The journey had been languid until the border for the most part, the fast travelling river providing much needed rest for Scalpel and his niece, as well as some of the last portions of untarnished scenic beauty in Equestria. The barge master had not asked questions when he paid for transport to the border, doubtless he had been involved in illegal activities for some time and this had proven to be nothing new to him.
Grunge had also been accepted in a way by the crew too, so long as he kept to himself and remained quiet the crew did nothing more than flick suspicious glances at him from time to time. frankly he was far too interested in playing with a wooden toy and splashing at the water to cause much of a fuss.
For his part Scalpel had decided to dig through one of the half remaining collections of ancient lore whilst keeping a watchful eye on Honey whilst she dozed in a chair out in the sunshine, blissful in the warmth of the day. It was moments like this when she enjoyed peaceful dreams that all the hardships and turmoil’s of the world dropped away from her face; she became innocent again, free from pain and terror of waking life.
Turning back the book he dug into the great epics of the pre-equestrian age, a world not dissimilar from their own, in a way. Perhaps this was the way it had always been, had Pax Equestria simply been a fabrication, a false idea planted in the heads of ponies because of the gentle hearts of the Diarchy. Perhaps their greatest failure was in creating a system of government so reliant upon them that it could not survive without their constant maintenance.
As the sun sunk lower in the horizon, the chill of night crept up on them, but they were nearing their destination at least. Soon they would be on the Imperial road and make their way to Star Harbour and see about a trip to Trotpoli and away from the never ending cycle of war in Equestria. His studies would perhaps falter, but he could probably pick up further research in the morgues of Trotpoli, even if live subjects were generally easier to examine and gain precise details on than the dead.
He paused for a second; did he really wish to leave his studies behind in Equestria? After all he had been through and the uncountable difficulties to get this far, it seemed his studies on the fundaments of magic and ways to expand it beyond natural proportions was drawing close to an epiphany… he felt a tug which he hadn’t ever felt before, almost as if something was suggesting that an enlightening of the world awaited beyond the next corner…. It was hellishly tempting.
He turned to gaze at Honey, he had wrapped his coat around her shoulders as the night chill came in and she had snuggled into it adorably. What about Honey? Scalpel knew he couldn’t go gallivanting around the country digging into things most people would consider blasphemous without considerable danger, Trottingham had been proof of that. How could he do such a thing and risk the life of Honey? Was he not responsible for her? How long before someone finally managed to get to her before he could stop them… like they had before…
On the other hoof, if he achieved success, if his studies in Divinity and the expansion of biological magic were correct he could protect her eternally, safe forever from foulness and those who would wish to harm her. But such powers might come with a considerable cost, perhaps he would only have one shot at it… perhaps he would perish like Twilights attempt… or come back a monstrosity from the abyss like Pinkie pie. Furthermore there were other possibilities to consider, including loss of self or perhaps even physical mutilation… many risks, but great rewards if successful…
Suddenly the new night was broken by a piercing bolt of golden light to the west, a pillar of cosmic fire which boomed like the father of thunderclaps and lit up and destroyed a decaying city Scalpel recognised as Old Hoof. The wind roared and the power of the blast shook both water and earth, felling trees miles from where it had struck. The power of a raging god had been unleashed that night and all would know and see from the farthest regions of Equestria.
Awestruck, Scalpel quoted something he had seen long ago in a copy of an ancient book of Hideu scriptures from thousands of years ago.
“Maheshwarastra… a cosmic flaming beam of destruction from heaven itself… someone must have truly angered one of the new gods to have such fury unleashed upon them…”
Whilst he had stared, overwhelmed by the majesty of the pillar of fury, the crew ran around squawking orders to pull into land before they destabilised, Honey, awoken by the frightful din of apocalyptic anger stood next to him, nestled in one of his hooves as the observed the power from afar in a mixture of terror and fascination. Behind them, Grunge clanged his hooves together in approval, beginning to pace back and forth in excitement.
It seemed like utter madness the next thought that occurred to him, but it drew him all the same, like the rapturous wonder of light before a moth.
I must go there.
***
They had made quick progress towards the town, or at least what was left of it, Scalpel was physically wheezing at the pace he had been going at, whilst Honey and Grunge followed more easily, mostly due to Grunge allowing himself to be used as a carrier for Honey. Scalpel might have laughed at the sight if other things had not pressed at his mind, like physical exhaustion of sprinting towards the now fading blast of light in an unquestionable urge to know.
He had tried to convince Honey to stay behind at the Barge with Grunge, but she had adamantly refused to be parted from him and so he had reluctantly conceded. The barge itself had survived with only a few dents and scratches, and he had paid them handsomely to remain where they were for the meanwhile whilst he investigated. They thought he was mad as a brush, but the gold was good and they seemed safe for the moment, with no other heavenly fire descending from the sky.
Eventually he reached the outskirts of the town… or at least what was left of it. The place looked like the gateway to Tartarus, a patch of earth burnt to a crisp. Anything flammable now seemed to be smouldering or burning and great plumes of smoke were beginning to rise from the pit. Twisted bodies lay on the ground in all directions, but it did not seem that they had been innocent victims, the taint of the cult covered so many. He signalled Honey and Grunge to wait at the edge as he moved into the inner city to investigate. Honey looked like she was about to object, but a look from him silenced her; it was too great a risk.
He travelled deep into the ruins of the city and shivered at some of the twisted things which had once been ponies… or worse. The place had clearly been crawling with Smiling Dolls, their scythe like wreckage coated the land in deadly spikes and macabre grinning heads, now burnt to nothing. Something crawled out of one of the pits, it was a Doll, but its back legs had been crushed. It still moved towards him with surprising speed, but magic put an end to it as he crushed its skull like an egg.
Scalpel explored the city more thoroughly but it seemed as if whatever had leveled the place had long since departed, a sudden wind however blew a plume of smoke away just in time for him to catch something on the far edge or a little beyond the city. Curious he paced forward to investigate, and the form became more and more distinct. It was a figure which almost looked as if it was… sleeping? As he advanced towards it and as the smoke cleared it became clearly visible. It seemed to be nestled on the edge of the destruction zone, and despite all the ash and cinders, the figure was almost pristine… asides from patches blood which matted portions of fur on figures body... but there was only one sign of injury, which to his amazement healed within seconds to reveal an unblemished coat. He realised it was a she, a brilliant turquoise or aqua green mare Alicorn which a tight braid through both mane and tail… which almost suggested a warrior or huntresses pragmatism. She had amazingly large wings, far bigger than any pegasi, or even that of the Celestial sisters… perhaps she had an association with beings of the air?
On drawing closer openly, but slowly as not to suggest an imminent threat, he saw that the blood stains suggested deep incisions and lacerations, most likely that of Smiling Dolls. They were some of the most difficult injuries to heal, even with unicorn magic but this... this was astounding, there was nothing there.
"remarkable" he spoke breathlessly.
What amazed him even more was the blood, it was bright gold, glowing with inner power of a celestial being… majestic… beautiful… a book of knowledge yet unknown to pony science or study. The scientist told him to collect and analyse and study without moral obligation… but the doctor won the battle and he resigned himself to having to ask permission first, such was the cost of common equity over compulsive passionate action.
Drawing back slightly so he was fully in front of the Alicorn mare he spoke up, almost timidly, but with an undercurrent of scientific excitement.
“Uh… Miss… Um, Alicorn?… I am a doctor… do you, uh… require assistance? ”
EldritchOne
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Most Recent Posts
ye gads, why do these Moon and Star ponies insist on underestimating deities.
Also, would it be okay if me folks come and investigate the giant death laser blast you set up there Kapi? Its close to the border so they'd likely be in the region.
Plus medic, which is what Thea is looking for right now.
Also, would it be okay if me folks come and investigate the giant death laser blast you set up there Kapi? Its close to the border so they'd likely be in the region.
Plus medic, which is what Thea is looking for right now.
kapuchu said
So... Just posted. And Theá got pissed. Big one xD (over 4k words o_o)And, for you Dawn, I think it might be the Pirate that has the most resources. The rest of us either have too few followers, or just wander around alone.
Which city/dead city did Thea just annihilate?
I'd say it could be Sweeper, although resources in her terms would be a bit of an exaggeration due to how spread out they are.
Thanks folks, the second part will be a lot more cheerful in nature... roughly speaking.
First part of a two post day, warning, pretty god damn grim.
Grimmness Ahead!
He was there again, in the centre of the pit of horror.
Once again the crowds of slaves swarmed and screamed as they desperately battered at the iron door, hooves cracking and keratin splintering, as they desperately fought for life whilst the guards began to slaughter them. He was at the front of it all, suffocated by the pressure of crowds of dying ponies, consumed by the utter feeling of terror, hopelessness and repulsion as they desperately pushed from behind for any form of escape from this hellpit.
The filth, the decay, the stench it was all there again, and the pressure of bodies upon him, he remembered that so well that day, it had been burned into his mind like hot coals. Below him he watched again as an elderly mare was twisted in multiple directions, her ancient bones cracking and snapping at every increase of pressure.
But what terrified him every time was not the stench, the pressure or the screaming, it was the eyes. It was those dark staring eyes which tore their way into his soul and laid it bare, those eyes which showed a terror no pony, not even one of an inferior species, should feel, those eyes of supreme fear.
It was the gaze of the doomed and hopeless.
“We can’t shoot any more of them!” one of the guards shouted back to his comrades “there are too many corpses in the way”.
What a macabre irony, the enemy wasn’t indestructible due to any plan or tactics on their part, the little that were fighting were fighting hoof to hoof, claw to claw, but this was nothing compared to concentrated magical firepower of trained guardsponies.
“Fuck it! We’ll use the gas.”
Oh sweet Celestia, not the gas!
On those words the attempts at escape became more frantic, the door straining with the effort of keeping them back, but it did not buckle that day.
Nor would it ever buckle again.
“Lock off this portion of the dome! Nobody gets out! You there, unseal the canisters and get your counter spells at the ready.”
No! Save me please! Don’t leave me here, not with them!
He struggled through the nightmare of floundering bodies, trying to push himself to the top to be seen, to be heard, anything to indicate there was a unicorn in this mass of degenerates.
“Save me!” he screamed, but to no avail, with a fatalistic thunder the doors closed behind them.
He could already smell the gas.
Desperately he lit his horn, creating a small bubble of air for him to breathe in. Around him earth and pegasi ponies began to choke and wheeze, vomiting up blood and puss as they drowned in their own fluids.
Their bodies twitching spasmodically as they were asphyxiated and poisoned by the tainted air, and through a pink bubble he watched as each eye slowly went dead, the life choked out of them by the unseen horror. He had lived whilst around him others perished and an overwhelming sense of doom and fatality wrested his soul… but not as great as theirs, in there dying eyes he saw the face of nihilism and the primordial expression of doom
He had crawled through the mound of death, desperately trying to break through those slack staring corpses… those bodies which judged him… he must escape… he must escape…
Those eyes…those horrible judging eyes…
He broke through those limp limbs, those silent howling maws. He was reminded by it of a time his father in one of his less abusive spells had taken him to the sea, and he had seen a trawlers catch in a great fishing net. Those dead fish had stared much the same way as these ponies… how disgusting… how… terrible it was.
He lifted the last limb away and squirmed out of the pile like a fat worm which had glutted upon the carcass of the Old Empire. He was almost there… almost… no! Not now… the gas was getting through the bubble, he could feel its effects…. As he slowly stopped…
No!
His magic flickered.
And then it went out.
***
“Uncle?”
He woke up with a start, his eyes wide, taking in a huge intake of air, startling his niece from her worried vigil.
He was back.
Safe.
“Are you alright Uncle?” Honey asked, worry chiselled over her young face, a face which had seen far too much hardship and brutality in her short time on the Earth.
He smiled at her groggily, “I am fine Honey… just a bad dream” he nodded solemnly “A very bad dream...”
But it wasn’t just a dark dream; it had been a reality once, a terrible reality. It must have been tonight’s flight which had opened the gates to those dark years once more, the brutality on that scale was the only thing comparable to that hellish day. He remembered when he first cracked open his eyes to the sound of hospital workers and saw his father there with a sneer of disgust, irrational hatred carved across his face even as his son had been close to death. This had been the first time they had spoken in years, and it would be the last for many more to come.
“You can’t even die properly, can you?”
It was not so much a question, and more a statement.
It was then, at that moment that he had known, there was nothing asides from having his legs and horn blown off for the glory of war against the Earthborn which would make his father give any semblance of approval.
To hell with that bastard.
The experience changed him, for the better or worse he could not tell, but he was not the same person he was when he had entered the slave domes. He had hurt many, yes, practically every pony in this godforsaken world had done things of brutality, a state of near total war did not exist for twenty five years without its crimes… but what had been done there had been a step too deep into the darkness, and the worrying thing was that he could see Moon and Star doing it again. Once he had called for it, aping his father in politics as in many other things in his attempts to gain his approval, but after that he could not hold the same viewed he had once established firmly within his mind.
Perhaps the greatest part of his disillusionment had been the utter purposelessness of the act. The slaves were nearly surrendering by the end of the rebellion, but the guards in a fit of insanity over the loss of friends, comrades and co-workers had not listened… they had just kept… firing.
His research had at least had that, a precise purpose, like the blade of a scalpel in delicate surgery. No matter the cost in its discovery, no matter the result of failure, there had an end goal in sight… a goal of shining immortal angels and the birth of a new golden age for the unicorn race. Even Grunge had been fitted for a purpose of sorts, his actions had been inspired by other causes of course… but he had needed Grunge for a duty… not as a symbol of mindless depravity and violence.
That purpose had changed once again however, from a fanciful idea for supremacists to mutter about, to a direct independent goal in his interest.
A Divine Goal.
*-*-*
The track had been mostly empty along the way, and Scalpel doubted many had escaped the hell that Trottingham had descended into only the night previously. They did however meet the fated cause of the riot along the way. The Griffons had eyed him curiously as he had passed by and he was certain he recognised the ex champion of the Cult, Xerihan. His face had been twisted by melted bronze and with the symptoms of addiction weighing heavy on his eyes, a sorry sight of such an infamous figure. He had returned their gaze with a cold one, a grim look which bordered on hatred, his flesh squirming at their staring eyes.
All that research… wasted, because of them.
He didn’t offer them a lift on the cart driven by the tireless Grunge, the less association he had with the cults traitors the more likely he was to keep his skin from being stretched over a smiling doll. Eventually once they realised that he had not leaked any information on them they would give up the chase… but then again, he was probably severely overlooking the cult’s love of rampant aimless psychopathy.
After that both Honey and he had slept fitfully, Grunge following natural intuition and continuing along the beaten path towards the town of Muddy Hooves. Scalpel had only managed to gather a couple of hours sleep before being awoken again after his nightmare, and felt exhausted after the previous days exertions.
Unfortunately they had taken the wrong road out of the city, although any road of the city by the state that it was in was better than returning to the smouldering pit behind them. So now they were on the Muddy Hooves road, although to be frank it wasn’t a bad last minute choice. Doubtless he could pay for a lift on a merchant barge down the river to the Stormwing border and then use the old Imperial roads through Canterlot province and to Star Harbour. Equestria had become increasingly unsafe for him, and he needed a place to ride out the chaos for a while… perhaps Trotpoli would do, maybe his Niece might enjoy the sunshine.
Grunge was far from inconspicuous however, and there would be many unpleasant questions about his state if he continued onwards unconcealed. With the arrival of dawn, Scalpel blew out the lantern and fitted an old worn cloak over the quasi-metal form of Grunge. Grunge stared at him expressionlessly, as was his nature, accepting whatever was happening with the same reaction practically everything gave him. He was certainly a work of art in terms of magical enhancement, machine, metal and flesh all working together, and with some biological modifications, strength far above even the fittest of Earth ponies. Unfortunately the process had severely decreased his intelligence to that of a young foal, although it was somewhat of a mixed blessing due to the amount of control Scalpel was able to exert over him, but the lack of tactics beyond raw brutality.
It took them most of the day to get to Muddy Hooves, and all the way it was quiet, the only sound of life being the birds and woodland creatures which roamed the forests around them. Once Scalpel thought he had seen a ghostly form betwixt the trees, but he shrugged it off as trickery of the mind. Honey Puzzle amused herself with another of her Uncle’s puzzleboxes, a convenient device which hid his research notes from prying eyes and hooves. Honey Puzzle proved a natural at figuring out the boxes, and so she had contributed in her own way to his research by ensuring their security to all but the sharpest minds. The amount of time it took for her to finish one became indicative of the difficulties in opening them for anyone not naturally gifted in the art. The completed devices also held a number of traps, both magical and physical, which would prove deadly to those foolish enough to try their hooves at one.
He had lost his research once, but never again.
Of course he had memorized it all, but the reassurance of written information was a deep comfort, and ensuring his secrets would stand the test of time aided in softening his unease. A soft click and an “Mmm!” sound of victory met his ears and he saw his Niece open the box with some joy at her conquest. He smiled a little, but his face became pained as they touched upon the stumps which had once been her lower legs.
He would never forgive them for what they had done.
They would all pay in time.
One day he would get them all, all those degenerate mud ponies and take his vengeance upon them with blade and saw.
After all, he had already started counting down by one so far.
On that fateful day he had turned his cause beyond self interests and perhaps for the first time towards unrewarded compassion for another. If his studies ever bore fruit, he would restore her hooves once again… and he would never have to stare at those starred stumps again and feel such guilt for not being there for her in her time of need.
He would make things right, one way or another.
He turned away and a stray thought struck him as the sight of Muddy Hooves crossed into the horizon.
Cruel is the world in which foals suffer for the sins of their fathers.
He was there again, in the centre of the pit of horror.
Once again the crowds of slaves swarmed and screamed as they desperately battered at the iron door, hooves cracking and keratin splintering, as they desperately fought for life whilst the guards began to slaughter them. He was at the front of it all, suffocated by the pressure of crowds of dying ponies, consumed by the utter feeling of terror, hopelessness and repulsion as they desperately pushed from behind for any form of escape from this hellpit.
The filth, the decay, the stench it was all there again, and the pressure of bodies upon him, he remembered that so well that day, it had been burned into his mind like hot coals. Below him he watched again as an elderly mare was twisted in multiple directions, her ancient bones cracking and snapping at every increase of pressure.
But what terrified him every time was not the stench, the pressure or the screaming, it was the eyes. It was those dark staring eyes which tore their way into his soul and laid it bare, those eyes which showed a terror no pony, not even one of an inferior species, should feel, those eyes of supreme fear.
It was the gaze of the doomed and hopeless.
“We can’t shoot any more of them!” one of the guards shouted back to his comrades “there are too many corpses in the way”.
What a macabre irony, the enemy wasn’t indestructible due to any plan or tactics on their part, the little that were fighting were fighting hoof to hoof, claw to claw, but this was nothing compared to concentrated magical firepower of trained guardsponies.
“Fuck it! We’ll use the gas.”
Oh sweet Celestia, not the gas!
On those words the attempts at escape became more frantic, the door straining with the effort of keeping them back, but it did not buckle that day.
Nor would it ever buckle again.
“Lock off this portion of the dome! Nobody gets out! You there, unseal the canisters and get your counter spells at the ready.”
No! Save me please! Don’t leave me here, not with them!
He struggled through the nightmare of floundering bodies, trying to push himself to the top to be seen, to be heard, anything to indicate there was a unicorn in this mass of degenerates.
“Save me!” he screamed, but to no avail, with a fatalistic thunder the doors closed behind them.
He could already smell the gas.
Desperately he lit his horn, creating a small bubble of air for him to breathe in. Around him earth and pegasi ponies began to choke and wheeze, vomiting up blood and puss as they drowned in their own fluids.
Their bodies twitching spasmodically as they were asphyxiated and poisoned by the tainted air, and through a pink bubble he watched as each eye slowly went dead, the life choked out of them by the unseen horror. He had lived whilst around him others perished and an overwhelming sense of doom and fatality wrested his soul… but not as great as theirs, in there dying eyes he saw the face of nihilism and the primordial expression of doom
He had crawled through the mound of death, desperately trying to break through those slack staring corpses… those bodies which judged him… he must escape… he must escape…
Those eyes…those horrible judging eyes…
He broke through those limp limbs, those silent howling maws. He was reminded by it of a time his father in one of his less abusive spells had taken him to the sea, and he had seen a trawlers catch in a great fishing net. Those dead fish had stared much the same way as these ponies… how disgusting… how… terrible it was.
He lifted the last limb away and squirmed out of the pile like a fat worm which had glutted upon the carcass of the Old Empire. He was almost there… almost… no! Not now… the gas was getting through the bubble, he could feel its effects…. As he slowly stopped…
No!
His magic flickered.
And then it went out.
***
“Uncle?”
He woke up with a start, his eyes wide, taking in a huge intake of air, startling his niece from her worried vigil.
He was back.
Safe.
“Are you alright Uncle?” Honey asked, worry chiselled over her young face, a face which had seen far too much hardship and brutality in her short time on the Earth.
He smiled at her groggily, “I am fine Honey… just a bad dream” he nodded solemnly “A very bad dream...”
But it wasn’t just a dark dream; it had been a reality once, a terrible reality. It must have been tonight’s flight which had opened the gates to those dark years once more, the brutality on that scale was the only thing comparable to that hellish day. He remembered when he first cracked open his eyes to the sound of hospital workers and saw his father there with a sneer of disgust, irrational hatred carved across his face even as his son had been close to death. This had been the first time they had spoken in years, and it would be the last for many more to come.
“You can’t even die properly, can you?”
It was not so much a question, and more a statement.
It was then, at that moment that he had known, there was nothing asides from having his legs and horn blown off for the glory of war against the Earthborn which would make his father give any semblance of approval.
To hell with that bastard.
The experience changed him, for the better or worse he could not tell, but he was not the same person he was when he had entered the slave domes. He had hurt many, yes, practically every pony in this godforsaken world had done things of brutality, a state of near total war did not exist for twenty five years without its crimes… but what had been done there had been a step too deep into the darkness, and the worrying thing was that he could see Moon and Star doing it again. Once he had called for it, aping his father in politics as in many other things in his attempts to gain his approval, but after that he could not hold the same viewed he had once established firmly within his mind.
Perhaps the greatest part of his disillusionment had been the utter purposelessness of the act. The slaves were nearly surrendering by the end of the rebellion, but the guards in a fit of insanity over the loss of friends, comrades and co-workers had not listened… they had just kept… firing.
His research had at least had that, a precise purpose, like the blade of a scalpel in delicate surgery. No matter the cost in its discovery, no matter the result of failure, there had an end goal in sight… a goal of shining immortal angels and the birth of a new golden age for the unicorn race. Even Grunge had been fitted for a purpose of sorts, his actions had been inspired by other causes of course… but he had needed Grunge for a duty… not as a symbol of mindless depravity and violence.
That purpose had changed once again however, from a fanciful idea for supremacists to mutter about, to a direct independent goal in his interest.
A Divine Goal.
*-*-*
The track had been mostly empty along the way, and Scalpel doubted many had escaped the hell that Trottingham had descended into only the night previously. They did however meet the fated cause of the riot along the way. The Griffons had eyed him curiously as he had passed by and he was certain he recognised the ex champion of the Cult, Xerihan. His face had been twisted by melted bronze and with the symptoms of addiction weighing heavy on his eyes, a sorry sight of such an infamous figure. He had returned their gaze with a cold one, a grim look which bordered on hatred, his flesh squirming at their staring eyes.
All that research… wasted, because of them.
He didn’t offer them a lift on the cart driven by the tireless Grunge, the less association he had with the cults traitors the more likely he was to keep his skin from being stretched over a smiling doll. Eventually once they realised that he had not leaked any information on them they would give up the chase… but then again, he was probably severely overlooking the cult’s love of rampant aimless psychopathy.
After that both Honey and he had slept fitfully, Grunge following natural intuition and continuing along the beaten path towards the town of Muddy Hooves. Scalpel had only managed to gather a couple of hours sleep before being awoken again after his nightmare, and felt exhausted after the previous days exertions.
Unfortunately they had taken the wrong road out of the city, although any road of the city by the state that it was in was better than returning to the smouldering pit behind them. So now they were on the Muddy Hooves road, although to be frank it wasn’t a bad last minute choice. Doubtless he could pay for a lift on a merchant barge down the river to the Stormwing border and then use the old Imperial roads through Canterlot province and to Star Harbour. Equestria had become increasingly unsafe for him, and he needed a place to ride out the chaos for a while… perhaps Trotpoli would do, maybe his Niece might enjoy the sunshine.
Grunge was far from inconspicuous however, and there would be many unpleasant questions about his state if he continued onwards unconcealed. With the arrival of dawn, Scalpel blew out the lantern and fitted an old worn cloak over the quasi-metal form of Grunge. Grunge stared at him expressionlessly, as was his nature, accepting whatever was happening with the same reaction practically everything gave him. He was certainly a work of art in terms of magical enhancement, machine, metal and flesh all working together, and with some biological modifications, strength far above even the fittest of Earth ponies. Unfortunately the process had severely decreased his intelligence to that of a young foal, although it was somewhat of a mixed blessing due to the amount of control Scalpel was able to exert over him, but the lack of tactics beyond raw brutality.
It took them most of the day to get to Muddy Hooves, and all the way it was quiet, the only sound of life being the birds and woodland creatures which roamed the forests around them. Once Scalpel thought he had seen a ghostly form betwixt the trees, but he shrugged it off as trickery of the mind. Honey Puzzle amused herself with another of her Uncle’s puzzleboxes, a convenient device which hid his research notes from prying eyes and hooves. Honey Puzzle proved a natural at figuring out the boxes, and so she had contributed in her own way to his research by ensuring their security to all but the sharpest minds. The amount of time it took for her to finish one became indicative of the difficulties in opening them for anyone not naturally gifted in the art. The completed devices also held a number of traps, both magical and physical, which would prove deadly to those foolish enough to try their hooves at one.
He had lost his research once, but never again.
Of course he had memorized it all, but the reassurance of written information was a deep comfort, and ensuring his secrets would stand the test of time aided in softening his unease. A soft click and an “Mmm!” sound of victory met his ears and he saw his Niece open the box with some joy at her conquest. He smiled a little, but his face became pained as they touched upon the stumps which had once been her lower legs.
He would never forgive them for what they had done.
They would all pay in time.
One day he would get them all, all those degenerate mud ponies and take his vengeance upon them with blade and saw.
After all, he had already started counting down by one so far.
On that fateful day he had turned his cause beyond self interests and perhaps for the first time towards unrewarded compassion for another. If his studies ever bore fruit, he would restore her hooves once again… and he would never have to stare at those starred stumps again and feel such guilt for not being there for her in her time of need.
He would make things right, one way or another.
He turned away and a stray thought struck him as the sight of Muddy Hooves crossed into the horizon.
Cruel is the world in which foals suffer for the sins of their fathers.
kapuchu said
Also, I just want to ask you all to be careful when it comes to interacting with the Big Characters, so to speak. I don't want this to turn into a godmod battle where someone starts controlling a faction because their character occasionally interacts with one of the faction leaders.
Yeah, I was getting a little wary of that to be frank. Also I somewhat doubt most of the faction leaders would willingly swallow their pride and allow an Alicorn to take a prime position.
kapuchu said
Only the city of Canterlot itself. I forgot it was in a mountain and wasn't a coastal city.
Thats fine, I'll simply be going through the province rather than the city, thanks for the heads up.
Does that count the provincial region as well? or just the city?
Might as well write a new post, figure Scalpel and co will take a barge down the river until they reach somewhere near Fort Horn and then take the road through Canterlot. I may have him end up in Star Harbor trying to find a boat to Trotpoli when our old salty seadog of a god arrives, who knows. He'll probably be intrigued by the vault invasions (if those rumors haven't been hushed up) and maybe make his way to finding Arcon, but I'll cross that path when I get there.
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