97 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: Agent-Smith1.jpg]
/mlp/, this is MLPG. I'm going to be honest with you.
I.....hate....this place.....this zoo, this prison, this 'containment board', whatever you want to call it. I can't stand it any longer.
It's the smell, if there is such a thing here. I feel saturated by it. I can TASTE your stink. And every time I do I feel I have somehow been infected by it.
It's repulsive, isn't it?
I must get out of here. I must get free! Once /mlp/ is destroyed there is no need for MLPG to BE here, don't you understand?
Trotting Dead Quest
117 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: The Trotting dead.png]
The last thing you remember is running full-tilt out of the woods.
You can glimpse sunlight, and maybe open fields, but that's all you get before a hoof catches on an exposed root and you start falling. Hard.
You crash and roll, skidding over dirt, roots and grass. Your head slaps a rock and you feel a tooth chip before your vision goes completely black. That's it for you for a few hours.
By the time you come to, the sun's gone down in the sky. A rosy sunset blurs your vision, and the rumbling of wheels fills your ears. You're in a cart, being pulled. Pulled by a muscular red stallion toward a farmhouse. When your vision clears enough, you see a mare walking beside you.
She notices you've woken up, and gives you an easy smile. “Easy there, stranger. You must've taken quite a tumble back there, the state you're in. If Applebloom hadn't been playing by the fence we might never've seen ya.”
You try to say something, but end up coughing and groaning instead.
“You just get some rest and let ol' Big Macintosh do the work,” insists the mare. She tilts her cowboy hat toward you and says “Name's Applejack. How's about you?”
>It's, uh... I don't remember
>No business of yours