Anon's excellent adventures in Tartarus pt8

In which Anon does not have fun.

>You are Anonymous, marooned in Tartarus and searching for a way out.
>Well, that was the plan, at any rate. Of course, this being Equestria’s hell, things don’t quite go to plan.
>Case in point: It has been three and a half hours since you left the fortress and you STILL haven’t managed to shake off this FUCKING EYEBALL.
>Goddamn he has like a friggin’ human-seeking radar in his cornea.
>You wild goose chase has lead you to a familiar forest of blackened, soot covered trees.
>You hear a sharp crack as another bolt of thunder lances out from the eye behind you, streaking over your head and felling a tree directly in front of you.
>If you didn’t stop, your momentum would carry you straight into a sudden, painful stop.
>Fortunately, this is the type of situation where adrenaline happens to kick in.
>Hyperfocused, everything happens in a blur of motion even though you remember time slowing down.
>Shifting your feet, you juke right, turning on a dime and now running alongside the falling, leaping over branches as it crashes downwards.
>After dive-rolling over a mass of wood you’re not quite sure you can clear, you turn back for a second. Did you just see something red?
>Before you can get a good look, another crimson bolt crashes into the mass of wood, and you shield your face with your arms before turning tail and running once again.
>No rest for the wicked and all.
>Cursing, you head into the thicker part of the woods, where your smaller size and agility should make it easier to give him the slip.
>Of course, at this point you wouldn’t be surprised if a horde of enraged radioactive grizzlies chased you out of the forest.
>Fucking Tartarus.
>Even as you dart in and out of sight in a zigzag pattern, the eye still follows relentlessly, thundering after you just above the treetops, firing thunderbolts with wild abandon whenever it got a bead on you, felling trees left and right.
>Must think his idea or crushing you was goddamn BRILLIANT.jpg, even though you’ve already thwarted it once.
>Whatever the case is, you’re running circles around him, and it’s becoming apparent that he can’t keep up with your superior agility.
>If only there was a place you could lie low and let the eye wander off…
>Even as you run, pondering how you could pull this off, you feel a wave of heat wash over you.
>Looking up, you see a fiery streak tear through the sky, flying above your head and proceeding to dive-bomb the eyeball.
>Consequently, this serves as the perfect distraction for your escape.
>Bueno.png
>Even as you dart through the trees like a Pathfinder on cocaine, you hear the distant sounds of battle, both the hawk-like cries of the new creature, and the enraged roars and thunderbolts of the massive eye.
>One such sound is an odd “fwoosh”. You glance back to see if you can’t figure out the source—
>And cover your ears as horrendously loud scream of pain bursts from the direction of the battlefield, a sound unlike any you have heard before, and you cringe involuntarily.
>Dafuq?
>Forcing your eyes open, you are treated with the pleasant sight of one giant eyeball being set on fire by the flaming bird of prey’s fireballs.
>Note to self: Do not piss off a Phoenix.
>With that in mind, you haul ass. Last thing you wanted was to have to deal with whoever won. Luckily, you had a hunch about a potential hiding spot…
>Now back at the first tree that your pursuer felled, you quickly duck under the wooden mass you previously saw, after making sure that it is in fact roughly bowl-shaped, like you thought.
>Shifting yourself so you are better concealed in the shadows of the half destroyed nest, you feel yourself brush into something warm.
>Curious, you give one hand the task of feeling around for what it was. Of course, it doesn’t take long before your fingers brush up against it…
>Smooth, round and warm. Those are the three adjectives that first pop into your mind. And one thing that fit that description was…
>Holding the object to a beam of light filtering in through the holes, you find yourself holding a scarlet egg, spotted with charcoal grey.
>Your mind immediately goes to the Phoenix that unwittingly saved you from who knows what kinda fate.
>If this was its egg…
Aw man, no wonder he’s pissed.
>That eye just fucked up his nest. You can’t say you don’t sympathize with him.
>Suddenly, a voice reaches your ears.
>”Hey, Rusty! Dat’s a Hellfiah nest, innit?”
>Judging from the accent, you’d guess it’s –surprise surprise—another Diamond Dog.
>”Good eye, Snowie. If it’s got an egg, we’ll be making bank. Those sell like crazy.” A second voice says, with a decidedly vile sound to it, fitting for a denizen of Tartarus.
>You hear strong wingbeats as something large lands to the ground with a dull thud. You instinctively tense, clutching egg close to your chest as you listen in.
>”How do the skies look, Haast?” the second voice asks, evidently the one leading the three.
>”Phoenix’s too busy torchin’ the eye to notice us. We’ve got enough time to pull this one off.”
>Not if you’ve got a say in this.
>”Well, let’s make it quick. I’m getting’ a bad feeling about this.”
>Ah, so he can sense your power level…
>You didn’t like the sound of this whole thing. In any case, they were gonna discover you soon, so you figure you’d do it on your own terms.
>Getting a grip on the edge of the former nest, you flip it behind you as you rise to your full height. Giving a steely glare at the three stooges, you’re greeted by the oddest traveling part you’ve met so far.
>One is a smallish diamond dog with white, curly fur, most likely the one called “Snowie”.
>The second is a Unicorn of middling size, with a brownish-orange coat and a light blue aura around his horn. “Rusty.” This bunch sure is imaginative.
>And the third was quite obviously the most dangerous of the three. Riddled with scars, with the body of a lion and the talons and head of an eagle, you appear to have met your second griffon.
>The first was, of course, Gilda. Tryhard as fuck she was. You, Pinkie, and eventually Rainbow had had a blast trolling her.
Not happening, boys. Sorry, but I don’t condone this sorta thing.
>You keep an even tone throughout. After all, these guys haven’t done much to rustle you so far.
>”Oh really?” Rusty says, glancing at his two partners. “And what’s makin’ you think you can stop us? Looks to me like you’re outnumbered, pal.”
>Snowie seems to think otherwise.
>”Shit, guys! ‘E’s a Human! I can tell from the physique and havin’ seen some humans in my time!”
>Haast glances sidelong at him, scoffing at his partner’s fear.
>“And what’s got you so worked up?”
>”You haven’t heard about dese crazy fucks, man?”
>”Those are just rumors, he’s nothin’ special.”
>True, you weren’t the most amazing human to walk these lands, but that didn’t mean you were somebody who could just be written off.
Look, I don’t care what you think. You’re not getting this.
>”Well, don’t say we didn’t warn ya!” Rusty says, as his horn begins to glow blue once more, and you are enveloped in a similar light.
>You sigh as you plant Starfury’s nearly black blade into the earth.
Here we go…
>His eyes squint shut as he focuses, and the blue aura of arcane force around you intensifies somewhat.
>Oh look it’s this shit again.tiff
>Rolling your eyes, you idly snap off a branch of the fallen tree, giving it a few swings to test its weight.
>Meanwhile the other two rapscallions are waiting with bated breath to see Rusty send you flying.
>Boy, were they in for a treat. This was one bright side of having a ridiculously powerful resistance to magic: You always got to troll the mages who weren’t in the know.
>Rusty opens his eyes, grunting in exertion. He clearly isn’t used to being unable to budge somebody.
>”Just… what the buck… are yo—“
>He is unable to finish his sentence, thanks to you braining him with the aforementioned branch. With an intentionally cocky-looking smirk, you raise your free hand, beckoning the other two.
C’mon. Who’s next?
>Team Jimmie status: Preposterously Rustled.
>The two glance at their downed leader, and then at eachother.
>And understanding is met with no need for words, and they both nod simultaneously.
>Haast takes to the air, and Snowie crouches low to the ground.
>And then with a battle cry, they both charge.
>And despite the fact that your muscles feel like they’re on fire, you stand firm, ready and willing to face them head-on.
>Yanking Starfury from the earth, you ready yourself.
>Unsurprisingly, the Griffin reaches striking distance first, lunging at you with his talons. Twisting and weaving, you shuffle back.
>After he commits to one slash a little too much, you step out slightly, adding torque, and launch a roundhouse to his head, kickboxing style.
>As the multitude of scars suggested, he has had plenty of experience to hone his reflexes. Launching upwards, he flies out of sight.
>Meanwhile on the ground, you’re occupied with the Dog charging you from the fore.
>Taking advantage of your current motion, you plant your foot on the ground and keep the torque going, spinning over your back shoulder and driving you heel out like a piston.
>Smashing into his solar plexus, the spinning side kick proves itself to have not lost its touch at being a fight-ender. Snowie goes down.
>Dropping your knee into his gut, you knock him out with a solid cross to the chin.
>Rising, you scan the skies, searching for Haast. Where did he fuck off to?
>You hear the sound of wingbeats behind you, and turn, drawing Starfury back—
>And three lines of white-hot agony burn across your face as the eagle’s talons rake into you, cleaving through flesh and eye.
>You stumble back from the kinetic force of the blow, and drop your blade as you clutch the right side of your face, bloodied and maimed, with a bloodcurdling scream of pain.
>Gritting your teeth through the pain, you whirl, glaring untold fury at the griffon with your uninjured eye.
>”Not so tough now, are you?” he says, charging once more.
>The world goes into a red haze as anger and adrenaline rise, and your last memory is you setting the egg down before charging Haast yourself.
>And then, blackness.
---------------------------------------------
>You first feel something nudging you.
Mlbgh. Go’way.
>Anonymous the Eloquent speaker, reporting in.
>Go fuck yourself, brain.
>The nudging returns, and with it, an irritated squawk.
>Opening your good eye, you stare into the twin fires of the Phoenix’s own.
>Groaning, you sit up, brushing your newly-gained cuts with your hand. Thankfully, the bleeding has stopped. However, your right eye’s still out of commission.
>As for the rest of you, you are, putting it simply, a mass of aches, pains, and, to your mild surprise, quite a few cuts.
Fucking wonderful.
>You gaze around, finding that your opponents have promptly fucked off, thankfully not having decided to take Starfury with them. You retrieve they blade, which had been laying at your side.
>You glance back at the Phoenix, who is looking at you expectantly.
>Turning, you are relieved to see that the egg is safe and sound. Rising with only a few wobbles, you retrieve it and set it down in front of the burning bird of prey.
There. I’ve kept it safe. No need to worry about me.
>As you say this, you slowly back away, showing that you have no intention of snatching it away.
>The eagle tilts its head at you, with an air of mixed confusion and… amusement? Dafuq?
>Nudging the egg with its beak, it sends it rolling to your feet.
>You stare at the bird, dumbfounded.
You want me to have this?
>No response. Okay, time for guess #2.
…You trust me?
>It nods, and you remember how Celestia’s pet Phoenix, Philomena, could understand human/pony language as you pick the egg up.
>So apparently you’re in charge of a Phoenix egg now.
I’ll, uh… take good care of it.
>With that, you begin to walk, holding your newfound responsibility close.