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- >This must be the stuff mars dust is made out of
- >Ice cold sand that is jagged like shards of glass
- >Shards that seem to not cut, only hurt to touch
- >Or maybe they did, and you just can't tell for lack of light
- >The abyss is still as cold and lightless as ever
- >Your entire ass feels covered in pins and needles, resting here on this lonely glass-world
- >Its probably trying to prod you along, the bastard
- >The planet bastard, the Bastard Planet
- >That is a fitting name, the Bastard Planet
- >Cold and dry and sharp, the biggest bastard you've ever seen
- >The longest bastard you've ever walked
- >Well Bastard Planet, the endless bastard, I've decided not to play this bastard game
- >I've seen what you can throw at me
- >I fight monsters
- >I can fight you, mister planet Bastard
- >Planet Bastard, the planet of Bastards, you are a bastard made of trillions of tiny spiky bastards
- >You aren't going to walk another billion miles across a billion tiny bastards to please this bastard
- >You scoop up the little grains and pile them up into a mound, unsure of what to do to displease this and these bastards
- >It tried to eat you when you shouted at it
- >It tried to eat you when you changed directions
- >Perhaps it will try to eat you if you stay in one spot and curse the bastard in your mind
- >Perhaps all you need to do is not engage and you can win whatever standoff is going on here
- >Your little pile has grown into a small wall
- >And on the sides of that wall you added more wall
- >And you kept adding more and more wall until you were completely surrounded, and named your new fortification Fort Bastard
- >And now you fought your battle of will in this small foxhole
- >Or, at least, it should be a foxhole
- >You can't really tell on account of the blinding darkness
- >Oh well
- >It's a little funny, how tranquil this place is
- >Odd how a freezing wasteland of eternal moonless night turns out to be calmer than a horrible terrible freakshow and murder monster forest
- >Except not really
- >Not at all, in fact
- >An interesting thought presents itself
- >Perhaps you have merely had your eyes closed the entire time?
- >Unlikely
- >You try and force your lids open
- >Nothing happens
- >Of course, you have no way of telling whether that's because it's really really dark or because you can't open your eyelids
- >So you satisfy your question the only way you can come up with
- >By jamming your hoof into your eyeball
- >You yelp in pain as the giant toenail scrapes against your delicate cornea
- >Progress!
- >So, it must be that either there is a film over your eyeball or it is really, really dark
- >The question, however, needs no further thought
- >For in some unknowable distance across Planet Bastard's endless desert, you spot the faintest hint of a dark blue glow
- >Your nostrils feel like they've been flushed with rubbing alcohol
- >A deep burning sensation has dug itself deep into your sinuses
- >You wake up sneezing and teary
- >After a short fit the sneezing all but disappears, leaving you to stare up at the ceiling with a small trail of snot oozing down your cheek
- >Oh fuck, that's not a ceiling
- >"Such delicate facilities for such a strong mind."
- >You're in a teepee
- >A big fucking teepee
- >Laying on a small cot
- >"Perhaps sensitivity to the master makes for a fragile body?"
- >There is a slight haze in the tent, a familiar smoke that gives it a purplish hue
- >"Trixie is proud to host such a receptive child in her modest camp."
- >You shoot up at the name, suddenly all too aware of your dangerous company
- >You twist your head to see Trixie's face mere inches away from yours
- >"Although, maybe it is the fragility of body *and* mind which make you such an ideal colt."
- >You try to squirm away, but her blue glow locks you in place
- >"Tell me, Speedy, when did you first feel the touch of our master?"
- >You swallow hard and stare into her eyes
- >Stern, cold, and yet fierce with conviction
- >You desperately stammer out a response, all of your forest macho drained in the wake of her commanding stare
- "W-what?"
- >She smiles at you, easing her force grip on you as if to calm your nerves
- >"The man you saw, in your dreams. The same man you saw when we first spoke."
- >Oh boy
- >She's fucking goofy
- >She has no idea what's going on
- >Her hoof points out at the incense burning next to her throne, but in place of the symmetrical alignment of bowls was now a sizeable mass of smoking cones
- >"Their fumes allow us to speak with the true master of this land, the only protector of the gifted and outcast.
- >"You communed with him. When I first spoke to you, and again just now.
- >"Tell Trixie, what did he look like?"
- >Oh great
- >Protector of the outcast, spoken to through magic candles, corpse immolation
- >They are a bunch of Satanists
- >All your fear washes away in an instant, annoyance quick to take its place
- >The Conan O'Briens of the occult world
- >You've dealt with their kind before, they aren't a big deal
- >Beyond all the appearances and super hip millenial 'rituals'
- >Beyond the top hats and exposed eczema sores
- >They're just Satanists
- >Holy shit
- >They're Satanists!
- >You clench the figure at your neck
- "Wait, dude! This amulet look familiar to you? Any signifigance?"
- >"None whatsoever."
- >She answers without pause
- >Well there goes that gamble
- >You sigh and slump down in the cot
- "The usual, I guess. Big horns, cloven hoof, fur 'n shit. Big wings, snake tail, the works."
- >Of course, your dreams were about a terrible hopeless void, but she doesn't need to know that
- >"What did you give to him, boy?"
- "My heart, my soul, my undying loyalty and my very being."
- >Yadda yadda yadda
- >You've been around the block with these contrarian assholes
- >Say the right things and they'll share their sheep liver soup and dusty ass weed
- >Of course, typically they'd pack up shop the second someone gets gutted outside their weekend getaway
- >And you can't recall any with the gall to actually spring someone like that Monster Mush broad did
- >Must be some kind of local cultural thing
- >She regards you for a moment, then grins
- >"Trixie knew you were a lovely specimen the moment she first heard of you."
- "Heard of me?"
- >"Assaulting hospital staff and leading the friendship princess on a frantic chase, all in her own demense...
- >"Deliciously humiliating. Of course, nopony else seems to care, but that is strictly because of the papers under the crown's horns.
- >"If only the general public knew how foolish and falliable their leaders are, we wouldn't need to exist!"
- >Her words are bitter and annoyed, and she waves her hoof dismissively in the air
- "I thought you guys were just a woodfolk commune."
- >"We are many things, that included! And don't go pretending you aren't one of us, now."
- >She pats your head and her voice takes on a motherly tone
- >"You are home, and there is no need to worry about all that."
- >If her cult wasn't so laughable that would definitely be creepy
- >"I don't think I've the heart to kill you, so you'll just have to sit tight for a while."
- >That was the last thing he said to you before you were tossed onto some kind of cloud
- >A few hours ago your sight finally returned, allowing you to make out the mass of goose down you were floating on
- >The sky is a twisting kaleikodezcope, bathing you in lights of ever changing color
- >Your entire body felt... off
- >Lighter, more floaty
- >There was an indescriptionable lag in your actions, like your brain and your body were just a little too far away
- >You took to the air, to drop down from whatever impossible height you had reached
- >But no matter how far you fell, you seemed to be even over the sun's reach
- >Perhaps this is the area beyond the sky
- >A strange nighmare realm of magical energy and no constants
- >In your descent, you had passed dozens of other floating islands
- >Sometimes they contained little houses, and upon entry you were thrown into impossible rooms
- >Grand chambers with nonsensical stairways
- >Black voids which pulled despirately at you, threatening to cast you out into some great unknown
- >Floors of ponies from mundane office buildings to ancient war rooms filled with statues so lifelike it was as if their depicted characters were frozen in stone
- >That was something a cockatrice could do, probably
- >At random intervals you would catch some snippet of conversation
- >Mundane, mostly
- >Sometimes in different languages
- >You couldn't tell where they were coming from
- >Sometimes in your mind you would see such odd things
- >An old man climbing a small flight of stairs
- >Some teen deep frying flower stems
- >A mare's smiling face before a wide expanse of sky
- >The final room you found was some kind of field
- >The grass was long and brown
- >The sun beat you down like a druken factory worker
- >But here there was some sense of normality
- >You didn't feel that weightlessness, that sluggishocity of the bottomless sky
- >Every now and then a cool breeze would drip the collected sweat off your brow and down the side of your cheek
- >For hours you wandered, and the sun seemed to sway lazily in a pendulium, never quite dropping below the horizon
- >Once you got hungry and tasted the grass; it was dry and somewhat salty, but filling
- >Pretty soon you reached the edge of the world
- >Quite literally
- >The ground dropped off into more of the bright sky above, and the ground barely held together
- >When you reached it you punged your hoof straight through the earth and almost fell off the side
- >For some reason you wondered if you could fly back up once gravity had pulled you away
- >"This is what the Zebrahari looks like now."
- >You twist around to see Discord poking out of the grass several feet to your side
- >He wears a weary face and stares far off the edge, into the sky below
- "Heathen! Tell me where I am, and what neferimus deeds you have been up to!"
- >You snarl angrily, charging up a spell to vaporize
- >It only just now occurs to you that the magical restraint is gone
- >"You're in my world. The interstice, as you once called it. More specifically, you are in a door reflecting the Zebrahari."
- >Both names sound vaguely familiar, and yet seem unreal
- >No matter, all the world belongs to Celestia and so his claim is impossible
- >"As for what I've been up to..."
- >He thinks for a moment, turns away from you
- >"Chasing dreams, I suppose."
- >Very well
- >If he can't provide you with a straight answer willingly, perhaps you will have to subdue and interrogate
- >You release your charge, a white hot beam of pure energy that scorches the grass around it, aimed at the heathen's gut
- >The beam disappears, and Discord is unharmed
- >He turns to you, rolls his eyes
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