[AiE] Judge Anon in Equestria

Waking up - gems - dog people of the mountains - trade - taming - Man of war kills - westward

You are Judge Anon
After a night of nude dancing in the basement of a bar you have woken up in a saccharine delusion
A pastel pigmented realm of soft edges and pleasant odors, like a child’s memory of the world
You are on a mountain and there is no skin charring sun overhead but a cloudless cool Sol giving life to the ground but the harsh skin of the mountain accepting none of it, like a blind man’s eyes crusted over
You find your heavy and dusty coat along with the rest of your clothes next to your waking area and you get up and clothe yourself
The fabric of your shirt is rough and scratchy and the dead skins of the animals that make your duster and boots weigh down on your enormous frame and give you the comforting sense of reality you’ve grown accustomed to dominating
But there is something missing
Your firearms, your swords of fire and power
You spit on the ground and notice how there is a collection of gems near your
How odd, you say
You pluck several of the precut precious ore-stones and pocket them for later
A slight breeze picks up and blows westward and you follow the breeze

You smile as you climb through the mountains
Riding and scalp hunting deprived your muscles of much desired microscopic tears and the flooding of lactic acid afterwards
The range hides many precious rocks in small pockets and your mind categorises them all
Topaz and ruby and emerald and sapphire and diamond
Amethyst and garnet and opal and alexandrite
It was a simple mental exercise that deviated your mapping out of the territory by only the most miniscule of margins
And did not detract from locating the intruders
Yes oh vagabonds, you say, observe and learn and I’ll teach
The shadows of the peaks conceal them but they are fairly large and deformed
Their arms are as long as a gorillas but their heads do not fit as they have pointed outgrowths as if horned and their stooping nature is indicative of digitigrade or ungulate standing
You laugh your deep throaty laugh
Could it be that I’ve finally brought you out for a challenge, Accuser, you ask
You bend over to pick another precious gem from the ground when the stalker makes himself known
You turn and behold a pack of human dogs standing erect on their hind legs with no forelegs to speak of only large and bulbous forearms and hands which they rest their torsos upon for support every now and again
Give us the gems, bald ape, the biggest one says
You take out your notebook from your inner coat pocket and make a rough sketch of their standing posture
Yeah, yeah, gives us the gems, the smallest one says
You christen them Homo Canidae in your notebook and plan out the structure and flow of your depiction of their innards and skeletal structure for each proceeding page
You flap close the notebook and put it back in your inner left breast pocket along with the pen and take off your coat and grab a fistful of gemstones from one of your coat pockets
What use would beasts have of ore, you ask
Beasts? Beasts? The biggest one screeches the question like a buzzards mating call
We are not beasts, we are Diamond Dogs
And what are your intentions if I do relinquish my gems
We take them and keep them so no one else can have them, the smallest says panting
Then you are beasts. For what other creature than a beast would desire an object simply to have it? A man desires gems for the trading potential it has. He needs it in order to obtain sustenance, shelter, physical pleasure. What will you trade them for?
If you give them we will let you live, the big one said clenching his gigantic paw fists
Interesting proposal, you say
You throw them the gems and as they scatter to gather the precious minerals you grab a nearby stone and mark a single X on a nearby boulder and when you pass out of view you grab another gem an hide it in your boot

You have been stalking the Homo Canidae for an hour
You had rolled around in the dirt and brushed yourself with local flora wherever you found them and even hid behind rocks and slabs and walls of stone whenever the wind blew in the direction of the dogs from behind you
You were now walking along an uprising, nature’s own gallery above the mockeries of humans
The dogs have been talking about how they will find more gems and where
The smallest among them has been digging to and fro around the alpha in search of the aforementioned gems and presenting them to the leaders, looking like some ancient tribesman offering a sacrifice to his vastly more powerful ancient god
You lie down and slowly take off your coat mitigating any flapping and shuffling noise with your delicate, precise movements
You then move on to your shirt and then your pants and then your boots and take the gem from inside one of the boots and end it all by removing your undergarments
You put the gemstone in them, making them into a poor man’s sling and swing it around and around and launch it into the air yards aheads where it hits the mountain walls and echoes down the face
Clinky clanky, it’s a gem, says the smallest one
Go and get it, now, says the Alpha
All the while you use your guile to move across the mountain gallery with your shirt in hand
You pick up a nearby stone sharpened to perfection by nature’s wrath and spread wide your shirt and take flight

As your titanic form descends upon the Alpha you wrap its head in your shirt using the sleeves to constrict its windpipe in a makeshift collar
Down boy, you say
The rock collides with its skull
Down
It collides again
Down, says I, demon dog
And again until a rose blooms in the white of your once pristine white cloth and the creature beneath staggers and falls forward prone onto the cold stone floor
The one remaining dog who is bigger than the run but still smaller than the Alpha gawks at you like a newborn observing its own impending death
Sit, you say
The Homo Canidae sits and you throw the rock at its head enshrouding its mind in the black mist of unconsciousness


When the runt returns it sees you naked as the day you were a babe and covered in the blood of its compatriots as you skin their fallen forms
Be a good dog, you say, and sit down

You leave the runts head beneath the X’d rock and make your way westward to the plains