Savior (FiE:4)

>You are Fiddlesticks
>And you SUCK at running.
>Like, really really fucking suck at it.
>You're legs are made of sticks, for Leagues sake!
>Fortunately, you remember some form of spell to increase your speed.
>You focus your inner magics, and a blue blast of light emanates from you, as you nearly quadruple your speed.
>The effect wont last long, but any burst of speed is better than no burst of speed.
>After a short while, you hear a scream in the distance.
>You recognize the tone of something being terrorized.
>You relish the moment, savor the sound as it hits your metaphysical ear drums, when you are jolted out of your stupor.
>That voice sounded famili-
>”Let me go! I know magi- AUUGH!”
>Oh hell no.
>Although the haste spell has worn, you continue running at the same pace, in order to “save” Twilight.
>You had no real reason to save her, but hey, if you weren't allowed to kill her, why should someone else get to?
>Besides, she might be able to get you back to the Halls.
>You stop in a bush, your form hidden perfectly in its leafy foliage.
>You peek out, and you see him.
>Warwick.
>Talk about a fearsome opponent on the Fields of Justice. This werewolf would destroy anything in its way.
>You have fought him once before, and you were not eager to do it again.
>Then you notice the significant size difference
>This werewolf is much MUCH smaller than Warwick.
>And its fur isn’t the sleek jet black color of your old foe.
>No, this thing stood perhaps as tall as you when you slouched.
>And its fur was gray.
>”Your spells are nuthin against us” the gray dog spat at Twilight, who was being held high in the air by her horn.
>A new, rather annoying voice, enters the fray.
>”Yes! Your little magics aren’t gonna do hay against us dogs! We are protected by the gems!”
>”Yeah, our gemsies will protect us!” a third voice quipped
>Oh good lord.
>You've killed geniuses, you've killed elite warriors. You have killed pillagers, and murderers, wraiths, golems, wizards, werewolves, and just about every other adjective you could think of.
>But you would have never thought you were going to add “mentally retarded dog people” to that list
>That was definitely a first
>Today is a day full of firsts for you! Fortunately, there is one common denominator among that list.
>You have had to kill them.
>You are good at killing
>But you are far better at causing fear.
>And this is a perfect time to show them how good you are at your craft.
>”You 2 stays heres, and make sure nuffin comes into the den.”
>”Yes boss” the other 2 haphazardly slap to attention.
>Oh good lord, this was going to be so easy.


>Okay, lets evaluate the situation.
>You want to go into a tiny den full of angry dog people, due to the fact the person who interrogated you will probably be killed by them.
>And you want to prevent this, why?
>Because, brain. If I am not allowed to kill her, I'm going to make sure no one else is allowed to either.
>Oh, that makes sense.
>I thought so.
>After your brief internal monologue, you decide to come up with a better plan than just “kill everything that isn't purple”
>You're new plan is “Kill everything that isn’t a purple pony.”
>After all, there could be purple retarded dog people in there.
>The very thought of that makes you laugh out loud.
>Being the Personification of fear, your laugh is more of a terrifying cackle than a laugh.
>”Who there?” One of the dogs begins shaking in his non-existent boots. The other lowers a spear toward the bush you are hiding in.
>”You. Stay.” The spear holding dog barked (literally) at the other.
>It runs towards your hiding-bush, brandishing the spear wildly.
>You lay your scythe on the ground, blade up, and as the dog steps in, you tug on the spear.
>Once he is close enough, you grab the scruff of his neck, and slam him downwards onto the scythe blade.
>Within a second, your blade is sticking clean through its stomach, slicing through the dogs lower spine with ease.
> The scythe is no longer a shined steel, but a shined crimson color, as you indulge on the fear emanating from the wounded lycanthrope.
>You pick the dog back up, forcing him off your blade, and throw him out of the bush, towards the other guard.
>The dying dog crawls towards its friend and whimpers loudly, its lower legs dragging uselessly behind it.
>When the healthy dog is close to the dying one, you feel it.
>The fear.
>When the crippled dog looks up at its friend, you hear a gentle sob
>You throw your scythe, impacting the bleeding dogs skull. After a brief twitch, it plays dead.
>Except for the part where it isn’t acting.
>You speak loudly from your hiding bush “You are pathetic.”
>The other dog, holding his dead comrade in its hands, looks up towards the bush.
>It grabs the sword from its scabbard, and swings blindly at the bush you were hiding in.
>You had already rolled to a nearby bush, continuing your speech after it stops swinging.
>”You let your friend die”
>The dog yelps in delicious fear, as it turns towards the other bush, and begins swinging again.
>And as before, you roll into another form of cover. “Do not despair though, mutt.”
>It snarls, baring its rather long and yellow teeth. Apparently mutt was offensive to these things
>”Your end will be quick and painful, I promise.”
>The dog runs toward the tree with reckless abandon as you charge up a teleporting spell.
>When the dog lunges to look behind the tree, you disappear in a cloud of black smoke, a few crows flying away from where you once stood..
>The dog is utterly stunned, and absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, terrified beyond its simple canine mind.
>It turns around slowly.
>As it turns, your eyes meet his.
>Before it can make a sound, you swing your scythe upwards with ease, slicing through its crotch and exiting through its skull.
>With a sickening splash, the lycanthropes still beating heart fall upon the ground, resting on a pile of gore that's slick with blood.
>Both halves of the body fall to the ground with a thud.

>You know fear. So of course, you know you cant just leave these dismembered canines laying around. >You quickly slice off the head of the first dead dog, and grab a grounded half of the other
>You approach the hole in the ground they called a den, and drop the head down it.
>After about 3 seconds you hear a dulled crack as it hits the ground.
>Wait for it...
>Wait for it...
>Ah, there it is. The terrified howls and yelps of many scared dogs.
>That sound is music to your ears. Your own personal orchestra playing a symphony you have created yourself.
>You are a damn good composer.
>Thanks, brain.
> You use the enchantment on the scythe to shrink it down to a one handed weapon.
>You jump down the hole.
>As you descend,, you slide your scythe blade into the wall.
>When you land, dust flies all around you, and you use this new found concealment to hide in the shadows.
>When the dust clears, you see at least 15 dogs standing at the entrance, wearing worn, tattered leather armor, and holding crude makeshift weapons
>After what seemed like an eternity, you let out a loud maniacal laugh.
>The dogs jump and shiver in fear, but continue to hold their ground.
>You fall silent and willed your eyes to glow brighter.
>They are all too terrified to move.
>This must change. Immediately.
>You lean forward into the light, smiling wide, exposing your dripping black teeth to them, and calmly inform them:
>”Your end will be far worse than your friend's was.”
>You toss the half of the body you dragged with you towards them.
>With a schlop and a thud, the halved body rolls, its crimson interior displayed towards the dogs.
>Half the dogs fled down the chamber, howling and yelping in fear.
>The other half are clearly shaken, but were unmoved.
>Perhaps its time for one of your famous ultimatums.
>May they forever live in infamy.
>”Slay each other, and whoever lives, will survive the nightmares to come” You cackle again, stepping back into the darkness, your eyes fade to black.
>And you wait.
>Within seconds, the dogs are fighting among themselves, teeth gnashing, claws slashing, and blood spilling
>This was working far better than you expected.
>Within a minute, only one stood, blood and dirt caked onto its fur, a tear running down its eyes, spear broken in half.
>”I killed my brothers, gem-eyes. Please lets me lives. I'll do anythings!”
>With grammar like that, you should kill him out of spite, but you said you would let the victor live.
>You step forward, your form coming into the light fully for the first time.
>The terrified dog steps backwards, dropping his half a weapon.
>You approach him, bloody hand-scythe held low, and you are within an inch of his face.
>You do not fear reaction from him. You control him now. You made him kill, you can surely make him do this next thing.
>You hold your mouth close to his ear as you hiss.
>”Run”

>Damn it
>Maybe you should have told him to walk briskly instead.
>Dogs are damn fast, and you are not. Even casting haste on yourself barely helped.
>The dog turns a corner, bursting through a thin curtain of wool, shouting unintelligibly about blood, murder, and scarecrows.
>After a few seconds, you reach the end of the hall, and use your scythe to cut through the curtain.
>Shit.
>There are at least 25 dogs, if not more. They look far larger than the other dogs, and look well armored compared to the ones you encountered earlier.
>And the whole group is looking at the stick man who cut their curtain-door hybrid down.
>You stare at them, poker-face engaged. You are clearly outnumbered, but you have years of battle experience with your scythe.
>It might take a while, but you can easily kill them all with your-
>”Help.” a weak voice calls out.
>Nah.
>You need to kill fast, and scythe is too slow.
>Is it that time, brain?
>It sure is, Fiddle.
>Murder time FUN TIME!
>You expand your arms out, channeling some very dark and terrifying magics.
>Your eyes begin to glow fiercely, bright green orbs floating around you.
>”The end is near!” You shout.

>Instantly, you are teleported to the center of the pack, a murderous flock of crows swirling around you.
>You begin laughing, as you strike down any dogs who are close to you.
>You form a black cloud around your hand, and throw it at a dog who is attempting to escape. In mid flight, it turns into a very large crow, a worm sticking out of its eye socket, its blackened heart exposed through its ribs.
>The crow begins striking the dog, blinding it, before it moves onto other dogs.
>It was over before it truly began.
>The crows, now slick with gore, are resting on the bodies of the fallen canines, picking at their furred flesh, cawing intermittently.
>You smile. It's been a while since you have fed the birds.
>Oh, how you spoil them.
>You hear the distinct sound of vomiting behind you.
>You turn, raising your scythe, and striking down in one fluid movement.
>The lock being severed from the cage, a heaving purple pony is now free.
>”What... what did * blaaargh*” She cant finish her sentence.
>You gently pick her up once the dry heaves stop.
>At first, she is terrified, with good reason
>You literally waltzed into a room, stared down 20+ dogs, then murdered everything in sight.
>Well, everything except for the purple pony.
>You did want to stick to your plan, after all.
>After a brief second, she stops shivering in fear, and begins to sob.
>Add this to your list of firsts.
>What's that, brain?
>Saving an innocent.
>For the first time in a long time, you actually feel good about what you did.
>Not that you regret anything you did in the past.

>You make it out of the cave, either cutting down any resistance you meet, or manipulating their fear to such an extent that they refuse to leave the fetal position.
>Twilight's eyes are pressed firm against your chest, blocking the terrible sights from gracing her pupils and thoughts.
>You flash out of the hole you were in, and notice the sun begin to set.
>You direct yourself towards the direction of the barn, and head off in that direction in a slow jog.
>Don't want to jostle the now sleeping pony any more than you ha-
>Your twig leg gets caught on a vine.
>Face, meet ground
>It does not like you.
>* hrk*
>You roll off the slightly injured, and now fully awake, unicorn.
>”Ugh... what happe-Oh sweet Celestia!” She points a hoof at your chest.
>You look down.
>There's a huge gash across your chest, along with a small hole a bit higher.
>Damn, Twilight's horn made that hole in your chest when you accidentally fell on her.
>Wide slashes were easy to mend together.
>Tiny holes are another story.
>You shrug
>”We need to get you home, fast!”
>You shrug again, picking yourself up.
>”How can you just shrug?! You should be dying right now! Bleeding at least!”
>* stare*
>”R...right... no blood. I don’t think I'll ever get used to that.” she nervously chuckles

>“Well,” She evaluates the situation “We are in the middle of the Everfree forest, and its getting dark. This forest is a very dangerous when its dark.”
>You tap your now 2 handed scythe reassuringly.
>You begin to walk towards the barn
>”Oh no you don’t. You aren't walking any further with that wound on your chest”
>”Watch me” you whisper, as you pass by Twilight.
>Suddenly, tackle-hug from behind.
>You feel a sensation familiar to using a flash teleport spell.
>With a crack, you find yourself in the barn next to Twilight.
>Then you hear it.
>A delicious sound, if you do say so yourself.

>It takes a moment for the terrified screams to die down, but they do.
>Apparently, a bloodied up scarecrow that is twice your size suddenly appearing in front of you with a large, gore slick scythe in its hand is terrifying.
>Who would have guessed.
>Both Kickface and Fluttershy back away from your form, a Twilight in front of you explaining to 2 screaming mares that you saved her life, and that if you were an evil being, you wouldn't have bothered.
>Do you bother telling them the reason?
>You may be a scarecrow, but you do have some form of a brain, contrary to a very popular song stating otherwise.
>And that brain is shouting at you to not say a damn word to anybody.
>”So, you saved mah friend?” AppleKick inquired
>* nod*
>”Well shoot, I think I may have misjudged yah then.”
>* stare *
>”Well... uh... you don’t need to stare at me like that...” she nervously looks at her 2 friends.
>They shrug, and you kneel down, getting to her eye level.
>She quivers as you do so, remembering what happened last time you did that.
>”You kicked me in the head. Multiple times.” you whisper
>”I...uh...ah....Ah'm...sorry” she looks down slightly, her hat covering her eyes from your view
>You feel a flash of pain in your chest.
>Was it the wound that caused that?
>Wait, you don’t feel pain on the inside of your chest. What could it be?
>You remember reading one of your dusty tomes about something called “guilt”.
>Remembering the description of the word, you realize this situation could classify as one where it would be justified to feel “guilt”
>”Ah'm sorry ah kicked ya. Ya just scared me so bad, that...”
>You nod and lightly touch her shoulder.
>You smile without teeth, in an effort to ease the tension
>Damn your chronically terrifying expression.
>She winces
>”I am sorry for scaring you as I did in the past, and just now.” you try to chuckle in a non shit-your-pants-in-pure-horror way.
>Add this to the list Brain. First time apologizing to something I terrified, and chuckling without killing something immediately after.
>Noted.
>”Well, I have to head home” Twilight announces to no one in particular.
>”Oh no, you can't! You're bleeding so much! You wouldn't even make it off the farm!” an exacerbated yellow pegasus states.
>”Flutters, don’t worry about me, I only have a a couple scratches. Most of this blood isn't even mine” She nervously laughed, cringing at the though of being covered in someone else's blood. “Beside, Fiddlesticks is wounded.”
>Fluttershy turned her head, and gasped.
>”Oh my goodness! We have to get you to a doctor! You're so badly hurt!”
>* shrug *
>”Uhm, Flutters, maybe taking him to a doc isn’t the best thang for him. Ah mean, look at him. He's covered in blood and carrying a scythe bigger than us.” She sizes up the scythe as she says this  “He ain't exactly a living bleeding thing either, so Ah don't think the doctor'll be able to help.”
>”Oh.. uhm...well... Mister Fiddlesticks?” Fluttershy looks at you with the most d'aww-tastic eyes you've ever seen.
>* shrug * “I don’t need a healer for physical wounds. If you have thread and needle, I can sew myself back together. I've done it before.”
>The yellow pony is taken aback by how casually you mention sewing yourself back together.
>Applejack grins.
>”Ah think I have just the place in mind to get you sewed up, Fiddle.”