Scarred by earth’s malice,
an igonrant foal arrives.
His life is shorter
The wind was roaring around me, mimicking the unrestful state of my mind. It had dawned on me, only moments after I had left, that the princess hadn’t specified the color of coat, mane color, or even gender of the pony in question, when she instructed me to meet them at the Stormhound’s bar.
I wasn’t sure whether I should suspect the pony to be with company, or how I should approach him or her with my offer to guide them. I knew if I returned to the palace empty-hoofed, the princess would look down upon me… No, that was wrong, she wouldn’t look down upon me; I would look down upon myself for failing the simple task of making friends so many times in a row.
If only my goal had been to scale a mountain, or even to kill and fillet a sea serpent, I would not have been so nervous when I saw Evergreen approaching on the horizon… Perhaps there was still time to do those things if my venture turned out to be unfruitful. It had been a long time since I had been able to subdue any sort of serpent.
I gave a flap of my powerful wings and rose to a greater height. I wasn’t ready to enter the city quite yet; too nervous. I wanted to see the sun set from above the cloud layer before I made my way down there. It might even ease my shaking hooves and take my mind off of the task at hand.
As I broke through the cloud layer, I felt a singular sense of relief. Feeling exhilarated from the steep climb, I managed, though I was nearly out of breath, to push myself a little harder, raising myself even further, where the air grew cold and thin, and where the clouds below me became white, indistinct shapes of poofy matter. There I hung for a few seconds, taking in the situation and trying to catch my breath.
I laughed mildly at my odd placement above Evergreen, managing only a few chuckles before my lack of oxygen sent me coughing and heaving for air. Presently I managed to regain my composure by altering the beat of my wings to allow slower flaps, with more lift than the panicked ones my coughing and shortness of breath had induced.
The setting sun nearly took my newfound composure away from me, though, for Celestia had graced this shard with an awesome sunset this evening. The melding of red, golden, and yellowing textures in the horizon and above my head, sent my heart aflutter and eased my worries of the coming meeting, almost exactly as I had expected it to do. I hovered aghast for a few brief, tittering moments, before I finally turned my back on the glowing horizon, and dove towards Evergreen. About halfway towards the clouds, I decided today was a day for going fast. After all, what was the fun of travelling by wing if you didn’t get to do a free fall once in a while?
I think the inhabitants of the town where somewhat startled – as well as they should be; I am, as far as I know, one of the fastest fliers around these parts – my rocketing form sent a few elderly ponies reeling as I passed scarcely a few hooves above their heads. I wish I could have turned my head to see the slipstream I left (and to see their faces), but unfortunately, that would leave me likely to hit a building.
I slowed myself by flinging my wings out to either side, and was able to stop just before I hit a large, homely looking building at the end of the street. Landing safely, I shook myself of the dew that had built up on my coat when I passed through the cloud layer. Feeling rather good about my prowess inside the field of free fall and scaring elderly ponies, I was beginning to feel less and less apprehensive by the second. Whatever this newcomer pony was like, I was going to find him, make him my friend. Subsequently, we would have the best adventure of my life!
I took the time to look around the street corner I had alighted on. A few ponies were staring markedly in my direction, and I might have seen one chuckle to himself, in what was clearly not a good-natured manner. There were also a good number of taverns around; Evergreen was exceedingly famous for its seemingly endless supply of mead halls, questing adventurers, and saucy wenches.
It was a shard dedicated to the foolhardy ponies, whose primary goals in life were to experience as much danger as possible, and to consume as much alcohol as possible. Since the dedication of the ponies here was thusly directed, there hadn’t been left a large amount of room for architectural development in the small community. The houses were all made of either wood or straw, and the lighting systems were in most cases lanterns or candles. A great number of houses were burnt down every year from the unfortunate event of an unlucky patron knocking over one of these lanterns or candles during a barfight. Fortunately, though, the villagers were nothing if not diligent, and were more than capable of rebuilding houses in little to no time.
If I took the time to adjust, I mused to myself, I might fit in very nicely one day.
Not knowing which one of the many taverns would be the right one, I decided to ask a large, burly stallion for directions. He was leaned against a straw house wall - most likely to his home - he was chewing on a piece of tobacco. His short mane and brown dusty coat, along with his simple fur clothing, gave him a strange serene appearance, intimidating though he was.
Don’t get me wrong, I could probably take him in a fight if I had to. Strong as he was, he didn’t look like the type who fought a whole lot, whereas I had lots of experience with dangerous situations. I was more scared of the possible rudeness with which he might meet my questions. I was not at all in the mood for sarcastic bullying.
It was with definite apprehension that I approached him with my questions:
“Excuse me, sir. I was wondering if you-“
“That was quite a display back there,” The stallion grunted, cutting me off completely. “Nearly scared the life out of old mockinsworth.”
He got up from his half-leaning, half-sitting, position, and offered me a welcoming hoof. I shook it apprehensively.
“If it had been anyone but Mock, I would have had to beat some manners into you, lady,” The brown stallion said with a good-natured smile, “but it so happens that ol’ Mock has promised me a rockin’ chair, and never delivered it, so I’m actually rather pleased that you scared him like you did.”
“I’m Swift Jockey, on the off-chance that you haven’t head of me before,” He said unabashedly. “But you can just call me Jock, stranger. Hardly a pony passes through here without me meeting them, and you shouldn’t have to be the exception. So tell me, lass, what is your name?”
At this point I was blushing profusely. ‘Jock’, as he wanted me to call him, was getting closer than I thought comfortable for casual conversation, and had hooked his hoof around my neck, acting as if I was an old time friend of his. “Uhm… I was just looking for the bar, and I don’t… I’m sorry about flying like I did but-“
Jock laughed. A booming sound. His chest heaved so heftily, that I was afraid he might go short of breath.
Wiping invisible tears of merriment from his eyes, Jock continued talking in his booming voice. “No need to apologize, stranger. As I said, I harbor no good will for Mock. And what is this bar you are talking about,” He asked,” Is it so important you don’t even have the time to indulge a friendly stranger with your name?”
I was rather taken by the truth of his words. I was here to make friends, after all, and now that I had a chance to talk to him, Jock seemed friendly enough. What good would it do to start my quest on such an awkward note?
“I’m sorry,” I said, more confident this time. “I’m new in town, and I really just wanted to get to the Stormhound’s bar.” I extracted myself from Jocks embrace with some effort. “My name is Summer, by the way,” I quickly added. “I don’t suppose you know where to find it?” I asked.
“Know of it,” Jock boomed, as if it was the most incredible question anypony had ever asked him. “You aren’t from around here are you, Summer? The Stormhound is probably the most notorious bar in this entire town! If you are looking for good mead, or a good fight,” Jock winked at me, nudging me as if he was really letting me in on a secret by telling me this, “or… some good company. Hehe. Well, the stormhound is the best place to be.” Jock shot out his chest proudly. “And I’m not just telling you that because I’m the owner!”
This was incredible. I had no idea what the chances of this encounter where, but something told me astronomical. I sensed Celestial intervention, not that I was about to complain.
Feeling a flood of relief over having found someone capable of taking me there so easily, I quickly shot Jock my request before he could get the chance to keep bragging about his establishment.
“So you can take me there, then?” I asked.
“Take you there,” Jock laughed, “Lass, you are already here!”
I was overcome by immediate surprise, as the stallion used his powerful bulk to sweep me inside the door of the house he had been standing next to, which turned out to be not a house at all, but a rather soundly insulated tavern. I had been able to hear the music faintly while standing outside, but as soon as Jock opened the door, a myriad of voices and sounds struck me so unexpectedly, that I must have looked quite shocked. I felt my ears flattening against my skull as the cacophony rose in intensity and merriment. I heard half a dozen voices yelling at the top of their lungs at Jock, calling him all sorts of names, and asking him if his sissy break from the real party had been a pleasant one.
Jock only yelled good naturedly back at the ponies for poking fun at him, and promised them he would drink them all under the table later… Simultaneously. I was so taken by his character at this point in our story, that I had no doubt Jock could hold more alcohol than most ponies here combined.
I was normally a very tough pony (despite what you might believe, having heard how I dealt with Jock and the princess), who never let anything faze me, least of all alcoholic drinks. In my youth, before I had decided upon a career as an adventurer, the lively centers of towns, such as this one I was in now, had been my chief source of relaxation and sport. I was proud of my ability to retain more drinks than most other ponies, though I wasn’t sure how much that was still the case, since it had been years since I had consumed any drink remotely jovial.
Weathered as I was, though, I found the Stormhound’s bar to be utterly unlike anything I had ever seen before. Never mind the challenge of finding the mysterious newcomer who supposedly needed my help. It would be an accomplishment if I made it through 10 minutes in here without getting caught in some dispute
There were ponies drinking from massive kegs of liquor that was entirely black (probably some specialty stout of some sort), raunchy dancing to swift folk music, and I think I spotted several escort ponies somewhere on a balcony above the main room of the bar. Everything was made of wood, including tables, chairs, floor, and serving tables. In many places, the wood had been so stained by mead, and god knows what, that it was entirely unidentifiable as wood at all.
Everything in the crowded room smelled like sweat and old mead. Seeing as there were no windows, and lanterns or candles lighted everything, the things struck by the light in the bar seemed to have an eerie, almost otherworldly, glow that was both welcoming, and unsettling, at the same time. The whole place was enormous, which was also why the initial rush of sound had been so overwhelming. There were shadier corners in the outer parts of the room, where ponies were sitting leisurely and drinking their drinks with acquaintances. In the middle of the bar, where Jock and I were, the bar became a bit wilder. People were dancing and singing, some of them standing on top of tables, and there seemed to be constantly a new fight breaking out somewhere.
The singing was so loud, and the bar so crowded with ponies of all kinds bumping into me, that it took me nearly a minute before I noticed that Jock had been sweeping me to the serving desk, blabbering merrily all the while.
I had to strain my ears to pick up what he was saying, and even then, I had a hard time understanding. He was talking up a storm about some sort of drink he needed me to try. Dagon pale? Some kind of pale ale, maybe. It sounded harmless enough, so when he offered me the jug, I took it without question. It tasted good. Really good! It was definitely not pale ale, though, but some sort of stout. Jock laughed and pounded me on the shoulder when I smiled at him, obviously happy that I liked his drink. Boy was it potent, though, I could already feel the blood rushing to my face.
Jock and I shared a drink at the bar. He had also picked up one of the ‘Dagon pales’ or whatever they were called, and was handling it better than I was, given his massive bulk. I decided already then, that I liked this pony, and his precocious manner. I tried in vain to explain my errand in the Stormhound several times, but Jock would have none of it, and insisted that I should meet his friends before we did anything else. If I was here to make friends, it wouldn’t hurt to hang out with jock and his gang a little bit, I thought to myself.
I don’t remember all the details, but I woke up in the corner of the bar, about half an hour later, to the sounds of laughing when Jock dunked me into a barrel of lukewarm water. I sputtered uncontrollably as he pulled me out.
“By Celestia’s Beard,” I slurred as he put me down gingerly, “what did you put in that Stout? I could have sworn I only had one drink!”
By the time the sentence had left my mouth, I was acutely aware of, just how drunk that one drink had actually made me. My legs felt like jello, and I could already tell that I would have a headache the next day.
Jock’s friends all laughed at me, and a brown earth pony roared in a rural accent: “She can’t even remember. You need to bring these strangers in here more often Jock, they make for fantastic fun.”
“Wait, what did I do?” I wondered aloud, blushing and backing away from the laughing stallions.
I think if Jock hadn’t noticed how distraught I was, and sent his friends off somewhere else, the situation could have ended worse than it did. Luckily, he had the tact to send his friends away, and bring me to a place to sit without mentioning exactly what had transpired in that half hour that went missing.
“Well, you see, lass,” he said, as he guided me into an unoccupied booth. “You might have had a bit more than one drink,” he said, chuckling good-naturedly to assure me that everything was all right. “Don’t be too upset about it, though. The dragon tail stout does weird things to ponies who haven’t tried it before. You really need to be responsible when drinking that.” He paused for a second. “Not that mind irresponsible behavior,” he finally continued with a wink. “You were quite entertaining… right up until you tried to punch me, puked all over my serving desk, and passed out, that is.”
I blushed furiously again. “I uhm… I’m usually not this much of a lightweight.” I said.
“It’s alright,” he said, waving it off, “that desk needed cleaning anyway.”
I didn’t know what to say to this. We sat in awkward silence for a little while, while Jock seemed to expect me to say something.
“Anyway…” Jock trailed off and then started again. “I think I heard you say you were here looking for somepony. Now that we’ve shared drinks, maybe I can help you find ‘im, and then I can get back to me buds. They look like they are having fun without me.”
At this point, I was just happy that Jock wasn’t angry with me. I wanted to go back and hang out with him and his friends, but it was clear to me that I wasn’t welcome there any more. I quickly told him about why I had come here in the first place, that the princess had wanted me to find a new arrival and help him fulfill a desire of his to explore the Drakalor Mountains.
Jock asked me curiously how many bits the princess had promised me, since he thought it sounded like a lot of work for somepony to undertake willingly, but I simply replied that my payment was of another sort than monetary, and that I enjoyed exploration either way. At this Jock seemed to lighten up a bit. He confided in me that he had always wanted to explore the mountains, but had never had the time since he had the bar to run (apparently running it entailed dragging every newcomer in town into the bar and shooting them full of stouts). He jokingly mentioned that he might just decide to come along with me some day.
Luckily for me, Jock was a bar owner, and therefore knew everything about everypony in Evergreen. He was easily able to point me towards the newest arrival in town, A Light brown, lithe Earth pony, sitting only a few booths away from ours, with a cutie mark depicting a gleaming sword on his flank.
*Milestones reached*
- Lightweight.
*Bits gained: n/a*