Ultra Eternal Prodigal Furious Very Big Sonic Fearless Perpetual Heroic Epic Legendary

by Sir Ostentatious

Book 1: Part 1: Chapter 1: Episode 1: Prologue :: To Fight for Valor or to Fight for Glory or to Fight for Valorous Glory or to Fight for Glorious Valor!

I asked myself this question the day my father died. As the rain beat across his tombstone and the wind whistled in my ears, the engraved letters marking my father’s final words began to well up with rain and flood. The wind and thunderclaps watched kindly over my shoulder in my scheduled time of brooding and self reflection. A single tear trickled down as my face remained stoic, powerfully portraying my inner turmoil to any onlookers. In the distance, through my individual tears, figures rustled and skulked about, but I knew I was not their target. During the period of brooding over the loss of a father, no fights could be initiated, for that would be in bad taste.

Fondly I recalled those fond memories of my father like it was only yesterday. My father was always there for me; always made me laugh, always made me happy, and always made me feel special. His toiling hooves fostered book after book and toy after toy for me to enjoy. Whatever I may have asked for, his munificence searched high and low for the item and retrieved it, no matter the obstacle. Just yesterday, he regaled me the wonderful fights his business partners engaged him in on his most recent search, displaying his unsheathed and victoriously stained dagger. Quite the business pony, his exchanges, as he would say, were always brief and to the point. Coins jingled as he carefully placed the dagger back in the blackness of his cloak’s sleeve. Retiring for the night, he would tend to the other gifts he got himself in his room.

He taught me everything: when I wanted to learn to battle, by god he had at me. When I wanted to learn to elevate my vocabulary, he found a dictionary for me and I studied it religiously. When my mother was sick, he taught me the proper method of titration and the correct amount of time coupled with the appropriate temperature in order to brew up a remedy. Of course, all these skills came naturally to me with no practice at all. As the rain pooled at my hooves, I could see my chiseled appearance, but had to look away, for the combination of my immaculate chestnut mane, shimmering horn, and flawless teeth fostered a healthy reflection that nearly blinded me.

Another tear slipped away and I looked longingly towards the clouds. Mane flowing valiantly in the wind, I saw myself: avenging my father’s beautiful legacy, seeing his name remembered through me and in the annals of time. Others would know my name and know my mission. My mission was beautiful, and served the purpose of raising to a higher plane my father and the good he brought about in relation to his fellow pony. Such was my mission, one that would soon obtain a status of ubiquity around the world. I knew it to be true, for I had thought this over countless times, and the current state of my mission was undeniable in its beauty. Thus, it was to be embarked on, this cohesive and beautiful mission to do the actions necessary to succeed.

Before I would sleep, my father would speak fondly of a gallant quest, one surely, as he so excitedly told of, to make the adventurer who conquers it famous across Equestria. Enamored and mystified, I gazed wild-eyed into the storyteller for more. “Seven beasts of Hell”, he went explained, “bared their fangs only to the most noble and purest of heart and vocabulary. On rampages! Wasting all ponies in their way! With no regard for decency or property damage, these dark dogs of the hunt did scour the world for their next meal, and they had a penchant for horse.”

Despite my lack of any knowledge on the creatures, I planned to surprise him one day with the heads of all seven, but such surprises were now severed.

I felt the familiar grip of my father’s band around the base of my horn and shivered slightly. Nostalgia brushed over me like rain, dampened my mind, and a new tear fell. Dampness pervaded as I felt the weight of the nostalgia push me closer and closer to my father’s grave until I was almost kneeling at its end. Tears hugged and kissed the dirt as lightning crashed nearby. A flash illuminated the sky and called my name. The divided clouds beckoned my attention, though the beckoner of such a transcendent message bore the shadowed face of my father. I raised my head to the heavens, eager and ready to embrace the undead love.

“Heed this, foal of mine!” The voice boomed, rocking the earth and collapsing the trees. Indeed my ears were open and my mind and body stood ready. “Stay home. Do not desert thy mother nor abandon your town for foolish delusions of fame. The world is unrepentant and wanton in its deeds! It transforms rags to riches while hunger becomes drought. Such a tool cannot be utilized by ponies, for even I succumbed to it! I have since appropriately addressed such changes and now abide by a higher code. I plea you retreat home and tamper not with the horizon!”

Mane flowing exuberantly in the wind, I pondered the message, hooves sinking into the mud. What could this prophecy mean? Confusion overtook my body like the rain and demanded an answer. I looked back to the grave as a new flash appeared and took my father’s appearance away from the canvas of clouds. Nimbus mountains rolled fast and began to clamor, though my eyes widened as I recalled my father’s guidance, allowing me to deduce an answer to this message.

“What trickery lies in such hallowed manifestations? The temple is poisoned and false, and I shall embark in the morning! Fear not, my father, for you shall not fall from the sun in vain! As you instructed, I shall return with seven heads of Hell or lose my own!” I yelled to the sky. “I will not return to these holy grounds until I have slain the demons and created for myself a title worth remembering!”Thunderclaps cheered my resolve as I rose from the mud.

Around me lightning flashed, vigorously approving of my deductions and praising my abilities. A stray bolt attacked a tree, fire exploding in all directions and licking at the grass. The heat ate and ate and soon began to voraciously graze at the graveyard. In amazement, I watched this new sign convey its message. My father’s grave quickly became engulfed in the blaze as I backed away and let it roam, setting aflame the borders of his grave. Magnificently did the light portray the burial and the message. The inferno personified my father’s rage in relation to the demons trying to lead me away from my destiny, and thus retaliated from high in the heavens. My journey was secured as I watched the fire never waver beneath the onslaught of the now intense rain.

One last tear fell from my face. I silently nodded to the grave and left it to burn along with my fervent energy. The energy would guide me, carrying me from town to town, adventure to adventure, uncaring even of the natural, temporal, and spatial boundaries which may attempt to bind me. I looked towards my father’s band embrace my horn, feeling the intense nostalgia and accepting it as the final sign of the commencement of my journey. His solid gold band glimmered in the storm’s might and guided me on. As the fire raged and my mane flowed triumphantly in the wind, I said my silent amen, wished my father the bounty of all the afterlife’s harvest, and took to home to prepare my noble future.

***

The sun climbed to its perch in the guardhouse above the horizon. Anxiety propelled me from my bed and allowed me to take in the sun from the safety of my window for the last time in a while. Absorption relaxed my skin and shaken mentality after the devil‘s failed attempts at trickery the night before. Such is the nature of a hero as heroic as myself, or soon to be, for I shall become heroic and avenge my father’s heroic legacy. I said it to no one in particular, but I wagered the demons could hear me, so I went on. Other heroes would kneel to me, for my heroism will cripple their senses and they will know I am the most heroic of them all! I felt an aura of energy emanate around me, as if embraced by the heavens above in their celestial folds.

I stopped in the reflection of my large vanity mirror, as such important items must maintain an efficient size, and gazed into it. A beautiful tool I used to identify and examine every single physical feature I possessed in great detail. I would have gladly listed them, but time was of the essence.

In the mirror my shape appeared no different, though my reflection brought back more of my father. Ponies said I looked like my father, though it was my mark I fixated on: against my mint green coat stood a majestic quill, blackened by war, unsheathed, and ready to be employed in the heat of battle. As the most powerful of writing utensils, the quill served as a treasured insignia among my family. What transpired, though, on that day my father and I frolicked among the roses and tulips scarred my body and mind: a monstrous battle between I and a villainous bunny which dared to threaten my stability and safety. I bravely declared my independence from its tyranny as it cowered in fear a I was about to bring about its imminent demise. With all my power I galloped at it, though it used its shadowy powers to dodge and lunge at me. Startled by the foul cheat, I ducked and very strategically concealed myself in my hooves. When the dust had settled, I taunted the monster’s trickery before it scurried away into the bushes, thus making me the victor. Proud of my achievement, my father applauded me and pointed to my flank, now illuminated with maturity. A moment almost worth letting out a dramatic tear or two, but such are sacred and must not be spared lightly.

The sun raced higher and higher into the sky and I stabbed at my father’s band and elevated it oh so delicately, allowing it to slide down my horn and rest comfortably. The window yielded the guardian of light rising above the distant mountain tops. Colors burst and reflected into every direction as my horn’s trinket collided with the radiance, and I could see my future in the colors. Innocence pervaded the band as it shimmered in the sunlight. A smirk came to my face and anxiety fled for the sun, never again to pose a threat to me, my heroism, or my mission.

I pushed open the bedroom door, though was stopped by a tiny figure. Silhouetted by the hallway’s darkness, the creature stood motionless. I let my hoof flow freely towards the creature’s head, but a retaliatory bite narrowly missing caused me to retract and retreat into my room. The opponent was wily; truly a crafty beast. It followed me with small feet and small steps, but began to change. Still a solid black figure, its arms exploded from its sides and its legs rose, elevating the monster to a new level of intimidation. The roar which escaped from its prison of daggers shattered the glass of my bedroom window into a flurry of arrows. From the impact, the sun fell from its roost and died behind the mountains, leaving the sky crimson over my roof. Fire flew from the jowls of the beast and scorched my bed. My floor and desk followed suit, leaving me not helpless, but startled by the ethical paucity of the creature in terms of the manner in which it chose to pursue my death. Thus, I chose not to engage it, for fear of positively stimulating the bad behavior.

The beast’s wings flapped and sprayed tornadoes of ash and ember about the battlefield. Burns and singes grew all around me, much to my horror and screams of macho abhorrence. The beast leaned in its head close to mine. Through my heroic cries of manly and handsome pain, the fiend, quite solemnly, said: “Follow your dreams!” A confused look grew on my face. “Follow your dreams!” it roared with new vigor, swinging its head from side to side and growing berserk. Flames were thrown from its mouth all around me, and screamed an obnoxious buzz. The figure froze, as did time, and all I recalled was the buzz.

Between my defiance and my future rang the chirp of a clock. Almost deaf to it, I woke up from my stupor, mouth hung open and dry. Such a vivid dream, but there was no time for recollections, as the time did blare and declare my sleep in a state of overindulgence. Follies of this nature were not a habit of mine, though the dream must have sapped away my hearing. My routine became a blaze and my preparations the night before had paid off indefinitely. I reached for the door, though a wave of familiarity shocked me to recoil. Fearful of what might sleep beyond the threshold, I took the creature’s now apparent advice and jumped out the window.

The solution was quite thrilling and the acuteness of the pain which stemmed from the stunt transcended me above the grogginess of the morning. I took off in a gallop, my satchel beating against me with every step and my hooves taking me where I so desired. Chestnut blades rode in the wind and whistled rhytmically. Exhilaration ran through my frame and revitalized me with every step towards my destiny.

***

Under the glare of the sun stood the door I burst through. A magnificent oak, hardened by time, yielded the first stop on my victorious road. The room was vacant, so I advanced. Machinery guarded each wall with stolid determination and shined their steel blue and grey hues. Bookshelves overloaded with knowledge shared the space and were tuck snuggly beside science. A long desk had been cleared of any signs of life, as did the room, and I called out for anypony. The worst of situations seemed to rush my senses and assault me all at once as I stood beside the desk. I cursed that dream, for it must have been the denizens of Hell rearing their ugly heads in order to spread earthquakes in hopes that I may fall through the cracks. My spirit rekindled, though, as I turned my neck sharply to see a figure open a door across the room.

“Hello? Can I help you?” An elderly mare asked. Marred by the passing of years and events were her features and her deep purple mane, though an air of intelligence and experience still met her kindly.

“Humble librarian! Please allow my burgeoning mind to be quelled by the gift of a book of shadows and secrets! My father demands it! Nay! Beseeches it of me that I fulfill his dream in a timely matter!” I cried, gracefully kneeling before her.

“Whose son are you?” She asked.

“I am of the mare and late colt who bear the name ‘Stu’, for I raise high on my banner the name ‘Sir Stu Saint Ostentatious’! Though you, fair and elderly librarian, may simply call me ‘Ostentatious’”.

“Ostentatious? Yes, that name does ring a bell, though you said something about your father? I may have something for you. Feel free to look about my shelves.” She seemed to back away in a hurry, but as a librarian, surely she was quite busy with her quiet books.

“Any consolation prize is enough medicine for me! Thank you!”

“Just let me know when you’re ready to check it out.” She said with an uneasy smile and returned to her room. I could feel the rolling of clouds, in the distance perhaps? Definitely within a twenty mile radius of my own location! In haste, I ran to the shelves and scanned them.

Of all the books and records of the history of the world, no such encyclopedias of monsters seemed to make itself known. Book and body snatchers, them all. I could see those demons dance around their fires and laughing at my misfortune. The laughter ceased though when a tome enclosed in glass appeared beside a back shelf. Ancient in appearance and apparently charred by time, my eyes widened and sparkled with giddy excitement, though time was of the essence. I could hear them again! Dancing!

The glass shattered with the force of my hooves and the book was prime for the borrowing. Not taking. Stealing and any such tomfoolery without asking permission before an acquisition is a terrible offense the likes of which the purest of heart, such as myself, would not have ever committed! Thus, as my father had always advised me before borrowing something, I left a note.
“Dearest Librarian,

The book’s location now under my own satchel does procure my destiny’s trail and I shall subdue it! Fear thee not and prithee peace! I shall return unharmed and sing of you, the beautiful mare that did not pursue me after so graciously and generously letting me borrow “The Big Book of Bad Beasts”!

Consider this letter an “IOU” entitling you to a piece of the great mound of treasure I shall accumulate in my travels!
-Yours Platonically,
Sir Stu Saint Ostentatious!”!”

Over the music of my galloping towards the horizon, I heard the librarian’s screams of elation and I could tell she knew I found my book and would fulfill my destiny. A brave sacrifice would be rewarded when I return to the quiet town, but their lives called for quietude and solace and mine call for loud violence and fighting and avenging my father! I knew she would sleep soundly knowing she contributed to my purest and noblest of causes. Allotting my heed to the journey ahead, the glorious battles and titles which beckon for my presence only threw my gallop into a higher velocity and acceleration. With my guide now forged and my father whispering to me in the wind, I followed its path and never looked back.

Comments

[Midnight Moon]

I see the title and description, and I think, "troll-fic".

[Sir Ostentatious]

And yet a distinction may be drawn from the fact that parody does not automatically equate to a "troll-fic".

If I had taken preexisting characters and taken them grossly out of character for the sake of laughs and shock, then that may qualify. Fortunately, this is original content not meant to lambast the MLP-FIM universe, but rather the tropes of these kinds of fantasy worlds while simultaneously indulging in the madness and the melodrama that comes with such fantasy universes, all rolled into a misinformed heroic adventure.

[nemryn]

That's kind of what I was thinking, too. But it isn't! This is not an unpleasant surprise.

[Sir Ostentatious]

Thank you, good brony!

[A Random Guy]

So, rabbits are now homicidal? I knew it! This fic obviously knows the evils the rabbits hide from us all!

[Delicious]

"When I wanted to learn to elevate my vocabulary, he found a dictionary for me and I studied it religiously." This explains quite a lot...

[dat_flank]

Dear Sir Ostentatious,

I would just like to say that you have changed my whole outlook on writing fan fics. I mainly have only been interested in clop fics, but this has changed my mind. I now am very excited about writing some satirical genius such as this. I have only read this first chapter, but the other ones will be read soon. Thank you, Sir. Thank you.