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

by Sir Ostentatious

Book 3: Part 2: Chapter 1: Episode1:: When Quixotic Dogmatism Suffers a Miscarriage due to Babylonian Apostates

I awoke several hours later, groggy and hot. Nothing had changed in our sleep, yet I seemed to feel something strange in my heart. My forehead housed beads of sweat and I could feel a fever in me. Slumber brought upon a hatred of a kind I could not understand, though I felt it in all its fury and power. I did not even care nor realize I had completely forgotten to fill in an entry for my log the night before. A terrible fever, indeed.

Scattershot and Bella were gathered next to Nomad and looking out to the ocean. Eyes closed to the sea, Nomad leaned in and muttered something: “There: The sun is rising!”

A power drove me to the floor, inhibiting my movement and keeping my head still. Through the stockades of clouds drew a beam of gold. Like an arrow for my head, it collided and forced from me a terrible cry. Radiance surged through my bloodstream and I felt the fire from my dream, but it was comforting. Nurturing warmth began to settle over me and sooth me, dowsing the fire in me and establishing peace. Mellowing out, I looked up to see the sun gone again and three faces looking upon me.

I shot to my hooves, cleared my throat, and smiled. “I trust my party slept well?” The two mares nodded. “Excellent!” They seemed to still remember my scream, but I had ways of changing the subject. “Shall we wake up Sirocco?”

They did not move, especially not Nomad. As such, I took it upon myself to nudge Sirocco’s sleeping form vigorously and persistently. He stirred, swatting me away with a hoof and rubbing his eyes with the other. He groaned loudly as he lifted himself off the ground.

“Great! You’re awake!” I looked back to the others. “Shall we depart?”

Nomad beckoned me over, swaying his head towards himself. “To keep my promise, young Ostentatious, I’ll bestow to you a new power.” Eager, I trotted towards the oracle. He leaned in to me, uniting the tip of his horn with mine own. A magnificent sienna flash erupted all around us and filled our senses with electricity. Magical forces threatened to knock me off my hooves, though Nomad remained still and collected, allowing the power to flow into me and take shape. Something felt tight around my heart, a tension never before placed upon me, though it began to pass and cool my capillaries. Nomad dropped his horn, the thick color around us disappearing and melting into the morning.

I dropped my head and had to catch my breath. My coat seemed to stand on its end and sparks cracked at the tip of my horn. Sweat ran full, meeting the tip of my snout before a descent. “What do I know now?” I inquired between breaths.

“To guide your friends across these lands, I have given you the power of an oracle. That should serve you well and help you off this cliff.” Nomad turned back to the sea.

Testing the power, I imagined a form to give us flight. A plane of sorts to safely herald us to the bottom of the cliff, and I pictured it: a rectangular platform began to form and hover over the cliffside. A light green shade enveloped the platform, an intriguing opaqueness following. I peeked through an eye, yet the shape remained. Both eyes open, I found the plane easily held in place and secured with little focus. An amazed laugh and smile soared from my face and into the morning wind.

On the banner of glee, I dared a hoof off the cliff and tapped the creation. Hoof met magic, yet they did not pass through each other. I leaned my weight on it, and it stood. My eyes widened with every new part I placed on the ship until I had climbed aboard, my mane flowing gallantly in the wind.

The others also shared in my amazement. Scattershot cut the silence, raising herself over the edge and landing at my side. Bella followed suit, though Sirocco remained reserved, opting to hover beside us as we rode off. But that would not be for a while, as I had numerous questions for Nomad regarding my father. As I thought of all my inquiries, I felt the pull of the platform beneath me.

Nomad cocked his head to us and returned it, applying a supernatural shove to the ship. As we began to sink behind the cliff, I attempted to halt the motion, yet my horn fell futile to the force and had to submit. I frantically called: “Please wait! Tell me how my father escaped this world’s hold! Please!”

Nomad merely chuckled. “Visit the city. Investigate it. Seek out your answer, and never lose that spark of morality!” His voiced faded and trailed away as we fell, and I returned my own call, promising to follow his advice. Stardust glided on the morning breeze from the cliff and flew towards the ocean, directing us as inspiration.
I turned, that regal hierarchy of leaves and immaculate wood now taking on a massive scope and scale. Our chins raised to the city and our resolves tightened, we would tear away the darkness and revel in the shine. The oak was the source, I was sure! In its many facets concealed the orb controlling this city’s evil, just as was previous in the volcano. I smirked, scoffing at the rising size of the tree and imagining I and my father’s legacy enveloping the behemoth by the end of the day!

***

From the cover of the natural walls around the cliff our party exited the ship and I let it fade away. Trees wept and hung their arms as death robbed them and the rolling tumble weeds taunted them. Dust and sand twirled in dances around the area and flirted with the sickly cacti. Arid gales would sneak along the sandy surface and blind us if we were not careful to catch them in their arrogant ballet.
Clouds were growing a whiter and more brilliant color to them, threatening their grays with airy browns. A prophecy for our time, yet a road to travel to those city walls appeared to be marred by obstructions. Bulking figures clad in shadows guarded those gates with their axes. Foreign demons of rough and malevolent red shades flicked their tails about and twirled their dark mustaches and dared anypony to overtake them.

Thunder clapped faintly in the distant. Among the rocks and dead trees scurried tiny creatures to their home. Sickly feelings washed over me with the sight of those revolting and malicious jackrabbits dashing about as opposed to being in cages or dead, though in their fear I saw hope. Tiny feet thumped the dry earth with a hesitant metronome as something wicked approached in the sky. A nefarious power frightened nature and I had to inquire, despite my own hatred towards those imps.

“Scattershot!” I turned to her, she too shaken by the unseen wickedness. “You must act as the representative of our band. A melody will lull these savages into a peace so that you may question them. Would you mind a song?”

She threw a startled gaze at me. “What?! Why me?”

“Angels flock to your lyrical appearance and gentle voice. Surely gold rests in your vocals?”

Scattershot looked away, shyly kicking a rock as she formed a sentence. “I...I can’t...”

“What was that?” I asked.

“I...I can’t sing!” She blurted, though immediately turning deep reds.

We all stopped. “What do you mean?” Sirocco piped. “Everypony can sing!”

“He’s right, Scattershot.What if our adventure’s events lends themselves to needing musical accompaniment? How shall I write your solo now?”

Her face exploded with shame and embarrassment, though I consoled her with reassurance on her shoulder and the promise that we shall refrain from songs if we could help it, though if necessary she could supply narration. I suppose her deficiency in taming the rabbits could not be helped. The next option would prove much more enjoyable anyway.

Just as I was about to go overtake the demon guards, the clashing sounds of stones to wood began to fill our crevice. The rattling of wheels ran its cadence from the opening of a nearby cave and we readied ourselves. An enormous cart emerged, its long bed trailing behind the puller. As I feared, her flank followed the pattern of emptiness known to this world. A delicate physique, though dirt and sweat spoiled her beauty. Lids hung wearily over those benign sapphire eyes. Cavernous blacks clawed at her silver coat and tainted the lustrous sheen, though still she pressed on and did not waiver in the cyclones of sand. Tirelessly she strode and pulled her massive load, and perhaps a bit delirious, as the four of us piled into the back of her cart without her knowledge.

Under the cover of a tarp we hid among the rocks and fragments. Jagged passengers drove into our skin and made the ride seem an eternity, though we dared not speak above the tumbling wheels. Bella scrunched her face, attempting to ward off a feared sneeze, yet it escaped. Wheels dropped and the stones jumped in time with the sneeze, allowing a safe passage of sound.

“This must be coal!” Deduced Bella in an urgent whisper and a resultant apologetic smile. “I’m allergic.”

Sirocco rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

Motion halted as the rocks rolled from their places and displaced us, though darkness thankfully still shielded us.

“Welcome back to Elyograg, pony,” greeted a deep voice of what I assumed to be the first demon guard.

“Good morning,” replied a light feminine voice. “I am returning to my home to drop off my bounty of platinum.”

“Platinum?” Scoffed the second guard. “Not in these caves, pony. The creature that finds that haul would make a pretty piece of gold.” Both guards chuckled. “Perhaps you found steel?”

A misty gray aura summoned a lump of coal close to the edge of the cart. A charm of sorts morphed the ugly stone into that of a radiant sparkle. Metallic beacons flashed across the specimen and allowed an otherworldly shine to bleed across the cart. Her magic withdrew the rock, revealing to the skeptical guards a marvelous chunk of platinum ore. “How’s that for steel?”

Both guards stumbled over their words before one began. “What?! Let me see this!” The guard moved closer towards our refuge, though it was caught before a heavy crimson hand could rip away our safeguard.

The platinum fell into the open palm of the demon. “Here, why don’t you two take this and see if there is anymore? Surely a weak pony such as myself could not have taken all of it.” Surprisingly, there was no protest as the wagon began to move. As we rode off into the ever growing volume of the city, we could barely make out the guards’ cooing over the stone and their plans to search for more.

Indiscernible noises and words were tossed and shot across the street. Robbers and hard sellers alike threw names of supplies and goods into the ears of all who would stop to listen, coins jingling in every creature’s bags. Bella’s eyes welled as her hooves threatened to dimensionally jettison her nose away in a fit of nasal impulses. As we desperately tried to bring fresh air into the coal mine, dirt and dust picked themselves up from the street and swam in our throats most rudely. Suffocation slithered into us all with alacrity and carelessness.

A terrible sight attacked our senses as Bella lifted the side of the tarp for air: two stallions of faded and washed away colors moved like machines beside our path. An absence of light in their coats was reminiscent of the ferals faced on Bella’s farm. Ropes secured around their restricted and malnourished frames well, uprisings were surely unspoken. Not much was said of these silent prisoners, eyes glazed over and listless, only moving with each direction of the crack of a whip. Sirocco and I were particularly perturbed by the precedent now set of the two of us, should we be caught.

One of us was surely to break and rip away the tarp had the clamor of the city not died down and the cart stopped. The sound of a door colliding with the dirt floor lifted our spirits for escape, yet persuading our driver to most graciously dismiss our free ride posed a new challenge. As the hoof beats appeared around cart, we all exchanged frightened and apprehensive glances, though I steeled my nerves and braced for the intrusion.

“Hey, I think the coast—“

She could not have even begun to fathom my brilliant tactic: as freshness brushed across our backs, I burst from my position. Adrenaline and action guided me on as my only lanterns. To the surprised face of our assailant I delivered a physically stunning kick, temporarily incapacitating her. Despite the objections from my party, I elevated the door of the shed and demanded they exit quickly. Reluctantly they followed, I sending a wink to the fallen mare as she began to slowly come back to life. The wink mailed, I took my leave under the cover of the falling shed door to join my companions.

***

As these capricious events do twist and turn themselves into malformed recollections of hell’s hymns and lullabies, afterthought now pounded on my resolve and suggested that maybe my previous violent action was not called for. But afterthought is foolish! Obviously that mare was of the devil’s backbone where no shred of generosity may emanate.

“Osten!” Scattershot called around the vacant corner and behind some barrels. These back streets held a safe haven from the shops, though the other two entrances were walled off by shopkeepers and shoppers. I crouched down to join them. “Why’d you do that?” She demanded, eyes cut in anger.

“Yeah!” Sirocco added. “She could have helped us get another mask!”

“Who said we were going to get a mask?” Bella protested, putting a coal stained hoof before Sirocco. “We’re just going there to talk to the seamstress, right Osten?”

I raised a hoof and shook my head. “My friends, such malevolence as did exude from that alchemist’s shifty form surely could not have helped our mission. All we must do now is find the artisan behind Sirocco’s mask and we will be one step closer to finding the source of this town’s darkness! We shall see the artisan to discuss this world, not procure a mask.”

“But where do we go?” Wondered Bella, furiously wiping away the coal residue from her coat and nose. Sneezes began to fire like gunshots and Scattershot placed a desperate hoof over her nose to quiet them.

To our chagrin and silencing of each other, the empty alleyway met a new visitor as the sneezes finally fell mute. A vivacious pony of electric blues and yellows trotted down our way and our barrels seemed to shrink. Tact would have to be employed to convince the girl of our innocence while also not alerting the outside world, though Sirocco had a separate plan. His eyes widened and wings flared as she neared our hiding place.

“That guy’s got one!”

The mare looked around to find the battle cry, though Sirocco was upon her already. In a swift and fluid motion he glided, attached himself around her neck, and drew her into our hiding place. Goggles held back terrified eyes and a familiar mask obscured her face.

“What do you wa—“ Her eyes realigned themselves from the fall and looked upon Sirocco and I in horror.

“Nice mask you have there!” Sirocco mocked, almost bloodthirsty. He loomed over the frightened pony.

“What’s your pr-problem?!” Demanded the cowering pony behind the mask, though her tone began to shift. “I don’t want any trouble!”

Sirocco snickered and smirked. “You remind me of my father.” Closer he leaned in to the face of the confused and horrified pony. Even beneath the goggles her shock was visible. “I hated my father!”

The act was met with a quick shove by a cobalt hoof and Sirocco tumbled away. “Look,” Bella began, looking back to Sirocco’s victim with sternness, “are you a…?” She thought the awkward question could be posed, yet it hung in the air, hoping the answer was “yes”.

The victim’s vibrant mane fell over her goggles as her head drooped. “What do you want from me?” Her voice became frail yet grew an odd deepness to it unheard of in the common mare.

Bella paused, yet seemed to regain herself. It took a moment, though a spark ignited in her eye, a twinkle of sorts. She managed to grow a gleeful smile and giggled a cheerful note. “Don’t be glum, guy!”

The pony raised her head, though was not impressed. “I see no reason against it.” The reply regained the expected mare qualities.

Bella giggled again. “Sure there are! In fact, we’re going to free the city by the end of the day!”

“You are?!” The pony’s voice lifted with the question.

“We are?” Questioned Sirocco incredulously.

“We sure as hay are!” Passion combusted in those hopeful eyes of Bella’s. “We just need to know where you got your mask.” Energy burned, yet the pony’s gaze fell back to the ground. Bella extended a hoof to help the pony up. “Like I told Sirocco, to be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is something worth smiling about!”

There was hesitation, though she eventually accepted and thanked Bella warmly. Once standing, the masked mare’s horn lit up like a florescent sun and the clicking of a zipper followed the movement of her magic. The mask and pair of goggles flew into the air and onto the dirt, discarding the accessory. Features grew muscles and hardened their lines. Legs became longer and her neck became thicker, holding a new head atop the once female figure. “I am Thunder Beef. May I ask your name?” Thunder Beef took Bella’s hoof in his own. Her smile did not falter.

“I’m Bella!” She chirped. “See? You look a lot better without the mask.”

Energy spread in the connection and Thunder Beef could not help but find a sparkle in his own eye. “The name sings to me! You’ve inspired me, miss! Turn the corner over there by the lane between these two streets and look for the red square shed door. Knock three times and a pony should answer. As for me, I shall take to the streets and rally my fellow ponykind to take back our city! Our masculinity will not be hid in shadow anymore!”

Thunder Beef bid us farewell and trotted towards the busy street, defiant and unafraid. It was an enchanting sight to watch and Bella still beamed with pride and momentum. “You ponies ready to go or what?” She walked merrily around the corner and whistled a chipper tune, Scattershot, Sirocco, and I following. Sirocco looked back at the discarded mask, though Bella pulled him along.

***

To Thunder Beef’s specifications, we walked along the buildings until a red door revealed itself to us amid the dry browns. It was a familiar color, though at the time I paid it no certain portion of my mind. I held aloft my hoof and knocked thrice.

“Yes, how can I help you?” Asked the door.

“We would like to talk to you.” I replied.

A misty gray aura pulled away a peep door on the shed. My heart sank. Demonic and fiery eyes replace those beyond the door! Anypony, any creature but her!

Sapphire eyes looked upon their customers, widened, shot a sardonic wink at me, and then disappeared behind the immediate slamming of the peep door. A wicked cackle broke out in the room, unable to cease its enjoyment in our predicament. Scattershot did not look impressed.

She knocked three more times on the door. “Please! Let us come in and talk with you!” Scattershot pleaded. “We need your help!”

Laughter picked back up. “Karma sure is a cruel mistress, isn’t she! I’ve been putting ice on my cheek ever since your friend so rudely kicked me, and not ten minutes later, the culprit returns, wanting my help no less! That’s too rich!”

I threw my hoof down to silence her. “Do not punish my friends for my shortcomings! Allow them passage at my expense, at the very least!”

There was a pause.

“We are in grave danger!”

A groan followed the turning of gears and the mare revealed herself. Step one of my glorious infiltration plan complete. Still caked in the grime of the morning and her mane still in disarray, the cooling bruise on her cheek did not add to her appearance. She offered us to come in.

“Please make yourselves at home inside so we may talk, though do wipe your hooves.” We entered, though she blocked my path. “Except you! You can wait in the shed like a good colt.”

Bella and Sirocco looked sorrowful at me, though ultimately deposited their bags and entered the room beyond the shed. Scattershot raised a hoof to my shoulder to console me. Step two would come as more of a challenge, though I was prepared.

“Console me not!” I steadied myself with a hoof to my forehead and grieved. “I shall remain here: alone!” Like a true thespian, I completed my graceful performance with a descent to the floor, my transformation capable of drawing pity from even the most stone cold of creatures. Motionless, I waited for an apology from the grimy pony, as I would graciously forgive her and excuse her unbecoming ploys at revenge. Unfortunately, as I peeked through a lid to see my audience, the door to the room closed in a silver flash and I was alone on the dirt floor.

Voices rose above my disappointment. I picked myself and sprung to the door, finding it was locked. At the base of the door lay a frivolous amalgamation of colors upon canvas now smeared with the earth of five ponies, though the words “Welcome” had been scrawled across the unfortunate design. Ear to the door, the conversation came in muffled, though I could manage.

“To whom do I have the company of?” The dirty pony asked.

“I’m Scattershot. This is Bella and Sirocco. Sorry about your face.” Scattershot soothed as best as she could.

I’d be sorry about her face too. “I am Argenta, and it’s quite alright. Hopefully he’ll spend some time to think about what he has done.” She laughed haughtily, though my indignation was cut off by something colliding with the door. Metallic to the sound, the projectile’s impact rang through my ears and I toppled backwards. Laughter roared from within the room.

I rubbed my temples tenderly with my hooves to dull the ringing. What else could be expected from such a treacherous mare? Back to the door I called: “Clearly thou hast not seen radiance as bright as I, the incorruptible and moral paladin!”

She ignored me. “What business do we have, then?”

“We know you sell special masks.” Sirocco began.
Argenta giggled to herself as she moved about. “Ah I can see where this is going. Fear not. With fruity colors like that I’d beg for a mask too.”

“Crimson and mauve are not ‘fruity’!” Sirocco returned with annoyance in his tone.

“I agree. Too bad your mane is scarlet and magenta.” Sirocco’s rage stopped itself as something hummed before him. “One mask.”

“We don’t actually want—”

“How much?” Sirocco cut off Bella with the question.

“How much do you have?” Returned Argenta.

“That’s a shady way to do business.”

“Well, this is a black market, you know. You pay my price or you go find your own mask.”

Scattershot broke in. “Please, we are more interested in talking with you about the town’s darkness. We figured since you made these masks to rebel that we could trust you. Can we trust you?”

Argenta probably smelled the gold’s goodbye and had to act.“You know, I knew you all hopped in the back of my cart. It was rather obvious actually, since one pony was sneezing the entire ride.” I can only assume Bella was blushing at this point. “I’m more than happy to talk to you all, though I was just about to shower before you all got here.”

“That was awfully nice of you to sneak us in here,” laughed Bella.

“Apparently I’m too generous, since my kindness brought me a kick in the face.” She just would not let that die. “I was hoping to have this meeting about fifteen minutes ago, though you left in such a hurry that I—“

Words fell away in the presence of a knock on the front door of the home. Incoherent muttering and the sounds of fabric fumbling and a zipper being zipped traveled meekly through the wood to my eardrum. A gentle and refined knock in a catchy tune presented itself, though rather moot, as I heard the door swing open upon arrival. I heard the tap of hooves.

“Ah, my dear and devious seraph, Argenta,” greeted the new voice. “Forgive me! How outrageous of me to not introduce myself to your company. Chancellor Fragonard Octavius Rococo is my name.” The rolling of any “R” was customary for equines of such gargantuan titles. “Pray, Argenta, is this a good time for a chat?”

“I suppose the matter isn’t really my choice, is it?”

“Afraid not, I’d dare say. You and I have an urgent matter to discuss, well two actually.”

“I’m sure we do. To what do I owe this displeasure?”

“First and foremost, the painting I sent you seems to have gotten lost in transition, for what other reason would you have to not have hung it upon these dusty walls? I used almost every color in my collection for that portrait of you. The silver shade I found to be especially divine. For you it was created by my artistic magic and touched only by the hairs of my brush, all of which were plucked from my own voluminous mustache of course.” I looked beneath my hooves and felt a pain for the artist.

“Oh no, I found another use it, rest assured. Is that it?”

“Haste sees you well, though I am a garrulous gentlecolt of Elyograg. How goes your…eh, business?” The dust seemed to make itself known.

“Just fine. If you’ll excuse me, I desperately need a shower. Do you mind?”

“What travesty finds you in this desperation? Is that a twinkle in your eye? I for one believe beauty comes in the form of what the world foists upon one; dirt and all may not stifle it. Beauty ought to look a little surprised, for it is the emotion that best suits such a face. But of course, the beauty who does not look surprised and accepts it as her due reminds me too much of a prima donna.”

“Hmph. You are a wicked beast. Whatever has moved you here should remove you before you force my hoof.”

Rococo chuckled and moved closer to her. “The wicked, you see, obey from fear. The good, the fair, and the virtuous, like myself, obey from love!”

“That I’ll test!” Another pan clanged against the wall. The far wall pulsated with the metallic resonance of the shot.

Severity grew in the regal voice. “I swear I’ll cuff you if you strike again.”

“Strike me and you are no fair and virtuous pony!”

“None of us escape as so!” He spoke in a new gleeful tone. Magic hummed in the air and Argenta grunted, as if in a struggle. “Since you insist on brevity, my greedy pet, I’ll indulge you. As these circumstances normally arise, it appears a simple pony thought it prudent to march into my streets and form an uprising.” He laughed again with an insane joy. “Oh how delightfully absurd the spectacle was! Of course the fool is locked away now, but he let slip a piece I would think anyone named “Gen” and of a home with a red shed door would love to hear. Did I hear a voice from the other room?” A cold sweat approached my neck.

Argenta felt new air in her system as she breathed heavily. “Possibly. My sister is here for the day. What is it you want from me?”

“I am on the word of a panicked faith, eager for a deal, that in this hovel hides a stallion. Four were foretold to have entered, yet I see only three new faces. Of course,” Chancellor Rococo cooed, the dropping and jingling of a heavy bag upon a table following, “there are monumental rewards for such captures. Have I not jogged your memory?”

There was a pause.

The coins began to sing to the mare.

Another period of silence.

The delicate nature of Scattershot’s demure eschewed itself in fear and hysteria. “Osten!”

Thus, the forces behind Karma do have an unpredictable manner to them. I tried at the door, though an energy repulsed me from it. My frantic poundings on the door were met with only pleas for me to flee. “You hear that?” Asked the arrogance from beyond the door. A new series of impacts and collisions drew my attention to the shed door, now full of dents. Devilish laughs and chants rolled into my prison. Before my surrender, I withdrew some pages and a quill and created an impromptu package. Rococo mocked me more. “I declare ‘checkmate’!”

The final piece of paper was wrapped around the writing instrument, but from a shadow flew a scaly crimson hand. By my neck the monster hung me in the air, though I was not helpless or without a trick to my name. Unfortunately, tricks can be double tricked or something along those lines. Merely a sputter of power trickled from my horn before the fearsome hand of my captor was driven into my neck, letting me sleep while I regained my energy and thought of an escape plan.