Topic: lore gang

Papillon had been staying in a hotel for a few weeks now. She always hated hotels. They were always so uncomfortable. The beds were too thin and coarse. The beds themselves were always either too tough or too soft. The pillows were basically decoration. The television didn’t have anything on it- and there was hardly even a way to cook. This was exactly what led to the current situation of the mare sitting alone on an uncomfortable couch, watching a styrofoam cup of noodles. A small timer was sit...

The late summer heat was bearing down, rendering many to seek the shelter of their homes as soon as they could, surrounded by fans, air conditioning, or even pools if they were so lucky. However, being deep in the Everfree did have one good thing going for it. The trees blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving the forest floor cool and calm, albeit a bit damp in some places. Light filtered through the green leaves, allowing small spears of sun to pierce through to the ground. Spirit sucked ...

Canterlot was quiet in the heat of the day. The sun reflected and refracted off the white stone buildings, causing the cobble streets to be nearly unwalkable surfaces. But Spirit didn’t mind this. She’d felt worse, for sure. She had something much more important to deal with than nurse burned hooves today, after all. And she knew she’d not be on the stone for long. She would pause outside of the gate that she needed, before sucking in a deep breath. Canterlot Hills Cemetery. Soon, her hooves we...

The damage was worse this time, and Whiplash had already been dismissed for the night. The sting of her numerous cuts and bruises dulled out any sense of emotional pain at her best friend leaving her to rot in the jail cell of Manehattan’s holding cell. The all-too cold bench of the cell had become somewhat of a comforting embrace over her numerous years ending back up in here – now going on three or four years of this dance. The pain-laced scowl was etched on her strikingly-bright face – a h...

Spirit’s eyes shot open. A cold sweat broke against her brow. She slowly moved herself up to a sitting position on her small cot, resting a hoof against her face. She didn’t know why she woke up. It must have just been another nightmare. Though usually she remembered them, this one slipped through her memory like sand through a sieve. She inhaled slowly, and exhaled again. It was fine. She was fine. She just needed to try and get back to sleep. A sound. Glass cracking? What… was that? Her body...

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...

Albho was a very small village hidden inside a cave deep within the Crystal Mountains, a veritable asylum close to the Frozen North. Despite it being a cave, there was a luminescence shimmering from the town, gems and crystals lining the roof of the cave above the wooden huts and cabins that the inhabitants called home. Unlike most villages and cities, there were a variety of species living here: Pegasi that had developed thicker and more complex feather layers, griffins with similar adaptations...

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...

Everything felt like a dream. Floaty. Carmine felt as if his soul was buoyantly floating above his body and kept from soaring away by a rope tied at his neck. The rope was... cold. Metallic. No, his senses were starting to come back. Vision was restoring... he saw a myriad of blurry shapes, moving and squabbling. What were they saying? He was hearing words, but he couldn't understand them. Screams. Pleas for mercy. As his eyes began to wake up, the blurry shapes began to transition to their true...

“This is it. I’m dyin’...” a bed-ridden Carmine wheezed from beneath his many, many sheets in his king-sized bed while a thermometer was balanced beneath his tongue. Sweatdrops drizzled down his face like condensation for a cold glass. Despite all the blankets keeping him warm, he still felt like he was encased in ice. His friend and current caretaker, Asuka, heard his exaggerated statement and answered it with a roll of her eyes as she set a bowl of soup on his bedside nightstand. “You’re n...