//------------------------------// // A New Convention // Story: Ponies and Demons - The Philosopher's Stone // by Puerto Princessa //------------------------------// Note: I honestly do not know how to integrate Bartimaeus' footnotes into this. I'm going to try it like so, but if anyone has another way please alert me to it! --- Infinity squirmed, struggled in vain as it was compressed by terrible force into a singular point. My essence coalesced, inky-black threads of unmeasurable length swirling furiously and consuming themselves until they were individual points in space; points each given their own unwanted arbitrary definition from an alien world. It had been quite some time, but against all my futile hope I had once more been summoned. Each point of restrained endlessness swarmed, surging over one another in their reluctant eagerness to build my body. I sensed the raw power of the summon, the sheer force behind each individual hook that had gouged me out of my home and into the vicious outside, and I quickly determined that the magician who had summoned me this time would probably be too potent and experienced to be cowed by a beastly form; subtlety and taste would stand a better chance of making an impression. I took the form of a young maiden, a chocolate-skinned and voluptuous Egyptian I had known as a concubine of Ramses III with an elaborately jeweled headdress and thin muslin draping the appropriate areas. In this body I reclined with nonchalant ease, being sure to mind the lurking boundaries of the summoning pentacle that could have given me a literal shock if I put a toe out of line. I duly noted that my binding pentacle had been drawn to abnormally large dimensions, virtually prone I still couldn't feel the edges of the circle. My newest captor either had considerable mass and girth or simply had a lot of floor space to burn. Underneath and around my form the cold chalk runes hummed with the restrictive energies necessary to bind me to this world. I calmly cast my gaze around, searching for my newest master. “Ah, Bartimaeus. Welcome to Equestria!” My shock was so great that for a moment my female's mouth was scraping the floor, I quickly brought it up so as to maintain my dignity. Not that dignity would matter much, considering my newest master's appearance. She was in an equine form, one I had taken once or twice in my 5,000 years(1) of experience; but one I had never expected to see a master wearing short of some ridiculous self-polymorphing fad. She wasn't even a particularly large horse, more a pony for if I had stood up at that moment I'd easily be double her height. I would have numbly accepted the idea of a sentient talking equine had it not been for her coloration. She was an eye-watering light purple, the sort of artificial shade one wouldn't see in nature. Her hair was highlighted, which was all well and good in any human with a lacking fashion sense, but this pony's hair was a dark blue and the highlights were purple and pink. Her flank was branded with a set of oddly symmetrical star-shaped marks. Her eyes were enormous, doe-like and shimmering slightly; I found myself momentarily entrapped—in terror I mean—by her gaze. A quick appraisal of the seven planes(2) revealed that this little pony existed on all seven, so somehow she had fundamentally changed herself into a pony(3). The overall effect was like some bad Saturday morning cartoon had come to life, all technicolor and happy smiles. Speaking of which, she was regarding me with a vaguely unsettling smile at that exact moment. “My name is Twilight Sparkle, pleased to meet you.” She held out a hoof in what I can only assume was an attempt at a friendly handshake (hoofshake technically), a pointless gesture considering the distance between her pentacle and mine. I stared at the extended limb dumbly. “Are you alright? Do you not want to speak to me?” Her smile was thankfully gone, she now seemed somewhat unsure. I wasn't responding because I was dumbstruck, for two reasons. First, her name. It was undoubtedly the most horrific name I had ever heard in my long career and I felt a moment of outrage on her behalf against her parents for consigning her with such a foppish title. The only reason I wasn't laughing my head off at the moment was because of the oddity of my situation overall; once I got over my initial shock the insult opportunities looked encouragingly great. Secondly, I was marveling at how far the world had gone since I'd last been summoned. I had been summoned by young boys, by old men, I had been summoned by magicians so large they almost broke the boundaries of their own pentacles without even moving and by magicians so malnourished they died on the spot from the stress of summoning me. But never before had I been summoned by something only a few steps above a Disney character. “Uh...” My response to her queries, in all it's scintillating and provocative wit, actually inspired her to smile sympathetically at me. It was cute, in a way(4). I realized here that this Twilight Sparkle probably thought I was a handicapped spirit or something insulting like that. I had no need of her pity, so I quickly reasserted myself before she could start babying me. “Right. Twilight Sparkle, is it?” My concubine's voice was silky smooth and one dial turn away from full blown seduction, in contrast to the nasally air my captor spoke with. “That's a pretty name you've got there, you could sell your own candy line with any luck.” A hand adjusted my headdress, I began musing(5) on a possible change of tone in my forms considering how bright and childish my surroundings in Equestria were. “What is your reason for summoning me? Bartimaeus, Sakhr al-Jinni, the Serpent of Silver Plumes, the scourge of Al-Arish, the charge of Gilgamesh, the slayer of Faquarl of Sparta and Nouda the Terrible(6)?" I listed my exploits somewhat casually, getting the notion that Twilight might not have any idea what to make of them. Indeed she seemed mystified, but more by the amount of names I listed versus any understanding of what they meant. “That sounds really impressive!” She seemed a bit taken aback when she said, “Though the slayer and scourge bits sound like too much.” I actually rolled my amber eyes at that. “Well that comes with the package. One dijinn complete with a million drops of split blood.” Twilight blanched at that, for my part the initial shock was beginning to give way to incredulity. My captor was every bit as childish and naïve as her eyesore of a color scheme indicated. I was no longer prone on the floor, I had drawn up and hugged a knee to my breast, head cocked in mocking inquisitiveness. “Problem, Twilight?” I gave her a royal salute, with a certain finger extended that wouldn't otherwise be in polite company. The arc my hand made then crashed directly into the barrier of my pentacle. I reflexively withdrew, tensed my body for the inevitable surge of pain and repulsive force while preparing a quick jump to avoid being pushed back into the other edge of the pentacle. I had seen cases before where an incompetent imp or foliot had literally been bounced between the edges of the pentacle until burning into a crisp. I held that readied state for a second before I realized something critical: my hand had been able to pass clean over the protective barrier. This mean only one shining thing; Twilight had drawn the pentacle incorrectly and I could break through. Indeed, a quick reappraisal of the runes revealed what I had missed: while the summoning runes were clearly chalked into place, the intricate protective runes that were supposed to line the outer edges of the pentacle weren't even there. No blundered attempt, no accidental erasure in a critical spot, the symbols hadn't even been drawn. It was the most wonderfully inept lapse in security I had ever seen, obviously Twilight was so fresh that she hadn't even learned of the safety locks necessary to bind a spirit in place. I wanted to hug her for her incompetence, and thanks to her mistake I could jump out at my leisure and give her a big squeeze. And then promptly increase the pressure to crush her on the spot before dematerializing with a merry whistle. I giggled slightly, almost beside myself with my luck. I would momentarily be able to wave a hearty good-bye to this strangely colorful country, and with any luck all of the magicians of this country would be just as stupid and I would be virtually free of service for the next few centuries. Twilight cocked her head to match mine, she smiled slightly when she saw my happiness. “Well I can't say I approve of the idea that you've killed somepony(7) before, but you seem nice enough.” “I'm sure you'll still be thinking that in a moment.” I flashed my teeth, which I quickly made extra sharp with a little ominous glinting to effect. “Why don't you come see how nice I am?” I opened my arms as if to embrace her. “How forward,” she laughed. “You're a very quirky spirit, Bartimaeus-” She was actually approaching me at that point. Whether or not she intended to step over her pentacle like a fool and hug me was besides the point, her reckless stupidity had gone on for long enough. My form warped into that of a lioness, easily three times the little pony's size. With an eager roar, I hurled myself at her. She screamed alright, that part we all expected. What I didn't expect was being thrown back from her by a bolt of purple light. --- (1) For those of you unfamiliar with my many glorious achievements or indeed those of spirits in general, the process is as follows: Magician summons hapless spirit (me), hapless spirit performs inane tasks for benefit of magician while obeying an indefinite number of mundane limitations for fear of punishment, we're unsummoned and the charming process can begin again. For further information I recommend you consult the Bartimaeus Trilogy, a wonderful serialization capturing a choice few of my many exploits. For those of you unwilling to spend those few measly dollars, I'll describe concepts when I feel necessary. (2) The seven planes of vision spirits have access to, where we behold both the myriad forms and auras objects take on. Humans are so lowly as to only see the very first plane of existence. Illusionary spells are used to alter appearances on the lower planes, so as to work in disguise. At higher planes it becomes harder and harder to mask one's true self, with the seventh being an unfailing look at the true nature of the being in question. (3) Interesting, this. Short of fanciful ideas such as The Philosopher's Stone, altering the true nature of something is quite impossible. It lead me to conclude that humans had somehow evolved into talking ponies with hideous color schemes in the hundred or so years I hadn't been summoned. Stranger things had happened before. (4) Make no mistake here, spirits are not often given to thinking in such base ways. After all, concepts like attractiveness and cuteness are largely surface based, meaning they're within the domain of lowly Earth beings. But every spirit with as long (and illustrious) a career as mine learns to comprehend and understand things from a human perspective. As weak and ignoble as that perspective is, one must know their enemy to overcome them. (5) While speaking. Unlike you, I am capable of real multitasking due to the higher level functioning of my mind. I've said before-in my previous books, which again are wonderful pieces of literature-that I could read four stories printed on top of one another in the same book with one glance. For the sake of variety I'll make up a new analogy here: my mind is so much more capable than yours that I can narrate these footnotes, the actual story, a different memoir of my life, and conduct a chamber orchestra all at once. (6) All of these titles are born of excellent stories that I may someday publish in exchange for your monetary contribution. The last one there is actually already published, as I may have mentioned already. (7) It was with this aberration of a word that I was resolved that this Equestria was the most moronic idea ever conceived by humankind (ponykind). It was almost refreshing in it's blatant childishness.