Cold Edge Anon Part 19

> You are reminded of when you would play minecraft, how you would build glass pane complexes below and above the water.
> After a few hours of dream trawling, you have three specimens. You forgot how many dreams are mostly social.
> Each of them has to be kept above your subconscious, which is to say, in your conscious mind.
> As such, they are contained in ice bubbles that are linked by tunnel to their respective dreams, as well as an elevated tube that leads back the library of your mind.
> The first is a rectangular pit, torn from a concrete foot traffic tunnel.
> It's a little larger than a shoebox, and it's filled with healing water, according to the dream.
> It also disintegrated a small beholder, so probably holy water as well.
> At this point, you don't know the first thing about studying dream objects, so you're just oddity-collecting.
> The second bubble has a stick with spiders bagged up in their own web.
> Considering the one who bagged them was a storyteller, you suspect some weaving metaphor is key.
> Or you could just use it as a bag of spiders. That's pretty frightening.
> Third is a red crystal, for the lack of a better term, axe.
> It looks like someone took a ruffled potato chip, deep fried it in grimdark, then attached a handle to it.
> To be fair, the person who used it was a crazy barbarian who grappled a psychic witch and cast a spell which removed both of them from existence.
> The axe itself was used to carve weaponry out of ice.
> Not in the whittling style of carving, no you swung it into ice and out would pop ice daggers, or swords, or throwing axes.
> You're not sure if you will get someone else to use it, or if you can generalize some of its principles and mass produce other things out of ice.
> Finally, the dream world fades to black, and you open your eyes.
> You notice that Frozen is on pillow duty once again, and doing a fine job.
> The dragons are nice and warm, and their wings make an excellent blanket.
> You revise your earlier note to yourself; do not get a mattress, get more females to sleep with/on.
> The dragons begin to stir, which feels quite pleasant as they stretch and flex while still pressed up against your body.
> Their eyes open, and they look at each other in sleepy confusion.
> Then they look at you, and grin.
> Andesite rubs her head against yours.
"That was wonderful, just wonderful."
> Emerald hums in agreement, her head laying on your chest.
"Thank you, ladies. Believe me, the feeling is mutual."
> You use a little magic to squeeze the firm dragon flanks.
> Their eyes open wide, then go half-lidded.
> Emerald lets out a heated breath.
"Does that mean you are ready for round two?"
> You grin.

> Much later, you all go to the dining hall for some much needed breakfast.
> The dragons still have more farming to do, but since the bulk of the sowing is done, you go see if Wongbra has any else for you to do.
> Citadel input has him in the observation room.
> On your way, you see shadows flicker.
> Not even out of the corner of your eye, like proper horror cliches should, no.
> Just casually sliding across the ground.
'Monsters these days, no respect for tradition.'
> You try to avoid stepping on them, but you know you trod on a few on your way to the central tower.
> Prombra is keeping a watch on all the labor, but something is preoccupying him.
> You step hesitantly into the room.
"Any particular reason there's a shadow infestation?"
> He turns to you.
"Ah, I had been wondering when they would arrive. Wilt thou stand in my place and watch o'er the dragonlings?"
"Sure. What task have ye laid for thyself?"
> You step into the center of the chamber as Kilombrater takes the stairs.
"'Tis no great thing. Merely opening a demon gate."
> He had descended a full flight of stairs before you overcome your shock.
> Thinking quickly, you yell into the crystal, trusting it to carry your voice to Humbra.
"Just so we're clear, actual demons won't be set free upon the this plane of existence?"
> He stops, considering both what you said and how you said it.
> He calls back,
"Worry ye not, I shall set it to open upon the shadow world alone."
"Oh, the shadow world. Not full of monsters and malevolence, I take it?"
> King Fogbra smiles.
"No more than ye or I."
"Know ye that I love thee, yea even unto the extent of no homo, yet are we not two deadly, powerful, and negotiably sane ponies? Hence I find little solace in thy words."
> Germbra walks out onto the city streets.
"Knoweth thou the kingdom of Tambelon?"
"Nay."
> He sets off towards the Northeast Gate, ignoring the shadows that give him a wide berth.
"Twas once an evil sorcerer, who sought to rule with an iron hoof. He did imprison many in the world of shadows, in the Kingdom of Tambelon. In time, heroes arose and saved many. They rang a bell of ancient origin, and did banish the world of shadows and it's kingdom."
> You keep an eye on all the dragons in the field, partly out of a sense of duty, and partly because mining does wonders for a dragonettes physique.
> You follow the story with the rest of your attention.
"I'm sensing a 'however'."
"Indeed, however, he did reign for a long time ere he was vanquished, and deep were his dungeons. I wandered long in mine own banishment, holding to the lightrealm, drifting in the shadow world."
> The gate opens, Storbry continues.
"So it was that I had found the descendants of the prisoners, who had waxed numerous and ascendant in the dark kingdom. They would not have me as their king then. And so I had forgotten them, as so did their long lost kin."
> Tiny Tombra paused by the road, and began summoning great slabs of black crystal.
> He set them in a rough doorframe, four slabs by five.
> A black, green, and purple bolt shoots from his horn to the doorframe, and a rippling purple portal springs into existence, bounded by the crystals.
> Tombrastone continues.
"Since thy coming, I hath communed with them in their lost state, and they hath accepted mine offer of citizenship."
> Through the portal came creatures that may have been ponies once.
> There were long legged ponies, their coats ranging from purple to black, their eyes glowing white slits.
> Indolent, pale pink pegasus, coasting on similarly colored clouds of what you suspect is not water vapor.
> You are not entirely sure if they are fused to the clouds or not, but your horror movie intuition says yes.
> They make small cries of wonderment, which remind you uncomfortably of infants.
> And lastly, vaguely equine forms of smoke and fire, with attendant yellow-orange rods floating in a loose ring around them.
> The air shimmers around them, but you can make out their faces relatively well, and they are sniffing at the air curiously.
> Sometimes, you hate reality.