Afraid Of My Shadow

by Deyeaz

XIX - Plans (Jace)

~Afraid Of My Shadow~

Written by CraimerX and ShadowWeaver

Proofreaded by the onlyoneofmeisyou

XIX - Plans (Jace)

"Alright, Aflatoon..." I stood in front of Praxis' dream personality and stared into his eyes. "You ready?" The satyr nodded and held out his hand, a blue glow surrounding it.

I did the same and instead of blue, red encased my hand and I pushed the Reaper Soul that I possessed out through my hand and held it there. It took concentration on a whole nother level, but I got it held into my magical bounds.

I let it sit for a while and felt my face start burning. Not with strain, but anger. I thought angry thoughts. When a Reaper experiences anger, their power is increased by three times their normal power.

I looked over at Aflatoon and nodded. We both join hands and the power surged around us, blanketing us in a magical aura that was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

I could feel the weaker power of Aflatoon slowly feed into me, and I could feel our minds become one. It could think his thoughts, feel his feelings. I gripped onto that, and pulled him in, my body forming to match traits of Aflatoon and myself.

It felt like minutes , but it was seconds that went by as we joined together, and the aura exploded outwards, a shockwave of energy rippling out into the air.

When everything settled, I opened my eyes and looked around the room. I walked for a mirror and stared at the satyr staring back at me. I felt the long curled horns that I now possessed and stared right into my red eyes as I did so. "Perfect..." I said softly, my voice a mixture of my own and Aflatoon’s.

My skin was white as snow, and on my chest was a seal. A mixture of the chaos reaper seal, and a possible Arabic seal, showing who was who in the body.

But I could feel the power quickly fading, and it settled after a while. Apparently, the magic is strong at the beginning of the transformation, and gets slowly weaker as time goes on. I give it five minutes before the power totally leaves and we split... But in that time, I’m still powerful than my natural form.

Hmmm... Maybe I can use a Chaos Reaper form to make me stronger... Only problem is... Umbra has my scythe.

"Aksheal..." I said simply, and the Markarth God appeared next to me. "I need a weapon. Something fast.."

"Sword? Knives? Dagger?"

"Knives and a dagger."

Aksheal nodded and walked to the other edge, opening a case of weapons and walked back to me, tossing a dagger to me. I checked it out, a snake wrapped around the hilt. It had a red ruby eye and on the other side was a black diamond, or cut tungsten ore.

The blade had an imprint of fire on it, and it was carved from bone. Where the flame came from, was a skull that was carved into the top of the hilt. I gripped it tight and Aksheal tossed me two blades.

They looked like backbones on the hilts and the blades were made of what appeared to be tempered steel, painted black. The hilts were held together with a chain, with bone for the material made for the chains. It appeared like some gorey rendition of a kusari-gama, or chain sickle.

“Incredible....” The blades altogether felt so light, almost nonexistent due to their weight, or lack thereof. I swung the weapon at the air, and the sharp edges cleave the air, almost rendering it and evolving it into blades of wind themselves. “Dang, Aksheal... these are great.”

((Glad you like them,)) Aflatoon says, through my mouth.. ((Made them myself.))

“Really?”

((Yes. I had nothing to do after four years of my other side being inactive, so I made weapons to kill time.))

"Well I like them... Do they have Chaos Gems in them?"

((Not Chaos gems... But Chaos Cores.))

"...That sounds dangerous as hell, but I'll go with it."

((It holds more souls than the Chaos Gems, and will allow you to go in and out of Chaos form anytime you wish..))

“Where the fuck were these when I was fighting Insanity?!”

((I just finished those things like... An hour ago. Stop complaining.))

*Whoosh*

“AAAAAAH-”

*THUMP*

“Ow.” I looked over to see the satyr Praxis slumped on the ground, still not used to travelling to Markarth. While I would sympathise with him and help him up, I laughed at his misfortune. Aflatoon looked at me like I had punched his grandmother: with absolute anger and frustration.

“Would ya stop looking at me like that?” I said to him as he helped up Praxis. “I found it funny!”

((Well, last I heard, you were still getting used to getting here anyways,)) Aflatoon retorted, leaving me slightly dumbstruck. The only people who know about my messy landings on getting here are me, Vinyl, and-

...

“Aksheal, I thought you promised not to tell anyone,” I murmured almost silently, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.

“And Hitler promised not to invade Czechoslovakia.” Praxis patted my shoulder before flashing a slightly cruel smile. “Welcome to the real world.” I leered at him, wishing that he’d burst into flames for his snide remark. ((Hey, Aflatoon?))

((Yes?))

((I need to make a few weapons. Could you show me the forge?))

((Er, certainly. When do you want them to be finished?)) Aflatoon raised a brow.

Without even so much as a warning, Praxis gripped his own horns and gave them an almighty yank, breaking them off cleanly from his head. I cringed at the sound of breaking bones and his snarl of pain. Praxis then grabbed Aflatoon’s horns and ripped those off as well, eliciting a shriek of agony from the satyr’s Dream Personality. ((Right now, actually,)) he said.

((YOU RAT BASTARD!)) Aflatoon screamed, grasping the broken snubs of his obsidian horns as Praxis measured the length of each one. ((WHY?!))

“Praxis, what the hell are you doing?!” I demanded as Aflatoon mourned the loss of his horns.

“Listen: legend has it that weapons forged from the horns of satyrs, minotaurs, and other horned creatures have some sort of... enchantment on them. They all remain sharp enough to render wind, and always return to you.” Praxis finished scanning and analysing the horns and handed two of them to Aflatoon, who seemed visibly upset about that brief misfortune.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” I crossed my arms at how foolish that sounded.

((Actually, that’s correct.)) Sniffling from the loss of what I assumed was his pride, Aflatoon grabbed his broken horns, a little sadness coursing through his face, until the face of one who experiences a eureka moment strikes him like lightning. ((Each horn is black and about 46 centimeters, or 18 inches, in length. Let’s get started on two 36-inch (91-centimeter) katanas. Stat.))

((Yes, sir!)) With that, the two satyr goombas trudged off for the forge. ((Maybe I can make some guns as well!))

((Well, we can only hope!)) I facepalmed and smiled as the two bozos shared a chuckle. I decided to follow them, making sure they didn’t screw up on this whole katana-and-gun business.

“...I have a better idea...” I smirked. All my years of playing video games are now gonna pay off! “A butterfly knife and revolver similar to the Spy’s weapons in TF2... A sword similar to Rebellion from Devil May Cry...” I smirked, “and two knives to dual wield like Call of Duty ballistics knives...” I looked down at the knives connected by a chain and pulled the chain taught under me. I jumped, and snapped the chain off the bottoms of the knife hilts.

“Don’t need that chain anymore...” I flipped the knives around in my hands, going from offensive to a defensive holding style. “Smooth as silk...” I sheathed them, and then walked to the armory. “Aksheal!”

“What?” Called the Markarth God as he walked into the room.

“I need to borrow your Magus Gauntlets.”

“...For what?”

“Forging.” I watched as Aksheal slipped his large gauntlet off and tossed it to me. I caught it, and it was surprisingly heavy.

“Ruin it and you’re dead.”

“Way ahead of you..” I retorted slipping the gauntlet onto my arm. I felt a surge of magical energy flow through me and I let out a sigh. “This thing is incredible...”

“Designed by myself... Outer ring is filled with all types of magical runes, and in the middle of the palm is a glyph that enhances your magic by tenfold. The back of the hand is another mana pool that you can draw your energy from if you are low on it.”

“Genius...” I said softly, flexing my fingers. “Well... I’m going to forge now. Don’t wait up.” I smirked and ran off down the tower.

---

“Ponies...” Umbra said out loud, one of his four arms colliding with his hidden face. “Nnn, Jason... Why pick a place like THIS?!” He sighed and turned from gazing out of his window, and walked to the black and red ornate throne in the throne room of the castle. He sat down and tapped two sets of fingers on the arm of the chair. “Hmmm... Guess it’ll have to do for now... With Hell at my heels, I’ll have to make up my army quickly...”

Umbra strode around the throne room, pacing hither and thither. “Hmm... These ponies in the armor seem to be the strongest one’s so far... Elite guards it seems like... That one.. What was his name? Yes, Paskov... He seemed very courageous for one so small.” Umbra reared his head back. “PASKOOOOV!” bellowed the entity, his bone-chilling voice sending shivers all down the spines of any and all of those in its proximity, the decibels rattling the area in a minor tremor.

At his bellowing call, a unicorn trotted up, pupils contracted to the size of pinholes out of apprehension and utter fear.

“Paskov, dear boy, fetch me a glass of... Hmm... What did they call them again? Ah, yes!” He chuckled. “Diamond Dog blood... I’m feeling quite parched. There are samples in the dungeon. Be a good boy and do this for me, so my shadows don’t have to overthrow you...”

“W-w-why should I?!” Paskov argued, his tone filled with malice; however, his eyes still betrayed him, as they were undoubtedly rank with fear. “All you’ve done was ruin somepony’s wedding and almost kill somepony else! And why does this place have blood in the dungeons?!” Umbra extended his hand to him and pulled the stallion towards him via levitation. Paskov resisted and kicked mightily in the attempt to free himself; but try as he might, Paskov could not disrupt or destroy the magical grip that was keeping him incapacitated.

“Because if you don’t, then all you’ll be reduced too is a husk with no brain... Is that something you want? Because I can arrange that to be done for you...” Umbra raised a hand and purple mists flew from under his cloaks, swirling around Paskov’s body and held him in place. He placed a long spindly finger on Paskov’s forehead, right at the tip of his horn. Paskov gasped, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as his face contorted into a silent scream of anguish. The sclera of his eyes soon darkened to a bottomless cold black, the eyes appearing like bottomless abysses. The fur and hair on Paskov’s body dulled slightly, like pristine diamonds that were sullied by dirt and grime.

“Now... get me that blood, will you... slave?”

“Yes, sir...” Paskov’s voice became hollow and dead... as if a zombie, a lifeless and pathetic husk, had taken his place. Umbra relinquished his grip on Paskov’s body, the empty shell of a pony getting up from his slumped position on the floor and sojourning to the dungeons to retrieve the blood. The doors behind the demented and possessed stallion walked towards the door to the hall that lead to the dungeons, pushed past the large doors, and exited the room.

“Send my regards to the Princesses whilst you’re down there, Paskov!” Receiving another monotonous “yes, sir” in response, Umbra watched him closely, then sighed. He knew that Paskov would do so, since he was now under his control. “I wished it didn’t come to that... Why can’t they just be loyal?” He shook his head, laid back in his newly claimed throne and let out a deep and seemingly-endless sigh, a strange and ominous black mist flowing out from his maw and spilling forth across the room, dispersing through the castle. “No matter. I’ll just have to enslave these ponies... Have them all be my workers to sustain my army...” He chuckled and stood, walking to the window again. He place his hand on the glass and it corrupted, the glass turning black. “Let’s get started....”

---

*Drip*

*Drip*

*Drip*

The repeated sound of water droplets leaking from the water pipes and crashing into the stone floor below kept reverberating inside Princesses Celestia’s and Luna’s heads, their complex and infinitely-knowledgeable brains failing to compute a method of escaping the dungeon they were forced in like wild panthers into a cage. The two mighty ex-princesses sat in despair on their cots, the aforementioned prison beds being far less comfortable than their regal and cosy mattresses above. Their majestic horns were bound in anti-magical shackles, complete with dirty brown sleeves and a powerful energy charm, the mortifying encasings preventing them from even forming and creating the simplest and most demure of magical sparks for fear of severe electrocution.

“T-T-Tia, w-will we ever get l-loose from this horrid p-place?” Luna asked from her fetal position on her cot. Tears were cascading down from her eyes and into her forest of navy indigo fur, her aquamarine eyes bloodshot and swollen from her crying. Celestia peered at her sister in upset shock: she had not heard Luna weeping immensely due to her intense brainstorming. The sister of the moon was usually so bold and brave when presented with even the most difficult and mind-shattering of challenges. Now, Celestia could only be crestfallen as she saw her sister cry, disappointed in herself that she could be of no help.

“I...” For once, the alabaster mare could not find anything to say to her dark indigo counterpart, unable to execute the right words. “I don’t know.” She sighed in defeat, her head hung low.

*Clop clip clop clip clop clip-*

Both sisters’ ears swiveled and twitched at the sound of hooves slapping the stone floor. They lifted their heads, leapt off of their beds, and made their way to the iron bar impediment before them to peer down the hallway to see who could be coming this way. Their eyes lit up temporarily at the sight of ensign Paskov trotting their way. However, their moods dampened horrendously as they saw the look he had in his eyes. “The Master sends his regards...” He says softly as he walked past their cells, slowly trotting off into the room where screams could be heard echoing throughout the dungeon.

Celestia sluggishly sat back down on her cot, head hung low once more. Luna did likewise, eyes welling up again and preparing to cry. “Oh, sweet mother Faust...” the two prayed in their heads simultaneously. “Oh, please... save us. Help us somehow....”

~End of Chapter XIX~

Comments

[Stormy Sunrise]

EEZ BACK! Break out the champagne

[lolz anonymous]

well... hope the fight epic...

[kitsuneito]

here ya go!
blesses blessed
really?

[the other sans]

and handed two of them to Aflatoon, who seeme
Because if you don’t, then all you’ll be reduced too is a husk with no brain

1. Unfinished.
2. To.

I must repeat... G-Docs is my friend, not something that always opens a new tab which I find personally weird...

[kitsuneito]

"from it’s black, to a elegant white"
"shout"
"keeped"
kill the comma
shot
kept
dear Luna, let your proofreader actually proofread it.

[Deyeaz]

2127574
DAMN IT. THIS IS.... This is bad. I need more people.

[kitsuneito]

2133935 Why doth this happen to me!?!?!? Also, if I find another mistake, I will be yelling at you to let me help. YELLING LIKE THIS: THINE GRAMMAR ART FAILING! Except with less old English.