//------------------------------//
// Book 1: Part 1:  Chapter 2: Episode 1: The Imbroglios of Life and the Tempests They Render!  
// Story: Ultra Eternal Prodigal Furious Very Big Sonic Fearless Perpetual Heroic Epic Legendary 
// by Sir Ostentatious 
//------------------------------//

	Disregarding my mother, neighbors, and friends, I raced off into the canopy overhead. The portal from youth soon blot out the sun and surrounded my frame. The isolation imposed on me by the environment proved a suitable venue of initiation into the life of a lone warrior, as signaled by the caws of unnerving shadows and the calls of hidden monsters. My ecstatic pace became an apprehensive though still quite graceful walk, swinging my head in all directions in rhythm with my shuffling feet. Nature heavily tolled my composure, though I steeled my resolve, threw up my nose at the shadows, and kept my steps constant yet soft. 
Swoops overhead and a fallen tree branch sent an uneasy chill across me like electricity, though “such was the life I shall bear” I reminded myself. An adventure to say the least! My father is all around me and I shall not disappoint him! More screeches pierced the dense foliage and sparked hysteria within me. Like millions of ubiquitous serpents gasping in harmony and sizing up their next meal, the sounds of the unknown froze my stride. Circled by trees and concealed faces, I bravely sprinted towards a wider and more illuminated section of that plane of terror. Just barely out of earshot I swore I made out what seemed to be the sweet coo of bells.
I stopped, the sun’s breath rejuvenating my spirit and reaffirming my spine. Too soon, the screeches started back up, but in a select area. Divinity showered me and colored my horn with a mystical force. Like a seismic wave, my foot collided with earth and signaled my distaste. 
“Many’s the mare who trots too close to my lands! Few have ever lived beyond my powers to warn the world, for I possess craft and magic beyond the boundaries of mortality and comprehension! Pray thee show thyself lest detonations thrust your shadow into a light one cannot escape!” I decreed, hearing the rustling die down and the similar shake of bells.	
“What did you say?!” A shrill voice returned, shock in its throat.
“You heard me villainous villain!”
“You attack girls?!”
“No!” Red flirted with my cheeks as the wordsmith I battled appeared to have found a flaw in my tongue.” Rhymes normally augment the vigor of a battle cry, though you have got me thinking on my hooves and I could not quite form an elaborate sequence in such time, though my message possesses the same gist!” 
There was a pause before the retort. “Are you trying to read me a novel?”
“Trust me, such camaraderie will not be spared on thine callous spirit! Reveal your shadow!”I replied to the ribald creature.
“For the birds! Caw caw! Caw caw!” The villain mocked with those ugly sounds of birds. “Go back the way you came!”
“My language nor I deserves such insults!” I called out to the voice with a snort. “I shall press forward.”  Turning up my nose once more to the darkness, I gracefully took my leave and delved further into the woods. 
“No wait! Come back!” The voice called hurriedly. “You don’t even want to fight me?” Disappointment played a sour note in the question.
I scoffed. “Melee and all associated sports are of little use against a demon of no solid form. A body for a brawl!” 	
There was a rustle of leaves and bells and the flight of an object, its trajectory aimed for my skull. Pain flashed and ran deep, though I swung my head around to catch the fiend. “Who threw that?” I demanded.
“Not I.” Called the little voice.
Ignoring the fool I followed the trees to safety. 
Another rock collided with my cranium. 
I looked back around. No one was visible.
“Calm yourself”, I told myself. “Surely his supply is limited.”	
Dense woods began to populate the area and most ways were nonnegotiable. Through a few tight tree placements I could squeeze, too soon coming to the realization of a dead end. In mere minutes of my trek the area became a never ending maze composed of green and the occasional rock whizzing past me. Overhead sunlight began to dwindle of the balance and begin a decent. All the while followed by the fiend and his incessant bells.
Devoid of any life beyond the incessant rock slinger and myself, this forest seemed eerily dead. Vibrant fruits and flowers grew on trees and the grounds in abundance, though all were motionless and dare not utter a sound. I filed it away as a simple attribute of the land and kept my pace brisk, dodging an incoming rock.
Frustration built all too quickly as something dastardly hatched. Caught in another frustratingly dense dead end, something hit me. An idea or a rock perhaps. I stared intently at the trees, hoping to hear the launch of a rock or the cracking of a twig or a stray bell twitch. For minutes I stared and waited and listened, though the imp slipped up.
A rock flew its simple flight, though passion and fervent energy caught the projectile and reversed its motion. Returning the package to its sender, a child’s cry broke out over the gallery of tree trunks and canopies. A giddy smile grew on my lips. Not even the capricious personification of the hunter and his tribe can jeer, for ecclesiastical channels replenished my veins and flavored my blood beyond comprehension! 
“Beckon the nonbelievers”, I scoffed with the raise of a hoof to my chest, “to call into discussion this beginner, then return to your holes as the evidence sends the courtroom ablaze with envy!” 
“Jerk! What’d you hit me for?” Called the bells and the voice. Sunlight did perfect my astounding elevation atop the pedestal of victory, though my curiosity begged the question of what baddie my skills had struck. Eager to discover the artist behind this facsimile of horror, I called for the criminal to reveal himself.	
“Hah!” called the voice. The owner traipsed through a northern bush and proclaimed his motivation: “Cower fool! For I am an esteemed guard of Paradise Gorge!”A forgettable face and a tiny frame, though an ominous jet black coat trimmed with a pearl mane and marked with the insignia of a vermillion bell painted an image of confusing color schemes within my memory. Violet eyes stared intense gazes into my soul. Around his neck glistened a beautiful pendant and the companion bells.
The hoof he pointed at me addressed his target. “Do you, marauder, now wish to duel?” I asked, horn eager to smell the singe of fur.
Without a word or rhyme, the marauder reached a swift hoof to the ground and grew a devilish smirk. My heart raced as the possible scenarios of battle revealed themselves: perhaps he would call for help, or simply charge, or use his shimmering little hooves which flared threateningly in the sun? Though a new tool, much worse than the previous tools, was released and presented. “So! You must be a traveling poet! I get it now! Well buddy, I bet my haikus are ten times better than anything you can muster! Now we’ll see how smug you are!” The miniature marauder confidently barked.
Freely diving into prose, he closed his eyes, raised his head to a nearby evergreen, and began: “Big and tall green tree!” He declared, mouth wide and projection heard above all the wind. “Grow bigger and greener today! Today is warm!” With a smirk he looked at me once more. “Your turn! If you can impress me, I’ll take you through this maze!”
Soft laughter escaped from my lips and became unexpectedly boisterous. “As the sun sets I see the time is amateur hour! We are not in the mood for free verse! Pray count the syllables of your speech and direct me free of these woods!” My guffaws would not cease and began to scare the birds.
“Huh?” The confused child went back and counted his words in his head, then returned with red spreading violently across his face. “Aw dang! You win this round, poet! What’s your name?”
“Simple guard, I am Ostentatious, but as I said before, I have not the time for pleasantries with you. Freedom is which avenue?”
Reluctant to uphold his bargain, he scowled at my superiority and, with his inferiority, held open a previously unexplored section of hedges leading to a surprisingly spacious system of routes. I followed without delay.

***

From what little small talk the foal attempted to create and that I acknowledged, I gathered his name: Slay Bells. Apparently he was leading me into the direction of his town: Paradise Gorge. Every clop of his hooves and every word spoken lead to the obnoxious clang of the series of bells strewn about his neck. The rest of his chatter did not interest me nor my quest as I simply watched the trees go by and grow from forest green to several vibrant shades. Energy and life became a pattern among the branches and trees as I could make out the tops of homes in the distance.
The guarded path of trees eventually emptied out into a small field abundant with colorful arrays of flowers and fruit bearing trees watching over a brick path.  Beside the path stood two stallions, both of whom greeted Slay Bells and I quite warmly. 
“Did you have fun playing in the forest, Slay Bells? No scrapes I hope. Don’t keep your dad waiting too long!” chimed one of the guards. Crimson rushed to the young foals face once more. The garb, for guards, appeared disheveled: helmets not matching, an air of casualness between the two, and practically unimpressive builds. I could have overtaken them had I not been in a hurry.
Beyond the guards resided the sleepy city Slay Bells proclaimed to be “Paradise Gorge”. A town surrounded by the forest behind us and the lush hills on all other sides. Flowers shared the space among the grass and shimmering brick streets. Homes of the lightest teak and natural canopy roofs dotted the sides of the streets and street corners as we strolled by each. A marvel of architecture and quite overwhelming to the eyes; it was a sight vastly different to my comparatively dull village and only served the realization that this was my first time in a new town, so I took in all the available sights and surroundings.
As the houses did greet the two of use with light hearts and lighter eyes, so too did the pleasant townsfolk who released “Hello”s and “How are you today, children?”s like the air they breathed. Each we returned with a similar reply as we roamed the brick streets. It was a quiet and demure bustle around us as ponies of every vivacious color imaginable were selling goods or eating in the cafes or simply enjoying the bounty of light around them. An alluring thick smell of grass wafted our way and lulled me into peace. Quite the serene way to begin a journey of my caliber, but I accepted it readily. 
Crossing the rims of the roofs and over the street flew streams of crimson flowers like the flight of magnificent spirits. Enthralled by their beauty, I barely noticed the path Slay Bells was leading me on or the destination, until he halted and announced: “Here we are, poet! The Mayor of our village lives inside! I shall let you in.” A deepness to his voice rose with a regal façade.
Teak in all different hues and vibrancies lined the magnificent estate. I followed Slay Bells up the ramp to the porch and Slay Bells grasped a pull cord in his mouth and yanked on it. From within the wood panels a bell chimed and I heard hooves hit wood.
Slay Bells opened the door and we walked through the opulent threshold into a wide room rivaling the beauty of the town. Affluent rugs and décor drew my gaze, though a figure entered from across the room. A plump neck raised a rosy head to see us, and a loud chuckle was heard.
“Well, my boy! You found a new friend? I don't recall seeing his face before.” The elderly colt trotted over with heavy cream hooves and examined me. 
“No dad! This is a poet I found hiding about the forest. He says he would like an audience with you.” Slay Bells corrected. I did not recall asking for an audience, though I took advantage of this opportunity.
“The forest, eh? What’s your name, son?” The mayor asked me.
“I am known as Sir Ostentatious, though be merry and call me ‘Ostentatious’.” I bowed my head to the figure.
“A fine name indeed! I am Mayor Liberty!” He said with a bow of his head in return. “I see you have met my son. I trust he treated you well?"
"Hospitality may need refining, but why does he where such bells?"
The mayor chuckled. "As a young boy, he does not know what is best for him. The bells make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble." Slay Bells turned away with a groan, bells shaking in the process. "But tell me, what brings you to Paradise Gorge, son?”
"I am in search of seven evils and a title! Upon my father’s grave sleeps a promise of glory for his only son, and this humble town is my first stepping stone.” I finished proudly, punctuating my quest with a stamp of my foot.
“Quite the admirable one!” Chirped the mayor. “A bit lofty, but it comes with that spry youthfulness! Pardon my lack of hospitality! Do make yourself at home. I’ve some tea brewing that I’m sure you’ll find divine.”
“I appreciate your extension of home, sir, though my stop in this town must be brief as the sun grows drowsy. Forgive my forwardness, but have you any evils or evil paraphernalia that needs reconciling? I am sure I can do wonders against such plagues!” 
The mayor was not moved. “What have you liked best about the town so far, son? The architecture? The music? All of my own design to make guests feel right at home in our little town.” 
“Trust me good sir, it is all so fine, but please! For the matter at hand, I do declare—“
“Say no more! I’m sure it was our crown jewel, the majestic ‘Birds of Paradise’ along the streets which mystified you the most! I can’t blame you, son. They’re grown right here in the tender loving care of our eccentric florist. Have you visited the Florist? She is quite a face. Do you think she is free, Slay Be—“
It was to last no more. A thunderous hoof stamp brought a rapid silence to the home and shook the rafters. “Please acknowledge my request: have you or have you not a quest for me, and if not I shall leave you be!” I finished, the mayor’s smile unfaltering.
Rosy cheeks began to flee and turn ghostly as the mayor looked down his nose at me with the same smile, in a sort of thought. “In this country, ponies seem to live for action as long as they can and sink into apathy when they retire. I’d hazard a guess that the only problem our town has is people passing through the canyon and never returning. But you won’t have any problem with that, for the canyon if off limits due to the deadly attributes it possesses.”
Bewildered, I pressed on. “With all due respect, I am not interested in these sleepy lives. I yearn for the open road and making my name along its expanse!  If this canyon path is my only route to advance, I shall take it. I am to rove across the world and learn its secrets, like the glorious equines of the past! Have you heard no tales of their gallantry?”
The bravery he saw in me took the smile from his lips as he sighed a heavy sigh. “The past if a foreign country,” Mayor Liberty solemnly let out, walking to an adjacent table. “They do things differently there.” 
“I have a particular revulsion towards monotony, good sir.” I called to obtain the colt’s drifting eyes and attention. “So many lands, so much to do, so little done, such things to be!” Slay Bells stood frozen and silent behind the duel.
“Monotony?” returned the mayor with a new smile. “Like the bee, we make our industry and livelihoods our amusement! Festivals abound and never a dull street corner in Paradise Gorge! Why do you not see the beauty in such establishments? I must insist you stay at least the night to see all the our lovely town has to offer.” A tea kettle in the back began a sour whistle.
“It’s but a bee and his clones, though!” Broke in Slay Bells, words screamed to overtake the whistle. “One does not get a harmony when everypony sings the same note!” A fervor unseen in such a small lad, even his melancholic father took wind.
“You speak out of turn!” Yelled his father, eyes furious with fury. “Your poor mother would surely faint if she were to hear such foolishness!”
Eyes widened but soon surrendered behind raven lids. Slay Bells simply hung a defeated head and excused himself from the discussion. The door shut behind me and the gravity of the room became all too cumbersome. I turned to mayor Liberty, his gaze fully spent on the portrait above the table. Somber upon the canvas stood the expression of a mare. Deep blues ran into blacks and I could barely make out a smile on the beauty. Eyes free and his large hooves carrying himself to the clamoring pot , he asked, “Do you mind going after the boy? We’ll continue our discussion later on tonight, should you truly decide to leave.”
The door swung open fast as I felt myself almost fly from the fresh air and colors washing over me and relaxing myself. Once outside, the black foal had vanished, leaving me alone on the porch.

***

An unexpected turn of events for not even a day out of the gate. As night began to trumpet and herald in the moon, I found a café to quell my rising hunger. Fellow mares and colts ate their food and casually talked and thought nothing of the path beyond the hills. All the tables were filled with couples and families and friends who talked and ate and laughed while I took my solace to my own mind and the empty chair across from me.
A pony approached me and asked me what I would like. I told her I was but a traveler and asked from something of the nature. Enthused by my simple origins, she promised me no charge for the meal and offered to return with a “traveler’s special”. Graciously I thanked her. Every breath felt a little bit fuller than in my own hometown, like a different sort of atmosphere here. It was infectious: this quaint charm of togetherness and kindness and harmony among fellow ponies tugged something in my heart previously untugged. I wondered what I was leaving it for.
In my thoughts, time seemed to slip by like a phantom. The waitress and her glowing smile brought me a hearty plate of greens and wished me a pleasant meal. A bite fostered ecstasy on my tongue which spread throughout my system. A whinny nearly escaped from me as the wondrous dish met my tongue, begging me only to eat more. Such delectable yet delicate lettuce!  Cooked in a way even perfection has yet to master! Voraciously I consumed the plate and reveled in every second. Truly a culinary marvel, and the ambience of the establishment beckoned me to stay a bit longer. I may have obliged had not a disillusioning sound of bells hummed in the distant. Astonished I could pick up on it in such noisy conditions, I excused myself and followed the sounds.
In the bright lights and festivities of the night a white stream bounced across the street and bells chimed. I followed the signal and met an ecstatic little foal.
“Ostentatious! I’m glad I found you! I have a plan to get you through the town!” Chirped the child proudly.	
“I don’t know, little one. I may need to stay here a bit little longer. Your father truly does not give this place enough credit!” Over our conversation I could hear the growing of music. “I’m sure being here a little bit longer won’t offset my journey too long.” I convinced myself.
“What?!” Asked Slay Bells with shock. “What about your dad and stuff? Isn’t he waiting for you or something?” The music grew and I fell into it further. A beautiful flute began a beautiful tin tune.
“Nah, man. He’s dead. He can wait a while.” Slay Bells did not share my same relaxation at the mention of my father. 	
“You’re falling for it too!” Accused the child. 
“For what? The town’s just so peaceful and ideal. Why would I want to leave?”
“Where have you lived all your life, under a rock?” Incredulous eyes stared into my clouded eyes, but they began to drift to the festivities across the street.
“I must have been to not know of such a heaven!” 
Violet eyes were rolled and pearl locks swayed in a shaking motion. “So much for your grand quest then huh?”	
“Seems like it.” I agreed.
“Looks like you’ll end up like every other pony here.”	
“Feels good.”
“I thought you were some special kind of hero.”
I could not hear him.
“Your dad must be disappointed.”
And then the music died. A triumphant gale blew through the city and took with it a cyclone of those beautiful and enticing crimson flowers. Petals began to soar across the brick paths and instruments ceased their melodies. There was a scream as a flute took flight with the flowers. Red fairies all around me and that cyclone took its prisoner. Lights on the streets flickered and dimmed for a moment or two as the whirlwind raged and showed me my captors. Eyes now open, the wind dropped with the petals and fell to the earth. A moment or two passed until the event was shrugged off and the ponies around us in their meals ate once more and began talking. Minus a flute, the music played on. Slay Bells and I, though, were gone with the wind.

***

I followed Slay Bells’ quiet melody to the outskirts of the gorge. There slept a quiet cottage of modest appearance and flowers easier on the eyes. He led me to the door and peered around the home. 	
“My friend lives here, though she must be upstairs sleeping. When you wake up, make sure you tell her I sent you! I’ll be here tomorrow morning to see you off!” Too ashamed by my previous display of coarse language and betrayal, I silently nodded and bid him farewell. 
The door creaked almost lyrically as I made my way inside. Drowsiness fought off better judgment as I simply shut the door and found the nearest couch to slumber upon. Before I withdrew though, I recalled my satchel and the log I promised to keep of my travels. With a yawn I cracked it open, fresh paper greeting me. With my quill I began:
“Dear handsome log of adventures,
I pray thee father! Forgive me. The tempest only begins from this day on. Never again shall I waver! I have it in writing now. Tomorrow I embark on whatever may lie beyond this gorge. Guide me on father. Oh father! How many wondrous creatures are there here! How curious ponykind is! Oh brave new world that has such ponies in it!
-Sir Ostentatious”