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- >Conciousness slowly returns to you
- >For once, you don’t return to the land of the living with a splitting headache.
- >Every time you’ve been knocked out, a common occurrence, it’s been by a concussion.
- >Now you are waking up fairly peacefully, the gentle warmth of the sun on your face.
- >You shrug and turn away, bringing the soft, silk sheets up over your head.
- >Just a few more minu-
- >Wait a second.
- >You feel your sheets
- >Very soft.
- >You also had never been rich enough to afford any sort of silk.
- >You’re wide awake now
- >You bolt upwards, and take stock of your surroundings.
- >You’re in a dull gray room, stone making up the walls
- >This looked nothing like Canterlot.
- >This looked nothing like a prison cell for a dangerous man.
- >This looked nothing like your home.
- >Where in Tartarus were you?
- >A large dresser by the wooden door, banded with blackish metals, a writing desk with a chair, and a balcony that was letting in the light.
- >“Ah, you are awake.”
- >You spin around, a robed figure standing by the head of your bed.
- >Small green lights dance where its eyes should be.
- >It looks familiar…
- >Oh.
- >Oh no.
- “That…”
- >You choke a little on your own voice.
- “That wasn’t a dream, then.”
- >The robed figure, Chronicler if your memory served, cants the shadow in his hood slightly.
- >”I had hoped you had not received a concussion from your fall, after you fainted.”
- >Chronicler stuffs his hands into the sleeves of his robe, and simply turns to the door.
- >”I shall meet you downstairs when you are ready. There is a fresh change of clothes within the dresser.”
- >The door opens of its own accord silently, and clicks shut as the Skeletal man leaves.
- >Alone, you now notice that you are butt naked.
- >Thank Celestia you were covered in these extravagant bed sheets, it would be awkward-
- >Wait, no, scratch that.
- >It was awkward.
- >A skeleton undressed you and put you in this room.
- >You rip the sheets up and check down stairs.
- >You sigh in relief as everything is still in place.
- >Your next worry was if that… thing, you had made friends with had made any attempts while you were under.
- >Report, Lieutenant?
- >Sir, dong appears to be unmolested and ready to serve.
- >Very good Lieutenant, muster the Jimmies.
- >You rise from your bed and walk over to the dresser, a cold breeze from the open balcony giving you gooseflesh
- >You also hop, skip, and jump about on the cold stone floor.
- >You wrench open the Dresser, expecting the same tattered Mobster outfit.
- >You were only half-right.
- >In the dresser lie a new, fresh, clean smelling suit that shared some of the same marks as your old outfit.
- >A new pair of shiny boots
- >And is that a…
- >You take the small golden object in your hand, examining it.
- >You twirl it around in your hands, and set it back.
- >Whatever it was, you had no clue how to use it.
- >You dress yourself easily enough, eager to stop that annoying breeze.
- >You smelled fairly well for a man who had just fought in a battle.
- >Fairly, being the key word
- >You still smelled of rank sweat, and blood.
- >Atleast you didn’t have holes in your coat now…
- >You pull your boots on, and lace them up
- >You have to admit, this Chronicler fellow was awfully nice for getting you fresh clothing.
- >You open the door to the room you had awoken in, and step into the hallway.
- >You can’t help but gasp at the size of the room.
- >There were four other doors, and in the center of the room was a spiral staircase.
- “Down stairs… Right.”
- >You descend the stairs one at a time, slowly, taking in the scale of this strange individuals home.
- “Hello?”
- >You hear your voice actually echo as you come into view of a large, open study.
- >”Ah, at last.”
- >Chronicler is sitting in a high-backed, for lack of a better term, throne, a large table covered in books before it.
- >”Yes, come in. I was just finishing up.”
- >The scrolls begin to roll themselves up and fly back towards a set of sliding doors.
- >They open autonomously for the scrolls, a massive spinning rack accepting them.
- >That was unnerving, to say the least.
- “So, I uh, guess you’re to thank for breaking me out?”
- >No duh.
- >Chronicler for his part doesn’t seem too put off by the question.
- >”Yes.”
- ”And that was you that did the whole zombie spiel?”
- >Again, his responds fairly calmly.
- >”Again, yes.”
- ”Isn’t that kinda…”
- >Oh shit nigger, what are you doing?
- “… Kinda mean?”
- >You could swear you heard a groan and a mumbled ‘Not shit shit again’.
- >Skeleton’s can’t groan though.
- >Silly brain.
- >Stop being silly.
- >”It would take me an hour to describe to you, Shermanator, the exact intricacies of my magecraft.”
- >He leans on his right hand, and shifts his weight
- >”I will not bore you, and simply tell you, yes. It is indeed considered an evil craft by the unenlightened.”
- >That…
- >That answered none of your questions, yet you felt content with the answer.
- >You also thought you might have been insulted, but you’re not sure.
- “Well… uhm…”
- >Chronicler rises.
- >”I ply my dark gifts to the greater benefit of my friends and allies.”
- “But, isn’t it cruel?”
- >The shadow in the hood shakes somewhat.
- >”The dead are not bound to my will, spirit and all. I simply reuse the corpses once they are vacant.”
- >A pause
- >You go to speak, but are cut off
- >”Much in the way that you eat the creatures you hunt.”
- >Well, damn…
- >You weren’t sure you had a solid counter for that.
- >You certainly weren’t one to talk, you’d killed plenty before.
- >If the dead scum you ended actually served a purpose outside of the pain they caused…
- >The hell, we’re talking about defiling the dead here.
- >”In either event, now is not the time. We have work to do.”
- >Fine, fi-
- >Wait…
- >Hold on a tic.
- ”One more question.”
- >Silence meets you, and after a pause, you go on.
- >Here goes nothing…
- “What Element of Harmony are you?”
- >Chronicler doesn’t react.
- >You think your educated guess might have been wrong, before he extends his hand.
- >A staff of pure black materializes from a dark mist, atop it a greenish flame.
- >”I am, indeed, one of the Elements of Disharmony, as I have coined them. I am the opposite of Honesty.”
- >Oh.
- >Oh shit.
- >A powerful combat Unicorn, effectively?
- >Who was everything Applejack was not?
- >You tense up unconsciously.
- >Chronicler scoffs.
- >”Please. Simply because I am the embodiment of deception does not make me a habitual liar.”
- >Chronicler rises, and walks around the table to you.
- >You unclench your fists, not realizing you had balled them up.
- >”Besides. Have I done wrong by you? We are in this together. These other Elements, I am uncertain how well we can trust them.”
- >Your turn to scoff.
- “But how do I know I can even trust you?”
- >The Skeleton looks into your eyes, those burning emerald flames giving no warmth.
- >”Because, I always get what I want. And what I want, requires you to trust me.”
- >You didn’t doubt it, not after this thing wiped the floor with Celestia.
- “Alright.”
- >Time to take a gamble.
- “What’s our next move?”
- >The Skeleton returns to its throne.
- >”My next move is to track down the Element of Severity, the opposite of Laughter.”
- >You quirk an eyebrow
- “And.. What of myself?”
- >The Skeleton does not bother looking up.
- >”Go in to town and enjoy yourself. Remember that these are hard times, however, and you will be forign.”
- >Ponyville.
- “What of Rainbow Dash?”
- >The Skeleton doesn’t even seem surprised.
- >”She, with her five other friends, are currently in Fillydelphia. They shall arrive back in Ponyville in a weeks time, by which point we shall have been long gone.”
- >Those same Emerald eyes turn upon you.
- >”Shermanator, this is not the same world as yours. It may look the same, it may seem the same, but it is different. You do not truly exist here.”
- >You nod.
- >It would be too much to ask that your closest friend be the same here.
- >You begin to leave, when you hear a call.
- >”One more thing…”
- >Why did that voice sound so damn funny right now?
- >You shake a mental image of an old asian man from your mind.
- “Yeah?”
- >The Skeleton tosses a small golden object at you.
- >”Don’t forget your pocket watch.”
- >You hold the small object.
- >It was a watch then?
- >You flip it open, and look at the motionless hands.
- “What good is a broken-“
- >”A broken watch can easily be fixed. I would see to it, if I were you.”
- >Alright then. First stop: Doctor Hooves and his clock shop.
- >The brisk walk through the Everfree was quiet.
- >Far too quiet.
- >You got the feeling most wild-life avoided that strange Lich’s tower.
- >Scars ran all across the forest trail, and destroyed trees were everywhere.
- >Something big had happened here before, a major fight.
- >You cast an eye back over your shoulder, and see what looks like an angle to the destruction.
- >And it ramped right towards the tower.
- >Yeah, this new friend of yours had done some serious shit before.
- >You don’t bother speculating.
- >Whatever happened here, obviously was in the distant past.
- >The vines growing over the fallen trees were sign enough.
- >You continue walking until you see Ponyville proper.
- >Even if this wasn’t your Ponyville, it was peaceful enough, and was unravaged by the horrors of AEther.
- >You spit on the ground at the mere thought of his name.
- >It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, one you know you won’t be able to get rid of any time soon.
- >The dirt road slowly grows more and more well cared for as buildings begin to form into the sides of the roarways.
- >You look around for signs of a clockshop.
- >Surprisingly, the Ponies out and about are not scared, shocked, or at all giving you odd looks.
- >Some wave, and you return the greeting.
- >It was… Strange.
- >You stop, and look up.
- >Huh, here was the clock shop.
- >Perfect!
- >You open the door, stoop low as the bell rings, and promptly walk back out.
- >You check the sign on the door.
- >Open.
- >You look at the clock in the center of town.
- >2 in the afternoon.
- >You pop your head back in.
- >Two blushing Ponies shoot guilty looks at one another, and you simply shake your head.
- “I, uh.. Needed to have a.. watch, fixed.”
- >You hurriedly put the watch on the counter and try to keep from fiddling.
- >”Uh.. S-sure. I’ll get Mister Hooves, he’ll uh.. Get the watch.. Fixed.”
- >You take a step towards the door.
- “Aaaaah, about an hour?”
- >”Yeah, yeah! Come back in an hour!”
- “Okay. Well, uh…”
- >Fuck this
- >No explanation, just get out of there.
- >You don’t even want to know what was going on in there.
- >It’ll take a lot of brain bleach.
- >You begin to stumble away when you hear a crash from the alley way.
- >You carefully walk towards it, and peek down it.
- >You notice a flick of a tail, a scaly, red tail, with a plume of white fluff at its end.
- >You take a step down the alley-way, and begin to follow after it.
- >The path twists and turns, being led in by this strange thing.
- >You have no idea what it is, but-
- >”All alone, are we?”
- >You spin around.
- >The path behind you is a wall.
- >You look for an exit, but everywhere you turn you’re blocked in.
- >”No one for a friend, no one to help you… Not even your precious Rainbow Dash.”
- >You raise your first, clenching them.
- “Whoever you are, come out and face me!”
- >You are returned with silence.
- >You scream out and swing with your fist.
- >The walls disappear and you are sent tumbling over a trashcan.
- >You scramble to your feet, bewildered.
- >What fresh hell was this phantom labyrinth?
- >The way back was a solid stone wall.
- >You turned towards your only direction.
- >You force down some mounting tension, gulping.
- >You did not like this situation, at all.
- >You are tense and tired.
- >You have no clue how much time has passed, but you are certain it has been more than an hour.
- >You’ve been stumbling around these back alleys, which seem to stretch on forever, all alone.
- >And that accursed voice…
- >”It’s not like it matters, does it?”
- >You whip around, and finally see what it was that was making the noise.
- >It’s a strange amalagram of various creatures, and it floated in the air above you.
- >You charge it.
- >”Now, now…”
- >It floats about and above you as if physics were a toy of children.
- >”You fight so hard, but you never once stop to think.”
- >You swing out at it, but it avoids the attack impossibly easily.
- >”You have no allies here. That Lich, it is playing you, can’t you tell?”
- >You pause.
- >You had felt this nagging doubt sense you got here…
- >”You have been lied to your entire life. When Celestia brought you to Equestria, when your ‘friends’ turned their backs on you.”
- >You can’t help but think on his words…
- >No, your friends save you after everything you had done.
- >”They didn’t believe you, no matter how hard you tried, and were about to send Lyra away in your stead.”
- >Your eyes become unfocused.
- >What was the point of fighting, then, if-
- >”All you ever fight for, is a lie?”
- >You stumble backwards, unable to handle this ‘realization’.
- >Was it true?
- >Did your friends just see you as a tool?
- >A blunt force object?
- >Of course they did.
- >That was, after all, how you saw yourself.
- >”Let go, and let ol’ Discord help you out of a bind.”
- >You feel a sharp talon land upon your forehead.
- >You suddenly feel more clear-headed.
- >You look up, but whatever you saw was gone.
- >You walk out of the Alleyway, and look up at the clock.
- >Exactly fifty-nine minuets had passed.
- >Not wanting to be late, you return to the Clock shop.
- >You enter to find a tired-looking tan pony standing behind the counter, who perks up as you enter.
- >”Ah, I take it you were the one who brought in this watch?”
- >You nod.
- “Indeed, I was hoping you could restore it fully?”
- >Whoah, where in the heck did all these big words come from?
- >Nevermind that, it felt.. Good.
- >You knew exactly how to get your point across, you knew exactly what to do.
- >You weren’t in the dark any more.
- >The pony nudges the watch across to you.
- >”Took a few rare pieces to re-set it. I’ll need Thirty bits to cover the expenses.”
- >Hold your Ponies.
- “Thirty bits?”
- >You quirk an eyebrow.
- “After walking in on your assistants doing unknowable things in the middle of the day?”
- >You pocket the watch
- “You’re lucky you even got my business. Five bits.”
- >You toss the money on the counter and casually stroll out.
- >You had him by the balls, and he knew it too.
- >You fiddle with the chain, trying to get it strait, as you set your sights upon your new home.
- >That back-stabber could not be trusted, you knew it.
- >You would make a new home, here, in Ponyville.
- >And no one could stop you.
- >You make to stroll away, but notice a figure in the shadows.
- >You wheel around, and see him approaching.
- >That infernal Lich.
- >Celestia damn his scheming bones.
- “What do you want, Chronicler, I am very busy.”
- >The Skeleton cocks his head slightly
- >”Busy? Mind your tone, my friend.”
- >You scoff
- “I am not your Friend, liar.”
- >That got his attention.
- >”You seem, off, Shermanator.”
- ”And you expect me to trust a word out of your mouth?”
- >You don’t bother looking back over your shoulder as you walk away.
- >You don’t even notice the way his head tilts down-wards, as if to pantomime a growing grin.
- >You don’t hear his parting words either as he fades into the darkness.
- >”No. Not yet I do not.”
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