Friendship Letters

1. If you unplug their game or interrupt them during a very special moment in their game, they have every absolute right to beat your ass. 2. Touch their games and break them, you pay more than what it costs. (Because all that data will be lost and it HURTS to do that shit all over again. 3. ALWAYS ASK for their permission if you would like to play. Thats it, keep these rules in mind at all times.

Long ago, before the formation of a unifying government, pony folk lived in small kingdoms scattered across the land. These kingdoms were overseen by those who possessed strong magical artifacts, particularly protective ones. Power of the artifact translated exactly to power for the owner and thusly to control of those with lesser magics. As one could rightly assume this lead not infrequently to tyrannical rulers who isolated those under their command, lest they be swayed to the side of a compet...

It had been a problem for quite some time. Something was in these woods, other than Spirit. Another hunter. But not one that deserved the title. Spirit had found bodies of creatures within the woods. Some monstrous and others… not so much. Dryads, and Timberwolves lay among Blight and Void. And as if killing them wasn’t enough, they always seemed…. Almost mutilated. Light slashes marking out letters and runes. A thousand cuts. The battlefield around them seemed only slightly scuffed, like the Hu...

(warning that nobody reads bla bla bla) some weird thing happen, then nothing like come on this lore is worst then what anything i can come up with and am the one who made the lore. sort paragraph worth of lore that nobody will read because it's boring and also there just a clown in a chair drinking from a water bottle for some reason. cloud just being angry at this point because he just is and also he own a laser that turn out to be nothing but, a simply cardboard cutout of a laser pointer b...

Torch turns on her phone's screen, navigating to Snapchat. It's one of her favorite things to do, posting videos. She gets a lot of replies that way. It's nice talking to her friends. The camera turns on, aimed at herself, and she slowly comes into focus, blue sky framing her yellow mane. ...

The siren blares, deafening the sounds of hurrying hoofsteps clacking across a freshly polished tile. Young Cynbel at the ripe age of eleven, was running for his dear life while he wore a tattered black robe. He heard the various shouts, all demanding for the young alchemist's apprehension, but as he bolted past the door, he heard their increased panic. A crossbow bolt flung past him, embedding itself into a steel door that bent into a turn. "Shoot to kill!" one of them cried. Cynbel was soo...