Equestrylvania

by Brony_Fife

The Wolf Revealed, Part IV

Shakey shivers. The air around here is too damn cold, like a freezer. Small bits of ice have already formed on his armor and are beginning to crop up on his legs. But nonetheless, he and Eagle Eye are to stand guard, resolute and without complaint.

Again, a slam rocks the walls around the door. Then another.

The door is four feet of heavy steel, magically reinforced to survive any kind of penetration. Its design seems superfluous for a small holding cell, but then again, Shakey has learned to stop asking too many questions when Rose Blade or Roaring Yawn are involved.

The next slam shakes some dust from from the ceiling—and is then followed by more slams, short and quick ones. More shouts. Demands to let him out.

Shatterstorm has been battering the door for the better part of the past six hours. Eagle Eye had yelled at him over the noise, telling him about the door, about how he could never in a million years break it. Shatterstorm didn’t listen—never does—and continued his assault.

What bothers Shakey the most about his new assignment is what Shatterstorm does between slamming the door. When there is pause between each slam, Shakey can hear his old comrade. Even from behind the brick and the metal, he can hear Shatterstorm sob quietly.

There was one such pause. Then another a few minutes later. The third one, happening right now, stabs Shakey right in the heart—for it’s that pause in which he hears Shatterstorm mumble, gasp, sob; mewling a tiny “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for this.”

It’s that pause, that sob, that apology that tempts Shakey to open the door—to release Shatterstorm—to help him—to help Rainbow Dash. He glances aside to Eagle Eye, and sees the same thoughts racing across his comrade’s eyes.

But there’s no going against Rose Blade. He holds the keys to the supplies and to the other Guards. They would be rent in half by Rose Blade’s pasty little loverboy before they could make good their escape, and then placed outside as a decoration. Shakey knows, as well as any other Guard, that those bodies on pikes aren’t meant for scaring off Dracula’s personal zoo of freakshows. They’re there to intimidate would-be dissenters into compliance. Many of Shakey’s own squadmates and friends hang from those pikes now.

His mind wanders again. That mare. Shatterstorm’s mare. The way Rose Blade looked her over…

Shakey wants to help. Celestia’s white wings, he wants to help.

But he can’t. He can’t because of the pikes.

Shakey shivers.

Again, a slam rocks the walls around the door. A few seconds of silence. Then another.

Dammit, when’s Roaring Yawn coming back? Shakey wonders. He and Eagle Eye both release a sigh from their nostrils as Shatterstorm’s assault continues, in short and quick bursts, on the door.

---

It might have been only hours. Or it could have been a month, or even a year. Wherever time is right now, it crawls along, its legs broken, out of breath, in search of safety.

After dazing in and out of consciousness, Rainbow Dash’s eyes have looked over everything in this bathroom-turned-torture-chamber: the mirror over the sink, the gramophone on the stand, the toilet just beside her (and cruelly just out of her reach), the corpse nearby, the flies that eat away at him, the blood and roses on the floor, the vacant shackles across from her. There are enough for at least two other ponies to be tied down.

Most haunting are the utensils she sees sitting just behind the tub. A long metal pole with a leash at the end. Jugs of suspicious chemicals, a few of them only half-full. A gas mask. A small basin filled with sharp implements, scissors and pins and knives. The reddish-brown stains on the tub’s interior…

Don’t look!

Rainbow Dash closes her eyes and shivers, not wanting to follow that train of thought any further.

Her mind then floats back to the shackles at her fetlocks. It takes Rainbow Dash another minute before she realizes something. If the chains were added only recently, wouldn’t that mean…?

What would that mean?

Probably nothing.

Yet…

Rainbow Dash sits on her haunches—shuddering at the sticky feeling of the coagulating blood gathering around her resting flanks and tail—and draws her forelegs up sharply. For the next twenty minutes, Rainbow Dash tugs at her chains, stretching their five-inch lengths taut. Even with the huge disadvantage of her constricted wings, with some effort the five inches of chain become five and one tenth.

She grins suddenly, her lips parting to reveal teeth, her eyes widening, her nostrils flaring.

Eureka, bitch.

There it is. There’s one link in the chain that’s beginning to warp.

She yanks harder and harder, drawing the chains as far back as she can pull them. The shackles squeeze her fetlocks like mustard bottles, her legs turning slightly purple at the lack of blood flow. Pain, slow and ebbing, crawl up and down her legs before Rainbow Dash finally stops for a moment to recuperate, sweating and panting from useless effort.

The door opens.

Rainbow Dash snaps up, expecting to see Rose Blade and preparing her best scowl. Instead, standing there with a disarmingly pleasant smile is Whisper White, his clown-white Crystal Pony body shimmering as light hits it in just the right ways. He enters the room with that disciplined-yet-demure stride of his, his electric yellow tail brushing at the floor behind him.

His hooves clip-clop against the tiled floor, his armor clanking with each quiet step. He stops in front of the corpse. With movements too fast for Rainbow Dash’s eyes to follow, the chains on the corpse’s fetlocks are undone.

As Whisper White flips the body over, Rainbow Dash sees the remains of a face: pins sticking out of a ruinous pulp of pinks and reds and a little greenish yellow, a mouth of missing teeth, a single, dead eye peering out from a dark cave.

Don’t look!

Whisper White dunks his head under the corpse, lifts it up onto his back, turns, and then leaves the room, humming a merry tune, shutting the door quietly behind him. The sound it makes closes this surreal scene with loud finality.

All the while, Whisper White does not so much as bat an eyelash at Rainbow Dash throughout any of this. It’s almost as if he refuses to accept she exists. And all the while, he continues to smile as if nothing is wrong—as if the pony on his back is just taking a nap—a spring in his step and a song in his heart.

As much as Rainbow Dash hates Rose Blade, she finds Whisper White the truly scary one.

---

He’d seen the way his friend had ogled the mare as she was brought in. He’d seen the way his friend had longed for her as she was put into the holding cell they were meant to guard. He’d seen the way his friend’s eyes tasted the mare as Roaring Yawn injected her with more of his strange medicines. And he catches the wanting glance his friend gives the holding cell where she sleeps.

“Don’t even think about it,” says the first Guard to the other. “Not worth it, dude.”

“Look,” the second says curtly, “I know she killed a few of our guys, but… but come on, it’s been a while.”

The first Guard shakes his head and sighs. “Dude, you just came back from visiting your girlfriend. It’s only been a week and a half. Maybe a little more than that.”

“And in that week and a half, we’ve seen more death than we ever expected in our lives,” the second Guard counters. “I don’t even know if Rocket Fire’s still alive. I know for sure we’re not gonna last a whole month in this place. If I’m going out, I’ll be going out after I get me some action one last time.”

The first Guard mulls it over, stroking his chin as he observes the holding cell door a little more closely. He looks in through the view-slot and catches her sleeping figure: her attractive shape, those full lips, that black mane and tail that continue and continue and continue… that enchanting, round little ass of hers. The dark lighting of the holding cell, all adds alluring mystery to her.

“…It’s tempting,” he says at last.

“See? I mean, we’re the ones guarding her for the next few hours, and that knockout medicine or whatever is gonna keep her out of it for days, no matter how hard we ride her. We’ll be the only ones who know. Why not?”

There’s another thoughtful pause. The first Guard looks at her again, wondering exactly how much longer he—or any Guard for that matter—have left to live under Dracula’s grip, or under Rose Blade’s reckless whims.

“Fuck it,” he says with a shrug. He removes his keyring, the jingle of metals singing as he inserts it into the holding cell’’s door.

Inside the cell, the once-was-a-wolf rests on her side, her legs in shackles. Unconscious. Beautiful. The two Guards hover over her, their horns glowing as they remove their helmets. The purple of their combined lights wash over her face, making her look even more appealing. There’s a silence that drifts through this scene for well over a minute.

“Well?”

“…Uh…”

“C-Come on,” the second Guard mutters, “what’s stopping you?”

“Me? You’re the one who thought this was a great idea!”

The second Guard pauses. Fidgets. Growls. He takes one hoof and moves the once-was-a-wolf over onto her back. He’d always had a kink for positions where he could see the mare’s face while he rutted her: that look of surprise and terror and delight. Not that he’d see it on an unconscious mare, but it’s difficult breaking habits.

He goes in low, crawling on top of the mare. He hooks his forelegs around her, breathing heavily as he draws himself closer, his body heat increasing just by contact with a mare, hardening at the sight of her gorgeous facial features.

Just as he readies himself to enter her, the mare’s eyes snap open, beads of purple sitting in oceans of white. The color drains out of the first Guard’s face.

“Whuh—What are you—?!” is all the mare can sputter, her voice a weak, vomiting croak.

Suddenly, the second Guard shoves a foreleg over her mouth. “You scream and I’ll make it hurt,” he threatens.

Tears shimmer in her purple eyes as the intoxicating feeling of power bubbles within the second Guard. His lips split into a toothed grin as he snorts a breath of hot air over her face. The first Guard looks on uncomfortably as his partner begins to grind on top of the mare, dropping his foreleg from her mouth so that he can move in on her full lips.

“Wh-Why am I awake?!” she mumbles under his mouth. “I, I can’t be awake!”

“I said quiet!” the second Guard hisses. He lifts his face off hers, and his hoof is drawn across her cheek with a jarring pop.

The first Guard sweats and shakes his head, his heart clawing its way out of his chest. Before he can step in and do some damage control, the mare’s face snaps back to her tormentor, her purple eyes melting into an almond shape. Her pelt and mane grow thicker, becoming tangled like hay in a haystack.

Her teeth reach forward like eager claws, hooking into jagged fangs.

The second Guard lifts himself off the mare, coiling backwards in stunned terror as she pulls at her shackles with an absurd strength she didn’t have before, breaking the chains and climbing to her hooves—now breaking into giant paws—as she grows larger and hairier. Her beady purple eyes glare at her tormentors, sparkling darkly with thirst for vengeance.

It is awake.

---

Rainbow Dash waits a minute to make sure she’s totally alone. Then she returns to attempting to break her chains.

After a few more minutes of depriving her fetlocks of blood circulation, Rainbow Dash flattens onto her flanks, gasping for breath. She throws her head back, looking blankly at the ceiling, sweat flinging from her forehead as she stifles a groan.

She clenches her teeth, snarling as she looks back down to the obstinate chains. While some links have warped, it is only slightly. Rainbow Dash lowers her head and growls a curse. At this rate, she’d be here all night.

Suddenly, her thoughts bring up Shatterstorm. The look on his face just before her lights went out. Such terror. Betrayal. Heartbreak. When they were coming into this place, everypony acted like they at least knew him. She can’t imagine what it must feel like to wake up one day and find out all your friends are evil.

Again, an uncertain (and unwelcome) part of her wonders if he’s even alive right now. The more she thinks about him, the more she worries. Slowly, a lump forms in her throat. She swallows it. It goes down like lead.

Her eyes fall on her right foreleg, and how its purple glaze begins to recede like the tide. Lazily and without hope, she looks aside at all the blood and all the rose petals. Suddenly, she finds something she didn’t see before.

There, in the thickening, cool blood, is a long, slim piece of metal. A pin.

Obviously, her hooves can’t reach it from here. Rainbow Dash gets down on all fours, leaning forward to grab the pin between her teeth. Too far away. She snorts in frustration.

There’s not much time. Rose Blade could be walking down that hall any moment. Rainbow Dash’s breath becomes shallower. Harder. Finally, dunking down to her knees atop the thick, browning blood, Rainbow Dash leans forward as far as she can.

Her chin on the bloodied ground does no good, instead bouncing her jaws too far away from the pin. She pauses. Reluctantly, Rainbow Dash turns her head, resting her right side—hoof, fetlock, elbow, shoulder, neck, cheek, temple, ear, and mane—on the bloodied tile. The ambience of the room becomes a distorted silence on that side.

She is struck by an invasive pang of nostalgia. Rainbow Dash remembers, as a little filly, the strange, quiet distortion she heard when she pressed her hoof against her ear. When she’d asked her dad about it, he convinced her in the way any wise father would that she’d been listening to her hoof as it spoke to her in a mystical and silent language.

What she’d give to see Dad again. If she lived to see the end of this mission, she’d search the entirety of Equestria to see if he’s all right.

Maybe it’s the nostalgic thoughts of her father. Maybe it’s that she’s worried for Shatterstorm. Or maybe it’s that she’s smearing another pony’s blood all over herself. Everything crashes down around Rainbow Dash, pulling tears out of her eyes as she once again cranes her neck, jaws wide, biting for that pin.

She chomps. Still too short.

Sniffling, Rainbow Dash recollects herself, piece by piece, not taking her eyes off the pin just an inch away. Just another inch.

She takes a few deep breaths. Then she opens her mouth, and extends her tongue.

The iron of blood lathers against her tongue before she finds the iron of the pin. Rainbow Dash gags, her tongue shooting back into her mouth and spreading that awful taste around. The taste is joined by gaseous vomit. After some coughing and dry heaving, she sniffles again, damning herself for being such a crybaby all of a sudden.

Pink tongue against the browning blood, Rainbow Dash finally touches the pin, their tastes mingling. With a careful, flicking curl, her tongue rolls the pin into her mouth; her mission now complete, she immediately stands back up, out of the horrendous blood, holding the pin between her teeth.

Pin firmly between her teeth now, Rainbow Dash gets to work on undoing the inner machinery of the shackles. At first she’s too hasty—trying too hard to find the right angles—but after taking a deep breath and going a little more slowly, she finds the weak spot and the shackle lets go of her fetlock with a loud click.

Off go the other shackles, falling listlessly to the floor. Relieved, she rubs her purpled fetlocks, getting more feeling back into them.

Her eyes glance at her reflection in the mirror. She’s a thing out of nightmares: blood smeared all over one side of her body, with more on her hinds and a desperate look in her eyes. But more importantly, she has a fantastic view of the clamp’s lock and with some desperation, gets to work on it, the ticking of metal against mechanisms the only sound in this prison.

One wrong turn and the pin is rendered bent and useless. The wing-clamp must have a complicated lock. Rainbow Dash spits it out in frustration and looks for an alternative.

That’s when the sirens blare.

---

They’re like screams, bouncing off every wall as red lights flicker.

Shakey and Eagle Eye look all about in surprise the moment they hear it, Shatterstorm falling quiet for now. There’s shouting and other Guards running about on the upper floors.

“Are we under attack?” Shakey asks.

“Why you askin’ me for?” Eagle Eye says with a confused frown.

Hastened hoofsteps clip-clop down the hall, drawing closer, until finally Roaring Yawn rounds the corner. There’s this look of teeth-clenched terror and sweat on his face.

“What’s going on out there?” Shakey asks.

“The beast has escaped,” Roaring Yawn says. “She’s already killed four Guards.”

“She’s loose?!” Eagle Eye gasps in panic. “In the laboratories?! Here?!”

“Yes,” Roaring Yawn confirms with a nod. “But she’s working her way around our failsafes. It won’t be long before she tears her way through the entire base.”

As the two Royal Guards stand there stunned, Roaring Yawn waves a hoof. “Listen, there’s an exit that way,” he says, pointing the waved hoof further down the hallway. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m getting out of here!”

Shakey scoffs as Roaring Yawn turns to go down the hall. “What? What do you mean, getting outta here?”

“As in, leaving. Going away. Escaping this awful place.”

Eagle Eye shakes his head. “Roary, y’know as well as we do what Rose Blade would do to deserters!”

Roaring Yawn turns his head and scoffs. “Do I care? I could die here in the jaws of a beast, or I could die trying to get the Tartarus out of here and heading to safety—and quite frankly, I’d take my chances out there than in here.” With that, he disappears around the corner, his hooves pounding against the bricks growing quieter and quieter as the alarm continues to blare.

A pause. Both Royal Guards are suddenly jostled by a loud slam. At first, they think it’s Shatterstorm in his cell—but another slam confirms that it’s coming from the other end of the hall Roaring Yawn had just disappeared to. The color drains from their faces as they hear the Wharg’s piercing howl from the other side of that gilded door, followed by more eager slams.

Without any further hesitation, they bolt. Damn the situation. Damn Shatterstorm’s bad luck. Damn the Wharg that is now on the hunt for flesh. Their hooves beat against the floor, carrying them to what they hope is safety.

---

In the shadows, Roaring Yawn waits for those two clowns to run all the way to the holding cell’s exit. Teleporting quietly back to the door he’d entered through was easy enough. The recordings he’d made of the Wharg’s snarling also helped in scaring away the Guards, as well as simply bucking the door with his hind legs. The fact he’d layered the sound of door-kicking with an “Increase Volume” spell completed his hoax.

As Roaring Yawn makes his way to Shatterstorm’s cell to unlock it, the cell’s occupant begins frantically beating against the door, shaking dust and tiny bits of brick out from around it. How long had he been at this? Roaring Yawn has read Shatterstorm’s file (though granted it was very quick as he had not much time to roll this plan into motion), and knows of his fierce dedication and tenacity, but this is just silly.

With a telekinetic glow, Roaring Yawn reaches into his shirt pocket and readies a spare key for the cell. Just before he can put it into the lock, one more good slam against the door forces it off its hinges with an alarming creak. Roaring Yawn gasps in shock as the door—heavier than an elephant—begins to descend like a curtain upon him with a shuddering sound. Had he not backed up with a jump just as the door crashed to the floor, he’d have fit nicely into a sandwich.

Dust from destroyed brick lifts into the air like fog, an angry figure stumbling out of the tiny cell the door guarded. Before Roaring Yawn can do much of anything, that angry figure is on him—a pair of hooves hard as diamonds push into his chest, forcing him first onto his hinds and then onto his back as a body’s weight is forced onto his stomach, squeezing the air out of his lungs. One of those hooves hard as diamonds suddenly cracks down onto the brick right next to Roaring Yawn’s face, destroying both the brick and its neighbors.

Shatterstorm blows hot air across Roaring Yawn’s panicking face. “Rainbow Dash,” he demands, his voice a menacing growl. “Where is she?!”

---

She’s in the air vents, crawling quietly as the sirens scream and the Guards below scramble to... fix whatever had gone wrong, she surmises. Part of her hopes Shatterstorm suddenly broke loose, and she hopes he's giving them as much Tartarus as they deserve, and she hopes she can find him in time, and she clings to this hope with a burning fervor.

Many times, Rainbow Dash stops and waits for Guards to run by in case they hear her. She crawls—then stops at the sound of hoofsteps—then crawls again, this process proceeding for an indefinite period. It’s more annoying than it should be: the clamp around her wings holds fast to her body, making it more difficult to change directions.

The siren had jabbed a needle of panic into Rainbow Dash’s heart, and in a blind panic to escape before Rose Blade or some other Guard would check on his… “playmate”, Rainbow Dash jumped up to the air vent above the tub (ignoring the bloodstains was even more difficult this time), yanked off the vent, and climbed up.

Her first instinct is to find Shatterstorm—but unlike Shatterstorm, she has no mental map of the base, instead merely making estimated guesses. Needless to say, within only a few minutes’ time she is lost. Bet Daring Do never has days like this, she muses. Suddenly, a chilling and familiar howl rips through the metal of the vent.

She stops, this time over a grating, small shafts of light reaching up into Rainbow Dash’s face as she looks down. She finds herself over an auditorium of some sort (perhaps a movie theater for the Guards’ recreation?) and running rampant down there is the Wharg from earlier.

It’s a wild blur of fur and fang, a circle of Royal Guards badgering it with kicks and magic bolts. One Guard suddenly finds himself between its jaws… then finding his back legs in its mouth while he flops pathetically onto the auditorium floor, crawling away while babbling a prayer.

Rainbow Dash can only watch.

---

Ever since he was jolted from his meditations by the siren wailing in his office, Rose Blade had been struggling to maintain control. Many Guards still loyal to him—out of respect or out of fear, he cares not—attempted to find and neutralize Roaring Yawn’s pet, and by the time they’d found the damned thing, Rose Blade was sure at least a few of his Guards had deserted or been eaten.

Fortunately, through the clever use of baiting, his Guards were able to herd the Wharg into the auditorium. Many of them stood at the exits, awaiting his signal.

He locks eyes with that damnable beast, his lips drawn into a tight scowl. It chews the hind legs of one of his troops almost thoughtfully, as if savoring the taste. The unfortunate Guard whose legs were taken soon finds the rest of him in its mouth, pulled up off the floor and flung into the air. His screams reach a timbre that makes Rose Blade smile as he arcs, then descends, the Wharg catching him in its mouth, cutting his scream short.

The Wharg sets its catch down, placing one paw over the Guard’s head to keep him grounded. Then it pulls upward, the meat coming right off the bone. Red coats the beast’s fur, the floor, the auditorium chairs.

He watches. At the other exits, the Royal Guards look from the grisly scene to Rose Blade uncomfortably.

He nods.

At the signal, the Guards at each exit pull a switch that causes thick iron bars to descend, trapping the Wharg in the auditorium. The Guards still trapped in the auditorium notice the descending panic doors, and rush toward them, hoping to make it in time before they find themselves next on the Wharg’s menu. Some, in fact, do make it.

The iron shafts clang loudly as they touch the floor. A Guard beats his hoof against the one that separates Rose Blade from the auditorium. “Open up!” he pleads. “Please, for the love of Celestia, open up!”

Rose Blade’s lips turn up in a smirk as the Guard begs for his life. It’s as if the fool has no idea that making a ruckus will only draw the Wharg’s attention to him—and sure enough, the begging becomes a scream wrapped in the Wharg’s howl. Rose Blade watches through the bars as it digs into its second course.

One of the Royal Guards looks to Rose Blade as the Wharg devours his comrade. “Um, Captain? Are we really just gonna keep it here?”

“Certainly not,” Rose Blade says evenly. “We’ll wait until she falls asleep. Then we’ll kill her.”

He snorts, having grown tired of humoring Roaring Yawn’s pet-keeping. Despite its entertainment value, he’s losing valuable pony-power. Rose Blade swears the next time he sees that idiot, he’ll tear off his face and mount it on his wall.

Rose Blade lies down on the floor, watching the Wharg chase the other trapped Royal guards with keen interest. “Until then,” he says in a way so icy it makes his subordinates shiver, “let’s just enjoy the show.”

---

Part of Rainbow Dash wants to swoop in and help the Guards. But another part of her freezes her conscience. Getting involved now bears the possibility of disastrous results—considerably fatal. Is the idea of rescuing her enemies really worth the risk? And since when did Rainbow Dash ever hesitate to do anything?

As she ponders, a pegasus Guard flies up to grab onto the air vent, coming much too close to Rainbow Dash for her comfort. It seems this guy has the same idea Rainbow Dash had in Rose Blade’s bathroom.

She panics. If this guy catches her, he’d bring her back to Rose Blade. But on the other hoof, Rose Blade was obviously off his nut—that should be obvious to this Guard at this point. That doesn’t mean he himself is a good pony anyway. What if he tries to… what if he tries…

Panic seizes Rainbow Dash, its jaws closing around her, its jagged teeth sinking into her brain and taking over completely. As the Guard pulls off the air vent, Rainbow Dash reaches down to punch him—to keep him the Tartarus away from her—to not touch her—Don’t look!—Don’t look!

Rainbow Dash doesn’t realize she has fallen out of the air vent until she lands on the auditorium floor. The fall isn’t enough to cause any real damage to her (as huge falls have been plentiful in her training), but there’s a flash of white—and sound is reduced to a thin whine—and a frozen feeling overtakes her.

The whine evens out eventually, becoming growls and screams. The white fades away, becoming a sideways image of the Wharg shaking its victim—the pegasus Guard—around in its mouth like a toy. The freeze in her legs melts as she pulls herself up onto her hooves, the clamp around her middle weighing heavily.

There’s cheering. Rainbow Dash glances around when she hears it. The Guards at each exit—safe behind their iron doors—are watching, cheering, betting, whistling, hollering, and chanting like a packed stadium for a hoofball game.

She looks up at the Wharg, who finishes up its latest meal. Behind the Wharg, Rainbow Dash can make out Rose Blade, whose deep green eyes are initially wide with surprise, then gradually narrow as his snakelike grin slithers further up on his face than should be equinely possible.

Looks like Rose Blade has had a change of heart. Instead of forking her over to Dracula’s forces, he’d feed her to an out-of-control lycanthrope. Rainbow Dash harrumphs, making a rude gesture at him, to which he returns with a snicker.

There’s really no place for Rainbow Dash to hide. So when the Wharg sees her, it greets her with this look of realization. The huntress has found The One That Got Away.

It cricks its neck, left, then right, as if remembering how hard Rainbow Dash had kicked it earlier. The twinkle in its purple eyes begets an eagerness to rend and decimate, the rolling tongue projecting its agonizing, insatiable hunger.

The Wharg takes a few steps forward, slowly, as if challenging her worthy prey.

Rainbow Dash sneers. Grunts a hot breath. Paws a hoof at the ground, accepting the challenge. “I hope you know what you’re getting into,” she growls, turning her head to spit. “You caught me on a really bad day.”

The cheering becomes more intense, the audience growing more excited by Rainbow Dash’s unintentional showboating. The game is on. They gather at their coliseum to watch a gladiator slay a beast, their mad emperor watching on with appalling merriment.

Then the game begins: both gladiator and beast lunge with a roar and a howl.

Comments

[Cold in Gardez]

Holy crap, look what restarted.

[VGI]

Holy moley, this one's a long one.

Started 2012.

2015 and still going.

[Futile Task]

This is bloody weird, that picture there looks like the dracopyre castle from Adventure Quest.

[Clocklike]

HAHAHAHA I LOVE IT.