//------------------------------// // The Tales of Canterlot Chapter III "A madpony's dreams" // Story: Dishonored: Revenge is magic // by Inspector Gadget //------------------------------// The filly was young, very young. He couldn’t make out any details. It was too dark to see, but he did notice a few things. Most noticeably was the cutie mark,although it wasn’t a usual mark. It was the outsiders mark and it let out a dim glow which, in the darkness, was very easy to see. It left a small trace of smoke, like it was burning. He recognised it immediately. Another trait was her tears. They were made out of pure blood. Undoubtedly, she was a plague victim, but the most interesting thing was her eyes. The were pitch black, but he could see so many emotions in them; fear, anger, even happiness, but it was an evil happiness. He also saw pain, much more pain than he had ever seen before. Suddenly all these emotions left her eyes. They were washed away as death overcame her. The darkness enveloped her until there was nothing left of her. She was gone. Everything was black. Steam Engine didn’t remember the last time he had slept. It was always the same. He would fall asleep, he would dream about the strange filly, see her die an agonising death, and he would wake up, panting, cold, sweating, his heart pumping. He would then realise he had only slept an hour or so. It was a painful dream. He would stay up for days, trying to avoid the dream, but eventually he would doze, only to wake up more tired than before. He was always tired. The city was crumbling. Every day he looked out on the street and he would see more watch guards. More weepers. More gang wars. And every one who wasn’t any of these was fighting over the few crumbs left in the city. All while the aristocrats were dancing around in their plague-secure mansions, not bothering to even look down at the lifeless bodies. It was a very peculiar sight. Steam Engine had seen the already-splendid city grow to magnificent heights. He had seen the city in its greatest time in history. Now he saw that same city destroyed only a few years later by war. It fell even further when the elements were stolen, and now it was dying because of plague. Kinda ironic, he thought. He was an earth pony who had studied at the Equestrian academy of science. He had studied all the different branches of science, anything from physiology to astronomy to philosophy. He was one of those rare science ponies you could literally ask anything and he could answer, but despite his overall knowledge of science he always had a love for engineering. He was an inventor of all things mechanic. When he graduated he started a small business with repairs. He taught at Canterlot High and took patents on his inventions (provided they worked). He even got a short commission in Rosethorn inc. He was a genius in his right element. All that had changed lately. The only thing he kept after the fall was his repair shop... to some degree. He had no office, only a small table in the corner of a barely surviving tavern. He was one of its main incomes. It was black money, but he didn’t care. The only thing the guard did was hold the weepers away from the rich. They didn’t bother if money was exchanging hands between the poor. It was always the same. The bartender would lead customers to his table. They would give him an order. He gave them a price and time. He got the money and what he needed to repair. Incase they wanted an invention he would get the required resources. After the set time they would come back to receive their new hardware. Whether it was tools, weapons or other devices, he would always deliver on time, and he was never too poor for a meal. It should have been easy. He had a roof over his head, a mattress and sober every evening. Something the common pony had lost years ago. Despite all this he was more broken than any other pony. He tried his best to help the ponies around him, but he couldn’t. Not here. The ponies he helped were mostly gang members, religious fanatics, rebels, off-duty watch guards. Every pony he helped would only bring the city closer to it’s inevitable demise. His good heart was shattered, and he no longer cared for the consequences of his actions. He was going insane. A brilliant brain had been reduced to the mind of a madpony. A madpony who cared about nothing in the world. Except one thing. The filly. The little free time he had was used on research. He was obsessed. The dreams had become his life. It would seem insane to follow such a ludicrous lead, but he knew that the dreams were real. He would search day and night only to find that he was following a blind trail. He was disproving himself of every second he wasted in his spare time, but his stubbornness would pay off in the end. He found her. There wasn’t much about her. He only found small newspaper scraps from time to time. He would ask his contacts for information. They didn’t know much, but it was enough to follow up on. Every day he came closer to her. Who was she? How was she infected? Was she really the first plague victim? Every answer would only lead to a dozen more question. But in the end it paid off Until one day it stopped. It was like the road ended there. There were no more leads. No more clues. No more trails. He was in a dead stop. It was like this for days. He only grew more frustrated. There was nothing he could do now. He felt that his very being was weakened. There was nothing left for him. His last hope was fading away. He couldn’t take it anymore. In a last desperate attempt he tried to go to sleep. He wanted to see the filly one last time before all hope was lost. As he wished, he dozed off in his bed, entering the dream world again, but this time something happened that hadn’t happened for several years. The dream had changed. The filly wasn’t there and the darkness was replaced by a brightening light. He felt his body lift of the ground like he was weightless. When he looked around he saw many sights from his entire life, all scattered around him in an empty void. The dream was far more lucid than he had ever experienced before. He could freely move around the space. He sensed everything like he did everyday. It all felt too real. He landed on a small platform. Feeling the ground underneath him was a relief, but that soon ended. When he looked, up he saw a huge shadow. It was right in front of him, but its size was unmistakable. It filed-out the entire void before him. The shadow didn’t have any real form as it morphed around the void, but it wasn’t that, nor the sheer size that caught his attention. In the middle were a set of eyes. The only reason he could distinguish them from the rest, was because he could see him own reflection in them. Only it wasn’t his reflection. What stared back at him was cold and heartless. The eyes didn’t show any emotion, but the smile, that mocking little grin. The mouth soon widened and revealed a perfect set of teeth. Steam Engine was looking at death. And death smiled back. The shadow began to take away more of his vision. The void disappeared, and he was again engulfed in darkness. His reflection’s skin was peeling of. It soon revealed his skull. The eyes were replaced by a pair of blinding lights. Steam Engine saw death in its true form. He woke up like he always did. Panting heavily, sweating, his heart pumping, but this time he felt different. For the first time in his life he had seen clarity. He finally saw what his purpose was. He was more determined than he had ever been before. He leaped out of his bed and ran directly for his crafting table. It would become the greatest invention to ever be build by his hoofs. He only knew what it was. He didn’t know who it was for and to what purpose it would be used, nor did he care about it. It didn’t matter. It would be revealed soon enough. What laid on the table was a mask. It was made out of spare parts and was crudely screwed together. Where the mouth was, the upper and lower part of the mask was strung together with a golden wire, imitating teeth. The eyes were replaced with two lenses to cover it up completely. The mask resembled that of a pony’s skull, built to cover and protect its user while inducing fear in their enemies. It always showed that mocking, frightening smile. That horrible smile he had seen tonight. Steam Engine had build the mask of death.