Afraid Of My Shadow

by Deyeaz

XX - Inglourious Blaze, Unlucky Days (Praxis)

~Afraid Of My Shadow~

Written by CraimerX and ShadowWeaver

Proofreaded by the onlyoneofmeisyou

XX - Inglourious Blaze, Unlucky Days (Praxis)

“Well... that was kinda fun,” I commented, examining my finely-crafted sword with an expertise eye... well, with expertise being used in its loosest definition. But alas, I could still tell right off of the bat that it was still a wonderful weapon.

It had actually been a month since Jace and I had reentered the world of Markarth that the Calling Card opened up for us. It was almost the dead of October: Nightmare Night, a festivity of candy, costumes, and practical jokes. Me and Aflatoon had made my katana in about... two days. Just like me, Aflatoon also had a fickle mind: he changed his ideas of the creation from having it be a katana, to being a scythe, to being an axe, to even being a pair of tonfa.

Whilst all those other options were nice-sounding, the latter rather ruined it for me, since I couldn’t spin tonfas to save my life.

In the end, we finally just decided to go back to our original katana idea. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough material from our horns to just make a second one, and finding and/or ammunition for the would-be guns was a bust. So with several moments of thinking, Aflatoon got an idea to add some more... kick to the already-crafted blade. With the leftover ore, as well as some durable tungsten, Aflatoon had tricked the katana to have a chain extension.

I’d say the overall result was pleasing to the eye.

I held the katana in my hand at eye level and looked back at my reflection in the blade. A 36-inch long dark-grey katana made of an amalgamation of satyr horn and steel, the blade sharp enough to even cut wind. The blade was broken into nine four-inch pieces, all connected via a tungsten chain. A pressure pad - a button, if you will - was installed into the blue silk-wrapped handle, just below the golden hilt, where my thumb should reside when it is held. Pressing down on the button would cause the blade pieces to separate, connected only by the razor-sharp chain, thus allowing me to do massive crowd-control damage. Releasing my thumb from the button would cause the pieces to rejoin again to make a whole katana. It more or less behaved like a roll of measuring tape.

Yet, in production of this weapon, Aflatoon’s prayer clock went off when prayer time was announced over those days. Several times....

---

“Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar....”

((Afternoon prayer.)) At the sound of the prayer clock going off, Aflatoon looked up from his bent-over position like he was a deer in headlights, his hammer freezing in mid-swing.

((Agreed. Let’s go.)) I removed my goggles from off my head. We dropped our crafting tools on the counter and rushed after Aflatoon to the restrooms to make ablution for prayer.

“Oh, come on, don’t leave me here!” Jace shouted, his hands still working with the hot ingot of the blade, his gauntlet slipping and marring the molten blade. Me and Aflatoon winced like we’d seen someone get stabbed.

((Watch it!)) Aflatoon bellowed. ((You’re lucky we’re testing it on steel and not the horns!))

“Sorry, man...” I checked the clock. “3 o’clock. Time to pray. No matter what.”

“Aww, shit..” He shook his head and cooled off the unfinished blade, throwing it away. “Fine, just go... I’ll stay here... I need to make this perfect...” He rubbed his face with his gauntlet-clad hand and sighed, going to work again. “And don’t criticise me on my blacksmithing! I’m actually trying to land a job for the smith in town, so this is good practise!”

---

While the making of the blade was impressive, the only flaw about it at first was that the blade’s length of chain. Aflatoon made it so that the chain’s length was at its conceivable limit, making it even more unpredictable and difficult to wield than normal. What I mean by that is that the magic from the satyr horns that is imbued in the chain doesn’t really give the chain a set limit in length. It took weeks to figure out how to master it without decapitating/bringing excruciating pain upon myself or anyone in the vicinity. I had this sort of... on-and-off relationship... with the blade: one day I was eager to use it, the next day I was wishing that someone would just destroy the damn thing so I couldn't even look at it.

Yes, I get that bipolarity from my mother. It runs in the family.

I think it was because it reminded me so much of my first scythe, Daggertail. That poor thing... it was destroyed in the battle with Insanity, when he stripped me of my powers. But after learning to use the weapon properly was out of the way, Jace had told me to name it “Chain Blade”, but I thought it too generic a name. I had to spend a few moments wondering what to name it. I gave up hope every now and again, particularly since I found it a bit odd that people named their weapons; although I shouldn’t be one to talk, since I did it before.

Eventually, my inspiration came to me when I looked out one of the windows into the gardens of Aksheal’s castle.

Oh... I guess I never told you about the gardens. Imagine the Canterlot Gardens times ten in terms of size. The garden was filled with several bizarre and fascinating plants from places I had never even heard of. Hydrangeas, lilacs, roses, begonias, carnations, lilies, petunias; the gardens of Aksheal’s castle were absolutely fecund with all the flowers of different kinds, colours, and smells that bloomed there.

Anyways, back to what inspired the name for the sword. When stepping into the garden, I watched the cherry blossoms bloom in the trees outside. However, when I tried to smell it... nothing came to me. I recognised every other flower in that garden, but not the blossoms.

Odd...

“Hey, Praxis!” With a yelp, I jumped about half a foot in the air at the sudden voice and the hard clap on my shoulder. I turned my head and sighed with relief when I saw that it was only Aksheal, chuckling heartily at my reaction. “Jeez, boy, relax! No need to be so damn... jumpy.”

I had to wait a moment for my heart rate to slow down erst I could speak again. “Don’t do that again, please,” I said weakly.

“Oh, fine... trying to spoil my fun... you were trying to sniff those flowers, I take it?” I nodded at the question after he pointed at the blossoms. “Don’t try. It’s pointless.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t know?” Aksheal raised a brow. “Those are known by Jace and I as “Tsubaki” - the cherry blossoms with no fragrance.”

“No fragrance?” I was puzzled. Surely every flower had to own a scent - even the ones that smelled like total ass.

“Yep. Although... they are really beautiful.” With another pat on the shoulder, Aksheal went back into the hallway of his citadel and down it, whistling a jaunty tune.

“Tsubaki...” I muttered, the word blaring in my subconscious as if it were a siren. “...Tsubaki... I like that name.” A small little smile on my face, I placed the sword in a scabbard painted plain white, treated with many special oils so that it would not burn nor splinter. I was thinking of having somepony paint decals onto it... or I could do it myself, once I had black paint and a thin brush....

Actually... there might be some in my messenger bag back at home....

---

With Jace's assistance, we departed from Markarth via the Calling Card, informing me that October was almost over, with five days remaining until Nightmare Night. I bundled up in my black vest and blue-and-gold scarf, a gift that Aksheal and Lyniv had given me before I left. While it was kind of them... would it have killed them to at least consider giving me a damn sweater? I mean, really now.

Ahem... regardless, I digress too much.

I looked up at the sky once I had exited Jace’s abode, leaving the owner, his wife, and his son to themselves. The once-blue atmosphere was still tainted with darkness, as if God above had knocked over their inkwell upon His sky of a table. The weather was rather chilly, and while I understand that that was logical due to it being October, I could swear that it was late afternoon, when I last looked at the clock in Jace’s home. It should at least be warm in the middle of the day when autumn is visiting. The sun... there was almost none. It was blotted by this eternal pit of blackness, with infinitesimal rays of light just barely breaking through the clouds of pitch.

I missed the sun. Being in this perpetual dark was giving me some newfound nyctophobia.

With a deep sigh, my sword Tsubaki at my hip, and my horns almost fully regrown after a month of waiting, I walked to the sundries store, shrugging off the weather’s chilly bite, and bought myself a small bottle of black paint and a brush with a thin tip for three Bits, a purchase to be used for the scabbard of the sword. I pulled out the money from one of the leg pouches that Aksheal had given me as well and, satisfied with my purchase, I exited the store and resumed with my walk, heading in the direction of home; however, I started cursing myself for not also buying a sweater whilst at the sundries shop.

Once again, my one-track mind failed me yet again.

“Oof!” I almost fall to the floor. That curse Umbra put on my body was a parasite, ever-so-gradually draining my stamina and energy by the day, so I almost stumble onto my hindquarters. I looked down at what I had collided with, and saw two Royal Guards of Canterlot, golden armours donned and white coats slightly shining in the lights of the streetlamps.

“Watch it, livestock,” the guard I bumped into hissed. Rude... I hate pulling this card, but does he know who he’s talking to? One of the the two guys who he should be grovelling for forgiveness, otherwise he wouldn’t even have a bed to piss himself in.

“That’s rude....”

“Eh, save it, Lambchop. You’re Romero’s friend, right? We’re trying to look for that scumbag, where is he?” The other guard was also forceful, malice clouding his voice. I got a good look at him now, his eyes were pitch black and his body seemed a few shades darker: he was possessed by Umbra’s power.

“...Dead.” I lied simply. The guards raised their brows. “I was getting sick of him, trying to constantly make me second-best when I deserve some praise... So I killed him myself.”

“...Right. Whatever.” The guards trotted off, going back to their patrolling of the city.

“That was close,” I mouthed to myself. I felt bad for telling a lie - and a terrible one, too, since Jace respawns like crazy - but if it’s to delay Umbra from killing him, I’ll just have to pull a few strings and bend a few rules. Jace can thank me later.

However, upon sensitively-hearing the conversation that the two shared, my goose was undoubtedly cooked. “Did you believe that crazy goat when he said that Romero snuffed it?”

“No way in Tartarus. The boss told us that the Romero kid can resurrect. So can Lambchop back there. We’ll have to do something about it....” With that, they stalked off and turned the corner into another street.

“Shit....” I swore under my breath. They knew.

Without hesitation, I swiftly make my way down the road back home: it’s safe there, since the Everfree was not for the average pony. I hadn’t talked to Riku or Trixie in a month: It wasn’t right for a father figure like me to leave the former by himself, particularly since he’s almost five in November; and even though I was... still sore about the latter turning me down when I attempted to make a move on her, I still wanted to talk to her.

And I still had to talk to... her... it’s been too long. Maybe I’ll buy or pick some flowers for her....

What was it called, my romantic feelings for that azure unicorn, only for our relationship to be platonic, while loving someone who has departed? Desperation? Despondency? Ah... miserable yearning. That was it.

“Yoo-hoo!” cried the all-too familiar voice of a certain fashionista, snapping me out of another funk I was in. “Praxis, over here!” The call of Rarity snapped me out of my disposition. With a quick smile, I wave and say hello as she walked up to me. “It’s been awhile since we last caught up!” Around her neck was a thick pink cashmere scarf, presumably to keep her warm in this unusually cold weather, and on her hooves were boots. With a gasp, she scanned my clothes with a distasteful eye. “Augh?! What is that... ghastly outfit?!”

“Ghastly? That’s kind of cruel, is it not?”

“Regardless, I simply cannot stand by and watch you parade around in such thin clothing in this horrific weather like some sort of... oblivious hussy!” Hussy?! Okay, now I think she’s going too far. She grabbed me by the hand and started taking me to her boutique.

“Honestly, Rarity, I’m fine.”

“Nonsense! Let Rarity help you with your dilemma.” I rolled my eyes in distaste. Oh joy, she’s referring to herself in the third-person....

We entered the Carousel Boutique, which was still running like a well-oiled machine and looked just like it always did. “Here, just... get up on that pedestal.” I do as she asked and stand atop the pedestal in front of the myriad of mirrors.

“Now, I just need you to take off your clothes, please.”

I whipped around, eyes wide and face slightly red. “Beg your pardon?”

“Your clothes. They look like they’ll skew the measurements.” Rarity’s horn was glowing, with a roll of measuring tape and a notepad and pencil in her levitational grasp. “Could you be a dear and please remove them?”

“Uh...” Part of me didn’t want to... while the other part, the lusty satyric version of myself, reeeally wanted to know what happened next. “...Fine.” I began tossing off my articles of clothing, ending when the vest finally hit the floor. “Should the bandages stay on?” I indicated the white bandages wrapped around my body.

“Oh, no, those should go as well.” I quickly untie the bandage and let them fall to the floor, revealing my marred, bare chest. The scars that Umbra had carved into me were black and jagged. Rarity shuddered in disgust, but swallowed down whatever form of sick that was trying to rush up her throat. The measuring tape, almost at once, unfurled and flattened itself along my bare upper body, with Rarity furiously writing in her notepad the measurements she recorded.

“Tell me, how is it that you’re in such good shape?” The tape measure begins to run along my thick arms.

“Eh?”

“How is it that you still remain... muscular?” Rarity punctuated the last word with a very subtle hint of attraction as she measures my waistline and abdomen.

“I honestly have no clue. Do people in stone gain or lose weight?”

“I believe not, darling. I guess being in stone means your body stays the same as it was when it was first encased in it.”

“Interesting... then I guess I got this figure during... that incident.” It wasn’t fun to relive that moment. Hell, it wasn’t fun to even think about it.

“Ah... yes.. the incident...” Rarity stops her measuring and her scribbling. "Well, I’ll have an ensemble ready for you within an hour,” Rarity announced, a smile of pride on her face as she trotted upstairs. “I shall be right back.”

That hour was the longest I had ever spent. Every now and again, I would either look out the window and see possessed Royal Guards pacing the streets, or I’d have to read the crappy magazines that littered the table next to the door. I’m sorry, but if I have to see another Pony or Cosmarepolitan magazine, I may be tempted into poking my own eyes out.

Luckily, I had gotten around to painting my white scabbard so that I wouldn’t have to keep boring myself out of my mind with black blossoms, like the name of the sword it beared. I actually quite liked it.

At long last, the hour of mind-killing tedium expired, and Rarity returned downstairs, a navy blue turtleneck sweater and black blazer in her magical grip. She magicked the clothes at me, and I caught them. Upon inspection, the material is very nice to the touch, not irritable to the skin, and... overall, rather stylish. “Well, would you like to give them a try?” She asked of me.

“Oh!” I got up from my seat next to the magazine table of Tartarus and donned the sweater and blazer. It was a little hard to get my horns through the head hole, but I managed it in the end without tearing it, but I managed in the end.

“Oh, you look absolutely handsome!” The white mare said in delight, her sapphire eyes wide with joy. I smiled at the compliment and reached for my leg pouch for more Bits. “Oh, there’s no need to worry about the pay!” She said, stopping me mid-extraction.

“Er, what?” I asked. “No, I’m sorry, I have to pay. You did this to me last time, remember?”

“Nonsense!” Oh, not again!

“I don’t like having debts, no matter what form the debt is in. I don’t like having them, and I don’t like it when someone is indebted to me.”

“Nope. You can just put your money away, mister.”

“...Say, I think I hear Opal upstairs shredding your fabrics,” I lied hurriedly. At once, Rarity’s face just screamed fear and shame as she whirled around and darted back upstairs.

“Opal!” She whined as she ascended. “Mummy said ‘no’!”

With her gone, I made a mad dash to wherever she kept her cash register. Swearing under my breath upon realisation that she most likely doesn’t have one, I took off my leg pouches, entered the kitchen, and located any miscellaneous jar in the vicinity. Once I spotted a cookie jar, I bolted for it, opened it, dumped all of my Bits into the half-empty jar, and resealed it before sprinting back to the main room. “Damn, Praxis,” I muttered to myself. “You are-”

“Not. Slick.” I gulped nervously as I saw Rarity with a look of disappointment etched into her pretty white face. With a sapphire-blue glow of her horn, she grabbed the cookie jar from the kitchen, took the mound of Bits I had stashed in her jar, and stowed them back in my leg pouches. “Now, just take your money and please go home! No payment is necessary!”

“But-!”

“Praxis. If you don’t leave with your money and your clothes in the next ten seconds, I will sic Opal on you.” I gulped again as Rarity tossed me my old clothes. Winona, Owlowiscious and Tank are the animals I could totally chill with. Gummy’s a little bizarre, but he’s alright. Angel can drive any man up the walls with his rudeness, yet I can manage him as long as he’s given a carrot or two. But Opal?

“Fuc- er, buck that, I’m out.” I threw my hands up in surrenderance: I had a very good reason for leaving hurriedly, now that Rarity gave me that threatening tidbit. I mean, honestly, that cat was always nitpicky about every single little detail. It drove me to the edge of madness every time I visited the boutique and that feline spawn of Lucifer just sat there and glared coldly at me and/or hissed at me with her heavily-mascaraed green eyes. Which is why I’m a dog person, despite what my religion says about dogs. “Bye.”

“Farewell.” With a giggle, Rarity waved as the door closed behind her. I take my scarf and wrap it securely around my neck as I charged off for my house, hooves slamming into the dirt road. The trek took a little more time than originally planned: damn my being cursed... again.

However, the trip was worth it. Rarity’s clothes kept me from getting frostbite, and I could most likely get Trixie to duplicate them and change their colours for me... well, maybe at the cost of something like a cookie or a few Bits. A near-black spire of smoke rose from the forest, though... maybe Riku and Trixie decided to light a campfire.

If that’s was the case though... that spire would be so dark and thick.

“Oh crap.” I pressed myself to run faster, sweat already pouring down my head. An orange glow, one far too large and bright for a modest campfire. Sure enough, once I reached the spot, my heart felt like it was clogging my throat.

My house was on fire.

Around the burning tree house were about 5 different-racial ponies, a smattering of both mares and stallions, each one with a torch, and one of the stallions with a small gallon of kerosene in his mouth, the noxious fumes somehow not fazing him in the slightest.

“What are you doing?!?!” I screamed, their attention brought to me as the inglorious blaze before me devoured my home voraciously, like my treehome was its most bountiful supper. “This is my house, you idiots!”

“Ah, finally, the half-breed shows his dirty face!” A peach-coloured mare turned around and glared at me furiously. She seemed familiar... Junebug was her name, I remember. “Glad you could make it for our little bonfire.” Her carnies laughed alongside her. Something seemed off... I talked to Junebug before: she was a nice pony, judging by our conversations... now she was a pyromaniacal psychopath.

It only took a second to see what was off about her and her clique: coats that were lacklustre, black eyes, wrathful behavior: more of Umbra’s work.

But how? He wasn’t anywhere near Ponyville. Maybe... maybe the guards did this?

“Alright, what the hell is going on?!” I demand. “Why are you-?!” I stopped in midsentence, my words failing me as I heard something horrifying.

“BABAAAA!”

No...

“Riku!” I wailed, rushing to the fiery entrance of my infernal home. However, somepony’s hoof blocked me from going any further.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A stallion with a khaki coat and a white mane and tail rhetorically asked me. “You ain’t gotta ruin a nice little barbeque like this!” Before I knew it, he launched his hoof in my face, cracking me in the cheek. I went down like a bag of wet cement, and the stallion got atop me and started beating me, typically striking me in the stomach and the face.

“Get... off!” I grabbed one of his hooves and threw him aside like a ragdoll, causing him to crash into a nearby tree. More came to try and restrain me, but I ripped Tsubaki out from the scabbard and pointed at them. “Nobody fucking move!” I roar, blood trickling out of my nose. One of the stallions still charged for me despite my warning, but I kicked him in the mouth and pushed him away before rushing into my blazing home. He screamed bloody murder behind me as I blew past the curtains. Ash and smoke swirled around me, almost threatening to poison my lungs. I coughed horribly into the crook of my elbow as I walked around the burning wreckage and debris. The couches, the rugs, the table... everything was burning vigorously.

“Riku! Where are you?!”

“Baba! We’re up here!” The voice of my son’s wails ring true over the sound of flames licking wood. “Hurry!” We... He was upstairs with Trixie as well.

“I’m coming!” I sprinted upstairs and see nothing. “Where are you?!”

“We’re in here, Praxis!” Trixie’s voice blares out from the closed closet. With haste, I tore open the doors of the closet and saw the ash-painted faces Riku and Trixie huddled in the corner of the closet. I scooped them up into my arms and tried to exit down the staircase; unfortunately, said staircase had been wasted away by the orange inferno.

"Damn!" I squeezed tightly on the hilt’s button with my thumb, and I take several swings at the wall. The ultra-sharp blade pieces and chain gashed the wood’s weakened flesh, and I stopped swinging long enough to kick the damaged section of wood. The timbre bursted out from the newly-made hole I created, and I jumped out, the flames behind me flaring out of the hole.

“Hang on!” I warned as we descended for the ground as the two withheld their screams. Strange... June and her goons were gone....

*Thump!*

...Ow. That landing was a little higher than last examined... just a little. Aw well, at least I didn’t break anything on impact. “Hospital... gotta get you to the hospital.”

“No, Praxis, we’re fi-” Trixie stopped her refusal to hack vehemently into her hoof, the ash apparently getting to her.

“No way.” I adjusted my grip on them and started shaking my legs of the numb feeling that blasted through them from the landing. “Let’s go.”

As quick as I could, I begin dashing for the Ponyville General, the two would-be patients slung over my shoulders in fireman holds. I looked behind me at my burning house, the gold and crimson tongues of Hell roasting it to the ground. With a sigh of remorse, I turn my head forward and continue on for the next few minutes as I entered.

To my surprise, I saw Octavia at the Ponyville General as I walked in. I set down Trixie and Riku on a couple of seats and walked over to the grey mare. “Octavia? What are you doing here?” I could see that she had been crying, hard.

“Y-You didn’t k-know?”

“Know? Know what?! What happened?!”

“Th-The guards... They... They took Jace...” My heart skipped a beat, and I stared at her wide eyed. “T-They beat Vinyl... And sh-she’s here...”

“What about Wubsy?!” I swear, if they did anything to that innocent little colt...

“V-Vinyl hid him in the p-pantry... She couldn’t risk him being hurt...”

~End of Chapter XX~

Comments

[skyscraper123]

well gosh... Nice chapter, as usual I stull wish oyu could update faster, although that is what I always say to the good stories.

[the other sans]

The timbre bursted out

1. Timber. (On a side note; timbre is for sound)