Celestia's sun seemed to be in a downright persnickety mood this day. Barely even mid-morning, the temperature rivaled that of high-noon and the sweltering sun held the promise of burning ever-hotter as the day progressed. It was a lazy day, or might have been in the city. But not here. No, life continued much the same as ever, with little to no mind paid to the scorching torch overhead.
The sun. The Sun. An embodiment of Princess Celestia's might, power, and magic. A fireball that somehow self-sustained. It was a mysterious and powerful bit of magic that sustained life and was the sanctified anathema of the undead. The sun's precious light was the source of renewal for a land touched by elemental evil. Should the sacred torch ever go out, life as it was known would end, and would be replaced by unimaginable horror. As precious and as sacred as the sun was, Sundance wished it would just calm down a bit and maybe not burn so hot, because it was honestly more than just a little bit annoying. It made one a bit more sympathetic to Princess Luna, more understanding of her faults. Perhaps she didn't want hot and sweaty creases, cracks, and crevices, or galded gaskins rubbed raw.
Princess Celestia had to be doing this on purpose, which was just rude.
His great grandmother. Source of all life and well-intentioned murderer. Oh yes, Sundance knew the awful truth. Sure, the sun made things grow, like food—but how many ponies and other creatures dropped dead because of the tyrannical heat? Sundance wasn't fooled. Some said winter was a cruel time—perhaps it was—but summer meant soggy wingpits, swamp crotch, and a never-ending annoying trickle of salty sweat that flooded the natural cavernous canyon crack that was a pony's backside. His great grandmother was like that annoying aunt or uncle in movies that just had to turn up the thermostat and make everypony suffer because they were a bit chilly.
An enormous mudpit was readied by Megara. Sundance wasn't sure what she was up to, but she clearly wanted the black mud to be just right. Floodgate was her ever-helpful assistant, and barked out helpful commands to keep the mud churned. It wasn't runny, watery mud, but thick, with a clingy, goopy consistency. Sundance wondered if he'd be fighting a manticore in a mudpit, and something about the prospect both alarmed and excited him.
If only he had a way to sell tickets…
Not far away, Turmeric was involved in an animated discussion with Hornet. Of course the two would hit it off. How could they not? Hornet was talking about her newfound acceptance, her new Collective-appointed role, and the Survival Mandate. She'd mentioned it last night, but he was tired and didn't quite give it as much attention as he should have. For the sake of the Collective's survival, her job was to earn trust for the changelings as a whole by guarding the barony's young and the barony's baron as well. Surely this would change some of the perceptions of the changelings and garner them some much-needed trust.
A sleepy owl resting on a roof horked up an owl pellet, closed its eyes, and went still.
Meanwhile, Puddle Jumper explained the peculiarities of the temperate-boreal climate to a few of his attentive students. School was not exactly in session, but would be. Megara had asked for school to be delayed for a time today, because she needed the kidlets. Why she needed the kidlets and a mudpit remained a mystery—but if Sundance paid a bit more attention to Puddle Jumper's lesson, he might have learned so much more about the curious brutality of alpine temperature shifts.
All by his lonesome, little Ochre, a recent acquisition for the barony, painted with mud. The young unicorn carefully splattered black mud on a retaining wall, and the flecks of mud were starting to form a pattern of some sort—though Sundance couldn't make out what it was. Ochre was lost in thought and wore what was almost a sleepy expression as his masterpiece gained definition. Lost in the moment, the small stout colt was off in his own little world, oblivious to the goings on around him. He seemed to exude some fantastic aura of happiness, a tangible sensation that could almost be felt, and Sundance envied him. Life was simple, unburdened, and good for the pint-sized painter.
Ochre was almost the same colour as Sundance, who was more of a sunny colour, while the colt was a bit more of a rusty shade, but both were ochre. Sundance appeared to be a creature made of sunshine and fire, while the young foal's darker hints suited his subdued, solemn nature. It was something to reflect upon, a thing to be thoughtful about. Did a pony's colouration affect their equinality? Yes, Sundance decided. He was a fiery torch of hope for others.
Without realising that he did so, he puffed out his scruffle and sat up a little straighter.
"Alright, listen up you lot." The power of Megara's voice allowed it to almost echo through the box canyon. "Today, you're going to help your Milord train. It is your sworn and solemn duty to assist him in his time of need. After a bit of a debacle involving an ogre yesterday, I've decided upon a different approach."
"What're we gonna do, exactly?" somepony asked.
"You're gonna throw mud at him."
"No."
Every single head turned towards Sauerkraut Pie, who stood up and shook her head.
"But the mud is already ready already." Almost scowling, Megara stared down at the much smaller elderly mare.
"This feels disrespectful," the knobby-kneed mare said to the much larger manticore.
Sundance's heart swelled; from what, he did not know.
"This is all in good fun for all," Megara said with remarkable patience. "Sundance needs those he can trust to help him. We're not going to hurt him. All the rocks and pebbles have been picked out. Mostly. We're not going to throw mud hard enough to knock him out of the air. It just needs to sting a little to keep him motivated. And we're not doing this out of disrespect."
Lips pressed tight together, the old mare stood in resolute silence.
Sighing, Megara's shoulders sagged, and she said, "Sundance is fighting for you. All of you. And he's bloody terrible. I'm sorry, but he is. We need to wake up his pegasus instincts. For that to happen, we have to put him into a bit of danger. Not serious danger that threatens his body, but for most pegasus ponies, you can prick their pride and get the same results. So we're going to sling mud at him and maybe make fun of him. If he can dodge mud thrown by earth ponies, he can dodge all manner of dangerous things hurled at him by his enemies. Your enemies. Remember, he's putting his hide on the line for you."
"I don't like this," Sauerkraut Pie said with a tremble in her voice. "We might have flung mud or dung at the last Milord… but this feels wrong. This is our earth. Our soil."
"And you're sensitive about it. I get that. We need a live-fire exercise. That's the best way to train. If you don't do this, I'll have no choice but to fall back on what I know, and that means live-fire out in the field… which might go all kinds of wrong."
Ears pivoted forwards, Sauerkraut's expression became one of intense thoughtfulness.
As was so often the case in these matters, Sundance kept his mouth shut.
"Sauerkraut is one of our eldest and wisest," Fallow Fields said, his every word gruff and somewhat emotional. "While I hear wisdom in the manticore's words, we should respect Sauerkraut's wishes."
Head high, but ears low, it was Birnen Streusel that spoke next. "Sauerkraut can't be ignored, but neither can the manticore."
It dawned upon Sundance that he might not be as in charge as he thought he was.
"Do we call a vote?" asked Kant Apfel, who cast her stern gaze on those around her.
To which Hoe Hum replied, "Is that needed? Do we go against her wishes?"
"Depends on how she answers," Good Spirits said. "If she says no…"
"We should maybe have a vote even if she says yes," said Earwax.
"Why?" asked her sister, Earwig.
"So we all know how we feel about it," was Earwax's quick response.
"I stand with my sister, she's wiser about these matters."
"Does anypony actually object?" asked Sauerkraut, whose voice carried over those of her fellows.
No one objected, not immediately. It grew quiet as the crowd waited and Sundance knew for certain that he most certainly wasn't as in charge as he'd first been led to believe. But this was fine. Good, even. It was a relief to watch this unfold. The earth ponies in his care were doing this out in the open, making no effort at all to hide their actions from him—which he took as a sign that they trusted him. It was as if a great weight was pulled from his spine and his brow, and he found that he could draw breath without restriction or anxiety.
"If nopony objects, I'll allow it."
"Will you make the first throw?" asked Megara.
This made Sauerkraut frown. The wrinkles on her face multiplied explosively and she turned the full force of her wizened gaze upon poor Megara. In response, the manticore seemed somehow diminished in some vague, peculiar way. As more wrinkles manifested on Sauerkraut's face, Megara's whiskers quivered. This was the same manticore that had unscrewed an ogre's head from his neck, a literal monster. But she was clearly unnerved by the old mare's potential displeasure.
While he would never be able to put his thoughts into words, Sundance understood why a creature like Megara was so valuable to ponykind. Why they needed her, and why she needed them. She was a rare treasure, an asset, something of immeasurable value, a thing sacred and precious. This, Sundance realised, was how his great grandmother Celestia saw the world and not how his fellow ponies saw the world. For him, it was a profound moment of awakening. His eyes had opened and potential was revealed.
A creature that could unscrew an ogre's head but paid no mind to the opinions of the small was of no use to ponykind. Megara was a large creature, larger than even the largest ponies. She was dangerous, there could be no denying that. But she had a conscience. She was all-too aware of the feelings, thoughts, and opinions of others. Megara cared deeply for how others felt, and was considerate of their feelings. This is what allowed her a place in society. As a monster, she was not at all defanged—she could wrestle ogres and alicorns knew what else—but she was not a danger to the smaller, more helpless creatures around her.
For Sundance, this was a profound understanding.
"If you think it's for the best," the elderly mare said to the manticore.
"I do, actually. The alternative is potentially losing what makes Sundance a good pony."
"We can't have that."
"No, we can't. So we're going to train Sundance to be a defensive fighter. You can't hurt what you can't hit. Offense will be secondary. His job will be to give conscionable orders. Field Commander Sundance has a nice ring to it, don't you agree?"
"It does," Sauerkraut replied, and she seemed to warm up to the idea.
"Alright. Here's the rules. First and foremost, we're not trying to hurt him. So I don't want supersonic mudballs tossed at him. If anything cracks the sound barrier, Sauerkraut and I are going to have words with you. Unpleasant words. Words I promise that you won't like. I'm gonna be watching you, and if I see anything that even suggests a mean-spirited or spiteful action, you're gone. This is too important to be petty. Of course, I don't want any punches pulled, either. You must do your best to hit him. I want him to be absolutely black with mud when we're finished. And we're not going to all blast him at once, no. He'll never learn anything that way. What we'll do is get three or four at a time, so he can see the incoming shots and deal with them as they happen. Got it?"
There were a collection of nods.
"Alright then. Let the mudslinging commence!"
The rules were quite simple. Sundance had to hover a few yards above the ground and not get hit by mud. He could not escape with increasing his altitude, but was rather confined to a specific location. This would be a memorable event, no doubt. The little ones would grow up and as adults, they would tell stories about this day. There would be laughter and fond memories about tossing a mud pie at the baron. This was history yet to happen.
Sauerkraut Pie had her own role to play in all of this, and she already stood in the middle of the mudpit. She wasn't exactly smiling, but neither was she frowning. If anything, she seemed solemn. This mare stayed mostly in the kitchen and told others what to do, when to do it, and how to do it right. It occurred to him that he didn't know her well enough, and beyond that, he did not value her as much as he should. While quite old, she didn't seem particularly frail, nor helpless, and he was confident that she could throw a mean mud pie.
"Aye, yer a humble one for agreeing to this, Milord," the old earth pony said.
"And you are wise for allowing it," he replied.
Her eyes glittered as she raised her head to peer up at him, and her ears slowly turned to face forward. "Age does not make one wise. Wisdom makes one wise. You are wise, and will only grow wiser."
"Thank you, Sauerkraut."
"Yer so polite, Milord. That makes this hard."
"Do what must be done," he said, and he made every effort to be encouraging.
There was a flatulent sound as she pulled her hoof up out of the mud and then she steadied herself on three legs. With a swipe, she scooped up a hoofful of mud, and then she just stood there, perhaps waiting, or testing the wind. Black mud dribbled down, mud that Sundance hoped would be delightfully cool. When she went to throw, he made no effort to dodge, because he felt that he owed her a free hit.
Curiously, the mud was quite warm.
She stood there, blinking in shock, and Sundance felt warm mud oozing down his front leg. The old mare's face wrinkled as she began to frown, and he knew a look of stern disapproval when he saw one. Her sides heaved in and out like bellows, and her nostrils flared with her every breath. Peevish annoyance glittered in her eyes, and she began to snort with every exhale made.
"Yer to dodge," she said, clearly quite put out by her success.
"I felt that you were owed a free hit," he replied, explaining himself out of respect.
"You dunderhead, that's not how you learn!" As she said this, the spry mare swiped up a second mud pie, and with a speed that had to be seen to be believed, she lobbed it at Sundance.
This time, he got himself out of the way with all due haste, but the mud pie still almost managed to clip his ear.
"Good throw," Megara remarked with a respectful nod.
"Why, thank you," Sauerkraut replied.
She departed, every step a squish, and yet the old mare remained dignified. Her replacements stomped in, eager to toss mud at Sundance. Pluck, Wort, and Amber Dawn were all bright-eyed and excited, almost overcome by foalish glee. When Amber Dawn began pronking about in the mud, she splattered it upon her companions, which made her mother laugh. It didn't take long until they were absolutely filthy, but that was fine. Today, all the rules were suspended, trampled in the mud.
Making every effort to be helpful, Sundance stuck out his tongue and blew raspberries.
"Rude!" Amber Dawn shouted, but her laughter proved it was all in good fun.
As a trio, the foals let fly and Sundance was forced to make a hard roll left—right into a mudball. He'd escaped two only to be splattered by the third and he heard Megara say something about a coordinated strike. Reaching up with a hoof, he scraped the mud from his neck, smiled, and then tried to shake the mud from his mane. It was a pointless effort; soon, he'd be slathered in mud, covered from hoof to ear. That is, if the throwers had good aim.
The troublesome trio tossed a triple threat and Sundance took evasive maneuvers. This time, he narrowly avoided the coordinated strike by rolling one way and then darting off in a different direction just before he was struck by the third. Still, it was a close call, and he felt the wind from a mud pie caress his leg as it whizzed by.
"Alright you little hoodlums, get out. You've had your fun." Gesturing with her paw, Megara beckoned for the foals to move along. "Make room for the next group."
"D'aw, I was having fun," Amber Dawn said.
Wings flapping, Sundance hovered in place as the trio trudged out of the mudpit.
Much to Sundance's surprise, Carnation Nosegay and Paradox trotted up together to replace the departing trio. Rivals, by any and all eyewitness accounts, and yet they seemed to be pretty friendly at the moment, laughing and giggling as they were. Carnation hesitated for a second, inhaled, and then committed herself to becoming muddy. On the other hoof, Paradox didn't hesitate at all, and this made Sundance rather thoughtful. His cousin was a clean sort, fastidious, but living here in this place had changed her in much the same way it had changed him.
The two mares stomped in the mud for a time and then Carnation turned her attention to Ochre.
"Would you like to join us?" she asked.
The colt, engrossed in his work, did not respond, not right away. He flung a bit of mud, pulled back his head to consider his efforts, and it was only after he studied for a short time that he responded. Not taking his eyes from his work, he shook his head no, sniffled briefly, and then he resumed his task without a single word said.
"Such a serious little guy," Carnation said to Paradox.
"He is," Paradox replied. "Sensitive artist."
"Yes"—Carnation nodded in agreement—"serious and sensitive artist."
"Wouldn't you like to have a little fun?" Paradox asked of the still-working colt, who carefully applied a dollop of mud to his unfinished masterpiece.
This time, the colt did turn around, with one eye wide and the other squinted. His face was lightly freckled with mud spatters and the somewhat floppy tips of his ears waggled in the light breeze. After turning his head, he completely turned his whole body around, and the precocious colt studied Paradox with a critical eye. He held out his foreleg—which he stared down the length of—and the tip of his tongue poked out from between his tight-pressed lips.
"Your nose is trapezoidal," Ochre remarked in a rather casual way, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to say to other ponies.
"Her nose is what?" asked Carnation, who had a serious face but a mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.
"Trapezoidal," the studious colt replied. "Nose is wide on top. Skinny chin. Angled sides."
"Sweetie Biscuit"—Carnation's words were saccharine—"where did a little fella like you learn what a trapezoid is? I don't think I knew that at your age."
"I dunno." Ochre shrugged. "I di'n't learn it from anywhere. It was just in my head one day and it wasn't there the day before. After I got my mark, a lot of stuff just poofed into my head."
"Wouldn't you like to throw mud at Sundance with us?" asked Paradox while she stared cross-eyed at her trapezoidal muzzle.
It was an incredibly silly look for the dangerous, fiery unicorn.
Hovering in place, Sundance watched and waited; what else could he do? As for Ochre, the colt seemed almost overwhelmed now and his confused eyes blinked a great many times in a short span of time. With a turn of his head, he glanced at his progress on the stone retaining wall, sighed once, and then returned his attention to Paradox.
"Why?" he asked.
This befuddled Paradox, who shook her head suddenly. "Well, why not?"
"It's fun." Carnation stomped in the mud hard enough to completely splatter Paradox's legs. "I didn't think it would be fun to play in the mud, but it is. You should join us."
"But then I'll be dirty." The colt's ears pinned back. "If I'm dirty, then I'll hafta take a bath. If I hafta take a bath, that'll be more time away from my painting."
"He's got us, Carnation," Paradox whispered to her accomplice.
"He does, Paradox. He's smart."
"That he is. We'll have to do something about that."
"Oh, indeed. It'll be grand."
"What are you painting, little guy?" asked Paradox.
"It's a dot-picture."
"What's a dot-picture?"
"If I add enough dots, it'll start to look like something. You have to add a lot of dots close together to make a picture." The colt's ears pivoted forwards, pricked, but the tips remained ridiculously floppy. "It's super-hard and takes a lot of thinking."
Carnation asked, "And that's more important than throwing mud at Sundance or having fun?"
Head bobbing up and down, the colt at long last seemed engaged in the conversation. "Yeah."
"Well, suit yourself, Sweetie Biscuit."
"Ladies, we're here to throw mud," Sundance said to the two mares.
With a turn of her head, Paradox focused on Sundance. "Impatient?"
"There's a lot of mudslingers waiting for a turn," he said, explaining himself.
"Always thinking of others," Carnation Nosegay said to Paradox. "Shall we begin?"
"We shall," Paradox replied as her horn ignited.
A brilliant glow manifested; a mere spark of illumination at first, it became a glittering sphere which was dipped down into the mud. Watching this, Sundance experienced a weighty sinking feeling in his guts, because magic was something that he really didn't understand. The sphere was filled with mud through a process that he could not comprehend, and then Paradox elevated the sphere until it was just in front of her face. Like Sundance, Carnation Nosegay was mesmerised by the sheer spectacle of it all, and she watched with wide-eyed fascination.
Eyes aglow, Paradox Sunflower lost herself to concentration as the line between magic and art blurred. Crackling aetherfire shimmered around her horn, reflected in her eyes, and the sphere began to deform, no longer spherical but rather egg-shaped. It grew longer, more egg-shaped, as if Paradox were somehow stretching it. Ochre too, was now fixated upon Paradox's miraculous magic, and the colt's mouth hung open in awestruck adoration.
There was a flare of light along with a pop and then a fine brown mist consumed Sundance. Dodging simply was not possible; the brown-infused air could not be escaped. It seemed to come from every direction and Sundance was left freckled and bespeckled with brown microdots that peppered every square inch of his hide. It was enough to change the colour and appearance of his sunny ochre hide, which now had the general appearance of a polluted fart cloud launched from an industrial smogstack, the very sort that he used to slalom for tawdry thrills.
"And that," Paradox said to Carnation, "is the difference between knowing a few spells and understanding magic theory. Raw power is fine, but without theory, it lacks substance."
"I see that now," Carnation replied, her head bobbing with unbridled enthusiasm.
"How do I do that?" Ochre asked as he waded into the mud to stand near the two chummy mares. "How? I need to know. For painting!"
"I don't see how this helps me learn to dodge in combat," Sundance said, his pride pricked far more than he would ever admit. In fact, it ached and he very much wanted to go off and sulk. "It's magic. There's no way to avoid it. It's not very fair."
"You're right." With a broad, sweeping gesture of her wide paw, Megara continued, "This doesn't benefit you much. But, this magic lesson will no-doubt benefit your barony. Would you deny them?"
Blinking once, Sundance became aware of the sensation of many eyes upon him. Not just Paradox, Carnation, and Ochre, no. Turmeric had a half-smile, but his eyes had more than a hint of worry. Beside him, Hornet seemed apprehensive, or perhaps concerned; but beyond that, Sundance knew that Hornet knew. She knew his pride was pricked. His secret shame could not be hidden from her. There were other eyes as well, so many eyes, from little young eyes to older elder eyes. But Hornet was inescapable and her awareness left him with no options but the honest path.
Throat dry, a thought crept into his mind; what if magic wasn't the point of this lesson? What if all of this really was about him? That wasn't just his pride puffing itself up, no. He had a vague awareness that his pride could be turned and used against him. Many a pegasus had fallen from their lofty heights because of pride. It was a known weakness—and Megara had to know that. Sundance had never cared too much about his appearance, so why was he so upset right now? Why did this bother him? Because it was unfair?
Magic was unfair.
"This is as good of a time as any for a magic lesson," he said, his words somehow bitter and unpleasant. Still, he said them and ignored the lurking irk. He was bothered by his own reaction and knew that there would be some soul-searching later. Maybe his friends would help him. But for now, he would have to swallow his pride.
Ochre was finally engaged and surely this would be to his benefit; the two mares had him right where they wanted him. All Sundance had to do was swallow his pride—which turned out to be a bit more difficult than anticipated. He wanted to land, to stomp and storm on the ground, flap his wings, and put on a big impressive display. But what would that accomplish, exactly? What lesson would that teach? And all the effort to get Sauerkraut Pie to agree… all wasted.
"Do yer worst." He sneered, putting on a good act, and in the saying of these words, he discovered the power of letting go. This didn't feel as terrible as he first thought. His pride could survive this—and potentially any other indignity that might happen in battle.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hornet give him a nod.
"It's a matter of imagination," Paradox began. Not that long ago, she was a student. Now, she was the teacher and she took to her new role with grace and poise. "You have to shape the magic with imagination. You make it elastic. You imagine that it is elastic. With your mind, you pinch one end of the bubble, and pull. You stretch it out. Allow the energy to build. Maintain your focus. Keep thinking about elastic stuff, like stretchy balloons.
"Pull back until everything feels tight, and then pull a little more. When you do let go, disincorporate the bubble as the elastic energy is released, and if you do it right, your shaped charge will create a forward blast."
"Who taught you to do this?" asked Carnation Nosegay.
"Well, I failed at it for a long time," Paradox replied. "My teachers tried to teach me… but things didn't work out. But I persisted. I kept at it. And still didn't get it. It wasn't until Princess Celestia herself pulled me aside and gave me some advice that I finally got it. She told me about the imagination part, and that made everything so much easier than trying to understand directional energy projection and psychokinetic phase-shift sculpting. This is why Princess Celestia is such a great teacher… and it is my most sincere hope that I can pass along what she taught me."
There was something of a smile on Megara's face and seeing it left Sundance in a strange, unsettled state. A part of him was happy, but he was also annoyed, even though it felt petty and stupid. He'd volunteered for this, agreed to do it, and he was bound to get muddy no matter how well he dodged. His humiliation brought out the best in others, which when he thought about it, he didn't know how to feel about it. Outwardly, there was acceptance, while on the inside, there was a need for a bit more soul searching. But that would come later, in private, when he was alone.
"Just scoop up some mud for now and we'll worry about point to point teleportation later. Don't worry if everything leaks. It's bound to happen. I still get leaks even with my best containment fields. Perhaps later we'll get some practice going where we try to hold water and for you, Ochre, this will really help you with your painting. Just imagine… you'll be able to mix paints together with nothing but a bit of magic. Once you have some mud, wrap your telekinesis bubble around it and form a basic containment field made from a solidified photon mesh. I'll explain more about that later. Now, try giving it a stretch and see what happens. Remember, imagine. Picture it in your mind's eye. Don't think of it being magic, think of it as a balloon that you need to stretch before you fill it with air."
Ochre's attempt quite literally exploded in his face and left him with a mask of mud.
"Whoops! It's fine, little guy. Don't you worry. Always pull and stretch towards you and keep the other end pointed away. It's fine." With a smile that was remarkably similar to Princess Celestia's sunny disposition, Paradox leaned down closer to Ochre to reassure him. "Mistakes have to happen so that you can learn. If you get it right on the first time, you're actually doing it wrong. Princess Celestia told me that."
Hovering in place, Sundance waited and found himself invested in the success of Paradox's students. He wanted Ochre to learn some magic, and he hoped that the other unicorns were paying attention. Carnation Nosegay had a huge ball of mud held aloft in her magic that rapidly got smaller with each passing second. Paradox was weirdly confident—perhaps paradoxically so—and her typical anxiety seemed absent. Like he himself, Paradox Sunflower had bloomed.
Patient as ever, Sundance waited for the lesson to play out.
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Glad for any update with how the worlds been treating you.
Seems as good as always. Excited for more but will wait. No pressure.
this is a wonderful update! In particular I enjoyed Sundance's realization that he's not quite in charge and this is also something that's okay, and the standoff between Saurkraut and Meg. I'd been wondering how the scene with Paradox and Ochre would play out after seeing the snippet. This too was a delight to read. I think a defensive commander suits Sundance well. He tried to be offensive and it.... just didn't work. The way you have built him up, made it seem so odd and that proved out in the results and reactions of everyone - it is odd , perhaps even wrong for his character because makes Sundance less Sundance. Through the debate with the other guardians Meg herself bent and found a new solution which accomplishes what is desired without giving up anything needed. Far from being subpar its a pleasant continuation and another step in building the barony. I absolutely love it.
I sincerely hope you do not get worse. Is there anything we can do?
The holidays suck, but please take care.
It actually came out quite well, Kudz. I think you could use the "unshown 'slingers'" as a flashback later, if needed. I only question one thing:
Is this supposed to be readied or being readied?
Would you call Megara's task prior to the mudslinging muckraking?
Chapter’s good. Honestly, at this point, you’re so good at this that even your subpar work is worth reading.
FWIW, I’ve been reading a fair bit of news recently, and the writing - by supposed professionals - is often much worse than what you crank out. Fragmented sentences, missing words, and awkward phrases abound in it. You don’t have any of that.
I still contend that you need to go to a different ER and get that taken out before it’s too late. They can’t all be incompetent jerks...
This was nice. Worth the wait.
It seems fine to me.
Not sure if sundance being upset about being a training dummy fits with his past actions. Maybe because he didn't expect it going in? But I'm not sure that explains it either, doesn't he get roped into stuff all the time? Maybe he just hadn't propperly shifted his mindset to teaching instead of being taught.
10522550
It's the idea that he couldn't win at all. Couldn't hope to dodge. It felt unfair. Nobody likes to lose.
Magic is op. You can’t help but sympathise with anyone that fought with Old Unicornia. I imagine the Pegasi and Earth Ponies would’ve developed plenty of strategies to subvert or negate magical attacks and defences in an effort to level the playing field. But any straight fight would probably end the moment the Unicorn whims it.
As someone who's suffered through a few stones?
Lemonade as a regular beverage if you can handle it. The citric acid in it is good for helping keep your stones breaking up and not getting big enough to pass, because having a sharp-edged chunk of that stuff trying to pass too small a spot is whole chapters writ in a single day of a story called Pain.
(The Vitamin C is nice too,)
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I drink gallons of diabetic drink every day that's loaded with citric acid.
That only works with certain types of stones.
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Yeesh. As a fan of your writing and a fellow sufferer, you have my sympathy.
God yes, writing does happen in bursts T_T
Stay safe, friend.
a amazing fun chapter. love it.
This does seem like a much safer (and more fun) method of training than assaulting an ogre.
Also, Ochre is adorable.
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Ochre has a slow development planned. A gradual shift.
There's a lot to love in this chapter.
Sundance learning a type of humility that he struggles with and which does NOT come naturally.
To seeing Paradox bloom and even becoming a patient teacher.
To the display of how Expertise can be far better than sheer raw power.
Actually, with this, Dim would be most pleased I imagine.
Not to mention an idea that gives a lot of fun to the barony residents, while they are able to play an active part in helping to train Sundance.