User blog comment:Guildmaster Grovyle/JLE Role Play, Winter 2017-2018/@comment-27161581-20180422015758

''The second servant returns, along with four others, each struggling with a chest that likely weighs more than the carriers. With a very heavy thump, the ponies deposit the chest before the first servingspony. The servant removes a large, and very old keyring from her uniform and opens the chest. Inside are several large plates of steel, clearly a suit of armor designed for a pony, abet one of stature much larger than any of the counts.''

''The servant picks up a shin piece and holds it up to Flashfire's leg. While there's no way shoes are a viable option, a few of these pieces might just be enough for the dragon to pass herself off as another... assuming there are any other dragons on this isle. Some soot for her claws might be enough to hide their bright color, and the impressive chain mail sheet at the bottom would help make her unrecognizable. Hopefully the owner doesn't notice.''

Servant: "I apologize, but I don't think these would fit all that well."

''The vampony drops the chair, knocked back flying by the force of Ironworks' tackle. Still, this leaves Ironworks in the center of a ring of vamponies, several of whom sport similar bony visages to Count Nosferatu, the three skeletons step forwards, errie bony grins fixed on the armor before them.''

''Soon the castle vanishes entirely into the fog, leaving Spearmint and Hawkwing flying in the damp dark murk. Their carriage ride from Nindar's estate took some time, but where is that relative to the boat?''

''Phantomenia flies high, only mildly annoyed by the chill from hailstones that go through her body. As Dances in Dust opens the door to let the ponies in, she vanishes, and slowly spirals down. As before with Celestia, her priorities are the ponies, and she carefully monitors the emotions of those around her, ready for an ambush... or worse.''

''With a malevolent look in her eyes, Inari prowls over towards the would be thief, her tails keeping the fox easily balanced on the ice. One of her tails gently brushes the ice nearby, and a frozen bit and bridle suddenly snakes around the creature's muzzle, rising out of the ice before him. She is not in the mood for poisons and cyanide. Other frozen shackles and bands rise out of the snow, the atmosphere appropriately chilly.''