Fifteen minutes prior, the Grey Estate, Canterlot
The worst part of casing a target site, Dagger decided, was not the risk of discovery. Nor was it the boredom, or the time he had to contemplate all the ways things could go wrong, or the challenge of maintaining focus, or even the fact that longer time on target meant greater exposure to any number of variables that could throw a wrench in the works.
No, the worst part of waiting on site for the target, Dagger decided, was that his nose invariably itched.
Years ago, he’d sneezed because of an itchy nose while he and his brother were casing a griffon’s estate with the intent of carrying out an independently contracted rummage (because ‘burglarizing’ sounded less professional). The sneeze had almost gotten them both killed.
Now, his nose exhibited a positively Ponlovian response whenever he was casing a place. He’d never actually sneezed on a stealth job again, but the itching remained.
Never mind that Mason Grey didn’t seem to have any security on his palatial property, or that the stallion had never come even remotely close to spotting them, or that the staff was rather minimal for such a large estate, or that Mason would die whether he spotted them or not. Dagger was casing a place, and technically there was danger of detection. Ergo, his nose itched.
Some might have called it a sobering reminder of the hazards of the job and the thin line separating life from death. Dagger called it annoying.
He called it other things too, but those words were not the sort considered appropriate for polite company.
The last few hours that Cloak and Dagger had spent tailing Grey, mapping his property, and avoiding the few staff on site only served to prolong Dagger’s suffering, as the itching did not once abate during that time.
It was enough to make him think some less-than-respectful thoughts about Kiln. Sure, the stallion could kill me with a flick of his fetlock, but for Celestia’s sake did he have to make us wait on site this long? Why? Why do we have to kill Grey at four precisely? Who gives a crap when we slit the guy?! It’s not like it’s a public execution where we need a spectacle! Dead is dead!
Dagger rather suspected his twin felt the same way, but neither said so openly. It was one thing to indulge in such thoughts when Grand Shade Kiln was nowhere to be found. Actually saying them out loud when he already jumped us once today… better not.
If nothing else, the delay had given the brothers plenty of time to scout the grounds. The Grey Estate was impressive, even by Canterlot standards. Outside were vast gardens and hedgerows, exquisite flowering plants drawn from all over the world, and a series of marble statues depicting impossibly flawless ponies in the whitewashed neo-Renaissance style so popular with the elite.
The sprawling, three-story house at the center of the property was standard Canterlot architecture insofar as it had the same white-and-gold motif, the same arches, the same elegant aesthetic. Yet it managed to be noticeably more than the standard, with intricate gold leaf, decorative etching on the windows, and the quality stonework that one would expect of a pony with the name ‘Mason.’
Its massive interior was no less opulent, with glittering chandeliers of crystal and gold, drapery of the finest weave, and enough treasures on display to suggest Grey could buy a small Equestrian county and fund its municipal services out of pocket.
Grey’s tastes were as varied as they were expensive – Zebrican, Saddle Arabian, Equestrian, Maretonian, Prench, Japonese… some Dagger didn’t even recognize. There were paintings, sculptures, and vases alongside swords, maces, and battleaxes. Armored mannequins squared off against busts and full statues. There was even a cannon in one of the hallways.
Yet, for all its ostentatiousness, the estate managed to stop just short of being gaudy. Treasures were much in evidence in every room, but never too many, and never any two that didn’t blend. Whoever handled the interior design had done an exquisite job. The opulence gave off a sense of magnificence and power rather than being the mask of arrogance that many wealthy ponies wore to hide their insecurity.
Though, frankly, he’s got nothing to be insecure about, Dagger reflected as he crept through the hallways. Nothing to be insecure about… except the lack of security, amended Dagger. The old boy must have sent the staff home today, or at least most of them, because I have seen nopony.
Dagger had entered through a window on the third floor after disarming the magical alarm and picking the lock. He confirmed there were no staff on the third floor and sketched a simple map on a notecard before heading down to the second to do the same. He was close to finishing his sweep, after which he’d rendezvous with his brother.
Cloak, meanwhile, had used his magic to enter through the cellar and was similarly clearing the basement and first floor. Judging by the lack of any sounds of a struggle, he was having no more difficulty staying hidden than Dagger was.
Still, it paid to be cautious, so Dagger moved stealthily from room to room, all the while absently cataloguing the values of various art pieces. He had no intention of stealing anything (their instructions had been clear on that point), but old habits were hard to break. He didn’t find any staff on the second floor, but he did mentally upgrade Grey’s wealth from ‘Could Buy a Small County’ to ‘Could Buy a Small Duchy.’
Taking a moment to study the floor, Dagger shook his head in awed disbelief as he took in the quality of the tilework. Cripes, Grey’s flooring probably cost more bits than I’ve ever held in my life. I know this guy’s some big business mogul but… hot dang he’s rich!
Dagger couldn’t help but admire the place, the fact that he was stalking the owner to kill him notwithstanding. This was the sort of wealth he desired for himself and his brother – wealth, and, with it, the power to ensure they would never again want for anything.
Not that Mason Grey’s power will save him now, came the sudden thought.
Dagger winced. Well, sure, but that’s just because he didn’t pony up for security for some reason. Kind of surprising for a stallion in his position, but, hey, I ain’t complaining.
And if he had spent money on security? A memory flitted through his head. A memory of another estate. One not as grand as Mason’s, but still grand. One which had been defended. But those defenses were not enough, sighed the intruding thought. Not enough to prevent what came next.
Dagger felt a quiver in his heart as he remembered the burning of the villa, the silhouettes of cackling figures darting about in the firelight, the cold ditch he and his brother sheltered in while they watched those murderous silhouettes emerge from the villa dragging—
No! he snarled mentally, chopping off the treacherous memory before it could coalesce. That was different! This is different! Everything will be different!We will rise through the Shades and claim our rightful power and nothing is going to stop us!
He flapped into the air and made for the third floor and his exit. It was nearly four, and Dagger had no intention of delaying Mason’s execution.
In fact, he was starting to look forward to it.
Cloak was profoundly grateful for his skill at shadowstepping. Grey didn’t seem to have many staff around today – in fact, Cloak had only seen three – but Grey himself was… energetic. The middle-aged earth pony seemed to be everywhere on the main floor at once. Avoiding him had been a chore.
The young Blade Initiate had done it, though. And, along the way, he’d learned that his and Dagger’s job was going to be easier than they’d thought.
Apparently, Mason Grey had a date. At least, that’s what Cloak managed to overhear from various concealed locations around the house. More specifics eluded him, but it was clear that Grey would be all alone in the house while he made final preparations to receive the mystery mare.
Not that I’m wild about the thought of his marefriend showing up and finding him dead in a pool of his own blood, came the grim thought. Heck of a thing to walk in on.
Cloak grimaced. Oh, shut up! he told the nagging voice. Sure, it bites for him, but if it wasn’t us today, it’d be somepony else tomorrow. Them’s the breaks. At least this way it’ll be safer for me and my brother. That’s all that matters.
The voice fell silent, and Cloak smirked in satisfaction.
He still felt hollow inside, though.
At least now we know why Kiln was so specific that we whack the guy at four, mused Cloak, as much to distract himself as anything. No witnesses.
How exactly Kiln had known Grey’s day schedule was something of a mystery, but Cloak was under no illusions about the Grand Shade’s ability to find out what he wanted.
Still… I prefer to do my own recon. That way I know there will be no surprises.
Relying on somepony else’s information wasn’t the only thing about the job that bothered him, either. He also didn’t like the fact that their orders had explicitly directed that they not steal anything. Looting the joint while the body cooled was more or less Assassin 101, at least when it was supposed to look like a burglary gone bad instead of a professional hit. A fake robbery was hardly the only way to throw the constabulary off the trail, but it was a classic for a reason.
It might have made sense if they’d been instructed to leave some fake calling card as a distraction – a sign from whatever other entity Grey had allegedly angered enough to warrant an early ejection from the Game of Life. After all, pinning the murder on some other party was as much a classic as a fake robbery.
But there had been no such instruction in Kiln’s letter. Only a directive that they inform Grey that he should have kept out of foreign affairs before snuffing him.
That, more than anything else, worried Cloak. Not the gloating itself – gloating was a Shades staple after all– but the fact that the gloating was so… vague. He would have expected the pre-mortem taunt to contain some explicit mention of the Shades, but it didn’t.
Which might make sense if Grey was supposed to live and act as a red herring, but he isn’t. Which suggests that Kiln thinks we might fail. Meaning… his ear twitched at the sound of Grey singing in the kitchen, that old Grey might have picked up some tricks over the years.
It wasn’t a possibility Cloak had considered when they first got the assignment. He was considering it now. He wasn’t sure what possible reason the Grand Shade might have for leaving out such a critical detail, but that didn’t mean the reason didn’t exist.
Maybe Kiln is just testing to see if we follow orders. Or Grey is dangerous and the Grand Shade is testing our prowess. Or… his eyes narrowed, maybe we’re being set up for failure.
That last thought settled in his mind like a dark cloud as he pondered Kiln’s motives. If it had been Kuro Ken, the answer would have been obvious: the First Blade despised the twins. But the Grand Shade had no reason to kill them. In fact, he’d demonstrated genuine (and disconcerting) interest in the brothers.
Cloak shook his head in irritation. Maybe I’m just reading too much into this. Maybe this’ll just be a normal job and Dagger and I will have a good laugh about this later.
The reassurance made sense, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
At a quarter to four, the last of the staff left, leaving Grey unwittingly alone with his killers. Cloak let himself into the conservatory at the back of the house and opened the window a crack for his brother.
He didn’t have long to wait. Dagger flapped in after a few minutes, looking ready to kill something. Seeing his normally laid-back twin suddenly angry didn’t do Cloak’s stress level any favors, but this wasn’t the time or place for a heart-to-heart. Instead, they compared maps and notes. Dagger grinned when Cloak told him about the place being cleared out for the date.
“So, loverboy’s gone and rolled out the red carpet for us, eh?” he chuckled. “This’ll be even easier than I thought.”
He made to start down the passage towards the kitchen where they still heard Grey singing, but Cloak put out a hoof to stop him. “Hold up,” the thin unicorn said. “There’s… something else.” Grimacing, he told his brother of his suspicion that Grey might be a tougher customer than just some pencil pusher.
Dagger nodded in acknowledgment, but didn’t seem worried. “Well, if your gut says something’s up, we’ll go careful, but it’s not like we can hang around. It’s almost four. We’ve got a job to do.”
Cloak still felt uneasy, but he grunted in assent anyway.
“Great!” smirked Dagger. “Let’s get moving. I’m ready to wrap this up!” With that, he led the way out into the hall.
Cloak followed. Like his brother, he was ready to be done with this job. But he strongly suspected it was for different reasons.
Dagger fiddled with the blades concealed within his pinions as the twins crept towards the kitchen. His brother’s warning that Grey might not be a pushover had unsettled him more than he let on but, as he’d said to Cloak, it wasn’t as though they could back out now. If they had to press on, better to press on with confidence. Hesitation got ponies killed.
Besides, he thought grimly, a part of me wouldn’t mind a fight. It’d be nice to vent a little. Not a very professional attitude, but, hey, whatever gets the job done.
As they drew up on the kitchen, they could clearly hear the pony singing within. Dagger mentally commended Grey on the quality of his baritone voice. A little pitchy at times, but decent all the same. More importantly, it would make creeping up on him that much easier.
The brothers reached the door and peered inside, Cloak using his magic to bend the scant shadows around the doorframe and make them harder to spot if Grey happened to glance in their direction.
He needn’t have bothered. Grey stood across the room cooking at the range, his back turned to the brothers. The earth pony was totally engrossed in his cooking, sautéing something that smelled of scallions and mushrooms. On the counter by the range were several cutting boards’ worth of chopped vegetables, and, hanging from a peg, a red bag of what Dagger guessed were powdered spices. He sniffed the air, winced at the potency of the spice, and changed his guess to a certainty. Aaaaand now my nose itches even worse. Awesome, he thought sourly.
Grey practically danced in place as he cooked, alternating now between throaty singing and sharp whistling, with only a few feet of open space and a marble-topped island separating him from his assassins.
Too easy, thought Dagger. Exchanging a wordless glance with his brother, the two of them flowed into the room, Cloak to the left of the island, Dagger to the right. The only ways in or out of the room were the door they’d just come through and a door off to the left. To get to the latter, Grey would have to somehow make it past Cloak while remaining under Dagger’s throwing arc. To get to the former, he’d have to make his way through both of them.
As they drew closer, the smell of the spices only intensified. Criminy, where’d he get that stuff? A black market in Mexicolt? It was enough to make Dagger fear he actually would sneeze and give the game away. He cocked back a wing to fling one of his blades preemptively. Kiln had ordered them to tell Grey why he was dying before actually killing him, but that didn’t mean Dagger couldn’t limb the guy first. Anything to get this over quick.
He was just about to throw when Grey abruptly moved right. The assassins froze, waiting to see what happened. But Grey wasn’t turning around, just getting his vegetables. Sitting on his haunches, he scooped up the cutting board with one hoof and the broad-bladed chef’s knife in the other. Intending to use the latter to scrape the vegetables into the skillet, he held the blade up…
… and paused. Dagger held his breath, not sure if something had tipped the stallion off to their presence or if he was just debating the virtue of adding bell peppers. The assassin scanned the range, searching for anything with a reflective surface. To his horror, he spotted a shiny metal tea kettle. A shiny reflective tea kettle, which Grey appeared to be facing.
Horse feathers, can he actually see me in that—
Before the thought could finish, Grey spun and flung the knife straight at Dagger’s head. The pegasus ducked just in time, feeling the keen blade shorten a few hairs as it passed. He aimed a blade of his own, just as Grey dove left and snatched the bag of spices, hefting it to fling at Cloak.
Both combatants threw at the same time. Dagger’s aim was fouled by Grey’s unexpected speed, but his blade still gave the stallion a glancing cut before embedding itself in the wall.
The effect of Grey’s projectile was more dramatic. Cloak managed to intercept the spices with an instinctive shield, but not far enough from his face to stop what happened next. The bag exploded in a red cloud of pulverized culinary zest and Cloak crumpled in a fit of uncontrollable coughing and sneezing.
Dagger was far enough from the main blast radius to escape most of the damage, but his eyes still blurred with tears as his throat constricted in spicy agony. He saw the vague outline of Grey bolting for the door and flung another blade. His desperate snapshot failed to disable the target, but he was still rewarded with a grunt of pain. More than that he couldn’t see.
Taking to the air, he flapped his wings to drive away the toxic cloud of seasonings, revealing a very red Cloak. The thin unicorn was gagging as he desperately tried to clear his eyes and nasal passages with his magic, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.
“You good?” asked Dagger.
Cloak responded with a violent hraack! and a dismissive wave of his hoof. “Good!” he croaked. “Go!”
Dagger needed no second urging and shot down the side passage.
Tracking Grey wasn’t difficult. Dagger had only to follow the blood trail. Still, the earth pony wasn’t just running in a beeline for the exit. Instead, he took every sharp corner he could, avoiding straightaways whenever possible. Probably knows he can’t outrun a pegasus, thought Dagger with grudging admiration. Smart. Calling up the mental map of the property, he guessed that Grey would end up in the foyer within a couple turns. Speeding ahead to take another route, Dagger slipped around to intercept him. Futile, but smart.
The gamble paid off. Grey burst into the foyer, casting a glance behind him to watch for pursuit, only to come screeching to a halt when he looked forward and saw Dagger waiting for him. The older stallion blinked in surprise and Dagger smirked. “Leaving so soon?” he asked casually.
Grey swallowed and took a step back. Still, he put on a confident smile. “Well, I was only making enough dinner for two, so with you and your buddy here I have to make a quick run to the store. You know how it is with unexpected houseguests.”
“Sure do,” agreed Dagger. I kinda like this guy. Shame we gotta whack him. Grey seemed to be favoring his left side, and Dagger saw that one of his blades was embedded in the stallion’s shoulder. “I’ll be wanting that back,” he said, indicating the weapon with a nod. “Though I gotta say, as a matter of professional courtesy, I’m impressed you gave us a runner, especially with a bum leg.”
“Ah, it’s no great thing,” deflected Grey as he scanned the room. At first, Dagger thought the stallion was calculating if he could bolt for one of the side doors; there were several on each side of the foyer. But when Grey’s eyes lighted on a pair of wall-mounted swords, Dagger realized that the stallion wasn’t planning on running. The assassin took aim with another knife, but Grey lunged with that same unexpected agility as before and snatched up the arming sword, shifting it quickly to practiced guard position. Dagger’s tardy throw was deflected with a sharp *clang* as Grey batted it out of the air. The earth pony smirked, remarking, “Adrenalin is one heck of an anesthetic.”
Dagger cocked an eyebrow. “But it doesn’t provide martial training. Ex-military?”
Grey snorted. “Do I look like an order-taker to you? I’m an empire-builder, not a grunt. You don’t build empires without learning to defend them. Especially if your empire exceeds the princesses’ borders.”
“Well, you’d have been better off not exceeding them,” replied Dagger, drawing a pair of long-bladed dirks and taking one in each forehoof as he flapped to a low hover. “You earned an introduction to the Pale Horse with your foreign adventurism.”
Rather than cowering, Grey raised an eyebrow. Dagger’s admiration went up a notch. “I don’t suppose you could be more specific?” asked the businesspony. “‘Foreign adventurism’ doesn’t really narrow it down for a pony of my means.”
“Sorry,” shrugged Dagger, “but that’s all the time we have for questions.” He crossed the distance between himself and Grey in a single flap of his wings. Steel clashed on steel as Grey barely managed to deflect his dirks. Dagger disengaged before the wounded pony could counterattack, then flew around to strike from another angle.
The fight was short, but brutal. Dagger was younger, faster, unwounded, and he could fly; the battle was his to control. Every time the older pony was a shade slow, Dagger landed a cut. Once, twice, thrice – soon Grey was bleeding from nearly a dozen wounds.
Yet, for all that, the stolid earth pony wouldn’t go down. Every time Dagger was about to land a killing blow, Grey managed to parry it, or at least turn the blade aside enough to make it a glancing blow instead of a fatal one.
Also, Grey didn’t seem sufficiently worried about his imminent demise. Dagger wanted to put it down to his opponent’s gumption, but something about the Grey’s calm made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Oh buck this! he finally thought with a growl. Time to end it! With a mighty flap of his wings, he sent a gust of wind that propelled him into the air and staggered his opponent. Grey rose to his hindlegs and brought his sword to a high guard, expecting a strike at his head—
Which left his hindlegs exposed. Dagger speared the right leg with a precisely thrown dirk, and the stallion toppled to the ground, losing his sword as he attempted to catch himself. Before he could recover his weapon, Dagger landed and kicked it across the room, then menaced Grey’s throat with his remaining dirk.
“Hah!” smirked Dagger, trying not to show that he was breathing a little heavily. “Gotta admit, old timer, I’m impressed. You made us work for this. The spice, the tight corners, the swordplay… you’re pretty good.”
Dagger expected Grey to take that moment to plead for his life. Or, more likely, to accept his death with a dry quip and admirable dignity.
What he did not expect was Grey to start chuckling. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, and it sent a chill down his spine.
“You’re also ‘pretty good,’ my little assassin,” laughed the older stallion as he nursed his bloodied side, “though you made one critical error. You didn’t stop to ask yourself why I was stalling. It wasn’t just because I like the sound of my own voice.” Grey smiled, and the smile was predatory. “It’s because you’ve been dancing to my tune while I waited for my date to show up.”
Dagger was about to ask the obvious question when fate answered it for him. He felt the rush of magic behind him. Felt it even though he wasn’t a unicorn. Felt it because the vwoom of teleportation sent a swell of magic over him like a wave.
And suddenly there was another presence in the room. One whose power was so great he could taste the energy on the backs of his teeth.
Grey’s injuries did not prevent him waving cheerily to the presence and calling, “Hello, Luna!”
Swallowing, Dagger turned his head to see the Princess of the Night looming in the foyer with a bottle of wine in her magic grasp and a fell look in her eyes. He responded in the only way he possibly could.
“Well crud.”
The central purpose of martial training is to hone the individual’s instincts to the point of being able to assess the situation, prioritize objectives, and act decisively no matter the circumstances. Whether on the field of battle or being woken from a dead sleep, a trained combatant is expected to be able to react swiftly and effectively even when caught unprepared.
Yet warriors are mere flesh and blood. No amount of training nor experience can grant perfect reaction time or judgment, and even centuries cannot overcome the reality of surprise.
It took Luna a full three seconds to process what she was seeing.
Three seconds too long.
The assassin dove over Mason, grappling the earth pony mid-dive and rolling to grasp his captive as a living shield. Luna’s horn flared with power, armoring her with wards as a dozen magic spears flashed into existence and flew towards the interloper. Before they could skewer him, the pegasus wrenched Mason between himself and the spears. Luna froze the spears mere inches from her friend’s flesh. She made to reposition them for another attack, but the assassin moved faster and pressed the point of his blade to Mason’s neck.
“RELEASE HIM, SCUM!” roared Luna, her Royal Canterlot voice shaking the room and forcing both captor and captive to flatten their ears against their heads.
“Put down the pointies,” replied the assassin, his voice hardly quavering as he indicated the magic spears with the flick of an ear, “and I’ll consider it.”
Luna took a step forward, shattering tile beneath her hoof. “ARROGANT WRETCH! WE SHALL TEAR THEE LIMB FROM—”
“Whoa there, Highness,” warned the cutthroat, pressing his dirk hard enough to draw blood. “Black’s a good color on you, but let’s not rush the funeral, eh?”
Snarling, Luna halted. “What do you want, backstabber?”
“Well, your boy dead for one,” replied the assassin, “on account of his foreign adventurism. Though I’m willing to consider giving him an extension on life in exchange for getting one myself.”
Luna growled. “In exchange for his life, we shall happily grant you a cell to call your own.”
The cutthroat chuckled. “O-ho-ho- no, Princess. I’m afraid jail time isn’t in the cards for me. I’ll be leaving here a free pegasus.”
“Is that so?” hissed Luna, her lips bending in a vicious sneer. Her horn flared once more, and the room darkened. Mist gathered at the edges and crept towards the assassin and Mason. A dozen fresh spears manifested in the air, surrounding the assassin totally. “We think you overestimate your leverage, backstabber.”
“Maybe,” replied the cutthroat gamely, glancing at the surrounding spears. “Or maybe you shish-kebab your boy getting to me.”
Maybe I would, thought Luna as the magical mist she’d conjured began to pool around the stallion’s hooves, taking on greater form and substance with each passing second. If the spears were anything more than a distraction. “We are quite capable of killing you before you strike,” she assured him aloud. “And, unlike our sister, we are not inclined to grant chance after chance at life.”
Smirking, the stallion replied, “I’ve always had good luck taking chances.”
Behind him, the mist rose to grapple him. As have I.
Luna raised her head imperiously and spread her wings, her eyes flashing white with power as she kept his attention forward. “WE GIVE YOU ONE FINAL OPPORTUNITY! SURRENDER YOUR CAPTIVE, OR DIE WHERE YOU STAND!”
The cutthroat pondered her offer for a moment. “Interesting proposal,” he said after a short pause. “Counter-proposal…” with a bellow he charged forward, heaving Mason’s body at the spears.
Luna dispelled the weapons immediately, saving Mason from a gruesome death, but the assassin wasn’t done. He sprang though the air, dirk aimed for Luna’s throat. He came within an inch of striking her—
Then she seized him in her magic and smashed him into the ground, cracking the tile.
“Insolent little pony,” she spat. He stared up at her in a daze, the wind fully knocked out of him. A groan from Mason drew her attention. Making sure the assassin was pinned by her magic, she turned her head to address her friend. “Mason, are you all right?”
The earth pony rolled painfully over onto his back and glared up at her. “First you show up late,” he moaned, “then you catch that young buck instead of me? I’m starting to think you don’t love me anymore.”
Despite the situation, Luna couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You’re irrepressible, Mason,” she replied with a relieved laugh. Setting the wine bottle down, she added, “Though I at least brought the ’76.”
“All is forgiven!” laughed Mason, wincing as his chuckles put pressure on his wounds.
She was about to give his injuries a closer examination when the mystery assassin emitted the painful sounds of a pony who’d had the air driven from his lungs remembering how to breath. Since Mason appeared to be in no mortal danger, Luna turned her attention to the assassin. “Your attack was either bold or desperate, backstabber,” she snapped, glaring down at him. “Were you honestly foolish enough to believe you could defeat the Mistress of the Night?”
He had to gasp for air for several moments before replying. “No,” he rasped. “Not… defeat… *cough* … only… what… *wheeze* Grey… did.”
Luna arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what, pray tell, did Grey do that you were emulating.”
The assassin winked. “Stall.”
Raw magic blasted Luna from the right, striking her barrel side-on and sending her skidding across the room. A lesser pony would have died. As it was, between her magic armor and alicorn resilience, she kept her footing, and her metal shoes gouged lines in the tilework.
“Luna!” shouted Mason in alarm, trying and failing to scramble to his hooves.
The princess wasn’t injured, but the blast had still hurt through the shield. Whoever she was facing had powerful magic. Dark magic. She gritted her teeth and swung her head to face the second attacker.
She spied him lurking in the doorway to one of the side passages – a unicorn pony garbed in a cloak. It was difficult to guess what his natural coloration was, as he was coated in some sort of red powder which, now that she was paying attention, was enough to make her nostrils burn.
Luna charged her horn to fire, but the stallion stepped into the shadows of the hall and vanished. Instinctively, the princess dumped more power into her shield, just in time to absorb a second beam of magic striking from the left.
The blast staggered her, but not so badly that she couldn’t swing her head around and fire a volley of bolts in return. One singed the stallion’s cloak before he once again evaporated into the shadows, this time emerging behind her.
He fired again, but Luna was ready, throwing a bubble shield around herself and Mason, warding both from further attacks.
It also gave her enough protection to observe the unicorn’s vanishing act. Before her eyes, the unicorn dissolved into one patch of shadows, to emerge from another patch across the room. “Shadowmancy!” Luna hissed. The unicorn fired a blast at her, which she deflected easily on her shield. “You dare to turn the shadows against ME?!”
She let loose a beam of power at his head. The unicorn shadowstepped to avoid it, but the beam was just a diversion. As he dissolved into the shadows, Luna’s eyes flashed white and reached out with her power. She felt his passage through the half-light, felt the shadows to which he was travelling.
When he emerged, she was waiting for him. Her horn flashed and a blinding light filled the room, filling every corner and evaporating the shadows. Unprepared for the counterattack, the unicorn was flung from the shadows to smash against the wall. He bounced hard, but before he could hit the ground, she caught him in her magic and pulled him through the air to dangle eye-to-eye with her, immobilized and helpless. “YOUR PERVERSION OF SHADOWMANCY WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED, YOU CLOAKED SNEAK!” bellowed the alicorn. “YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE YOU LEARNED YOUR DEVILISH CRAFT, OR I WILL—”
“Luna! The wine!”
Mason’s warning came too late. The bottle smashed over her horn and showered her face in glass fragments and burgundy wine. Her wards kept the shards from damaging her eyes, but the wine still blinded her, and the impact broke her concentration. Not enough to collapse her wards, but enough to break her grip.
The unicorn struck. Through the haze of burgundy, Luna saw him swing a blade as he fell, and she cried out in pain and shock as steel cut through her magic and bit into her flesh, gashing her cheek open and spilling blood and wine onto the floor. She swung instinctively with her hoof, a blow that would have taken the unicorn’s head off had it connected, but he disappeared in a flash of teleportation.
Ignoring the pain, Luna cleared her vision with a burst of magic and cast her gaze about for the unicorn. She found him crouched by the first assassin, standing over him protectively.
The pegasus smirked at the princess. “Enjoy the wine, Your Highness!” he taunted. “It had a nice heft to it!”
Before she could retaliate, the unicorn flared his horn and grabbed his compatriot. “We’re out!” he shouted. There was a loud *bang* of a desperate teleport, and then they were gone.
Luna reached out with her magic, searching for the endpoint of the teleport in case their withdrawal was merely a ploy. She sensed nothing within her range, which implied worrying things about the unicorn’s capabilities, but that was a worry for another time.
Satisfied that they were gone, she rushed to Mason’s side and gathered him in her forelimbs, charging a teleport of her own. “Mason? Are you all right?” she cried.
“No!” groaned the stallion as his head lolled in her grasp. Anxiously, she poured more power into the teleport spell – one powerful enough to take her through the castle wards.
“What hurts most?” she demanded.
Just as the teleport spell reached its apex, he raised his head to glare at her. “The fact that you lost the ’76!”
Dagger burst out of the teleportation spell and landed heavily on the pavement, yelping in pain from both the impact and the less-than-gentle energy of the spell. His extremities had been singed by the abrupt teleport, his injuries screamed for attention, he probably had a concussion, and his stomach felt like it was being pulled in six directions at once.
Still, he couldn’t help but give a genuine, if painful, whoop of triumph. “Heck yeah!” he cheered. “Squared off with a bucking alicorn and lived to tell about it! Ah, man, landing a thrown wine bottle with a sprained foreleg and a concussion? Darn proud o’ that shot! And you brother, actually drawing blood on a princess and warping us outta there—”
A ragged cough cut him off, and he turned to see his brother lying on his side, twitching in pain.
Instantly, Dagger’s jubilation died, and he was on his hooves tending to Cloak. “Ah, crap! You overdid it on the teleport, didn’t you?”
Cloak coughed again and sprayed a fine mist of blood in Dagger’s face. “… had to… get you out…” groaned the unicorn.
“Well, that’s right neighborly of you, but let’s not kill ourselves saving each other, yeah?” replied Dagger, trying to keep the worry out of his voice as he hoisted Cloak onto his back. The thin unicorn didn’t weigh much, but Dagger wasn’t confident he could carry him far, not when he had his own injuries to contend with. That and the Guard will be on our tails as soon as Moony gets back to the castle.
“We’ll have to go to ground before the shiny boys can figure out where we ’ported to,” Dagger declared as he took stock of their surroundings. They appeared to be in the back room of a warehouse. “Where the hay did you drop us, anyway? This doesn’t look like our bug-out room.” The ‘bug-out’ room was a back house belonging to a rich noble a few mansions away from the Grey Estate, a place chosen because the owner chanced to be out of town. This was definitely not that place.
“Bug-out was… too close… *cough* with alicorn on our tails,” rasped Cloak. “We’re two blocks north of… Industrial District.”
Dagger winced. Cloak had teleported them halfway across the city. Crazy foal’s lucky he didn’t kill himself. That had like a five percent chance of working. “Well, at least we’re close to home.” Gritting his teeth against the strain, he made for the alley exit. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ve got you. Home soon. I got you.”
There's all kinds of layers stacked up on this. Though overall, I suspect this was meant to be a goad. Luna's going to be enraged, and an angry enemy is an enemy that may be directed.
The Princesses are rather too good at keeping the peace, they don't make the heavy-handed mistakes that many administrations do. This in turn means that it's exceedingly difficult to rouse a rebellion or other such popular uprising, because there's very few genuine grievances.
But perhaps now Luna will give us a casus belli, yes?
Oof
I thought these guys were professionals. One manages to stall Luna and the other does the exact opposite of what he should do by not finishing off their mark.
Somebody screwed up here, but I don't think it was Cloak and Dagger.
Geez, I hope it wasn't me....
Short, sweet, to the point.
That poor '76. I don't drink wine, but that still hurt.
A good break from all the crazyness around here. Looking forward to seeing where this leads.
10215735
Professionally speaking, I'd say they made the right choice here. They're not trained to be disposable or to engage in kamikaze tactics, they're valuable. With an alicorn in the room they couldn't ensure a clean kill, as she was focused on protecting Mason. Furthermore, if they had killed Mason they'd have never gotten away from her. She'd have taken them, alive, and broken them for every secret they held.
Too much risk, too much chance, they went with the sure thing. The only thing I really question is both of them closing with him at the same time, rather than the unicorn of the pair holding at a distance as backup. Cloak could have pegged him easily if he'd kept at a proper range.
10215892
Mm. Replacing specialists is a pain in the ass, no matter the field.
Dammit
What a good showdown! Loved Mason, he has fine tastes in both wine and princesses
Cloak and Dagger live another day, but who knows what date awaits them now that they failed their mission! Dun dun duuuun
Ok. Whatever you say.
Oh! I had forgotten that the date was here!
I do not see our misguided twins having the end they want here. Prepare to meet thy doom.
Shadowstepping? Do you not see who you deal with? The shadows you so rely on are the Princess of the Night's rightful domain, fool!
So Equestrians invented a pepper spray
10215892
I guess you make a point. Especially with one of them not standing in as a backup. They’d mapped the estate, they should’ve known the escape routes from the kitchen. Cloak should’ve hung back and shadow stepped in front of him if he fled, boxing him in.
Maybe most telling is the fact that they were instructed to deliver a specific message rather than just straight murdering him. Dagger was half right; maybe they were being set up to fail.
Or maybe, just maybe, if the big boss really did know as much about Grey’s schedule as was also suggested, they were supposed to fail.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2013/4/7/290804.jpg
10216263
I have my own suspicions, but I'd hate to spoil anyone.
Hadn't realized that Mason Grey was secretly Batman.
Hmm, this Mr. Kiln is quite the chess master.
I'll have to keep an eye on him.
Great chapter!
I always find it refreshing when one can portray their antagonists as human, while not forgiving their actions. You, sir, balance that line very well. Perhaps we may even see a reformation for some of these ruffians.
10216783
More like Ironman. Bruce's playboy act usually felt half-hearted, but this guy feels more like he's committed to the role.
First off, Luna is best princess, confirmed.
Secondly, I'm gonna call High Loper and tell him his Head of Ranch Security has been talking to a smart alec pony.
Also, hope you don't mind but . . .
I replaced that with something a bit more apropos in my head.
These days, he called them ICRs. Three-letter acronyms always added to one's air of professional know-how.
Ah, the lies we tell ourselves to perpetuate our bad habits. Though some habits are a lot worse than others.
Almost like that's the distraction, and they aren't expected to complete the hit. But that could never be the case, now could it?
There we go. That's the problem with smart, capable minions. They may figure out you're treating them as disposable before they get disposed of.
Thrilling fight scenes, and a good way to get a draw out of a fight with an alicorn without reducing or increasing anyone's capabilities beyond the threshold of believability. Definitely looking forward to more, especially given the intel Cloak accidentally provided. It's not like just anypony has access to that kind of magic.
And again, the brothers may have some doubts of their own to consider...
10218004
I'm so glad someone else remembers those books.
10218132
Dagger! Stop assassinating people!
Sorry. Bad habit.
And I'm glad you thought I managed the power levels of the fight scene well. That was the hardest part of this chapter - making the minions competent and dangerous without nerfing Luna.
10218300
I absolutely loved them when I was a kid. First discovered them through an audio book adaptation of The Original Adventures, and at one time had an absolutely HUGE collection of them. Sadly, I've lost all of them since, except for one, the twentieth anniversary edition of the first book, that I bought when it came out.
I should really look into Hank again.
10218336
They're a fun thing for my nieces and nephews to read with their folks (and their aunts and uncles) because the humor amuses the adults as much as the children (if not more so in some cases). Much like a show like Phineas and Ferb, they're clever enough for adults to enjoy on their own, but that are safe and wholesome to enjoy with the kids present. Fun times.
This chapter may or may not have caused a happy dance...you will never know.
Mason Grey is G.K. Chesterton if he were a pony
Seriously, this chapter was so THOROUGHLY enjoyable! I love the description of the manor and buildup to the encounter, it painted such a vivid picture that I could practically smell the rich interior of the setting! And it provided such insight into the mentality and character of Mason Grey (who steals every scene!)
That gave me chills in SUCH a good way...
I sensed that he was stalling and I absolutely love how you show what an absolute force of nature alicorns are (especially Luna as she is best intimidating princess) and are not to be trifled with.
I wept at the loss of fine wine I have a kindred spirit with Mason as I think I shouted out at the same time he did lol
How does he know what that is?
This chapter made my day, thank you so much!
Other Shadow Assassins snuck up behind Alondro, as he dissected a mouse... which was still alive... and begging for its life in mousey squeaks as Alondro unraveled its intestines with horrifyingly meticulous care... and the most horrifying smile on his face that made their masters rather less fearsome by comparison. Still they had a job to do, and before the twisted mad scientist pony could turn around he was skewered by dozens of swords!
If the would-be killers had expected a bloody gasp before he collapsed as a corpse, their hopes were terrifyingly dashed as the blades simply melted out of the madpony's body. His head turned 90o, mouth stretching into an impossibly wide grin of jagged teeth, "This is our favorite part, don't you know?"
Alondro watched from his observation booth as the assassins fell screaming to the floor, writhing about as the dummy with the swords stuck through it sagged and leaked stuffing and the clouds of vapor he'd tested. "Fear gas is a stunning success. Excellent."
None could defeat Alondro, for he had read all the comics!
Tsk. Missed a chance to make it the neo-Reneighssance. For shame.
As others have said, keeping the fight balanced was impressive. Luna always had a reason to hold back - being Mason's safety - and the twins had enough tricks to make up the remaining difference enough to get out of there. That's a difficult trick to pull, but it paid off in a tense scene, even though we had an inkling how it'd end from the last chapter.
The Kiln definitely knew what was going to happen. With how much info he had otherwise, down to the time of about when Luna would arrive, he had to have planned for her intervention. It'd explain precisely how cryptic their warning was if he was meant to pass it on while also not giving the twins the full picture of why Mason was a target. Without that information, how much of value could they actually pass on? Covering their bases. Whether or not they actually finished Mason off, their actions served the Shades' purpose. That's rather clever.
I feel like I'm actually rooting for Cloak & Dagger a bit, but like... in the same way people would root for TLA's Zuko before his redemption was complete. I want these two weasels to get their act together and go clean, while never being sure if they will actually have that chance or the will to take it.
It's been so long since I've been on FIMFiction, and I'm so glad to see that this is still going. I've loved this story quite a bit, and especially the scenes with Jacques, although this chapter was pretty awesome too. It was great to see Luna in action, as well as the ability of Grey.
10233618
Lol honestly tho;)
10237039
Well all of those are super in depth history games and the equestria at war a free mod in steam that is super developed pony version of the original hearts of iron game which is a ww2 grand strategy. They are all historical grand strategy, Europa universals is 1444- 1820, the hearts of iron one also has a mod for ww1, and crusader kings is medieval ages, round 700- 1400. All made by game developer paradox, all either have regular updates and expansion and have new games too. For example, a few years ago hearts of iron 4 came out, which is still the current, tho many expansions and updates since then, Europa is also on 4, and for longer with dozens of expansions, and crusader Kings is coming out with a third this year I believe. Also they do this cool tournament get together at a real castle in Poland for online multiplayer game, with over hundred people, each on teams that control a country, and takes several days to play thru 1444-1820. And when you not doing that they have history nerd stuff everywhere, cosplay, stands and stuff, it’s a whole experience. Of course I’ve never been but its a dream and they post lots on the games and what happens each year since they started. It’s kinda like some history, paradox eu4 con. And as a history person I have so much love for their games. That and being a mlp fan combined with my fav game is absolute heaven.
Like how lots of mlp fan music and fics are actually pretty good do to the special talents and passion in particular to our fandom, the mlp mod is actual recognized as one of the most in depth, worked on mods for that game, which is really big. To all the non mlp players its a funny ironic joke, and to me it is the best thing ever.
10237039
That and your whole story about the Great War, crystal war, stalliongrad, etc are actual what they call it in the mod. Great War is changelings v equstria
Also they have semi modern weapons(ww2 ish, it’s an au around later half of the show, with things like school of friendship) tho some parts of the world still start with primitive weapons or ww1 ish tech. The au history is real in depth and fleshed out (pages and pages of backstory and history over many characters, state leaders and nations and even dozens of provinces) from the mess of states of republic, communist, royal, bandits, fascists, communist congress, theocracy, necromantic cult leader and more, following revolution in griffonia. You can return sombru thru a fun mini story, and fight a long bloody crystal war on equestria, and that’s just the beginning. If the way you write and think appearing to be similar to me( tho much better on your side) combined with what seem to be similar interests, I think it would be prefect for you. I could be totally wrong of course, bu I feel it’s such a good possibility to ignore and risk not introducing you to something you may absolutely love as I and many many others do.
10237718
Thank you for the recommendation and the compliment, but that sounds like the kind of game I'd sink waaaaaaaaay too much time into. I should probably avoid it for the sake of productivity.
Speaking of Templars, are you religious?
10342284
Yes
10342462
A Catholic?
10343736
What does your heart tell you?
10345342
That is more then fair, ah I think I was takeing it in good spirits, and I do find this story to be wonderful. I will take this elsewhere in case of further discussion, I hope your Haveing a good day?
10345362
Thank you for understanding and, yes, I am having a good day. Thank you. I hope you are as well.
i.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/017/204/CaptainAmerica1_zps8c295f96.JPG
10218004
Go right ahead. There’s only a Slim Chance he’ll care, though Sally May have something to say.
10348632
Don't think I didn't see the dad joke. I saw the dad joke.
10374685 I have taken so many lives I've lost count... all the insects and mice...
And cherngelerngs...
10375039
And some idiot no doubt mourns their passing, not because they too are creatures of God (which they are. and which does not stop them from being pests whose presence sadly is, in many cases, detrimental to humans) but because its you doing it, and if a human does it, its evil.
Then after blogging that they curl up in a pile of dirty laundry cuddling a Lenin body pillow and begin sobbing that their love of all the creatures in non existanct God's patriarchial system of bumming mellow and lameness has yet to fill the empty place in their well educated pseudo nihilistic hearts
10375226 You know, the ones who are most offended by the killing of pests tend to be atheistic PETA members.
Christians actually have no problems squishing things. Heck, our God's gonna burninate the whole planet!
That's WHOLE-SALE PEST CONTROL!! Heck yeah!
10343886
You worship the ever lasting Gobstopper.
Wait... that's my spleen.
10377795
Where's natural selection when you need it?
10375226
You know, I can't help but notice this comment doesn't exactly scream Christian charity. I can't imagine it doing much to persuade non-Christians of to believe in a God of Love. Something to think about.
8873822
Huh. I remember reading somewhere that in the kangaroo court the English put Joan in what they eventually tripped her up with (though now that I think about it how did that even work? No way in hell a French peasant was fluent in English. Wait. Right. Ruling class were descendants of William and other Normans. Who spoke French. And is where English gets most of its Latin roots from. If not entirely in French there were plenty of people who could translate.) her saying she saw Saint Peter and...whoever else she saw in her visions at the (this will be misspelled) the Dufount’s crowning ceremony or something, but the theology at the time said that something like you couldn’t really see saints? This was a while ago but I think it was that, while not invisible or something stupid like, that you wouldn’t be able to make out any details like “He had curly hair” or “she was brunette”. Feel free to correct me if I’m totally misremembering this or I never understood it in the first place. Anyway, how did the French miss that? I mean I’d think it’s because they weren’t looking for a reason to say “your voices are demons were going to exorcise you now,” but was there anything else going on?
Also, didn’t they find her guilty but only burn her at the stake for something else?
And what else contributed to the English never being able to turn it back around?
10459553
The court proceedings were held in French, not English, as the clergy that the English crown paid to kill her were French/Burgundian by and large. (English was the official language in England by that point in the War, by the way, but the trial was French). Saint Peter was not one of the saints in her vision - they were St. Michael, St. Catherine of Alexandria, and St. Margaret.
I am not aware of any theology at any point in Catholic tradition about not being able to see saints/see discernible features. It's possible that I'm just not remembering it, but whatever the case the visions as she described them did not contradict Church teaching (see below).
Joan actually did appear before a rigorous religious examination to verify that no demons were present back when she first came forward about her visions (long before she had the English-backed trial). It's worth noting that a lot of Joan's enemies in the French court wanted the examination to find her to be possessed, so they pushed for qualified clergy to do it right - this ironically resulted in Joan actually getting a fair examination. The clergy involved did everything according to Church protocol and gave her a clean bill of spiritual health. They also rigorously documented their findings, which ought to have been included in evidence in the English-backed trial years later. However, the findings of the original examination were thrown out by the English-backed trial because this-totally-isn't-a-kangaroo-court-how-dare-you-even-suggest-that-also-get-out.
Also ignored was the fact that she'd gotten special dispensation to do things like bare arms and dress in man's military clothes (which was a complicated issue at the time for reasons that are far too Byzantine to get into without a book or two on the subject). She'd been given permission by valid clergymen to do these things, but the English-backed court ignored the witnesses and documentation which proved her case because it didn't fit their narrative. Honestly, the trial was an embarrassment to both civil and religious law, violating both flagrantly as paid witnesses perjured themselves in a mess of contradictions that wouldn't have lasted two seconds in a fair hearing.
Basically, the English-backed hit squad gathered anything that could even be remotely construed as being unusual behavior, combined it with the baseless accusation of demonic possession and the 'crime' of kicking the crap out of the English, ignored any evidence that exonerated her, and called it a day.
In fact, many of the people who the English packed the room with to condemn Joan actually left mid-trial in protest because she'd convinced them she was innocent (and that the trial was a sham). Purportedly, one of the men chiefly responsible for her death actually ran out to meet her on the way to her execution to beg her forgiveness (which she gave).
After Joan's death, public outcry was such that a third examination was held (this one with the Vatican getting involved) which emphatically cleared Joan's name and revealed the utter sham that was the English-backed trial. (It also didn't make King Charles of France look great, since many thought, not without justification, that he'd hung Joan out to dry after she gave him back his crown and his kingdom).
As to why the English never recovered, that's kind of complicated, but the short version is that they'd lost the strategic and tactical initiative to the French. The French, meanwhile, were riding the high of the victories they had with Joan, the outrage over her death, and the fact that Joan had actually brought some of France's most competent military commanders together as a unified force under the king she crowned (whereas they had been divided by court intrigues and a weak, uncrowned monarch before). The English, meanwhile, were suffering from heavy losses, a demoralized army, and the loss of several of their best commanders to attrition.
TL;DR the kangaroo court could kill Joan, but they couldn't stop what she'd set in motion.
10459643
So just 100% Kangaroo court, ok.
8891019
Glances at the N word. Perfectly right. Under certain circumstances. (Stupid complaints about saying it aside, it’s a pretty impactful term on endearment. Though part of the reason that particular example gets contentious is the multiple meanings it can have based solely on tone of voice and context.)
9033545
I know this is super old, don’t care. Yes on the chocolate part. The New World, and coco, wouldn’t be discovered for well over a century. Might’ve had some coffee from Ethiopia like once but very rare and very expensive luxury item. Same with literally every spice known, exempting mint. Though considering how much it’s actually used by the people who conquered land on the other side of the world to get it, probably not an issue. Refined sugar will be a massive shock, though mostly taste. As I understand it, sugar hadn’t even shown up. If he was from the Early Modern Era, he’d probably be staggered considering how expensive sugar was. (Seriously. Think American slavery was brutal and inhuman for money? Ain’t got nothin on Caribbean and Brazilian sugar plantations. Both in conditions and profits.)
Also, Baroque. Classical was more Mozart and his ilk’s era. 400 years. Unless we’re talking about “classical” in the way Joe Average uses it as an umbrella term for Baroque, Classical, and Romantic music which is like 300 years of figuring out how (Western) music works and its rules and notation, and then bending or breaking them and otherwise experimenting until we we get to Rag Time, which I at least consider the first “pop” music we might think of and the the predecessor to Jazz and Swing, its most notable innovation being syncopation, or where the harmony (the “beat” which traditionally keeps time) and melody (what you sing) are not played simultaneously, followed by PoC, primarily African Americans, first (to my knowledge) entering the music and entertainment scene (playing as insulting characture to audiences who think they’re white in blackface in minstrel shows notwithstanding), and (yes that was all one parenthetical statement, deal with it) otherwise showing an almost insulting lack appreciation for the nuances and differences between three very broad genres of music. In that case, 300’s close enough.
9122368
Ah, the bottomless pit of “what is true/the truth?”
9307730
Soooo...what about Serfdom?
9469278
Well, at least they know what the superior siege weapon is.
9502738
I blame Anglo-Saxons. They had the most unoriginal, straightforward naming conventions. Oh you’re a smith? Well there’s already 5 Johns in town, you’ll be John Smith. Or the name of your dad.
9574199
Was it him or another French king that
set up an Antipopemoved the Vatican to its rightful place in Southern France?9769558
It wouldn’t also happen to have a pretty significant population of *checks notes*...something...that we can use to parallel Romanian, Ukrainian, Gypsy, Czech, Croatian, Slovenian, Slovak, Jewish, Protestant, and Polish Ethnic/religious minorities that it oppresses and does its damnedest to make the Empire dysfunctional so Austilia doesn’t really have the power to make it give its minorities equal rights and representation, or better yet, their own self governing states under a Federation? (I’m personally a really big fan of the proposed “United States of Austria,” and extremely salty about how obstinate Hungary was after the compromise and that, for all his faults, Frank Ferdinand failed to live long enough to ascend the thrown and do exactly that. Would it have been perfect? No. Would it have even worked? Who knows but I think considering pre-Great War attitudes and realities yes. Political representation, self-determination, and autonomy, while also sharing the burden of national defense? Yes please. Only real sticking points would be Romania, since there already was one, balance of state/federal power, and Hungary. Seriously just think it’s a really cool idea.)
9787662
9788921
Am I the only one who went into college who already had a pretty nuanced view of the world and who knows better than to simply things that much about obviously complex and multifaceted issues? Cus, like. I had a unique HS experience. But what no one in that room had a decent rhetoric,
EnglishLanguage, or debate teacher?9838871
Know what they like even better?
Cannons.
9839377
Unless they’re already at war with people who did overthrow the existing government and are willing to work with communists to fight them. Those violent anarchists are...ok, for the time being. Otherwise, completely right.
9840070
Man, who are the people you poor bastards end up having to deal with, and how have I missed them, by and large? I mean I’d phrase that as “Hate is a natural emotion and just bottling it up doesn’t address why you feel that way and is an unhealthy response. However hating someone for, well generally socially unacceptable reasons (in the West) is not good and you should reflect on why you feel that way and work to better yourself so that’s not your emotional response. Hating someone for living a despicable life is natural and not exactly a good thing, you *should* feel that because to do otherwise tolerates intolerance, but you should try to avoid hating the person because that’s unproductive and just leads to further cruelty and suffering without much, if any, closure or catharsis for the victims,” since that’s clearer and harder to attack, but I’m pretty sure that was the gist of what you had to say anyway.
9840190
Ya, though it gets damn frustrating when they either just say you’re lying and use either nothing or infowars as evidence, or just ignore you when you making a good/irrefutable point. Remember one jackass who called me “The real racist“ after a fairly lengthy comment undermining or disproving common Neo-Confederate/Lost Cause myths (the actual post was some Lost Cause bullshit that even the conservative members of the group called out. Of course, the mods never actually removed the post), to which I asked where I called literally anyone racist, since I hadn’t, and no response. Like dude did you even read it? Think I’d write that much and just take wild accusations lying down?
9844597
Probably Fallout Equestria. kkat did an...alright job, least for suspension of disbelief, but firearms (and all human weapons, really) aren’t exactly compatible with quadrupeds like ponies. We make them work, to varying degrees of success, rather than have to decide what they’d actually look like and be used and work because that’s Tolkien levels of designing and speculating, and then your audience will probably just bitch about how none of the weapons are recognizable or familiar.
9973295
9972862
Man y’all some softies. Those are (mostly. Couldn’t jump in, but we did allow stacks) the standard rules I’ve played with for *years* across a large swath of different groups. Until recently (and only because the official Uno Twitter actually made a tweet to clarify,) you could even put +2s on +4s and visa versa. Highest ever was +22.
10207307
It also defends on the state of metallurgy. As I understand it, the English won...I forget the name. It was one of their first great and famous victories over France. Anyway, as I understand it, it was primarily won by French overconfidence (i.e. they were strung out and didn’t form up properly before start to attack) the English knights dismounting, and English archers. Unlike Agincourt, close to 100 years later, the availability and quality of plate armor varied drastically, so a fair number of French nobles were killed by a peasant with a longbow. Agincourt, on the other hand, was mostly down to horrendous terrain, and plate armor had advanced enough so that it was virtually impossible to be hurt or killed by a arrow. Your horse, maybe. But not you. No, you were killed by a dismounted knight who wasn’t exhausted, or a peasant with a knife in his hand while you were stuck under your horse.
God damn I did not know what I was getting myself into deciding to read the comments on this *checks notes* 4+ hours ago.
Man I forgot how much I liked this. It’s a pretty interesting contrast to Triptych and Estee’s other stories, to say the least, which I’ve been reading recently. Love both of y’all as authors but damn if there isn’t a dramatic difference in style and tone. And worldbuilding, both in how it’s done and what the world is. I have the distinct feeling a lot of that’s down to your different life experiences, but that’s not my business to get into.
Lastly, have you heard of the Belisarius Saga? Not entirely sure how much you’d like it, but it’s fun to read with likable characters (though to some extent I’m skeptical of their tolerances: on the other hand they’re I don’t think they were heavy handed or completely outlandish, and understand most audiences would be uncomfortable with openly and unapologetically misogynistic, classist, or otherwise bigoted characters, and I think a good balance was struck overall) and as far as I can tell it’s at least mostly historically accurate in regards to people, places, terminology, etc. Check it out, first book’s free on the publisher’s (Baen?) archaic website.
Bah, it’s a shame they have the current protection of the plot. I was hoping at least one of them would be dead or captured by the end of the chapter. You’re job is being done well, I rather loathe the villains.
I know everyone here is mostly talking about the chapter itself and a few other points of history but... OH MY GOD ANOTHER HANK THE COWDOG FAN!!! OH SWEET LUNA I THOUGHT I WAS ALONE!