Gods and Squirrels
Chapter 4: “Gods and Squirrels”
“Whoa!” Spike cried, waving his arms before him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”
He paused for a moment, watching as all the dragons blinked in unison. Some small part of him wondered if they had all met to practice their synchronization, but given the evidence before him he doubted it sincerely.
“Whoa!” he called again. “What? You want me to do a miracle?!”
“Well, yeah… you are The Lawgiver, after all,” answered Vulgar the Unmentionable.
“’Tis but expected of thee, Author of the Code,” added a snake-like drake.
“Ya know… typical god stuff, nothing special,” rumbled the blue dragon.
Spike wiped his hand across his face. He peeked at them from behind his fingers, regarding them malevolently. After a moment his hands lowered, and Spike waved them through the air as though he were juggling handfuls of fetid spaghetti noodles.
“Look,” he called, “even if I could, that’s not what this is about! You should want to try the code because it’s gonna help you be noble dragons, not because I can do tricks!”
The dragons blinked once more, their uniform syncopation grating on his few remaining nerves. The dragons, being in an anticipatory state of theological awareness, focused on his last few words.
“The Lawgiver can perform blessed trickery!” one wailed, swooning dramatically.
“His Holiness can perform miracles!” another cried, raising his arms in the air.
“All hail The Lawgiver!” they cried. “He bestows us with miracles!”
“No.”
The dragons stopped in mid-jubilation. They turned their faces back towards their adorable purple god… or, in reality, their angry purple god.
They beheld him in his magnificent fury, his arms all crossed, a pout upon his face.
“Listen!” he said, stomping his foot.
“Ow,” whimpered Kenbroath.
“Sorry,” Spike said, quickly turning his attention back to the gathering of dragons.
“Seriously?” he said, dropping his gaze across them. “You all wanna miracle? Right now I’m thinkin’ that getting anything done today will be the miracle! Have you heard anything I’ve said? When did I ever say that I can perform miracles?!”
“The Lawgiver said he can perform miracles!” repeated the swooning dragon as it… well, swooned once more. As it fell to the earth the cataclysm made an old windmill that sat nearby fly off its foundation. As it settled back to the earth, it landed in a position that was actually 1.476% more wind-efficient than before, so lucky thing that.
“Perform miracles for us, Lawgiver!” called the dragons, unaware of the feat of civil engineering that that had just transpired.
“No, no, no!” called Spike, stamping his feet and leaping about in an outburst of frustration.
“Ow,” whimpered Kenbroath.
“Sorry,” Spike said, massaging his temples. He sent one more look of detached sadness over the crowd, and then sat down upon the immense head of the drake. He let out a single huff, and then listened to the litany of their dejection.
“The Lawgiver refuses to give us a miracle…”
“The Author of the Code has forsaken us!”
“The Coursefinder withholds his blessings from us!”
“Truth Speaker! Hear our prayers! Do some awesome stuff for us, we beg of you!”
“Nu-ugh!” Spike cried, shaking his head, turning around so that his back was to his adherents.
The sound of dragons wailing, a cacophony not unlike a vast, untold number of housecats being taught how to yodel, filled the meadow. Spike felt his resolve fraying as the dragons began to howl their lamentations.
“The judgment of The Lawgiver is upon us! We are accursed!”
“These are the end times! All is lost!”
“The Holy Verdict of The Spirit Walker is upon us!”
“Spirit Wa… Oh, come on!” Spike moaned, falling over on his back, his hands over his eyes. He rubbed them until they began to send colors and starbursts across his perception.
He opened his eyes to see Rainbow Dash once more appear overhead. As the sound of the dragon’s despondent yowls reached her, a noise not unlike thousands of howler monkeys reciting bad poetry, she covered her ears and took off once again. As her trademark rainbow trail faded, Spike sighed and reached up for it with trembling claws.
“Go,” Spike said, waving his hands through the air with weak motions. “Save yourself, Dash. Remember me fondly…”
Beyond him, his erstwhile worshipers continued their refrain.
“What will become of us?!”
“We are to be punished! The Lawgiver is bringing his decision upon us!”
“We… we are going to suffer at… ummm, at the hooves of the Mistress of the Plunger!”
The crowd moaned in unison.
“I am sorry?” Celestia said, lifting her head from the dandelion sandwich. “What is this, now?”
The eyes of the dragons went wide, and they inched away from where the alicorn sat upon the grass.
“The Lawgiver has abandoned us! And now, now she’ll come for us, and drag us off!” cried an orange dragon.
“I am quite sure that I am simply eating my sandwich,” Celestia began, opening up the slices of bread, displaying the contents.
The dragons gasped in horror.
“The Mistress of the Plunger will claim us!” cried the orange drake. “She’ll haul us off to… to…”
Silence once more fell over the meadow, and the slightly more efficient windmill went around and around as the dragons held their poses of mindless fear. This continued until it became quite painful to do so, and one dragon ventured to speak.
“Drag us off to where, exactly?” he asked.
“I dunno, I haven’t gotten to that bit yet,” the orange dragon answered.
“I hate you all so much,” Spike said, putting his hands back over his eyes. “I can taste it. I can just kinda taste my hate right now…”
“Oh! I know!” answered the orange dragon. “Plungatory!”
The crowd looked at him doubtfully.
“Plungatory?” one asked.
“Plungatory!” the orange dragon answered.
The dragons looked at one another, small words falling between them. At once, they all leapt back into their poses of horror and shock, and then once more wailed their cries of despondency.
“We are doomed to Plungatory!”
“Our doom of doomiest doomy dooms!”
“We are subject to plumbing-based fates!”
“Eep!” said the Mill Creek Bridge.
“The Mistress of the Plunger vexes us!”
“No, dears, I do not think I do,” Celestia said, trying to paint some concern into her voice. “I am most certain that I am simply finishing my sandwich.”
“Spike,” said Kenbroath, bowing his head in the slightest, “take a look at this… it’s hilarious.”
“I don’t wanna,” Spike replied.
“Come now,” Kenbroath said.
“Nope,” the whelp answered.
Even as they spoke a rather snake-like dragon worked his way forward, throwing himself upon the ground before Kenbroath and the little god upon his back.
“Oh, Master!” cried the dragon. “Return your blessings to us! Do not leave us to the horrid touch of the Mistress of the Plunger! Restore us to you, we beg!”
“Horrid touch?” Celestia said, more than a little hurt showing in her voice.
“Fine!” Spike called, lifting his hand, giving a quick wave before retracting it again. Immediately the dragons rejoiced, their sounds of jubilation lifting into the air with the cascading ring of an infinite number of bowling balls being tossed into an infinite number of washing machines.
“We are free of Plungatory!”
“Plungatory has been overcome!”
“We no longer need to worry about the plunger!”
“Let us not get ahead of ourselves,” Celestia said, lifting the plunger into the air. As it floated before them there was the sudden sound of a few hundred dragons gulping, and then a silence settled over the meadow once more.
“I can’t believe you guys,” Spike said, his back still turned to the assembly. “I don’t get it! You… you want me to punish you? Really? You think that I would?”
“Well my Holiness, Pathfiner,” hissed he snakey dragon, still supplicating himself at Kenbroath’s feet. "Spirit Walker, Lawgiver, Truth Speaker, Author…”
“Spike!” the whelp called, stomping his feet. “My name is Spike!”
“Ow,” said Kenbroath.
“Sorry!” Spike cried, more frustration than penance in his voice.
The serpentine dragon clicked his tongue, and to Spike it seemed like something done out of worry, like dancing one’s fingers together. Seeing the dragon’s lack of fingers, that made sense at some level.
Though, truth be told, the level he was working at them moment was “utter frustration”, which wasn’t all that useful for determining dragon mannerisms. Spike once more turned to his warped worshippers. All things considered, he wasn’t having very much fun being a god.
“Punishment? Is that what you really want? Really? Really?!” he cried. He lifted his hands to them, pleading with the dragons. “Isn’t the way you live now punishment enough, huh? Isn’t knowing that you’re well… being jerky jerks and greedy monsters enough? Isn’t knowing that there’s something better, that you can try to become noble dragons, isn’t that all it should take to make you want to try the code? Please? Please, please, please? Isn’t that enough?”
The dragons looked at one another, looks of deep theological, philosophical, and plumbing-centered inquiry passing over their fierce faces.
“No,” Vulgar answered, speaking for the majority of the group. “We’d rather have Plungatory. It’s a lot scarier!”
“Also, give us a miracle!” answered the blue dragon.
“Yes!” most of the dragons cried. “A miracle!”
“A miracle?! The miracle would be any of ya listening to me!” Spike wailed. “There’s no Plungatory, and I can’t do miracles!”
“Oh! Sorry!” answered the orange dragon from before. “What’s it called, then?”
“We’ll wait for the miracle, Lawgiver, that’s fine…” replied another.
Spike began to breath heavier and heavier. Once more he took off, running around and around in a circle upon Kenbroath’s head. He began to make little sounds of exasperation, ones that rose higher and higher until they became whines of vexation. The dragon went around and around, eventually collapsing in a pile with a dejected thud.
“Ow,” Kenbroath said.
“Sorry,” Spike said. “I’m so sorry… sorry for all of this. I’m sorry that…”
“Spike?” Kenbroath began, his voice full of concern. He was interrupted as a new scene began to play out at the edges of vision. The big drake turned his head slightly, revealing a small drama playing out alongside the pond.
“My Brother in The Lawgiver?” came a familiar voice. “You seem troubled? What ails you?”
Spike sat upright. His eyes flashed at the voice. It couldn’t possibly be…
“Yes, I am troubled. Why is that you speak to me with kindness? All of this long day you have been, as The Lawgiver has said… been a ‘jerky jerk’. Why now do you approach me in these quieter tones?” asked a second dragon.
Spike’s eyes went wide. It was the two dragons that had been committing wanton acts of religious discourse all morning. Spike blinked, not believing what he was witnessing. Could, could they really be… wow, having an actual conversation?
God forbid.
Actually, strike that, the little god encouraged it… hoped for it, longed for it…
“Well, it does but take two to have a fight, friend,” said the first dragon. “But, The Lawgiver does call on us to see to others first. Tell me, what worries you?”
Spike put his hands on his forehead, amazed at what he was witnessing.
“There’s… there’s just so much to ponder. I am at a loss! Will the Author of the Code not give us a miracle? Is it because we are not worthy, or is it because it is not time? Now, knowing that there is no Plunagory–“
“I don’t believe there was a Plungatory five minutes ago, either,” Kenbroath interrupted.
“–how am I to go on? My faith has been shaken,” the second dragon continued. “How are we to keep on?”
“Strength, my friend! We all have moments of doubt!” answered the first dragon. “When Kenbroath came to me and told me of the coming of The Lawgiver, he took me to his right side, and ever after that, I too have had to…”
“Wait, brother! You are a Right Sidist as well?” answered the second.
“Indeed!” said the first with a smile.
Spike covered his eyes with his hand. He peeked out from behind his fingers, not believing that they could possible be agreeing.
“Tell me, Brother Right Sidist, did you become one of us at the Sacred Thurber Woods, or the Holy White Swamp?” asked the first.
“The Thurber Woods,” answered the second, his face turning up into a smile.
“Me too!” replied the first.
“Really?! Amazing! Have you taken to cursing Left Sidists in the morning or at night?” asked the second.
“At night, you?” answered the first. “It’s the only proper way to do so!”
“Agreed!” said the second, dancing his clawed feet and hands happily.
Spike was literally chewing on his own fingers, hoping against all hope that, in some little way the code had actually helped bring these two together, to help them find some common ground which…
“This is amazing! I was so hoping to find some dragon who shared my views!” the first one said. “Why, I was gathering green gems, in deference to The Lawgiver, yesterday when I was thinking how hard it is to find correct-minded…”
“Excuse me, brother, but are we not supposed to gather purple gems in honor of The Lawgiver?” the second said, a stern look passing over his face.
The two eyed each other.
“Oh, drag me to the Well!” Spike cried, seeing very clearly where it was now heading.
“Die, heretic, die, die!” called the first dragon, pouncing upon the other. “Infidel!” roared the second, and soon after great clouds of dust rose from the meadow as they engaged in theological discourse.
Celestia stood, her plunger at the ready. Spike waved her off, pinching his nose, some dragons mistaking it for a blessing as he did. As the sounds of the two dragons lifted around the meadow Celestia returned to eating her sandwich, and Spike fell over, landing with a resolute thud and a moan of dejection.
“Ow,” whispered Kenbroath.
“Sorry,” Spike answered.
Spike stared up to the sky once more, just barely aware of the sounds of religious “discussion”, the wailing of the dragons who were still awaiting their miracle, the cries of those still bemoaning being sent to/rejoicing being saved from Plungatory, and the continued muttering of his grumpy, mustard-stained best friend.
The little dragon sighed heavily. His tummy ached, and he felt a strange throbbing behind his eyes… his first migraine headache. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the images of the noble dragons of old, the ones that had populated the song that Princess Celestia had sung in the library, the Difetha.
He closed his eyes tighter, trying to picture the courts of the High King of the Dragons, of the aeries now lost to time. He closed them tighter still, fighting to image the ancient dragons, arrayed in majesty, might, nobility and grace.
Sounds like the inhabitants of a circus train receiving colonic irrigations arose from the meadow, making him grit his teeth and think rather horrible things that a boy of about twelve shouldn’t really be thinking. He chuckled a sardonic snicker. Nobility? Grace? He’d be lucky if any of these clowns could spell those words, let alone approach the moral understandings possessed by of, say, a piece of rotten, moldy banana, or the contents of the pig trough at the Apple farm…
… or a fan fiction author. Same thing.
He huffed again, crossed his arms in front of himself, and let a scowl settle over his face. Being a god sucks, he thought, summarizing his day to that point rather concisely.
He sighed again, and stared to the sky above. Pathetic little moans of disappointment, anger, frustration, and gastric distress escaped from the whelp, from the supposed god lying there atop the head of an ancient drake. What can I do? he thought. I’m no god, I’m just dragon whelp… boy, thingy… guy…
As he struggled with what vocabulary to use to define his self-image, Spike turned his eyes back towards the sky. He was surprised when it seemed a little bluer than usual. He was even more surprised when it blinked back at him.
“Whoa,” he breathed.
“Whatcha doin’, Spike?” Pinkie asked, still staring down into his eyes. “Are you thinking about stuff? I can tell that you’re thinking about stuff because you get all sad and start to moan and stuff like that when you think and I’ve seen you think about stuff before and you know that I don’t like to see you sad so what’s up?”
“Ummm, yeah,” he said, bopping her nose with his finger. “You’re still here, Pinkie? I guess you saw how ‘not good’ things are with the dragons, huh? Where’ve you been? Whatcha been doin’?”
“Oh,” she said, sitting down beside him, “I’ve been talking with Twilight!”
“Oh, how’d that go?” Spike asked, looking down at the forlorn figure of his best friend, Twilight still sitting grumpily on Kenbroaths’s shoulders.
“Pppfffttt!” Twilight answered.
“Spike,” Pinkie said, “she’s got mustard, ashes, chicken feathers, and pencil shavings all over her. She’s had to sit here all day listening to the bickering and caterwauling of dragons. I can’t understand why she isn’t having a great time!”
“Pppfffttt!” Twilight repeated.
“Oh,” Spike answered, lifting himself up onto his elbow. He looked at Pinkie Pie, remembering all of the ways that she had always shown so much marvelous concern for others, the way she had always seemed to put the concerns of others first. No wonder she had inspired that index card of The Noble Dragon Code.
Heh, he laughed to himself, she makes a better noble dragon than most of these dragons put together!
“Hey, Pinkie?” Spike said as he lifted his hand. As he ran it up and down her foreleg he let her know how much she was appreciated. “If there’s any way to make Twilight feel better, you’re the pony to do it. You always treat others the way you’d wanna be treated, and you try so hard to help others. You’re great!”
“Awww! Thanks Spikey!” she said, nuzzling him.
Out among the dragons, amid the cries and shrieks, one set of eyes had turned, and had taken in the scene that had played out atop Kenbroath’s head. His mind raced at what he had just seen and heard, and he looked to the ground, pondering it as the sounds continued to buffet the meadow.
“Heh,” he said, blushing slightly as he returned her sign of affection. “I just wish that these dragon’s would learn the same thing! None of ‘em seem to wanna do anything other than be miserable…”
“That’s a great idea!” Pinkie cried. “We’ll take care of both at once. You’re a genius, Spikey!”
At once Spike, who had been leaning into her nuzzle, found himself sprawled out face-first across Kenbroath’s forehead. He looked up to discover Pinkie already at Twilight’s side…
… or, more accurately, at her posterior.
The earth pony was shoving the unicorn up the sweep of Kenbroath’s neck, pushing so hard that Twilight’s rear hooves had actually come off the ground. Despite her sudden state of transit, Grumplight Grumple remained in a grumpified state as Pinkie shoved her up to Kenbroath’s head, a few chicken feathers falling from her as they went.
“C’mon, silly!” Pinkie called. “We have to show the dragons what it means to be real friends!”
“Pppfffttt!” Twilight said, mustard dripping from her mane.
“I know, right!?” Pinkie giggled, interpreting the act rather optimistically. “C’mon, we’ll do the Happy Squirrel Dance!”
“Pppfffttt!” Twilight repeated.
Spike watched as Pinkie shoved Twilight forward, her haunches still held high in the air on Pinkie’s head. Twilight’s face was still staid and impassive, looking upon the scene below as though she wished any number of horrible diseases upon the draconic populace of the meadow.
“Hi again!” the earth pony cried, waving her forelegs through the air. “It’s me, Pi…”
“Yyyaaaaaaayyyyy! Ppiiiinnnkiiiiiieeeee Pppiiiiiieeeeeee!” roared Gothrang the Destroyer, his scales tensing, his spikes rattling, his piercings clattering, and a spray of spittle escaping his exuberant lips.
“Hey big guy!” she said with a giggle. “Okay, so, you all need to learn to share, to care, to respect, and not to reduce the countryside to smoldering ash in tides of your cascading flames and stuff, and you Auntie Pinkie Pie is gonna tell you a story about a squirrel who learned all of that kinda thing! Well, except the fire bit.”
Pinkie took a breath, giggled, took another breath, and then continued on.
“Who’s ever seen a fire-breathing squirrel? Well, except for that one time of course!”
The dragon interest was piqued as only the image of a volcanic tree-dwelling mammal could pique it.
“Now, we’re gonna do this as a dance! The Happy Squirrel Dance, and you’re all gonna join in!”
A squeal of glee came up from the crowd, revealing at least one dragon whose fantasy of being in a musical was soon to come to life.
“So,” Pinkie continued, lifting Grumplight Grumple up to present her to the crowd, “to help me is none other than our good friend Twilight Sparkle, who is so good at The Happy Squirrel Dance that she volunteered…”
“All hail the Mother-like Sisterly Very Best Friend Thingy of The Lawgiver!” the dragons cried. “All hail the virg…”
“Shut up!” Twilight cried, her face turning a bright red, drying some of the mustard so that it flaked off her face and fell to the top of Kenbroath’s forehead like so many delicious lead paint chips.
“Okay!” Pinkie said, hefting Twilight upright. “Now, Twilight and I are gonna demonstrate the dance–“
“I don’t wanna,” Twilight said.
“–and then you join in, okay?” Pinkie concluded, gathering Twilight up once more, hefting her around as though she were as unresponsive as a sack of month old potatoes, which are not known for their responsiveness by any stretch of the imagination.
“Okay, here we go!” Pinkie said, receiving more squeals of delight from the more theatrically inclined among the dragons.
With that, Pinkie took off into her song and dance, spinning around and around with a rather morose and comatose Twilight in her arms. Together, the two ponies spun about, and the words of The Happy Squirrel Song escaped Pinkie’s lips, musical accompaniment appearing out of the ether as it always does when the earth pony began such theatrics.
The Happy Squirrel Song lifted from Pinkie in its happy tones, regaling the dragons with its tale of a simple squirrel that, once greedy, soon discovered the joy of sharing, and of taking care of others… of being nice to one another.
Spike listened in, hoping against hope that the message, one that reflected The Noble Dragon Code, would resonate with his draconic peers.
His eyes went over the crowd of dragons, gauging their reaction. Their eyes seemed to betray everything from a detached interest, bafflement, and even a few tears as Pinkie’s words revealed the forest in which the squirrel had lived soon becoming an overflowing wellhead of sharing and caring… a woodland socialist utopia.
“Phew! Okay!” she said with a laugh. “It’s your turn now, alright? On your feet, you big, scary dragons!”
The entire mass assembly of dragons stood, looking at one another anxiously.
Pinkie peered out into the group. “Okay!” she cried. “I see Rarity is still out there–”
“All hail the Consort of The Lawgiver!” the dragons cried, Rarity blushing a bright red as they all peered at her.
“–and Princess Celestia too!”
The dragons went stark still, and deathly quiet, as they peered at The Mistress of the Plunger and her rubbery implement of unspeakable horrors.
“They’re gonna be doing the dance too, so if you get lost, just look at where they are, okay?” Pinkie said, grinning widely.
“Oh, Pinkie, I don’t feel that–“ Rarity began, still blushing.
“We would be delighted!” answered Celestia, leaping to her hooves with startling enthusiasm.
“–that… that I’ve not had nearly enough opportunities to be a squirrel recently, as it were!” Rarity said, changing her mind as she looked at her sovereign with a toothy grin.
“Okay! Here we go!” Pinkie said with a bounce. The dragons took their starting positions, each one seemingly prepared to go through with it.
Spike put his hands over his mouth, looking out across the assembly of dragons with pleading eyes. This might just be… just might be the last chance…
“And a one,” Pinkie said. “And a two, one… two… three!”
A cataclysm such as those unseen since ancient battles ripped through the Happy Valley in which Ponyville lay befell the meadow.
Dragons tripped over dragons. They crashed across each other, toppling into one another. Their tails and wings became entangled as they began the very first movements of the dance, and they became hopelessly twisted.
Soon roars lifted from the crowd, and jets of fire began to erupt from the dragons in myriad colors. Soon pushing, and wailing, and cries of battle began to lift from the grassy knolls. The thud of many draconic bodies hitting the earth thudded across it, Ponyville, and the pond beyond… lifting the windmill off its foundation and settling it in a new position that was 0.654% more efficient than before.
“Huh,” said Pinkie, peering into the crowd. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!”
The sounds of bickering, arguing, battling dragons arose for a great long while, revealing the rather startled Rarity and Princess Celestia sitting wrapped tight in each other’s forelegs in the gaps between writhing dragon forms.
“I do not believe that this is how the dance goes at all,” the princess said.
“Most certainly not!” answered Rarity, burying her head in the alicorn’s chest.
The high roars of dragons continued for what seemed like an impossibly long time. The sounds of earth being tore, of scales crashing against scales, of claws scything through the air, and the few hopeful tones of those dragons who refused to give up on their dreams of being in musicals, filled the air.
One tone grew louder though, and it raised higher and higher, beginning to dominate all of the others. Soon dragons began to cease their own battles, end their own cries, and turned to face the sound.
Soon one cry alone, one draconic voice, held sway over the landscape of the meadow. Soon all other sounds ceased, all except the one that held their attention… that caused all of the dragons and ponies to slowly turn their heads to face the forlorn figure from which the pitiable sound arose.
Spike was crying, screaming. It was a horrible, heart wrenching mix or tears and anger. It was a miserable tone, and that one dragon whelp alone could produce it filled all who looked upon the spectacle with a deep sense of unease.
“Spike?” Twilight said. The unicorn fell out her state of grumpiness, the sounds her little dragon were making deeper parts of her awaken. She lifted her hoof to him, but was surprised when he stormed to the edge of Kenbroath’s nose.
“What is wrong with you?!” Spike screamed, sending the dragons reeling back a step. Kenbroath’s eyes crossed, the big drake trying to focus on the fuming, wailing, crying, screaming figure of the whelp.
“What in the Well is wrong with all of you!?” Spike screamed again. “I told you that it wasn’t going to be easy, but you’re making friggin’ impossible!”
Spike trembled, shook.
“I only asked you to try three things! Three! Things!” he called aloud, the tears streaming down his face. “To keep to the code, to try to treat each other how you’d wanna be treated, and to respect those who deserve respect!”
The boy pointed out over the crowd, the finger dropping accusation across his adherents.
“Instead… wow! Wow! Really? Really!?” he said, his voice beginning to crack. “Instead you focused on the little stuff, instead of what I was actually telling you, and used it to get into fights… which is the exact opposite of what the code is about!”
The Lawgiver dropped his gaze across the two dragons that had engaged in “theological discourse”. Realizing that they were being stared at, they stopped their tussle, and looked at the ground sheepishly.
“Rather than listening to what I was actually saying, you ran off and did your own thing, completely ignoring what it was I was tryin’ to have you do and stuff!” he said, wagging his finger at the dragons who had suddenly marched off into Ponyville. “You put your own ideas first, and tried to use what I was sayin’ to jusri… justri–“
“Justify?” Twilight volunteered.
“– justify them!” Spike cried.
More of the dragons looked at the ground.
“Lawgiver!” wailed the orange dragon. “You are mad at us! Please, do not abandon us to Plunga…”
“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Spike shrieked, jumping up and down.
“Ow,” whispered Kenbroath.
“Sorry,” Spike answered.
“Why?” the little dragon asked, turning back to the crowd. “Why can’t you want to live up to the code just because it will make us better? Why did you have to invent Plumberatory, Plumbr… whatever!?”
The little whelp leveled them in his sight. “If you’re here because you’re more afraid of being punished than because you want to live by the code then… then you’re doing it wrong!”
The orange dragon’s jaw dropped open, and his eyes fell away.
“And… and when things went wrong, you gave up! You went right back to being jerky jerks of maximum jerkiness!” Spike moaned. “When anything went different than you expected, you just gave up, and went back to your old ways! Back to fighting, back to being awful to one another… back to being animals!”
The dragons looked at him, some blinking, some with their eyes cast down.
“You… I told you it would be hard, but most of you never even tried. You didn’t even try! You showed up, sure, but you fought, bickered, and used the code as an excuse to do things your way,” he sighed, losing steam. “You just gave up on it when it was easier to be the old greedy, scary, awful creatures we’ve become.”
“You never gave The Noble Dragon Code a chance. You never really wanted to be noble dragons. You just wanted me to be a god, to be your Lawgiver, because it would mean that you’d get the reward of getting the ancient world back. You wanted me to perform a miracle, when you could have done one yourself, but you never gave it a chance,” he whimpered, putting his head back in his hands.
“Ya don’t get it at all. Ya just don’t get it. I said it would be hard... I said that it would be hard,” he said, turning to slowly pull himself up Kenbroath’s nose.
“We could have been noble dragons. We really could have, but you… but you suck at religion.”
Silence held sway over the meadow. The dragons sat quietly, pondering their little god. The whelp sat atop Kenbroath’s head, his arms wrapped around his legs, his face lowered into his knees. Deep sighs, and a few whimpers, arose from where he sat.
“Spike,” Twilight whispered, and soon she and Pinkie were beside him, nuzzling the drake. He did not move. Silence once more filled the meadow, even the Mill Creek Bridge ceasing its shaking as the whole assembly waited, wondering what would occur next.
“So, ummm,” came a dragon’s voice from amid the assembly. It cleared its throat, and then spoke again. “So, well… does that mean he’s not going to do a miracle? ‘Cause I have this thing I could be doing…”
Spike’s scream rocketed out into the air, bowling Pinkie and Twilight over, and making Kenbroath startle, sending them all tumbling. Emerald light shone from Spike’s eyes, and his teeth grit together, sending sparks flying from his clenched jaw.
The boy screamed again, throwing his arms wide over his head, as though he had suddenly begun to believe that he could summon the doomiest of doomy dooms, as though he wished to crush the theologically-impaired dragons down into the very stone foundations of the world… without asking the stones for permission first, even.
At once he turned away, and as a steady stream of elementary-grade curses fell from his mouth he slid down the back of Kenbroath’s neck as though the drake were little more than a playground attraction.
More malicious murmurs escaped his lips as he disappeared through the crowd of dragons, his progress marked by their slowly turning heads and the little black cloud that seemed to hang over the fuming god.
“Oh, Spike,” Twilight whispered. “Spike…”
Another murmur arose, and Twilight’s head spun to see what it could be. There, amidst the dragons, a few moved, and she peered at them. To her surprise, they lifted themselves to Spike… to follow him.
Twelve… an even dozen. Of the legions of dragons that had swarmed around Ponyville that morning, only twelve lifted themselves to pursue the whelp. Of the hundreds that had swarmed around the city that morning, only a dozen trailed their little leader.
“Oh, Spike,” Twilight whimpered.
The assembled dragons, ponies, and windmill sat there in the meadow, basking in the afternoon sun. There was some small talk, and some sounds of stretching and basking. Dragons rolled over on their backs, the scales of their stomachs standing out in sharp relief against the grass of the meadow.
They seemed to be enjoying themselves.
They also seemed to be reluctant to leave.
“Well!” cried a rather boisterous one. “I am certainly not leaving until I see a miracle.”
“Oh, agreed,” hissed another. “We deserve a miracle, for coming this far…”
A collective mumble arose from the draconic crowd, and soon voices began to rise. Soon there was the sound of massive fists hitting the ground, and soon the earth began to rumble and shake, a cacophony beginning to roll through the meadow, the reverberations of it shaking the foundations of Ponyville and crashing all the way to Canterlot beyond.
Twilight watched as the distant windmill bounced in the distance, revealing a whiff of semolina flour and freshly baked noodles, sending unpleasant memories through her mind. Those memories were quickly beaten up, tossed into the street, and given a firm talking to as her mind opened up to the realization of what was happening.
The dragons were stomping, thrusting their fists against the earth. Pinkie Pie and Twilight bounced around atop Kenbroath as the reverberation went up and down his body. They were creating a chant, and their voices arose in unison once more.
“Give us a miracle, Lawgiver!” they cried.
“Oh, and lunch would be nice, too!” one voice said. “I mean, well, we came this far, after all.”
“Yes!” the dragons cried. “Give us a miracle of food! Feed us! Feed us! Feed us!”
“Now, I hardly think,” Kenbroath began.
“Silence, Kenbroath!” answered the snake-like dragon.
Uh oh.
“Rarity,” Celestia said in a forceful whisper, her eyes moving slowly across the scene before her. “You must get away. Go to Spike.”
“Majesty?” Rarity answered, fear falling across her features. She looked up to find her sovereign’s mane being tossed in the cries of the dragons… and a horrible light beginning to grow in her.
“Go now, my little pony… you must get away,” the Princess of the Sun repeated, her features growing grim.
Rarity gave her one last look, and then slipped off into the crowd of dragons. She bobbed and weaved, avoiding the crash of limbs around her. Rarity felt her breath go heavy, felt an unladylike glow begin to fall around her. As the demands of the dragons became more feral she saw hungry glances in their eyes. She pelted on, a horrible realization growing in her.
Twilight saw it too. She saw them becoming more demanding, more avaricious... greedy.
Her eyes went to her mentor, to Celestia. In an instant Twilight Sparkle realized the change that was coming over the alicorn. Her eyes went wide, and in an instant she felt her vision retreating. Twilight felt a deep magic moving around her teacher, one immense and horrible. “Oh no,” she whispered.
“Oh no!” Kenbroath replied, seeing the same thing.
“Eep!” said the Mill Creek Bridge.
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Looks like Spike's got himself some apostles
2625083 Eeyup.
All he needs now is a Judas.
-Meanwhile in Tamriel-
Akatosh: "Bunch of whiny bastards. Glad they're not my problem."
The Descendant, are you familiar with the stand up comic, Emo Phillips?
Well now... another noodle incident... only without the noodles this time.
"Plungatory" is my new favorite word
Well that went downhill fast.
If I didn't already know you were involved at a church, TD, this chapter made it fairly clear. Especially the part about wanting to be better for the sake of being better, and not just to avoid "Plungatory".
*does the Happy Squirrel Dance*
DAAAMN wut happen to those dragons xD they re so stupids !!
very nice chap , da las parts it was so damn awesome D: !!! they re gonna be mad !!
STUPID F'ING DRAGONS!
The almighty glowing plunger in the sun shall fall down and smite the dragons in their array of idiocracy!
There were a surprising number of little errors in this chapter. Not a big deal, it's just that the prose in the first three chapters was more-or-less immaculate. Here, I counted about five. They didn't make it any less enjoyable, of course.
Gothrang the Destroyer is best dragon.
Plungatory. There is no way that could NOT have come up in this story. Just wondering whether the G is pronounced as in 'plunger', or in 'purgatory'.
I noted something written "Plunagory"; not sure if it's a typo, or just the dragon getting the word wrong.
Title Drop! *glug* (I have an imaginary TV Tropes drinking game; whenever I note something and can name the trope for it, I pretend to take a shot.)
Yeah, of course the dance wasn't going to go well; it isn't the last chapter yet. Although, I don't really remember how many chapters there are, and how long the last one is, so, meh.
I don't suppose by any chance you've seen 'The Life of Brian'? I haven't actually myself, not the whole thing, but I've seen bits and pieces, and know the general outline.
Ooh, Celestia. It is going to go DOWN! Hopefully?
*torn
Is that even a thing? If it is then they just got roasted! Ha! Get it? Because their dragons... HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha ha ha ha ha ha... *sigh*
This line brought tears to my eyes.
Edit: Yeah, I totally swapped my dates around last time I wrote this comment. It's been way too long.
So by way of correcting my grevious failure of religious history: Kenbroath is obviously the dragon who communed with Celestia's burning bush (*snicker*), not the one who chatted up Gabriel (archangel Starswirl? Probably not.) Which really makes me want to write about a future sect of dragons whose shahada is "There is no God but Celestia, and Dinky is Her prophet."