//------------------------------// // Prolouge: Getting the Band Back Together // Story: Villains of a Certain Age // by BorgiaBrony //------------------------------// Prologue The moon shone brilliantly down on Canterlot Garden. The air was filled with lightning bugs flying whimsically, the scent of newly cut grass, and the sound of two shadowy figures bickering quietly to each other. “Ugh,” Grogar moaned as he slowly shuffled across the lawn. On his back was a large, heavy mass, covered clumsily with a homemade quilt. “Why do I have to carry this thing, Tirek?” Tirek reached into the black bag around his neck and pulled out a golden bit. “Because I won the toss, that’s why. Now hurry up and get it to the chariot. Someone’s going to see us.” He motioned his clawed hand toward an ebony chariot, hidden lazily behind three bushes. When he looked back at Grogar, he saw that his companion had tripped and fell, his burden pinning him down. “Gak!” Grogar coughed. “Some help here, please?” Tirek struggled not to laugh at the sight of Grogar struggling so. “Fine,” he agreed. “But only so we actually get away with this.” With that, he lifted the mysterious cargo up off of Grogar, swung it over his shoulder, and walked casually toward the chariot. The cargo made a loud bang when he placed it into the chariot and the beasts that had brought them there were riled, but only slightly. Tirek taught them better than that. Then, after a quick whip of the reins, they were all off. “So…” Grogar said awkwardly as he rested his back on the side of the chariot. “What are we going to do once we get back to Tambelon? Do we have any gameplan whatsoever?” Tirek laughed out loud. “We sure as hay aren’t going to Tambelon. That place is a complete manure-hole of a city. And besides, last time we were there, I’m pretty sure that donkey of yours tried to hit on me.” Grogar stood up, defiant. “I’ll have you know that Bray is one of the best minions I have. He’s stuck by my side faithfully for centuries.” Tirek smirked. “You ever stop to wonder why he stuck by your side faithfully for centuries?” He snickered as Grogar grew more and more upset. “You should talk. What color was this chariot when you bought it? Was it pink? Or was it purple? Whatever it was it was oh so intimidating.” “Alright!” Tirek raised his hand in protest. “Call it a draw. For now. We’re almost there.” “Almost where?” Grogar whined, as if he were still a child. “Midnight Castle. Right over on the far eastern end of the Everfree.” Grogar sighed. “And what do we do when we get there?” Tirek shrugged as the cool night air whipped through his hair. “I don’t know. We wing it.” *** “A little to the right,” Tirek said as Grogar once again struggled with his burden. This time, he shuttled the thing back and forth around Tirek’s dining hall in the Midnight Castle. In the center of the darkened room was a long, elegant table, with three seats: two at each end, and one in the middle. The murals spread across the ceilings depicted scenes of conquest and darkness, always with Tirek at the center of them, causing the mayhem. The tiling on the ground was another throw to his vanity: every five tiles spelled out his name in opulently gothic, black and red characters. The opposite ends of the room held spiral staircases, each spanning throughout the fortress, allowing access to all of its floors. Grogar groaned. “What does it even matter where he is?! We still don’t have a clue how to help him anyway.” “Nope, Grogs. You went too far. More to the left. And if he’s going to be here, he might as well look like a damn good decoration.” Grogar, fed up with his friend’s abuse, snarled. “You know what? I’m done. Here.” And with that, he bounced the covered mass off of his back and onto the tiling below him. As it fell, the blanket slipped off revealing what was beneath: a large, detailed statue of a strange, dragon-like creature. It had the head of a pony, the arms of a lion and an eagle, the legs of a lizard and buffalo, and the wings of a bat and a pegasus. It had a disturbing countenance of unrestrained horror frozen on its face. “Aww, come on Grogs. Don’t be like that,” Tirek pleaded as Grogar marched across the hall to the stairwell. He nimbly galloped over to him to cut him off. “Get out of my way, Tirek,” said Grogar flatly, a look of extreme apathy on his bearded face. “Hear me out here. Just wait until morning, and I’ll get some people on it. Why don’t you just wait upstairs for tonight?” “You don’t have people anymore, Tirek. They’re all gone.” Tirek’s blood started to boil. “Or do you not remember being bitch smacked by a rainbow? Besides, this whole idea of yours was stupid. Anything we do will probably just smash him to smithereens.” As he said this, Grogar looked back towards where the statue of his old friend was. They were both shocked to find what he did. The statue was gone, where it stood only a few granite fragments remained. But at the table was the most surprising sight of all: sitting at the dead center of the table, was Discord, dining happily on some popcorn and soda. Discord smiled at them, removing the soda straw from his mouth. “Are you two done already? Seriously? It was just getting to the good part!” Tirek and Grogar’s jaws dropped. Discord got up from his seat and began walking toward them. “Don’t look so surprised. Weirder things have happened, mind you.” He swung his head around a full 360 degrees to examine the hall. “Haven’t been here since I was a kid!” He gasped suddenly and looked at Tirek with a wide-eyed, puppy dog stare. “Did you save the triple bunk beds? Gahhh I got to look!” And as quickly as he showed up he flew up the stairs to the sleeping quarters. Tirek and Grogar stood there for a long time, looking at each other, before finally, Tirek asked, “What in the hay just happened?” Grogar smiled. “Discord just happened.”