Lyra whooped like a wild buffalo bull as she clung to the leather straps straining across the grey and brown feathers of the royal beast, her ride rising and falling with each vast beat of the turul's vastly wider wings. The glittering illusion surrounding them both stuttered and flashed with each jolt, as Lyra's concentration broke and reformed, a cycle dampening as the mare gained control over her excitement and fear.
They were gaining height, and the brown wattle and stone tiles of a tumble roofs of griffon and pony homes in their half-gridded labyrinthine tangle shrunk beneath Lady George's laboring wings. The mixed wattle and tile gave suddenly away to pony roofing tiles alone, and then sturdier timbered commercial expanses, and then, finally, the heavy stone battlements of the great fortress beside the harbor.
Lyra whooped again, and reached back to whap her fellow unicorn across the withers, reaching down where Minuette was cowering in her own saddle, grasping the straps tightly with both hooves. "Don't say this isn't fun, filly! Come on, look up, look down! We gotta be going seventy if we're doing five!"
"If your roc-tamer doesn't want to be combing my puke out of her pet's tailfeathers, you'll leave me be until we're moving a bit slower and higher!" shrieked Lyra's old friend.
Who, clearly, had a few qualms other than her previously shouted demurral, 'it's not my Celestia-damned regiment, understand, monkeygirl?'
Well, who knew the blue unicorn was afraid of heights?
"I'm sorry, Minnie, I didn't realize you'd be so skittish about this! You should have said you were afraid of flying!"
"I did! Repeatedly, at great - urp - length! You just didn't want to hear!"
"Well, hold it in until we're a bit higher, and George here can get some space, we can tip over and let you boot right into the harbor, starboard, sideways!"
Lyra almost swore that the blue mare turned greener than Lyra herself at that suggestion.
Waters rushed beneath them, and glittered through the distortion of Lyra's stabilizing illusion. The projection was supposed to be a great airship, a sort of approximation of a gondola extending far behind Lady George's long tail-feathers, and far beyond her long beak and laboring head. Above them, the dome of the illusion mimicked, as closely as Lyra could manage, the even larger envelope from which the illusour gondola apparently dangled, and the insubstantial sheets and supports joining the two together.
At least in theory.
In practice, Lyra's attempt to portray the still-awfully-named HRHS Daddy Longlegs was very much a work in progress, and if she was being honest, looked rather like a crystalline pony brain and spinal column, folded in on itself. She had no idea what the griffons looking on from far below thought of this demented aerial display, racing enormous and incogruous overhead - whether they were laughing their flanks off at them, or screaming in terrified horror.
Lyra rather hoped it was the former. Better to be laughed at, than to terrorize. But she only had so many illusion-magics to work with, and it was easier to project her own mental state around the flying turul than to come up with something clever and showponylike. She tried her best to feel like an airship, but if there ever was a pony with a soul like a frigate, it wasn't Lyra.
Let alone a light carrier, whatever the buck that was. Lyra had been given a glimpse of the new ship in the airdocks. If that was a light carrier, she shuddered to think how big and massive a heavy carrier might be. She briefly pictured the Canterhorn set loose from the jealousy of gravity's grip to float proudly beside the Daddy Longlegs, and laughed in joy at the improbable mental image.
"I'm sorry that the lieutenant isn't enjoying herself," boomed Lady George, "But I'm glad you're having fun, Magus Heartstrings. Because here they come." The great and royal bird of prey twitched her enormous head in the direction of several nearby, low-hanging clouds.
Both mares looked up at the cloud platforms, and then Lyra looked back at her fellow passenger. The distraction was getting Minuette's hooves back under her, looked like.
"Better get those shield spells ready, Minnie. They're coming, not long now."
Lyra looked away from her uniformed friend as Lieutenant Minuette started going through the exercises she used for her ballistic defensive arrays. The distant cloud was disgorging its complement of griffons and bat ponies, who were kicking off in arrowhead formations, swooping out and towards the three of them in converging courses.
Lyra tucked her head back against her shoulders and withers, and tried to think like a frigate. Float, float, zoom. Float, float, zoom. Float, float, zoom!
Just as the nearest batpony lance was two hundred paces in front of them, lining up on Lyra's illusory airship 'envelope', Minuette finally manifested her anti-projectile shields, glittering like a blue soap-bubble in front of the turul's heavy head and, more importantly to Lyra herself, Lyra herself.
Although honestly, if the javelins missed Lyra and Minuette, but still managed to wound the turul enough to spill her cargo, they were dying of the fall, anyways.
The batponies and their sprays of blunted little javelins rocketed past, more than a dozen of the cloth-tipped training weapons tearing through the space that Lyra had been decorating with the phantasm of a glittery airship balloon. More importantly, none of the attacking guardbats intersected either the gondola, the stays supposedly holding the gondola under the envelope, or the envelope itself.
Lyra whooped in approval, waving at the departing unit's lance corporal. This made her miss the next lance in the stoop as another half-dozen projectiles shot overhead, and two loud 'plops!' as several off-target javelins embedded in Minuette's shields, which held them quivering in place like toothpicks in jelly.
Lyra looked up at the off-target shots, and laughed. "Not even close, you bunch! We can probably add them to the others, Minnie, they're spent. Oh, wait, no give it a second before you do that - here comes tailcheck Charlie!"
The last lance in the attacking platoon screeched by, thrown a bit by the noise Lyra was making. Only three out of the dozen struck the balloon-shaped envelope target, and the last lance corporal screamed something annoyed at her that was lost in the wind and the closing velocities.
Lyra managed to collect all the training javelins she'd been able to catch, which wasn't more than half of what had been flung their way. She wasn't really a powerhouse, and putting up this big a projection was taking most of her concentration. Lyra shoved the projectiles into the first of a series of empty bags strapped across Lady George's body, like panniers on a pony.
"OK, that group's done, Minnie, you can rest a bit. And you should get a breather, because we've got another platoon lining up on us in ten, nine, eight… Do you think I should start singing at them? The chatter seems to have thrown the last bunch a bit? Here they come!"
And then the air over the outer harbor was full of blunted javelins and cursing griffons.
After all of the aerial platoons had taken their passes against the 'envelope' of the racing target, they let the three of them return back down to their starting position, and the platoons to their own perches upon the high cloud-platforms. Time to reset!
Sort of. The balloon of the illusion now partially masked the three members of the 'red team', and the rest of the illusion hung half out of sight below the turul's belly. Lady George flew the same course as before, and the aerial ponies and griffons made their passes against the 'deck' of the illusory gondola, which now was hanging below the great turul by dint of Lyra's limited and rather strained imagination. The troopers' javelins glided through the target spaces, and Lyra got to yell 'splat' at the several bat-ponies and many more griffons who 'impacted' the side of the great imaginary gondola instead of flying over or beneath it.
Mare, they didn't like being laughed at, but that's what they got for flying through the projection of Lyra's funny bone! Or spinal column, as it were.
It didn't even tickle, which Lyra found a bit disappointing.
In a gap between platoons, Lyra looked back at her sweaty friend. "Colt, howdy, this is a hoot and a half. You know, I hope to make the whole trip out and back like this. Never a dull moment on the… Jolly Rodgerer!"
Minuette spluttered. "The bucking what?"
"Exactly! They're holding a contest, Twilight and her hen, to name the new ship. I'm trying out names. I figured they wouldn't go for the Flying Buggerer."
"I would think not!"
"Or the Cathouse. Despite all the griffons on board."
"Are you looking to get gutted by angry griffons?"
"I hear their mating rituals can be intense. How about the Merry Widow?"
"That's one for the superstitious!"
"Maybe say it was named after somegriff's mother, and call it the Gladys! Glad-Ass!"
"Oh, look, they're ready to try and kill us again!" Minuette said spitefully, eager for any escape from Lyra's nonsense.
Finally, the three of them turned a lazy spiral on a thermal as the trainees returned to their cloud base to rearm and regroup. Lady George spent some time grousing about how she wasn't a pony ship, fed by coal and magic, and was feeling peckish.
"Oh, chin up, Lady George. We'll spot you a nice big tuna or harbor shark afterwards. Minnie will help! Right, Minnie?"
"I don't know, Lyra…"
"Aw, come on, Minnie! It'll be fun."
"Maybe."
"Also, you should totally come with us eastwards, out into the Turulország."
"Lyra Heartstrings, I told you no, and I meant it!"
"Aw, come on, mare, have some fun for once in your life!"
"Damnit, Lyra, I have fun! I just like to have it back home, in Ponyville, at the local bar, or dodging the local wildlife, or the locals. I've had enough military life for a lifetime. I told Bell, and I'm telling you, this isn't a mare's life!"
"Aw, come on, don't leave me alone on an airship with that stick with a pony stuck on it, and Trixie Lulamoon. We're still a lieutenant short, everypony says!"
"Lyra, first of all, you're two lieutenants short, not one - Bell's doing double duty as a troop commander and executive officer, and second of all - leave Trixie alone! Don't you be bullying the poor filly! She's had a bad time of it, and I personally think she should be going home on a psychiatric discharge, not shipping out with you lunatics. Last time I saw her, she was three sheets to the wind and screaming at ponies in a grog shop in the harbor district."
"Yeah, well, you know what they say about falling off an air carriage. You just have to get back on the pegasus. Speaking of which, here comes the chariots."
"The what? Aaaie!"
Minuette's shields barely got back up in time, before they were swarmed by batponies and griffons hauling little two-pony contraptions bearing flightless members of the Sixth Guards flinging balloons full of - that better be water and paint, Lyra thought.
Whatever it was, it was yellow enough to be something else. And she had the distinct impression that the trainees were aiming at her and Minuette, instead of the envelope that was the official target.
The upper airs turned blue with Minuette's shields and Lyra's curses. The illusion of the airship turned a bit stormy and lightning-lashed with Lyra's wrath.
Shame Lyra wasn't powerful enough for the lightning to be anything other than the visualization of her ire.
After a while, the only thing Minuette would say was, "I want to go home! Get me off this crazy bird!"
After all was said and done, when they finally reached the still, solid soil of mother earth, Minuette still wasn't biting on the recruitment pitch. And insisted on shooting down all of Lyra's terrible, awful, salacious suggestions for ship names.
Lyra was going to have to report mission failure to Gilda, but she'd said at the start that she was a magus, not a salespony.
Oh, well, worse ways to spend a sunny day in June.
Lyra treated her friends to dinner as thanks for the good work. As Lady George tore into a harbor shark, and Lyra laid out the gourmet crab-meat salad and fixings, she found that for some reason Minuette wasn't all that hungry.
Hay, more for Lyra.
Gilda stared at the stone pot in front of the batpony colt.
"Couldn't you have found something less symbolic, corporal?" Gilda asked, irate.
"It wasn't my choice, master sergeant," Ping replied, looking down at the pot and the desk underneath it.
They both sat down, and Ping took the slit tin cover off of the pot, tipping it over.
A cascade of folded pieces of paper slid across the surface of the desk. "The major found it in one of the guest suites," Ping noted coolly. "Speaking of which, have you looked at the new lieutenant and ensign jackets sent over by personnel?"
"That's a left turn. I've had nothing better to do than approve Purse Strings' endless requisition forms, and eyeball your new officers' files. Do you know why they suddenly decided to open the taps?" Gilda put one of her talons into the pile of folded papers and stirred them like a sloppy pile of playing cards.
"I think they figured out that we're getting ready to move out, and thought they could dump their worst head cases and no-hopers on us."
"Joke's on them, we only need a lieutenant."
"We should have two more lieutenants." Ping picked out a paper, and opened it up. "New Hope."
"Start a pile for 'dull but unobjectionable'. We can get away with the captain skippering one of the troops, for the time being. We only need one." Gilda opened one of her own. "'The Brass Whore'. OK, that's a good starter for 'no way in hell, burn before reading.'"
Gilda kicked a wire trash basket out from under the desk and deposited the offending note. She left the trash can where they both could drop suggestions as they worked.
"You're not going to make friends with the officers if you insist on overworking them. 'Sweet Winds'," He put the suggestion on top of his first one.
"'Albatross'. Is that a bad idea pile, or another roundfiler?"
"Roundfiler. Nopony wants a curse for a ship name. Oh, hey, this one's interesting, 'Amphibious'."
"Let's see? Hm. I think I recognize that talonwriting. Hawk Eye. It feels kind of - why is it making my feathers stick up?"
"No, I think you're right, sergeant. It's a backhoofed reference to Amphitrite. Best be safe. Sorry, Captain Eye." Into the round file it went. “‘Orion’s Shoulder’.”
"Well, I've certainly pissed off enough of the officers, sometimes I feel like I might as well make the full set." Gilda flicked through a half-dozen boring Crystal thises, Heart thats. All onto Ping's 'boring' pile. “‘Twilit Gemini’. Pretty, but the major will get even more shirty. Sorry, my poetic friend.”
"The major will forgive us eventually for our little mis-step. 'Brass Monkey'."
"What the hey is that? Put it in the 'no idea' pile. You don't know the major, she's going to be mad for at least a month. 'Constant Gardener'." They looked at each other, and shrugged in bafflement. Into the 'no idea' pile it went.
"Are any of the jackets at least palatable? 'Golden Dawn'."
"One or two, I'll show you when we're done here. They're all ensigns, though. And something about that one makes my religion sense tingle. Roundfile it on general principles. 'Derecho'."
"You have a religious tingle? I thought griffons didn't have religion. And speaking of religion, oh my pristine darkness, no on 'Derecho'."
"Every tribe has some sort of religious tradition. Ours are mostly wind-related. What the buck is 'Derecho'?"
"Old pegasus cult center. God of war business. Seat of some sort of goddess of victory."
"Just the seat, not the goddess itself? Keep it."
"Meeeh. If you say so. 'Fiddler's Green'. That's pretty, let's keep that one."
"If you say so, it makes my beak itch."
"Pfft. We don't need you to play chaplain. Which is another officer we should have on hoof. We had one in the 93/1st. 'Heart of Iron'."
"I hate it, but it passes the smell test. And the 93/1st was a medical hospital. You needed chaplains for dying griffons and ponies. 'Elysium'. Too gloomy. Roundfile?"
"Almost as bad as 'Tartarus', yeah, roundfile." Ping flicked his own hoof-full of suggestions into the roundfile. "You didn't want to hear any of that. Some of the bat ponies can get a bit edgy and dark."
"You don't say," smirked Gilda. "'Blood Raven', 'Darkness's Kiss', 'Black Garrotte', that sort of thing?" Gilda tossed her talons-worth of slips into the trash.
"As opposed to obscenities about pony and griffon rulers, I suppose? 'Gharne's Cunt', 'The Knot Of Guto', 'Drowned Grosvenor'." All into the trash it went.
"Say what you will about griffons, they have a healthy disregard for the nobility and the royalty. We’ve yet to have any of our griffish recruits attack anygriff or pony over all the reasons for toms and hens have to get punchy. Unlike your blessed bats. Speaking of which, here are four more variants on 'Queen of the Night', a 'Mother of Dreams', and two of 'Nightmare's Moon', one so badly written it might as well be 'Niggit Mun'." All tossed.
"Don't they know that we're going to have to sail this benighted ship before all of Equestria and ponykind? ‘The Sunny Booty’.” Ping rolled his eyes. “Do they have Bob safely under lock and key downstairs? Also, 'The Crystal Heart'."
"'I'm Not Overcompensating, You're Overcompensating', 'She's One Of Ours, Ma'am!'. Anonymity breeds mischief among the ranks. 'Billy-Bob Was Here'. And some can't even come up with a decent joke. You’re working hard to justify my decision to have you play jailor for your namesake, Billy-Bob." Gilda tossed the goat's autobiographical suggestion and the rest of the jokes into the trash.
"'The Glass Hammer'. Well, that's certainly weird."
"Hades, no. It's a bad omen. 'Heart of Diamonds'. Hey, I like this one."
"Put it in the 'good' pile, then. 'Queen of Hearts'."
"You spotting a trend? 'Heart of Stone'."
"Ooh, edgy. I like it. And if our designer is going to put a heart design on our unit flash, you have to expect the troops will run with it. 'Trumped Heart'." Ping grimaced.
"Yeah, you're right, too much of the card game. Toss it."
"'Twilight's Sparkle'," Ping said, looking uncertain.
"I think we can assume that was Magus Heartstring's contribution. Don't just throw that away, put it in a 'burn before the major reads it' pile." Gilda looked over at the batpony colt. "What was your submission, if I can ask? And 'West Wind'."
"I thought you said griffon theology was winds-centric? And only if you tell me yours. 'Golden Kite'. This suggestion, not my own."
"Obviously, you aren't the golden anything type. And it doesn't get theological until you start naming them, or cite the four winds. And yeah, no 'Fourth Winds'. Although… I did suggest 'Second Wind'."
"Ha! You hypocrite. If I find it, it's going into the trash. 'Wild Stallion'. What the buck?"
"That's what the 'what the buck' pile is for. And I told you mine. What's yours? 'The Hierophant'."
"Pfft, I think we know Fruits Basket's, that sounds exactly like her. That goes into the what the buck pile. And…"
"Come on, spill, Ping."
Ping looked up at Gilda over the mostly-cleared desktop. Then he looked down and whispered something.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you. Speak up, colt!"
"Daydream."
Gilda laughed her tailfeathers off as the soppy little colt made watery eyes at her.
"Aw, come on, you can't say that ain't funny! You bats and your edgy nonsense…"
"Damnit, Gilda!"
Actually Niggit Mun is a phrase in a somewhat archaic Kirin dialect that means "unlikely collection of scraps that is crewed by an apparently random bunch of lunatics which, in defiance of all common sense, much less the laws of reality themselves, manages to not get shot down, blown up, or eaten by unspeakable horrors from beyond the most dark and demented imaginations, but instead actually succeeds on it's missions, and in fact often spectacularly well, much to the displeasure of more than a few jerk-ass twits who would love to see it fail".
Kirins back then didn't talk much, but when they did, they packed a lot into a few words.
This is a nice little bit of some we havent seen in a bit.
But ping here, just huh.
Im not sure if he's being open, trying to smooth ruffles, or being himself in the worst.
Time will tell.
Well, it would liven up her day...
I don't know why Gilda thought sending Lyra to try and talk Minuette into recruiting was a good idea. Gilda probably would've had better luck just trying it herself. But, worth a shot, I guess. Lyra is known to surprise from time to time.
I said Orion's Slumber! Not shoulder! God sakes, man, get your spectacles prescription checked! D:
And dear God, Ping remains ever the cute.
I kinda hope that Minuette doesn't actually get dragged into things. She might be a bit of a wet blanket, but she also strikes me as the character you'd have tag along to get killed for the sake of grinding Lyra down a couple notches. Nervous vibes for Minnie's sake.
Also, how about the Hindenburg? Oh! Weatherlight!
From Lyra comments, I think I was underestimating the size of a Light Carrier in my head. It's kind of hard to picture without any reference. If there are Heavy carriers too are Super Carrier a thing?
And good idea to use illusions for training. It sounds really useful, a bit like augmented reality. And Lyra commentary is just what the troops needed to push themselves.
It's great to see Lyra is still helping with the company despite not being part of it. Sounds like having a Magnus or two in a Company is very useful. Maybe can rope some more into the group before going. On top of the missing Lieutenants it's the perfect time to add a few late comers... Hey, have they found good cooks for the trip? Kind important with so many species on board and will have to cook with what they can find later in a foreign country. Might have to get 'creative'.
And Lyra is eating crab? One more point on the crazy pony scoreboard...
Those were the best suggestions by far!
And the goat name is Billy-Bob?! Love it.
9956763
So effectively the Kirin are Germanic when it comes to language then.
As for names for the ship... might be a bit late but one that's always been close to my heart is 'The Ugly Bastard'.
Nothing anonymous about my suggestion. I've been using this user-name on the internet since before it was called 'the Internet'. It's probably legally part of my name by now.
However, Gilda's reaction was spot on. 'Mischief' was indeed the right tone.
Hey, simple question about your universe: are illusions part of the standard training methods for Equestrian troops? I mean it would kind of make sense if it was, with all the unicorn around.
On a side note, I saw a video on YouTube about the origin of Tabletop war game play like Warmachine or Warhammer and found a video called 'How Did War Become A Game' by "Invicta". The time periods talked about in the video and the type of war mafe made me think of the setting of this story. Is something similar is akso being developed in this universe? I mean, Ogre & Oubliettes (pony equivalent to D&D) is canon to MLP so I can kind of picture it as something Twilight could use to make battle plans and add some illusions on top of it to make it more realistic.
What do you people think?
9956845
I really like "Crystal Dagger". Gilda might make fun of it for being a bit edgy, but I think it fits nicely with the regiment.
How about "Titanic"? Sure it has bad history to us (which is part of the joke), but it shouldn't have any with the Ponies (yet). Unless this Equestria had Titans in the distant past and everyone is determined to not catch their attention ....
"cloud-platforms Time to reset!"
"cloud-platforms. Time to reset!"?
9957493
It almost certainly exists, although it's probably more of a home front/service academy officer thing. Wargaming is surprisingly ancient. The first tabletop wargames (more realistic than chess at least) were invented by Prussian officers in the late 18th century, and were commercialized by Austrians in the early 19th. Dungeons and Dragons itself emerged from the tabletop wargaming community in the long Sixties, it's a fairly late development.
Anzel's Silent Knight is addicted to a pony version of Warhammer Armada Battles, btw.
Hah, glad to see my suggestion made it in! Just a shame Gleaming didn't get to see it.
On that note, I hope we keep seeing Lyra frequently. She seems fun.
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No, or I'm going to have this stuck in my head for the life of the ship.
Edit: Also, the Anything Goes or the Banana Hammock.
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I... want to ask why? But I suspect the answer would raise more questions...
Wait a sec, has nobody suggested Dreadnought yet? Might be a little presumptuous/tempting fate, but ships with that name generally have a good track record
In any game where I'm allowed to name ships I've always made sure to keep at least one on hand named "War Fairy".
9957850
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wargame
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tafl_games
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Risk_(game)
Tafl (and variants) predate Chess and Risk (around 1957) is much more concrete it's still rather abstract.
I would bet on people simulating battles and tactical decisions on some kind of table with representational pieces for as long as there have been large armies. Wargaming as we know it though might best be prefixed by recreational/education, in the sense of it being used for fun or learning as opposed to merely postulating actions and outcomes in a particular situation..
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I was asking around on MilChat if anyone remembered the technical name for the practice, I'm not sure it has one. It's how you describe the squadrons or battalions of those regiments which aren't single-battalion units. The 97/1st would be the First Battalion, 97th Infantry Regiment, or First Squadron, 97th Cavalry Regiment. In American usage, these are generally three-battalion regiments. Or at least, I've never seen it used otherwise.
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Thanks again for explaining!
9962057
My measure was airships like the Hindenburg, which was 237 meters. Admittedly that was envelope, not gondola. The Hindenburg didn't have a gondola. And the Hindenburg only had a carrying capacity of about a hundred, crew and passengers both. Ponies have magic to make things impossible, possible, but generally we don't see them deliberately messing around with things bigger on the inside than the outside.
Not that I'd put it past canon Twilight, and possibly Gleaming Shield, if suitably provoked.
9962095
Think of the soon to be renamed Daddy Longlegs as a sort of frankenstein's monster blend between a gondola-type airship, a Seawaymax cargo ship, and an early amphibious assault ship like HMS Bulwark. Except significantly less tall than traditional seagoing carriers and amphibious assault ships, and there's no need for all of that deck width for landing fast-movers. But they still need a lot of space for carrying all of those chariots, carriages, and caissons. Not to mention all the support troops, and the crew itself.
As for the materials... there's a lot of wood used. But Equestria has an oddly advanced chemical industry. It could have a good deal of modern 'high-thaumic' materials lighter and more sturdy than traditional thunderforged steel and ironwood.
Sounds like someone misspelled Wyld Stallyns. That is a great name for a ship.
For the record, I understood that Buckaroo Banzai reference.
I was once played in a Star Wars RPG game where the party ship was named Conspicuous. Yes it was armed to the teeth and at least on paper able to go toe to toe with a Star Destroyer. Thanks to a GM mistake we had so much money that all the weapon where disguised and any boarding actions taken by the Empire would have led to nothing but choke points and ways we can kill them in mass while we are safe. Seriously we could retreat to certain points and expose them all to vacuum to deal with them.
I still vote for Major Gleaming Shield's Motherbucking Pimp Hoof.
Spanish for 'straight'. In meteorology, it is a term for a self-sustaining, usually ovoid to circular thunderstorm complex fueled by hot, humid air. It advances along a arc of very heavy thunderstorms with strong downdrafts, and a large rainshield which moves along behind the leading squall line.
Tornadoes are uncommon, as there generally no intersection of high and mid-altitude winds to generate vortex formation, and the strong horizontal outflow would disrupt any that tried to form.
On the very outer edges of a derecho's squall line, small 'gustnados' can form. But these are short-lived and weak (rarely above EF0) and produced by somewhat different mechanisms that true tornados, being little more than analogous to the whirlpools one sees generated by fastmoving objects in water rather than the products of a large mesocyclone tilted by the actions of the rising inflowing air and the sinking rear-flank downdraft of a true tornadic supercell.
I have the best name! "Bad Fanfic".
Alondro wins the award for Best Internet Troll. Lord Nuxanor fumes silently from the shadows, vowing revenge for this flex upon his title.
I love ship names and the lyra part, I actually just like this chapter.
Minnute proves herself to be quite possibly the most sane and rational Pony on the entire Trottish Isle. Good for her.
We're going with Fiddlers Green, arent we?
Still, some amazing name ideas here.
"Twilight's Sparkle" is actually an amazing name. Too bad it would piss off the CO.