The glowing staff lay among piles of leaves and underbrush in the midst of a dark forest. The only light came solely from the magical staff. The sun never shone through the dense canopy, nor did it penetrate through the massive walls of trees that surrounded the area. From the depths of the shadows, creatures moved cautiously around the object, eyeing it with increased interest. They crashed through the dense vegetation as the staff’s power drew them out of their dens.
A massive bulk moved past the sheepish animals and approached the staff directly. Its large lion head sniffed the air around the object, and its scorpion tail whipped through the air. Nostrils flared and whiskers twitched as the light from the staff intensified, revealing scores of creatures hiding among the low brush. Upon seeing the intruders, the large manticore arched its back and snarled viciously. It wrapped its massive segmented tail around the staff and lifted it from the ground, guarding it from the thieving animals.
Muscular legs pumped as the beast charged through the forest, splintering trees and fallen logs as it sprinted in a random direction. Curious or persistent animals pursued it through the brush, weaving through the dense trees with ease. The manticore had but a moment to look behind at his hunters. Beasts of all shapes and sized followed the manticore. A pack of timber wolves bounded through the well-known forest paths, and gigantic bats flew overhead, screeching as they went.
The staff’s light pulsed, drawing more and more creatures in with its magic. An armada of beasts thundered into a glade in the forest, relishing the open space. The soft morning sun shone through the breach in the canopy, highlighting the formerly bright green grass in the area. Blackened and charred, the glade was but a shadow of its former self. The creatures seemed to ignore the destruction of the glade, and proceeded to run straight through it, weaving around the monstrous legs of the brute.
It stamped its hooves, scattering one or two of the creatures. Fire billowed from its mouth as it let out a horrific roar towards the heavens. In the distance, birds retreated from the treetops from the thunderous cries. The sky itself darkened, creating a swirling maw of black clouds over the glade. Fire rained from the heavens, bathing the glade in its destructive blanket.
As the burning rain descended upon them, the animals scurried into the safety of the forest. The manticore, still carrying the staff in its scorpion tail, was the first to disappear into the obscuring underbrush, followed shortly by the masses of creatures all drawn by the staff’s magic. The demon himself turned towards the manticore, investigating the powerful object it held in its grasp. Rage boiled from the pit of his stomach and rose higher and higher. The fire atop his skulled head exploded upward in fury.
The weapon of that foolish mortal man rested momentarily before his eyes, and vanished into the forest. Crying out in anger, the demon ran to the tree line of the glade and began to smash the closest trees under his might. Slowly, he began to cut the forest down in pursuit of the hated staff.
Braeburn woke up after a few moments. Dozily he rose to his hooves and straightened his hat. Lying in the grass a few feet away from him was the… thing. It was now dozing heavily, snoring contentedly as if nothing had happened. Carefully, Braeburn approached the hairless creature. It reminded him of pictures of monkeys he had seen, only less… messy. In fact he seemed rather clean, despite being so far from any pony town.
Braeburn cautiously poked his robed arm, causing the elderly thing to snore heavily and mumble in his sleep.
“What in the hay are ya?” he asked, not expecting an answer from the sleepy thing before him. However it did answer, much to Braeburn’s horror, and he recoiled back to the sanctity of the tall grass.
“Cain!” he said in his sleep before rolling onto his side, revealing his satchel he had strapped across his back.
“What in Equestria is a ‘Cain’?” Braeburn asked again. He remembered his aunt, Granny Smith, back in Ponyville. She had a cane. But why would this silly looking thing be talking about his aunt? Braeburn shook his head in confusion. Eventually his eyes landed on the satchel and widened with curiosity. Perhaps he had some clues in his saddlebag.
He reached his muzzle into the satchel and moved around, looking for anything of use. But all he managed to turn up was some yellow parchment that had been scribbled on and some smelly food. He frowned. What kind of animal walks around in the middle of the plains with nothing but paper and bread?
As Braeburn plopped down on the grass, the thing stirred in his sleep. It rolled over and faced him, causing the stallion to squirm at the repulsive sight. The skin of the creature’s face was hanging off his bones in large wrinkles, and his liver-spotted head sprouted thin grey hairs. The only substantial hair that could be seen was his long grey beard that hung down to the middle of his chest. Its nose in particular fascinated Braeburn. It was like nothing he had ever seen. So sleek. So… perfected. Completely opposite to the large bulky nose that he flaunted on the end of his own snout.
It was then that the creature opened its tiny eyes. Braeburn struggled to keep his ground as the creature stared at him, obviously with a lust for blood in his eyes. It sat up and the bones in his back popped back into place. From its throat it let out a guttural, hacking cough before turning to the stallion. Braeburn was sure that it was about to charge, and furrowed his brow in defense. Of course this was merely a formality; he knew that he had no chance of survival should the creature take him as a threat.
But it never did, and instead reached for Braeburn’s hat. He swiped it off with surprising dexterity.
“Why in the world would someone give a horse a hat?” the thing seemed to ask to himself. The mere sound of the creature’s voice sent chilling waves down Braeburn’s spine. It spoke with such vileness of a hydra, and with twice the vigor of a minotaur. It was more terrifying than he thought.
“Ah… That’s mah hat!” Braeburn managed to stutter, expecting a retaliatory strike from the beast, which was turning the hat over in his hands. Braeburn wasn’t dumb; he knew what hands were. He had personally experienced their dexterous splendor when his cousin, Applejack, and her friends had come into Appleloosa. They had brought a tiny dragon with them, and his clawed hands at first fascinated Braeburn. But, after some careful consideration, he passed them off as unnecessarily complex, and preferred the use of hooves.
“How remarkable! A horse capable of complex speech!” he exclaimed, giggling like a little girl, “Is this some sort of spell? Polymorph, perhaps? Or some kind of illusionary magic?”
Braeburn raised his head, reluctantly, and looked the thing in the face. Immediately he turned away from the horrid sight and chose to look at the clouds above him.
“Ah beg yer pardon?” he replied.
“What are you?” the creature asked flatly. Braeburn sensed that the creature was growing un-amused, and would soon strike.
“B-Braeburn! Mah name’s Braeburn!”
“Braeburn? And what realm are you from, friend?”
Braeburn looked down at the creature, staring him in the eyes. Confused thoughts raced through his mind. Before him sat a beastly creature, capable of unknown amounts of torment and destruction, and it had just referred to him as a ‘friend’. For a while he didn’t feel disgusted by the creature’s unkempt face, and managed to see the kindness that lay in his glistening eyes.
“Did… Did you jus’ call me a… friend?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“Of course!” the thing responded, “After all, as long as your not possessed by demons, or serving demonic lords, or in affiliation with any kind of demon of less-than-admirable alignment, then you’re a friend to me! Even if you have been turned into a horse…”
Braeburn smiled He knew the importance of friendship, and for such a monstrous creature to call him a friend after only minutes of meeting him warmed his heart, “That’s mighty kind of you ta say… sir? I’m from Appleloosa.”
The thing wrinkled its nose at the mention of the town, “I can’t say I’m familiar with that… Where is it in relation to New Tristram? Or Caldeum?”
“Uh… Ah dunno. Ah don’t get outta Appleloosa much. Ya’ll can ask Sheriff Silverstar though; he knows a lot. I betcha he can tell ya about whatever ya’ll are wonderin’.” Braeburn explained.
The thing nodded before standing up, with some difficulty. He towered above Braeburn, who only came up to the middle of his stomach. He did seem to act an awful lot like a minotaur, and he started to believe that this creature was just a deformed minotaur of some sort.
“By the way, what’s yer name?” he asked as the frail creature began to walk alongside Braeburn as they began their long journey back to town.
“My name is Deckard Cain.” He answered.
Trees were uprooted in a violent spew of dirt and bark. Logs were hewn across the path and scattered boulders shattered under the fury of the demonic hulk as it crashed through the forest, pursuing the staff. It had already travelled far from his reaches, but he knew there would be no place on this earth where it could hide. He would find it, and the man who wielded it, as one last act of vengeance.
Miles ahead of him, the manticore pressed on, staff still tightly clenched in its tail. Behind it, the roars and cries of the dreaded beast echoed through the trees. The creatures had ceased chasing the staff shortly after the monster appeared, and now the manticore was all alone running through the vegetation. It had travelled far from where it started, and didn’t recognize the surrounding area. The trees around here were thinner, and not nearly as dense and fresh air was more abundant.
Sunlight peered through the trees ahead of the manticore, and it sprinted in its direction, yearning for open spaces. It bounded out of the forest into a grassy plain. Heart racing, the manticore flung itself onto the ground out of exhaustion. On the crest of the hill the manticore could see everything. In the distance were the extensive mountain ranges that ponies tended to inhabit, and down below in a valley was a small multitude of houses.
Feeling the need to rest, the manticore shut its eyes and began to drift off. Its segmented tail eased its grasp on the staff, dropping it to the ground where it rolled down the hill a short way. Then it began to pulse again.
Must… Clean!
The floor was covered in ashes and burnt papers.
She can’t notice!
The broom and dustpan were nowhere to be found.
Where is it?
Then it hit him. He had lent it to Pinkie Pie after her oven exploded.
Twilight is gonna kill me!
The tiny dragon ran about the library, searching frantically for a vacuum, or a dishtowel, or anything to clean up the mess he had just made. Why did Princess Celestia have to send a letter at that moment! He had been experimenting (goofing off) with Twilight’s chemistry set when Celestia sent out a seemingly pointless letter, and as Spike belched it out in magical fire, it ignited the burner he had set up. In turn, the burner caught fire to a stack of papers that he was supposed to clean up. The fire, though manageable and easy to put out, had destroyed several pages of Twilight’s paper she had been writing.
Sweeping the ashes underneath a rug with his claw, Spike warily looked around, afraid that the unicorn would come barging through the door any second, ready to flay the dragon alive for his insubordination. He gritted his teeth as the pile of ash beneath the rug grew to a noticeable size. There would be no way to hide it. Acting on the first thought to come to mind, Spike took as much ashes as he could in his stubby little claws and rushed upstairs.
As he arrived upstairs he scanned the room as fast as he could for a hiding spot. Chests were aplenty, and several small crevices lurked in the corners of the room. Then he saw the perfect spot, right next to the empty wastebasket. Running as fast as he could, Spike reached the bed and tossed the pile of ashes underneath it, hiding them in the clutter that lurked beneath. He repeated the transfer of ashes several times until the floor downstairs was mostly bare.
He wiped the sweat off his brow as he leaned against the library’s front door. He looked out at his frantic work and commended himself for doing such a good job in hiding his blunder. As he waddled off to perform some other chore, the door violently swung open behind him, nearly smacking him across the room. In the doorway stood the familiar unicorn. She wore a goofy grin on her face as she trotted inside, leading the equally familiar rainbow pegasus behind her.
The cyan pegasus hovered above Twilight as the two made their way towards a long bookshelf on the other side of the room. Spike ran to his friend’s side, ready to apologize at any second.
“Oh, hi Spike.” Twilight said, hardly noticing him. He let out a sigh of relief and replied.
“Hey Twilight. Watch’ya doing?”
“Twilight’s getting me the next Daring-Do book!” the pegasus answered happily, waving her colorful mane back and forth with excitement. Wrapped in her hooves was a book that was a little tattered around the edges. Spike clearly recognized it as one of the numerous Daring-Do stories that Twilight kept along the shelf, though he couldn’t tell which one it was.
“Here you go, Rainbow Dash.” Twilight said rather formally as she levitated a book towards her friend. The cloud of magic surrounding the book dissipated, and it fell into Rainbow Dash’s hooves.
“Daring-Do and the Wendigo Shrine? Awesome!” Rainbow exclaimed before bolting out of the library, leaving a trail of bright rainbows in her wake. Twilight rushed after her, excited to continue their reading-filled day. Stopping suddenly in her tracks, she turned to Spike.
“Spike, do you remember that paper I was writing?”
“Uh…” he replied; sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.
“You know, the one with all the science and math and stuff?” she continued.
“I… Uh… Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled nervously and shifted his gaze towards the upstairs.
“Oh. Well if you find it, you can toss it out. I don’t need it anymore.” She smiled at Spike and ran outside, attempting to catch up with her friend.
Spike’s eye twitched uncontrollably.
“Of course…” he grumbled.
As he watched Twilight gallop away, a strange sensation began to well up inside the pit of his stomach. He looked around, not sure what was happening. It felt comforting, but not in a good way. It felt like being inside a safe little bunker while a deadly storm raged outside. It almost felt like he was in danger. As ludicrous as the notion was, Spike couldn’t help but find the source of the worriment.
Repeatedly he looked out the window towards the edge of town where the Everfree Forest lurked on the horizon. Cloudy skies hung over the feared place, and Spike could tell that it was about to rain over there. As he gazed upon the tree line, the feeling in his stomach increased higher and higher. Working the metaphorical gears in his head, Spike soon connected his strange feelings with the Everfree Forest, after some cognitive strain.
“Well…” he began to himself, “It couldn’t hurt anything.”
Spike rushed out the door and headed for the edge of the Everfree Forest, trying his best to remain unnoticed by anypony.
Braeburn allowed himself some time to associate with the newcomer as they progressed towards Appleloosa. It was still several miles away, and they probably wouldn’t arrive until late in the afternoon. As the sun hung high above their heads, Braeburn enlightened Deckard Cain on the entire history of Appleloosa. The Horadrim, being the naturally curious man he was, chronicled every last word Braeburn spoke.
“-some time ‘bout a year and a half ago. And ever since, Appleloosa has been the prized town of the frontier.”
Clumsily holding his book in one hand and his ink and quill in the other, Cain scribbled the words down as fast as possible. His new friend almost never took a break from talking, and would often get extremely off-track with his stories. Unfortunately for Braeburn, he had never explained that he was, in fact, truly a pony and not just a form of magic. Nor had he explained that there was an entire race of ponies across the land, for that matter; it just seemed like common knowledge to Braeburn, and he felt no need to explain something as universally known as that. Deckard Cain had no idea of the strange expanse of the world around him.
“So yeah, that’s really ‘bout all there is to know ‘bout Appleloosa. I’ll show ya’ll the high points of it when we get there.” The stallion explained.
“Wonderful! Tell me, do you possess horses in your town? You know, real horses, and not polymorphic horses.”
“Uh… Well there’re ponies, if that’s what you mean. There’s lots in Appleloosa. Why’d ya ask?”
“It’s just that, as much as I’d love to visit your town for a while, I really must be getting back to New Tristram. Horses are the fastest transportation.” Deckard explained, his tone becoming sorrier as he spoke.
“Ya mean ya ain’t gonna stay?” Braeburn asked, hurt by Deckard’s unintentional insult.
“I’d love to, but now just isn’t the time. Doom lurks over my town, and it’s my job to prevent it!”
Braeburn lost his sad demeanor, and switched back to a curious one, “Really? What kinda job do ya’ll do?”
“I’m a Horadric mage. The last of them, to be exact…” he explained with a heavy voice.
Reluctantly, Braeburn continued his questioning, despite knowing that this may not be the best road to go down, “What happened to ‘em?”
“They died.” He said plainly, losing much of the sadness in his voice.
“Ah’m sorry.” Braeburn replied, not sure of how to continue. Instead he looked around the flat desert expanse, studying the nigh-invisible signs of progress. The sun had moved ever so slightly from its previous position directly overhead, and now shone down on them from their left. Braeburn’s hat had covered his voluptuous mane, and his head was nice and cool. But as he looked at Deckard, he could clearly tell the turmoil he was going through. Sweat formed along his bald head in fat droplets, and he seemed to be breathing very heavily.
Braeburn felt sorry for the mage. First, all of his friends died, and then he gets thrown into the middle of the desert with no hat. Tipping his own stetson off his head and taking it in his mouth, he raised his face to Cain. His upturned head only reached Deckard’s ribcage. Upon seeing the donation, Deckard took the hat in his own wrinkled hand,
“Thank you, dear Braeson.” He said.
“It’s Braeburn.”
“That’s what I said.” Corrected the man as he placed the stetson atop his sweaty head. It was far too small for him, and merely rested atop his aged scalp. Still, it provided more than enough protection from the sun, despite looking very comical.
“So, Braeburn,” continued Deckard, careful of how to pronounce the stranger’s name, “Why were you so far from Appleloosa to begin with? One does not simply leave town to venture in the midst of the desert alone. Especially when polymorphed!”
“Oh, right. Well, ya see… Ah, uh…” he stuttered, “…Sheriff Silverstar! He wanted me ta go get some… firewood! And the only trees for firewood are way out there.”
Deckard Cain nodded in acknowledgment, and gazed upon a few dead trees on the horizon. Braeburn’s forced smile worried Cain. Could this horse-turned-man actually be a bandit? Is this all an elaborate-
“So ya’ll say yer a mage. What does that entail?” Braeburn asked quickly, trying to change the subject as fast as possible.
“Well, I practice in the arcane arts of magic and summoning. I’ve become particularly-“
“Magic!” Braeburn interrupted, “Ah love magic! What kinda magic can ya’ll do?”
“I was getting to that. I mostly perform arcane magic, focusing primarily on enchanting and identification of mystical items. Aside from that, I’ve become quite fond of portals. Making them, I mean, not travelling through them. That part isn’t nearly as fun.” He explained, shivering at the mention of portal travel.
“Huh, that’s cool.” Braeburn said, understanding very little of what Deckard had just said, “Can ya’ll do some magic? Jus’ so I can watch.” Braeburn asked, his eyes lighting up like a young colt’s.
“I would be honored to, if I was able. However, upon my entering of this world, my staff, the source of my magic, has been disconnected from me. Alas, without my staff, my magical ability is limited.”
Braeburn looked to the ground, saddened, “Oh… That’s alright. Hey!” he exclaimed, gaining an idea in his head, “I met this one magic-usin’ folk when mah cousin Applejack came into Appleloosa. Her name was Twilight, er somethin’ like that, Ah didn’t get to talk to her much. Anyway, she was real good at magic, bein’ the Princess’s student an’ all. Ah betcha she could help ya’ll out with yer magic.”
Deckard shook his head, “Doubtful. Unless she possessed my Horadric Staff, I don’t think there would be any way she could help. I appreciate the-“
“Aw shucks, sure she could! Tell ya’ll what, after we spend the night in Appleloosa, we’ll take the train down to Ponyville! Ah’m sure ah’m just a bit overdue for a visit with cousin Applejack anyway.”
Deckard Cain stopped in his tracks, billowing tiny dust clouds behind him. He wrinkled his nose at the pony in confusion.
“What’s a train?” he asked.
It was mid afternoon, and Twilight’s reading session with Rainbow Dash had ended in complete success. As she walked back to the library, she thought to herself,
If Rainbow keeps up at that pace she’ll be done with the entire series within a month!
Despite this being a problem for Rainbow, Twilight found the situation to be a splendid one. For one, somepony would actually read the Daring-Do stories, instead of letting them sit and gather dust on the bookshelf. And second, it helped Rainbow Dash. Everypony knew that she wasn’t as good at reading as she was at flying or boasting, and Twilight saw Daring-Do as the first step on the road to higher knowledge. After all, Reading is fun!
She quietly hummed as she trotted along down the streets of Ponyville. Summer was on the horizon, and she could tell that everypony was excited. Ponies happily conversed on the street, and young fillies played various schoolyard games. Everywhere she looked she saw a happy face. Save for one; the library.
It was empty. Nopony seemed to want to go to the library. Occasionally Twilight’s friends would visit her there, but those were rare occasions, like when Rainbow needed a book, or when Pinkie wanted to interrupt something. She almost never had any company outside of friends visit the library, and the only comfort she had while there (aside from the seemingly endless flow of books) was Spike. Hardworking to the end, Spike was always there for her when she needed him. This fact alone brought a smile to the unicorn’s face as she walked inside the library-tree.
“Spike!” she called out as she stepped inside, “I’m home!”
She waited a few seconds to hear the pitter-patter of his scaly feet on the floor.
And then waited a few more.
And a few more.
“Spike?” she beckoned, after the silence persisted. Was he out doing chores? Doubtful; he always finished his outside chores in the morning.
Twilight shrugged.
He must be out goofing off. She thought as she investigated Spike’s work on his chores, Oh well, he deserves it; he did a nice job on his chores.
Finally Twilight heard the noise of pattering feet upstairs, followed shortly by something heavy falling over. Worrying more about property damage than her assistant, Twilight rushed up the stairs towards the noise. She threw the door open, bathing the room in the soft light of downstairs. The windows had been covered, and all the lanterns were snuffed out.
“Spike? Are you alright? Why’s it so dark?” Twilight asked, fumbling around to find a lantern or some other form of light.
The only reply she received was the rapid scratching sound of claws on the floor. They rushed towards her, and she stopped in her tracks. Straining her eyes to see through the dark, Twilight followed the sound across the room as it passed by her, creating a soft breeze as it sped past her legs.
“Spike, what are you doing?” she asked, channeling her magic through her horn. Slowly, the room was filled with the glow of Twilight’s magic as she scanned the room for the cowardly dragon. A shadow flew across the area, escaping Twilight’s artificial light.
With the light illuminating every corner of the room, Twilight was able to gather her bearings. The floor was cluttered with paper, books, and a fallen lectern, which must have caused the large thud. Blankets were stuffed in the windows, preventing the sun’s rays from penetrating into the room.
“Spike, come out. I’m not mad.” Twilight urged politely. She genuinely wasn’t mad; accidents happened all the time and she was sure that Spike had a perfectly justified explanation of what happened. But the figure in front of her quickly changed her mind. She was barely able to register the black shape as it charged her. All she knew was that it was larger than Spike, but not by much, and that its eyes glowed red. Its long-snouted face snarled with rage, baring its jagged, needle-like teeth. It approached Twilight with blinding speed, and large serrated talons extended outwards.
The scaled fiend lunged at Twilight, babbling in strange tongues as it did so. Its black, scaly hide brushed against the unicorn’s coat as she barely managed to duck underneath the flying monster. Twilight turned, horn at the ready, and prepared to fend off the monster with a barrage of magic. Recovering from the fall, the tiny creature swiveled around on one clawed foot and stared at the pony.
Twilight’s heart raced as she stared at the creature before her. It was skinny, with long lanky limbs tipped with razor sharp talons on the ends. Its black scales shimmered under the light of Twilight’s magic. Atop its head rest two tiny sets of horns, each curling around the sides of its reptilian face. Its gaping mouth flaunted rows upon rows of tiny barbed teeth, each yearning to the taste of warm flesh.
Without warning, the unidentified creature charged at Twilight, letting forth a tiny bestial cry. Clouds of smoke billowed from the creature’s back as it launched itself into the air, high above Twilight’s head, before descending upon the unicorn for the final time.