Elements of Disharmony part 4

>The ponies of Equestria were a humorous bunch.
>The most severe they ever were with one another was throwing pies in one another’s faces.
>To see open warfare like this was…
>Amusing.
>It made you laugh.
>The bitter cruelty of hate stained this world through.
>And it amused you to no end.
>Ponies were killing ponies.
>The brutality was hardly as severe as what you had ordered your minions to do in the past, but that changed nothing.
>Some ponies were killed in the fighting, no matter how gentle they were normally.
>It was time you put the fear of death back in to them.
>Seeing the dead rise from their graves should do enough to properly put down any thoughts of fighting.
>But first, your plans needed to reach the right point.
>You look up from the map, and gaze at Luna as she turns to face you.
“Well now, it seems like you have more need of my skills than even you care to admit. Already, the Celestial forces crash against your defenses.”
>You stand tall, and conjure your staff in an oily surge of brackish fire.
“It shall take time for me to call upon the ancient dead. An Army I promised you, and an army you shall have.”
>You slam the butt of your staff into the floor, and are enveloped in green flames, consuming your form and sending you into the shadow realm.
>The game has only just begun, and already you have almost everything you want.

>You return to the real world easily enough, and find yourself walking alongside a startled Shermanator.
>”Dramatic entrance.”
>You shrug at his comment
“A side effect to my preferred mode of transit.”
>You change the subject to something more important, lest he begin asking questions.
>You hate questions.
“I have secured the assistance of the one known as AEther, however it comes at a higher cost than I would like.”
>Shermanator looks over at you, tilting his head slightly
>”Well? What’s the problem?”
>You pause for effect
“He requires… An army.”
>Shermanator stifles a Guffaw, looking at your incredulously
>”Alright, so what will we do then? Obviously we don’t have an army, so-“
”Yet.”
>He nods
>”Right, we don’t have an- Wait what?”
>He’s confused as all hell now.
>If you were less disciplined and skilled, you’d snicker.
“Oh, Shermanator, I must confess…”
>He looks at you oddly, as if confused.
“Many years ago, when I was more foolish, I sold my soul to demons.”
>You lean on your staff for support, mimicking a pained, sad hunching over.
“I was an idiot. For so long, I was a play thing. I had power, Immortality, everything… But, as you can see-“
>You brush a hand over your robes, revealing your bones beneath
“A demons promises are as hollow as I am now.”
>Shermanator recoiled, looking at you in shock.
”It took a while, but, eventually, I managed to regain my soul. In a cruel twist of fate, however, my mortality was not returned to me.”
>You look up at him.
”You have no idea how painful an eternity of hatred, of sins and blood upon your hands can be.”

>Shermanator shudders, and takes a few steps closer.
>”I…”
>He is confused
>”That sounds aweful.”
>You nod
“It is. But, now, I’ve finally found a new purpose. I use this curse, this eternal shame and pain, and I try to help those in need.”
>Your words move him, and he blinks a few times, stifling empathetic sadness.
>He knew what you ‘felt’ rather intimately.
>”I… Can relate.”
>Time to twist the knife.
“This is why I need your help, Shermanator. Why I need your understanding.”
>You extend a hand to him
“Please, be my friend. Help me heal the wounds of a world taken by war and hate. There are so many worlds out there, and I cannot allow one to lie defenseless.”
>He clasps your hand without a second thought
>”I will help you here, for the ponies in danger. And when we’re done, we’ll see about your own home.”
>You look up at him
>You refrain from diabolic laughter as your ruse works more than perfectly.
>You shake his hand firmly and hold his gaze.
“Then, my friend, we must hurry. It will take time for me to utilize the full extent of my powers, and I will need your aid to buy time.”
>Shermanator nods.
>”We’d best hurry then.”
>With a nod, you grip your staff mid-way, and rush with your ally towards the north, where the sound of battle can be heard unmistakably.
>A small part of you wonders if lying to him was a good idea.
>You shrug it away.
>Being friends with the ponies was making you weak.
>Shermanator was an animal, a rabid dog.
>He was too much like you to be considered a friend.

>You crest a hill, the late evening sun shining to the backs of the Celestial army.
>The sun aided the assaulting army, blinding the defending ponies.
>Celestia’s hand made any effective attack or defense all the more difficult.
>It spoke volumes for the superiority of the Lunar leadership that they at all stood strong.
>This battle, however…
>The Celestial army was mad.
>They were violent, heedless.
>Brainwashed and indoctrinated to seeing their enemy as less-than-pony.
>The zealotry of the living always amused you.
>Now was not the time for passive watching.
>You would have to find enjoyment in tearing them apart.
>Runes dance about your feet, and you look at Shermanator.
”Go ahead. I will take some time to ready this spell.”
>He nods and runs into the fray.
>Unseen hands sculpt the battlefield, as retreats and counter-charges force the lines to mold around the land-scape.
>Æther was deep in the middle of the fighting, where the line was strongest.
>A front-lines leader.
>He would have made a fine Lich-Knight in your immortal armies when you once ruled as the unliving king.
>Perhaps you’ll raise him later.
>For now, you need him alive and breathing.
>Well, mostly alive.
>You extend your arms, and your shadow sinks into the soil.
>You can feel the ancient dead deep within, and they sing out to you.
>These ponies have not experience true terror.
>Not yet, they haven’t.

>The battle was going poorly, that much was certain.
>You raise your firsts and charge into the first Celestial soldier you see.
>You hated your actions.
>You owed Celestia far more than just your life.
>But Chronicler was counting on you to find Aether and keep him alive.
>You didn’t like it, and that was only magnified given he was the opposite of your closest friend.
>You spot the asshole not far away, hacking through the opposition with sword and magic.
>Well, with sword and magically-enhanced swordarm.
>Buck that noise.
>You raise your mother-bucking dukes.
>For some reason, your hands feel as if they’re on fire.
>You swing out with a right hook at a shocked Pony, who ducks down to let his armor take the hit.
>You grit your teeth, preparing for pain.
>Instead of the crack of steel and bone, you instead hear the sounds of metal giving way.
>Your fist impacts the metal, and it bends.
>You are too consumed in the moment to give this much thought.
>It has to be a fault of the armor.
>You keep swinging.
>Left Upper-cut.
>Left jab.
>Right round-house
>Next opponent.

>You put your boot against the chest of a staggering opponent and give him a quick smack across the face, knocking him out.
>This battle has been raging for the better part of thirty minuets, and already the Celestials were surrounding the Lunars.
>Things were looking grim.
>Where was that Lich?
>He had promised Luna an army.
>Did he expect you to go with him without first paying his dues?
>And then you spot him.
>There’s no mistaking it.
>Ponies are surround him, yet he stands tall, wrecking everything before him.
>Shermanator is like a force of nature.
>Where the hell was this fury when he was fighting you?
>Now, he’s slapping ponies away as if they were sacks of potatoes.
>In fact, it almost looks like-
>Holy Shit.
>Did he just punch through a ponies armor?!
>There’s no mistaking it, something is wrong.
>You grab your sword tighter.
>Even from this far away, you can see his clenched fists robed in crimson energy.
>You parry a buck too late, lost in your astonishment, and are floored by the blow.
>You look up as the pony in question prepares to smash in your face.
>You close your eyes, and lash wildly to try and stop the inevitable.
>You hear a crunch, and a crack of bone, then a metallic thud.
>That… Wasn’t you.
>You open your eyes, and see a panting Shermanator standing over you.
>He just punched his way through fifteen feet of angry soldiers to reach you.
>You really hoped he wasn’t interested in revenge at the moment.
>”Get up.”
>There is no kindess in his voice, and the hand he extends is not one of gentle friendship, more of a begrudging duty.

“Get up.”
>You really do not like having to do this.
>You want to cave in this mans head right now.
>It would be so easy…
>But no.
>You extend a gruff hand, and grab Aethers forearm.
>”Thanks for that.”
>You grunt, and look back at the battle.
>It was not at all going well.
>This made you pissed off.
>Time to vent some frustration.
>You make to charge, but are interrupted as a hand grabs your collar roughly.
>You spin around, left arm pulled back and ready, only to find Chronicler there.
>”You have earned your rest, Shermanator.”
>The Skeleton releases his hold.
>”Aether, you have your army.”
>The armored man behind the skeleton chortles
>”Really? I don’t see it anywhere.”
>The Skeleton looks you in the eyes
>You could almost swear he’s…
>Yeah, he just winked at you.
>Somehow.
>You’re not sure how, but that was a wink.
>”You should look closer then.”
>The ground trembles violently as an earthquake shakes the field.
>It only lasted a moment, but it’s enough to get you worried.
”Alright, what did you do, Chronicler?”
>The Skeleton shrugs
>”I’ve simply dragged the dead from both sides back to life. They are currently engaged in the thickest of the melee.”
>Oh, okay. That made per-
“You did what?”
>That has to be the flattest ‘what’ you’ve ever given.
>”I used the death and pain in the air to animate the dead of this field. Now, both sides join together under my command.”
>You don’t know what scares you more.
>The fact that there are even more Undead, or that they’re on your side, fighting against Celestia.

>You turn back towards the scene before you, and after a few moments, you can spot something.
>The Lunar ponies are creating a gap now, from the frontlines and their positions.
>Worst of all, is that there are no dead ponies that you can see.
>Lunar or Celestial.
“Chronicler…”
>The Lich simply looks onwards.
>”And now… Rise, my minions.”
>With a raising motion of his hand, the ground trembles.
>Hands- HANDS –explode from the dirt.
>Skeletons, human skeletons, clad in rusty armor, holding blunted weapons, rise in droves.
>The dead rose from their graves, and they were intent on one thing alone.
>The zombified ponies were, to their credit, routing the enemy
>This new arrival, a surge of alien creatures, broke them utterly.
>Not even Celestia’s greatest propaganda could keep ponies brave when their enemies refused to die.
>”What in the name of…”
>Aether looks on in shock as the shambling army rises and form coherent ranks.
>He looks at Chronicler in shock.
>”I told you, Aether. I am not a man to make your enemy.”
>You are just as speechless as Aether, and look at your new ally with a wordless demand.
>Explain your Horsehockey.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, Chronicler, but you had better tell me right now.”
>The Skeleton laughs hauntingly, and shakes his head.
>”I told you, Shermanator. It is my curse, and-“

”-It is my curse, and my gift.”
>You turn your empty eyesockets upon Shermanator, his face pale and his eyes pools of white.
>You could ‘smell’ the terror radiating off of him.
>In fact, you could feel it all around you.
>You almost enjoyed the feeling.
>Your plans were finally coming to fruition.
>The need for subtlety was over.
>Shermanator believed you were using your powers out of sorrow.
>Aether’s opinion did not matter.
>Any ‘truth’ to be learned of your motivations on this plane would be cast upon blind eyes.
>Speaking of blindness, the sun has decided to spear through the front ranks of your gift army.
>Well. It would appear Celestia has joined the battle in full.
>”Bucking snails! Sound the retreat!”
>You crack Aether over the head with a backhanded swing, and slowly creep forwards.
“I shall deal with her.”
>The two look at you, their faces cork-screwed in confusion.
>”Chronicler, she is a god. I don’t care where you’re from, you can’t-“
>His words stop as you melt into the shadows, vanishing in a rapidly dispersing oily smoke.
>They look at one another, wondering what was going on.
>The realm of reality had long sense been left.
>”UNHOLY VERMIN!”
>Celestia smites a swath of the undead, and her army rallies around her.
>Their retaliation is cut short, however, as an eclipse begins to form.
>”Could it be?” wondered aloud the mass of ponies, “Has Luna joined as well?”
>Your dark, taunting laughter echoes at a whisper across the battlefield, as darkness begins to shroud the land.
>A massive reaper-esqu figure, made of darkness, looms over the battlefield.
“Celestia, come at last to settle matters yourself?”

>The Celestials regained their courage, and in a wild charge, broke the battered and shambling undead cantrip.
>You watch as, with Celestia’s aid, your one real advantage crumbles.
>Time to fight for your life.
>Shermanator is lost in the Melee somewhere.
>For all you know, he’s fighting against the Lunars, but you don’t care.
>You brace for the charge, and pull your sword back, ready to swing.
>This shit was coming too soon.
>You roar a battlecry as you run forwards to meet the Celestials head-on.
>Your allies take up the cry, and gallop forth, nearly overtaking you.
>While they would slow to keep pace, there is no time, and as one, you all crash headlong into the enemy.
>Your blade stabs forwards at the last moment, and you are rocketed backwards into the ponies behind you from the momentum.
>The crash of steel on steel resounds across the battlefield as the sun dances above
>A duet between light and dark.
>Your head snaps back, and you watch as Death its self hovers above the field of battle.
>Well, perhapse it was only that Lich, but that distinction meant little right now.
>There was a Reaper above the savage battle
>And it was locked in combat with the corrupted leader and the goal of your affections.
>You return to the fight, awoken from your ogling by the howl of pain of the pony on your blade.
>You swiftly whip your blade out of the ponies chest, and pull the dragons tooth across its neck, severing the head.
>The blood only served to further accent the horrific portrait that your world had become.
>And death reigned over all.

>You bring your blade up, and send a geyser of blood spraying.
>Down, left, up, down, right, thrust.
>This is a hell of killing and fighting.
>More ponies lie broken and injured than dead
>Trampling lead to more fatalities than actual combat
>You step over your latest kill and unleash a concussive force from your dead hand.
>With a roar, you leap into the newly cleared ring, and make a wide slash.
>You draw your sword back to attack once more, when you hear an infernal scream.
>You look up, and watch as Celestia spears through the Lich with a spear of light, just as thousands of small tendrils take grip of the Alicorn and draw her towards the ground.
>The sheer fact that thing was holding it’s own, and was blasted by a nova-like shaft of light…
>You are glad it’s on your side.

>You grunt in ‘pain’ as you feel solar radiation blast apart your left rib-cage.
>This Celestia was weaker than most
>She was forcing herself to hold back.
>You would bet that she was fighting against doing these things.
>It would be most regrettable if you were to cut her suffering short, though the distraction only needed to be so long.
>You glare at her from your perch in the air.
>She struggles against the grip of shadows that drag her down.
>You have a little extra time.
>You turn your gaze upon the ground, and lift a hand dramatically.
>The dead respond slowly, belching gouts of green flame, embers of necromantic energy shimmering behind their eyes as they rise.
>The panic…
>The fear…
>It is everywhere.
>It is beautiful.
>You laugh.
>You hold so much power over these pathetic insects.
>It didn’t just feel good to finally return to your true position as overlord
>This was a feeling you craved.
>Dominion.
>Power.
>Control.
>You felt like a god…
>”Aaaaarg!”
>Oh, right.
>The actual god was breaking free, was she?
>You could tell because of the long, pearl horn in your ‘Stomach’.
“You obstinate mule, will you simply lay down and die?”
>The mad Celestia snarls
>”Unholy Abomination! Begone!”
>You laugh, your whispering voice not a grade higher than a sleepy conversation.
>Even so, it rings throughout the battlefield, even over the din of the battle.
>And you don’t stop laughing
“Why, dearest Celestia, are you not happy to see a peer? Or have these easy battles made you soft?”
>You grab ahold of her right wing, and raise your scythe high.
“You should have worked harder. You are making this too easy.”
>You bring the Scythe down into the Alicorns back.

>Celestia screams
>Your laughter redoubles.
>Her blood spins in beautiful patterns through the air, a sign of your power over this fallen god.
>You wrench your scythe, the blade of void sharper than any mortal metal.
>You twist your knife, causing more agony.
>Yes, writhe under my control, beast.
>With a thunderous slam, you both crash into the ground.
>Your bones shatter and crack, spider-webs running through your skull, femurs, ribs, and spine.
>You melt into Celestia’s shadow, evaporating into nothingness and oily smoke.
>She tries to destroy you with a powerful blast of light radiating outwards, but you are long gone.
>The shadows of this world hold you in their embrace.
>Your laughter finally stops…
>Only to be replaced by clapping.
>The sounds of battle have stopped.
>All eyes are on Celestia.
>A robed Skeleton stalk out of her own shadow, and you let your renewed bones clack together.
“You play the game so well, Celestia.”
>The scythe is held in the crook of your arm, your shadow Avatar weaker than before.
“I wonder, have you ever fought an opponent with control over darkness?”
>Celestia snarls at you.
>”You think your powers are any different than my fool sisters?”
>You guffaw crassly
“You poor, ignorant fool. You have no idea what you are fighting, do you?”
>”You are an unliving monstrosity who can do parlor tricks with shadows.”
>Her horn glows blindly powerful
>”Shadows that are easily banished.”
>You face her full on, and let your right hand grip your scythe.
“Pathetic… So, so pathetic.”

>With a roar, a lance of light blasts through you
>Or, it would, if she was even aiming at you.
>You fly forwards from the crowd, your shadow-sculpted puppet dissolving.
“You actually believed a creature of shadows to be direct.”
>Your scythe flies down.
>Celestia jumps out of the way, but you weren’t aiming for her.
>Your scythe bites into the ground, and you drag it back.
>A red tear in reality pulses in the wound you have sliced open.
>The screams of damned souls choruses from within
“Now, the beasts of flames and hate…”
>Scrabbling claws grip the wound in reality, reptilian creatures of fire and destruction.
>Demons.
“Say hello to your Antithesis, and your perfect match, Princess Celestia.”
>A massive, bat-winged demons roars, its breath heavy with sulfur and heat, its foot-steps setting the ground aflame.
“I’ll leave you two to get better aquainted.”
>You retreat to the shadows, and watch, planning.
>The final act was upon you.

>You watch as the demons pour forth, the Balor slamming into Celestia with pure rage.
>The Demons attacked both sides with wild abandon.
>You have however ensured that your gambit would result in very few Lunar deaths, your undead phalanx holding the line.
>The Damned are doing their job well enough.
>You feel a shutter as Celestia works her magic on the demon.
>It never honestly stood a chance, none of the demons could amount against her.
>Her righteousness made her attacks extremely devastating, especially to creatures of mindless destruction.
>Such flawless tools, if used correctly.
>This was one such incident.
>You wait for her.
>Her first goal is to end the slaughter of her guards at the hands of these things.
>You watch as she exerts herself immensely to break the back of the portal.
>So much power…
>She was weak now.
>The demons litter the ground, and those who remain are fighting still.
>Bloodlust overrides self preservation.
>They will take their weight in blood with them.
>Celestia is exhausted from closing the portal, let alone fighting her way to it.
>The shadows give you your form, and you laugh once more at her plight.
“You are not fighting some brash, childish princess of the night, Celestia.”
>The dark, niveous whisps curl around you as you let your scythe slide into position.
“You fight a master mage who communes with the dark spirit of your own world.”
>Celestia is finally weakened enough.
>You could kill her now.
>But why do that, when you can extend this conflict?
>Exactly according to plan.
>She takes wing, trying to escape.
>You make token efforts to deny her, but she ‘slips’ away.
>You watch as she flees, her army routing.

>You allows the darkness which robes your form to finally release.
>The black space between light and matter, while clinging to you ever-constantly, shrinks away.
>it is exhausted.
>For all your mid-battle plans, you were in a difficult fight.
>You had just enough stacked in your favor to pull this off.
>You turn to face the Lunar army, your undead thralls broken and being finished off-
>Wait.
>What?
>You look again, as crawling, undead ponies have their heads crushed by the victorious Lunar forces.
>What sort of joke was this?
>”LITCHE! YOU DEVIOUS SCUM!”
>That would be Luna.
>Over Joyed.
>You see Shermanator approaching, and turn around.
>Luna, AEther at her side, is glaring knives at you.
>It would seem she wanted a piece of you…
>Unfortunate.
“Ah, Princess. Come to bear witness to your new-“
>”SILENCE.”
>Wow, what crawled up her cooter?
>”YOU HAVE DIRECTLY THREATENED OUR SUBJECTS WITH YOUR MACHINATIONS.”
>She was going on a rant about what you did.
>You can see where this is going, and it’s clear as day by the smug look on that back-stabbing bastard’s face.
>AEther found a loop-hole in your deal.
>Luna was exploiting it.
>”YOUR AID HAS CAUSED MORE HARM THAN GOOD, AND AS SUCH, WITH NO ARMY TO OFFER, OUR DEAL IS VOID.”
>You want to rip this bitches head off and shit down her neck.
>Your eyes are raging inferno’s.
>How Dare She…
>You are too worn from the fight, however.
>If you were to fight now, Shermanator would be in danger, as would the Elements you hold.
>You win this round, Aether…
>But you had best remember-
“You have made a powerful enemy this day.”
>There is a pulse of green flames and arcane energy, as you drag Shermanator to your haven.

>The Aether swirls around you as Shermanator flails about like a troglodyte
>The fool is ignorant to what is happening.
>Atleast you can take some joy in this…
>You arrive back in your tower, the sound of Shermanator crashing into the ground announcing his graceless arrival.
>”Warn me next time, will you?!”
>You turn to look at the man, who is looking around incredulously.
>”Next time you do… That… Whoah.”
>You sigh aloud, unwilling to repress the urge to show dissatisfaction.
“Weclome, Shermanator, to my-“
>”Dude.”
>You pause.
>Did he just-
>”Wow, is this a real.. Oh, and this is a… Ooooh, this is so..!”
>He was touching.
>Fucking.
>Everything.
>You tab his shoulder.
“Shermanator, I must ask-“
>”Oh, and this thing!”
>You grab him by his neck
“Shhh… Shut the fuck up.”
>You glare into his eyes, your flickering witchfires showing no emotion.
>”Uh, sure. Sure thing boss.”
>You release him.
“Welcome to my tower, Shermanator. You will be safe here, until we can find the next element.”
>Shermanator walks out onto your balcony, and gasps.
>”This is…”
>You nod, though he cannot see it.
“Yes. This is Ponyville. I am its protector.”
>He stammers
>”You mean… You live… And they like… And you do… Huh?”
>The thud of Shermanator fainting would bring a smile to your face, if you still had one.
“Yes. I am a friend to the ponies of this world.”