Chapter 35 — Glass
Chapter 35: Glass
“Life in the Crystal Empire is wonderful, but it’s become a little… predictable.”
Out.
That was where it needed go. Panting hard, my body drenched in sweat, I reached a hoof up and clasped the knife in my left eye. Admittedly, I fumbled a bit and sort of stabbed myself in the eye a bit deeper, but that was because I was trying to remember how hooves worked again, having been so used to the weird physique of the werekind.
“Well, this is exactly how I wanted to spend my day off,” I muttered, testing the knife in my eye, finding out how firm it was therein. Not firm enough, methought, hence why I sort of hammered away at the blade till my eye was crying more than Cards—oh, to hell therewise. I couldn’t do it so soon after the fact, make fun of Cards in order to feel better about myself.
Around me, the dark hollow of the crystalline room felt like it was snapping its ebony jaws at me in-between the briefly flashing glows of smooth lavender light from the doorway to the other world. It made it kind of hard to see what I was doing, but then again, I didn't really need to see to know how deep the knife was in my eye. Still, with the portal behind me closed and off, I only had to deal with this one last remnant of… werekindredness? Werekindredity?
With a huff and a puff and an allusion to a fairy tale, I yanked the blade out. And there it was, my skewered and once silvern left eye. The eye of Jayne. But now she was back in her world, and I had no need of the Terror Train. Ergo, I opted to let her loose, and I could firmly image her camping out by a train-crossing area, waiting for an old lady or a small child to pass by so she could run them over. Jayne was a nice lady therelike.
I blinked my left eye, which was a rather queer feeling, what with lacking an eyeball there and all. Regardless, my eyepatch was somewhere, though I knew not whither it’d gone, so I would deal therewith at a later date. Preferably after I gave this goddamn book to Snechta and then subsequently betrayed her. I only needed her to use its dark magics to heal my body, then I would have to do something to end her and her plan to work with Korweit, because that was a no-no, like when Elkington tried to teach me the bad touch.
So, I pulled the knife out of the craftling eye and licked it because I’d always wanted to lick an eyeball. For some reason, I didn’t like the idea of leaving around body parts just anywhere, so I put the eye in my bag before leaving the dark room deep within the Crystal Castle. And I only knew it was the Crystal Castle for sure because the Calêrhos book had basically said “Yeah, this portal thingy takes you to the portal other-thingy in the Crystal Castle”.
Then it occurred to me that I had no damn idea how to escape this place since, you know, I’d just sort of been teleported hereinto. In fact, I only knew how to sneak in through a side door and get into the library of this place, zilch more. Really, knowing only parts of dangerous places I went to was part of my career as a would-be hero. I needed to hire a travel agent or something. Or get a business card that read “Have sword—will travel—but please give directions!”
I adjusted my leather duster and hat, then fidgeted with the red bandana around my neck. My weapons were all here, as well as my gear and other such things. I was just standing there in the hallway, which was lined alternately with soul-crushingly empty walls or weird boxes, equally empty or else just filled with really random and worthless things. I found in one a box of used sheep-intestine condoms that appeared to have been mummified. No, thankee. There were a number of other random odds and ends but none that warranted my attention enough to even think of them after the first glance. There was no good loot here, methought.
Logically, when you were standing in a dark hallway in the depths of a castle—it had to be the dark depths, as I didn’t know of many tall buildings with scary, windowless, and very dark upper floors—the best thing to do was to wander aimlessly in the hopes of finding something, like an exit sign. The dark tunnels under Songnam, as I recalled, had been kind enough to give exits signs, and also directions as read by a chibi-chibi Elkington.
Plus, as all knew, standing around in dark places was wont to end with a terrible fate accosting me. After having been forced to let Cards die to feed mine own greed and wish for mine own body to be healed, and then cutting out by goddamn eye, I was in no mood to end up in a cheesy horror novel.
’Twas only the natural order of things that this ended up screwing me. Probably. I didn’t know; I couldn’t tell the future. Although I could if only I had some waffles and syrup. Listening to the sounds of mine own hooffalls echoing in the lonely halls, I dwelt upon how I could likely no longer trust waffles ever again, not since they had betrayed me when they said that Social Grace wasn’t going to hurt Cards or whatever.
|— ☩ —|
Stairs.
They were a pretty neat invention, letting one climb up heights with general ease. However, any sense of ease ended when the staircase was large, spiraled, and went up so high that you could no longer make out if it even had a top. It coiled around a titanic column of stone at the center of the underground atrium, kept alight by the soft red glow of crystals embedded in the wall and the column itself. Still, it was a definite way up, and at least it had railings so keep me from falling to my death horrifically.
Looking around, I spied a certainly evil lever on the wall. Because it wasn’t like things could get much more painful, I logically had to pull the very scary thing. Something clicked hard, and there came the sound of machinery, of the hum of magic, and of a puma choking to death on a veggie-lover’s pizza.
I gasped at the staircase. Before my very eyes, the crystal steps of the giant spiral staircase just sort of moved. Baffled dumb, I stepped onto the stairs and nearly fainted as I started to ascend while standing perfectly still.
“Yeah!” I shouted, pumping an arm. “This is awesome!”
I proceeded to half-shout, half-grunt the word “Yeah!” periodically over the next few minutes as I rode on the moving stairs, a giddy grin on my face.
At some point I noticed that the top of the staircase just sort of ended in a crystal ceiling that was flat, featureless, and about as barren as Blackout’s womb. “Aw,” I moaned, my whole body slumping as I frowned. Nowhither to go, huh? Well, in that case, I turned around and—holy shit, this was awesome! As I walked down I actually didn’t move, since my speed was equal to that of the stairs. If I sped my pace up, I moved downwards. Were I too slow, I crawled upwards despite my movements downwards. Why it was so fun to alternately dash and crawl down the moving stairs was, uh… well, it felt as if I was breaking some sort of really hardcore rule.
“Aye, who’s the pony?” I singsonged to an invisible jazz beat in my head as I danced down the stairs. Then, twirling around and moving upwards thereby: “Oh, I the pony, ’tain’t fo’ show-ny, nor’m I ya crony? Seen my body? ’Tis svelte, ’tain’t bony.” I dropped to my knees and played a wicked air guitar solo. “So when I asks ya, ‘who da pony’, ’tis fo’ sho’ me.”
I lost track of the fact that I was moving as I closed my eyes and played a guitar solo so epic that it would have melted the faces of anypony who heard it and also impregnated every mare within a two-kilometer radius after giving them the best orgasms of their lives. This was relevant because, as it turned out, the staircase had an ending.
The ceiling actually opened up and deposited you into a room. Like, it creaked and slide back, creating an exit space.
And I only realized that ponies were staring at me when I opened my eyes, but not before I also dropped my invisible microphone and spouted an offense to Princess Cadance. Or at least, he seemed to take it as an offense. If it helps, the line (which I said in a blank, toneless voice) was, “You know, Princess Cadance’s throneroom sure does suck.”
When the hole in the floor wherethrough I’d come closed of its own initiative, I realized that the look on Shining Armor’s face did not, in fact, imply he wanted to have a one-vs-one air guitar battle me with. Rather, it was more akin to a look of “Oh God, really?” mixed with a show of anger that was more hollow than actual.
“How in Celestia’s name did you get in there?” Shining Armor shouted as he stood beside a large crystal throne, red in his eyes from what was either a lack of sleep or some heavy drug use. That might explain why his anger struck me as half-hearted.
I pointed at the ground. “There. I kind of just came in through there. Did you not see me?” The other ponies in this very well-lit and airy throneroom seemed to be guards, judging from their armor, weapons, and the looks on their faces that implied they wished to violently prison-rape me in the showers. Oddly, only half of them were crystal ponies in ethnic appearance, the rest appearing like normal Equestrians.
“Yes, yes, of course I saw you, but what I meant was—ugh!” He rubbed his eyes and stumbled backwards into the throne. Had he been sitting there originally? “And what the hay is with your eye? Celestia, can I just get one minute of peace and quiet?”
I stood and looked around the room again. Ah, and there was the door. “Look, Shining Armor—can I call you Armie?”
“No.”
“Look, Armie,” I went on in a most reasonable voice, “I totally agree with whatever you’re thinking, so I think I’ll just wander on out of this place and let you be angry at somepony else. Like him, for example,” I said, pointing at a random orange pegasus in golden armor. “He looks like a total douche.”
“Hey!” the total douche shouted back in a wounded voice.
I nodded sagely as I backed towards the door. “Just imagining him violently plowing your sister or wife or dog or whatever, and I’m sure you can take out all your anger on him.”
Armie growled hard, massaging his forehead. “Guards, arrest him!”
“Uh,” one intrepid guard said, “which one, exactly?”
“The one with the missing eye!”
“Wait, me? On what charges?” I demanded, standing a hoof as the soldiers rushed to surround me.
“You admitted to stealing a very important book from the Royal Canterlot Archives to me, remember?”
“Uh, no, no I do not.”
“Well, you did, and that was about two weeks ago.” Two weeks? Had I really been in the mirror world for that long? Or did time go slower in there than out here? “See, that’s a crime.”
“Lies! I demand a sexier crime, like being so sexy that a hundred mares’ ovaries imploded upon the mere sight of me! I’m pretty sure I have a constitutional right to know wherefore I’m being sexilly charged.”
“Constitutional?” he said as if it were an utterly foreign word. “A constitution? What is this, Oubliettes & Ogres? You don’t get to do a constitution roll to get out of this; you’re a known terrorist!”
“A terrorist?” I scoffed. “Say, sir, I am a max level bard! Just watch me roll a charisma check to stun your guard into falling in love with me!” I slugged the douche guard in the face, knocking him to the guard before I quickly rifled through his pockets and found several Bits.
“You just beat up and mugged one of my guardsponies!” Armie yelled, his purple armor clanking as he grabbed his sword and lumbered towards me.
I looked at the Prince of the Crystal Empire and frowned. “I rolled a one on my diplomacy check.”
“This is not a tabletop RPG, and I am too tired from dealing with dissent, guards resigning en masse, and that damn Elkington to deal with this at the moment.”
Duke Elkington? What’s that bastard up to now, and how does he think it’ll end with him getting some action with Celestia’s clittorcock? “Look, Arnie—”
“Shining. Armor,” he insisted.
“That’s what I said, Arnold. How’s about you let me engage you with some diplomacy, like me offering you something you want, or else I’ll ram my hoof so far up your urethra you’ll swear you were giving birth in reverse!”
“How is that at all an appealing offer?” he asked.
Rubbing my chin, I said, “Well, I was trying to use both intimidation and diplomacy to woo you. I like use them both at the same time. I call it intimacy.” The total douche guard on the ground groaned and ambled to his hooves, only for me to slug him in the eye due to another bad diplomacy roll. “So, how’s about it, Arnold MacSexually-Aroused-By-His-Father? Let me show you true intimacy.”
“I have a wife,” he replied, stopping a meter or two from me and holding up his sword.
“Well, she can watch,” I said with a frown. “Mayhap by watching how I operate in my courtly way, she’ll learn how to please a stallion.”
He snorted. “There’s no way that was on accident. That was literally the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I tried to snap my fingers as I had as werekind, only to remember that I was a pony again. The action this attempted muscle movement performed was a twitch of some muscle that would have flicked my tail, had my tail not been removed as per military and police standards.
“You’re right,” I said, “I was totally trying to subtly imply that I’d blow you if you agreed not to let these ruffians rape me in the dungeon showers.”
He just blinked. “Okay, you have some serious issues.”
“Do I?” I asked in a seductive voice.
“Yes, clearly.”
“It was because Daddy never loved me!” I exclaimed, promptly dropping to the floor and curling into a ball.
“Um, milord?” one of the guard asked. He was of crystal blood. “Do we, uh… what?”
“I… I’m going to be honest here,” the Prince said, “I don’t believe there’s a page in the Royal Guards manual that quite explains what to do in this scenario.”
Around me, I could see the paltry number of the guards arranged around me a circle of sorts. Nopony protected the door. There was one directly behind me, within reaching distance, and one near him. Suddenly, there came unto me an idea.
“I kenn what to do,” I hissed.
“And that would be?” someone asked.
“You die!” I threw myself backwards, bucking the guard behind me in the jaw and using the momentum to lift myself to my hooves.
With a smile, I slugged the nearest guard to me in the leg as I bit him in the throat, clotheslining him into the ground with my face. What did you know, crystal pony blood didn’t taste any different from normal pony blood. By the time the other guards even started to move, I had scampered myself off halfway towards the now-unguarded door, though not before giving the Prince a little shake of my booty, thus ensuring he would have unfaithful thoughts of me for years to come.
There was a guardpony walking by the doorway on the other side. Also, a large and very pretty staircase leading into some sort of huge room with a vaulted ceiling. Logically, I grabbed the guard’s poleaxe and shoved it into the doorhandles as I closed the purple door.
“Hwê aẅrõ Alorim?” he asked in a confused and terrified voice as the stallions inside the throne room pounded on the door.
Then, also with great logic, I bodyslammed into him and rode the stallion down the stairs like a surfboard and cried out, “Tally-ho!”
Thereafter, it was just a hop, skip, and a jump out of the castle and into the city. Mostly because I saw the library, and thence kennt whither to go thanks to my previous trip into this place. By some stroke of luck (or because Arnie Sister-Raper suffered a lucky stroke), I made myself a clean escape with only three needless deaths.
|— ☩ —|
It was something of a mystery why the hell I’d buried my eyepatch so deep in my bag. I had to hide in a dark portion of the castle, safe and secure, while I searched after the damn thing. But, hey, about an hour or two of searching later (I may have dozed off at some point) and I found that wherefor I’d been looking. I no longer looked like an eyeless freak.
Of course, I had the feeling that Shining Arnold would still be looking for me. Hence why I needed a disguise. Here in my dark corner of the castle, all alone, I stripped down. I took a moment to observe mine own body, noticing that I was indeed missing a nipple. This had to be quick; if I wasn’t, fate would probably have some hot maid wander in here somehow and try to create awkward tension, and I was so goddamn sick and tired of sexuality from my experiences with Blackout. She would probably cry out, “Mon Dieu, monsieur!” And I would just beat her to death out of spite. Screw the universe.
I took out General Black Jack’s hat, which I’d nicked from Frosty after finding her in the hospital, because it wasn’t enough to leave her a cripple, I also had to steal her prize hat. Still, it went with the eyepatch. Other than that, I found my black poncho which last I’d worn on the train with Octavia. I mostly used that just to sling over my shoulders like some kind of cape. The shirts and pants were just something generically Gunslinger in appearance, minus the bandoliers and the three guns, which I stuffed into my bags. It wasn’t as if I could use them; it was just me and my hooves and sword from now on till I fixed my horn.
My outfit all suited up and super cozy, I continued down this little path until I reached that little secret exit and stepped out into an alleyway in the Crystal City of Côrint. My very first thought was, Holy shit, it’s cold!
Snow fell from the heavens, painting the roofs and the alley white. I saw my breath even through my nose. In a way, it made sense for Côrint to get so cold, what with it being so far in the north. Were I not a Teutscher, I might have been really bothered. But like I’d told that crystal stallion who’d lead me up the mountain up to Snechta’s temple, I’d lived and fought in the Dead Winter of the Dark Crusade, were the very act of breathing was likely to give your lungs frostbite. At least here in Côrint, you could still see the sun; there was no thick layer of ash blocking it, forcing a good fraction of the next generation to be born and raised in a world without a sun. I could take this kind of chill naked.
Overhead, I saw a wing of pegasi guards fly over, causing a bit of snow to jostle off the roof and onto my hat. See? It pays to be prepared. Snow in the eyes was no laughing matter—it can kill you. This little alleyway led into a proper alley, wherein my eyes fell upon a stallion who wore a thick winter coat, leaning against the dirty brick wall of a four-story building and puffing on a cigarette.
The buck looked at me. “What are you supposed to be, some kinda swordslinger cosplayer?”
“No,” I replied, walking over to him.
“Wha—bu—hey!” he shouted as I grabbed his smoke and tossed it into the snow.
“Smoking kills,” I said in a dead voice, staring straight into his eyes. Then I walked out of the alley as he howled curse at me in the crystal language. Mijôra, was it called?
The cobblestone street here was wide, flanked by large buildings of impressive masonry, and abound with crystalfolken. The snow here seemed well-swept, hence why I could even see the street. A gaggle of well-dressed ladies standing together and talking paused to look at me. One of them frowned before they resumed their chat. Something about this part of the city, just under the shadow of the great Crystal Castle, felt really ritzy, like I could just stab a random passerby and end up killing somepony really important.
I snapped out of my observations and went back to walking down the street when I saw a duo of winterized guards come around a corner. Trying to look nonchalant, I turned the next corner, which lead to a street which curved to the right slightly. I ambled on that-a-away till I saw that the street ended in a T-bone junction, and just before the junction was a military-style blockade, complete with snazzy wooden walls et al. Snow had been piled up against the walls like some kind of reinforcements, yet the alleys around seemed as if nopony had tended to them. There were a number of posters which all depicted the same thing, a drawn picture of somebody who vaguely resembled me but had this snide little smirk on his face that made me want to beat him to death.
In other words, yeah, that was probably me. Instead of trying to look casual, and thus ensuring I would look suspicious, I widened my eyes and glared at the guards checking ponies as they went through, fire in my eyes. It was just one of the things from deep within me that always kept me warm; mayhap a reason why I thus loved the cold so. Acting as conspicuous as possible, I kept my eyes locked on the guard with the fanciest hat as I walked left into a nearby alley.
Of course, the plan was an utter success. They didn’t even bother to stare back at me. Sighing with relief, I walked down the alley, bumped into a trash can, and scared some really freaky-looking cat/dog thing. It ran out and into the street, hissing and barking at me.
“Hey, someone scared an animal!” I heard somepony yell. “That heartless fiend! Let’s get ’em!”
“You’re kidding me,” I deadpanned. “According to those armored bootfalls crunching in the snow, you’re not kidding me.”
“Psst, stranger,” a mare hissed from a door in the alley. “In here!”
I didn’t need to sit around and debate whether or not this was a good idea. Quickly, I darted into the large urban building and shut the door behind me. Inside was a rather well-lit hallway with a well-traveled purple carpet, the walls hewn from that same crystalline materials as much else of the city.
The crystal mare—more a filly, really—reached up and tapped me on the shoulder. Her fur coat was purple, which struck me as odd, since I didn’t know of any purple animals that lived in the lands of the ice. But once she had my attention, she pointed down the hall. “Quickly, go that way. You can make it to the other side of the street without the guards noticing you.” She pounded a hoof twice over her heart. “May the Goddess be with you.”
I nodded and went down the hall. When I found the door she’d mentioned, I found it locked. More to the point, peering through the glass, I saw some sort of lobby whereinto a troop of guards were storming.
“Well, this is just perfect,” I muttered, turning around and finding a narrow set of stairs that wound back and forth as they went up. Sighing, I made for the stairs and ascended up to the third floor. I might have gone higher, but somebody had dumped a huge pile of rubber chickens in the way, and I couldn’t waste the time defeating each chicken to get past. There had to be another way down, another door.
I opened the door leading onto the third floor hallway. Down the way, there were four guardsponies knocking on a door. None of them were crystal ponies, I noticed. “Missus Tôlath,” the knocker was saying loudly, “we know you’re in there. We just wanna ask some questions regarding allegations that you’ve been stealing imperial funds and donating it to that crazy Shaingreyla cult. Missus Tôlath?”
A young mare stood in her doorway a few doors up from the armored ponies, watching as she bit her lip. As I approached the guards, because something about sneak attack quadruple murder seemed like a good idea at the time, I noticed she was dressed not unlike a French maid. The weirdly over-sexualized kind, too, belts and garters totally included. She looked at me as I neared, her face a melange of nervousness and anxiety.
“I might work in the castle,” she said, “but for what it’s worth, I hope the accusations are true. Snechta needs all the help she can get.”
I paused by her. “Is it just me, or has Côrint gotten a bit like a police state lately?”
“It’s been getting like this ever since the Champion defeated the Prince and got away with Calêrhos,” she replied. “Worse since he seems to have done it again only hours ago. The Prince is a bit of a sore loser—though don’t tell anypony I said that. I really need this job!” Then she gave me a puzzled look, as if for the first time actually taking a look at me. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before around here. Are you a new tenant or worker? They don’t make guards live in this building, so you’re not one of them. Why are you here, then?”
I glanced back to the guards. One of them made a slicing gesture across his neck, and in the next second they’d bucked down the door and charged in. “Ma’am, I’m just trying to pass through his building without these policeponies arresting me.”
“Why are they…” She shook her head. “As if they even needed proper charges anymore. But if you’d like, my place is connected to a few other rooms and houses down the way. I was about to put on my coat and head out to work, but they’d still let you pass through to avoid those royal thugs. We’re all sisters and brothers in this.”
The young mare took a step back, allowing me into the rather raggedy apartment or whatever it was. There was a tiny kitchen, a closet, a bed up against the wall, a bathroom, and a few other things that just only barely made this place a step up from POW camp. The main feature was a wooden door labeled with a large red V circumscribed by a black circle. Still, at least the heating worked-ish.
“Thankee, ma’am,” I said, moving towards the door. “This broken system of law is an Equestrian problem, I’m sure.”
“I’d still take it any day over life under King Sombra,” she replied to me, closing the door. There was a cup of coffee brewing in the kitchen. “Like, I would honestly kill if it meant getting to keep things like they are today and not going back under Ska’alorim. You Sejfêonar at least have that going for you.”
“I’m not an Equestrian, ma’am,” I said, stepping into the kitchen. “Whence I come, the Reich, this kind of police bullying would be utterly intolerable.” I put a golden coin onto her kitchen counter where she could see it, then swiped and drank her cup of coffee. “Sorry, I sort of needed the caffeine.”
She blinked. “Wait, gold and you’re not Sejfêon? But… but… are you the… the Champion of Côrint?”
“Mayhap,” I said. “Oh, and for what it’s worth, I really like your mane. Crystal ponies are really adorable.” Perhaps she blushed at that, but I couldn’t tell, since I went through the door and into the other room.
The room was empty. Spacious, mayhap, but empty. I actually knocked on the next door was had an old couple let me in. “Trying to avoid the pigs?” they asked, and I nodded.
“Hey, hey!” the one maid called out from the room over. The old couple had yet closed their door. “You stole my coffee mug!”
“I did?” I looked down at my hoof. “Huh. ‘World’s #1 Sister.’ Cheesy design. I’ll make sure to put it to good use, thankee much!”
I must have been near the last little apartment when the loud announcement rang out outside. It boomed somewhence far away, yet sounded so close, its vibrations agitating snow and icicles on the roofs of the buildings across the street. “Hail, good subjects of the Crystal Empire.” The voice was female, and a bit bubbly. “Strider, a known terrorist, is suspected to be in your area. Report all sightings to the local authorities. Or else run really fast because he’s a killer!”
“Strider?” the old stallion in the room asked, gesturing to the front door of his house. “They mean the Champion, they do.” Then he looked me dead in the eye. “You, in other words, ñar?”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t trying to avoid police violation as I delivered Calêrhos to Snechta.” I shrugged.
“May Chêngrêla bless you, Champion,” he told me as I slipped out the front door. “And take the stairs up, not down!”
“Hey, you there!” a very angry mare yelled at me. A policepony/guardspony or whatever, non-crystal. She was of the four who’d bucked down that door. “Stop right there, sir!”
“Actually, if it’s cool with you, I’m going to stop somewhere over in the stairwell,” I replied, and sprinted into the room. I should have gone down, but instead I felt as if I could trust that old timer, since crazy old folken were the most trustworthy of all. Upwards I went, onto a fourth floor which wasn’t actually a fourth floor but was actually some sort of attic-like room. I could tell that because the sign beside the door at the top of the stairs read ‘Attic-y Place’.
When the police burst into the stairwell, I threw the coffee mug at them and got a clean strike across somepony’s face. Then I opened the door and entered the attic. There was a buck thereinside dozing off in a dinky little apartment. He had the look of a sleazy pedophile who was also a respectable janitor.
“Hey, what the…?” he muttered as I trotted past him and towards a large window that lead onto the building’s roof.
“Police behind me, am Champion of Côrint, can’t talk!” I explained, breaking the window with a conveniently placed lamp and skittering on out. I climbed into the slushy snow of the roof, trying to get to my feet and press on as my hooves numbed.
A wing of pegasi flew overhead as I saw a wooden plank leading from the edge of the room to the wide ledge of an extended part of the apartment complex. Ignoring the shouts and orders for me to halt, I went over to the planks and—shit! The planks just sort of broke under my weight, forcing me to jump for the lip.
The ledge protested my landing with a creak and a spit of snow downwards, but I was a bit too preoccupied to care at this point for the feelings of a building. Although, I had to admit, the red-tile roofing here was really pretty.
“Up there! On the roof!”
On the streets below, policeponies were pointing up at me. It turned out that the snowy roof was actually a pretty terrible idea. The old man’s helpful advice had proven false! Plus, with all the snow reflecting light into my eyes, it was almost blinding up here. I squinted so hard it made my forehead hurt.
“Gah!” I hissed as a wooden bolt whooshed past me, hitting a heavy icicle that fell down onto my head. “Who shot that arrow at me? Who’s the asshat who did that? Because you missed!” Really, they must have sucked to miss me, what with my black poncho. Fashionable, yes. Practical, not in today’s case!
I scared a flock of—what the hell were they, white and fur-coated snow bats—off the roof as I ran past them, trying to keep my balance on the narrow lip. Here, there was basically a solid wall to my right, with windows into apartments right there. Was I on the next building or something?
A strong gust of wind blew a stream of snow into my eyes, blinding me as I fought to wipe it all off while trying to keep my balance. Another arrow hit the wall beside me. Swearing, I shook my head and gave my face a final wipe before trudging forwards. That wasn’t the last gust of snow-ridden wind, but it was the strongest.
At one of the windows to my right was a little filly standing. She screamed as I jumped through the opened portal and into her pink bedroom, her breath hitting me with a cloud of cold vapors. Her parents shouted in alarm, only to have me burst into their living room, accidentally knocking the father over. I took care to reach down and snag the smoking pipe from his mouth, saying, “Smoking kills, and I am an annoying public service announcement!”
The pipe I launched through the window before me, breaking it open just in time for me to jump out and onto another section of the roof. Ah, the joys of scarring a childhood. From there, it was a little hop over onto the ledge of the next building. The windows here were mostly boarded up, the rooms within looked ancient, unloved. Worse was how the ledge had broken just a bit further off. Maybe I could go around by climbing up the slope of the roof proper?
Of course, when I tried that, I slipped on a patch of ice, slamming into the red tiles of the roof. Then the roof caved in on me. Because of course it did. I landed hard on a wooden floor in a torrent of splinters and dusty snow. Mayhap an intrepid icicle tried to stab me in the ass, but I wasn’t sure.
“Ow,” I grunted as the floor squeaked and groaned in protest. However, it was a well-known fact that wooden floors hadn’t yet invented the concept of non-violent protest, hence why the floor broke again. I plunged down to the next story on a chunk of floor, a wooden beam or something smacking me upside the face. Of course, then its brother floor did the same thing again, in a moment I was choking to death on dust and probably tasty asbestos a story therebelow.
Ugh, was I on the third or second st—the floors crashed again, ripping a chunk of the building alongside as floor after floor broke and collapsed. A concrete basement floor kicked me in the gut and then stole my lunch money after stealing my girlfriend. I swear, I could see little Lightning Dusts circling around my head.
I lay on my back, staring up in a daze at the huge hole from the roof to the basement, marveling at the fact that I was alive, and also at the drool on my lips. Snow fell into the building and onto me. The cold felt warm. Nice. I could just sort of lay here for a while. Take a nap. Ignoring the wet pain in my back. The pegasi around my head. Just rest here for a while…
“Sejfêonar,” I suddenly muttered, a word that kept ringing in my mind somewhy. That was the Mijôra name for Equestrians, right? It felt funny on the tongue. I wondered if the name had somehow come about, one way or another, from the ancient King Fhǽonûr af Nûlkor Pendergast. I remembered that image from that play about him, “Glacies Irae”, forever etched into my memory.
The last emperor of the empire whereafter I was named, Imperium Jericuntis, was bundled up in so much winter clothing. He was at the forefront of a massive migration of ponies across the frozen wastes of the Thousand Isles, heading north for where it was warm. That place, the Íßin Miseriae, the Ice of Misery, saw the deaths of countless millions to the cold. But Fhǽonûr knew where the stars yet glowed, where the sins and depravity and greed of ponykind hadn’t entombed the land in a blistering ice.
The image that kept coming back to me as I stared up at the sky was the one wherein Fhǽonûr, not yet crowned as Konungrinn af Nûlkor, was simply walking on the ice. His hoofprints were bloody. The ice of the Íßin Miseriae was so cold that it froze tiny little parts of him off just by touching it, tearing them off as he walked. Then it came, the scene where his seventh and last child, his daughter Alimnor, was walking and then collapsed dead on the ground, frozen; Fhǽonûr merely looked down at her with sad eyes, and then walked off and onwards, leading his host of ponies to the north. Mourning was pointless when stopping meant death in the ice.
But at least Fhǽonûr did reach the lands that would become Equestria. It was there that they forsook the name of Jerichites and became the Nûlkor, with Fhǽonûr as their king for being the visionary to lead them to the promised land. And then all was well till the barbarians tribes of Nod followed him into the land, and brought with them the Dead Winter. Before I left Equestria, I had to see whatever happened to the ruins of Nea Jerikho, the city of the Reich’s primogenitors, if such a thing even existed anymore on this continent.
Coughing dust out of my lungs, I tried to laugh at the history. It had been Fhǽonûr who’d had the last laugh when, centuries later, his children crossed the Shivering Sea. It was funny because it reminded me of myself right now, in a way. Aloysius “the Lightbringer” Pendergast had gone across the sea and carved out the Kingdom of Prosía from barbarian tribes. One way or another, Prosía had become das Reich Teutschland.
Just like the Lightbringer, my blood was Nûlkor, my blood was Prosía, my blood was Teutsch. If ever I wanted to return home, to sleep in a true Teutonic bed once more, I needed to cross the Shivering Sea, a near impossible feat. I needed to wield the mighty sword Kaledfulch, purge this land of demons, sever the wicked from the just, and cross the sea. I had to be Aloysius Pendergast. Why not? We were of the same blood, he and I, so it was distinctly plausible.
And Korweit, I might be lying here and possibly have fluid in my lungs, but I would go against thee wickedly! You will repent when I send you to the Hell beneath, back to your dark mistress in shame and failure. I had brought Hell to this land, and Hell followed, but I was Jericho, son of Roland, dammit! And I will butcher and main and torture you, demon, just as Aloysius did to the Lord of Slaves!
Groaning and grunting, I pushed myself onto my hooves. I ascended the pile of rubble and junk, fell down, and saw a cellar door. Somepony was yelling from outside and above. Policeponies?
The door in the cellar I had to open with a buck or two. Coughing, I stumbled out into a dark alley shielded from the sky via the building itself above me. It seemed as if this area was cut out of the building or something, and there was no snow in here but for what must have been shoveled thereinto to get it off the streets.
“There he is!” policeponies yelled from one side of the alley.
“Well, that’s not whither I go!” I replied, spinning around and making a trot for the other side of the—
“Here, this way! We got him surrounded.”
“Aw, nuts,” I muttered as they came from the other entrance to the alley, wielding police batons. They reminded me of the kind Cards had used to bludgeon her mother to death.
A baton hit me across the chin, knocking me to the ground. I had already been a bit woozy, but this just about made me vomit. The six ponies rushed in around me, probably to draw stick to get to see who’d be the first lather the prison soap up in order to ensure that I’d drop it.
“Oh no you don’t!” a stallion yelled out. With my face on the ground, I couldn’t see him.
“Who are you?” a mare asked.
“Your grave, bitch!” he replied with a tremendous grunt. Grunts and generics sounds of a fight ensued as I lay there, my face in the cobblestone of the alley. If I didn’t know better, I'd almost have assumed they were having a rather noisy orgy.
But then it was over. A crystal stallion rolled me onto my back and peered into my eyes. “Champion of Côrint, I presume?”
I gurgled at him. This was the standard greeting amongst the plant-ponies of the Isle of the Non-Consensual Hoof-Holding.
“We seem to be a bit late,” he went on, gesturing to two winter-armored crystal bucks beside him, “but better that than never, nay?” He smiled. “We figured you didn’t want to have your hoof held and could just get back to Snechta on your own, see.”
“Ugh,” I grunted. “At this point, I’d be okay with hoofholding. Hell, I’d be cool with you reaching into my pants against my will and violently jerking me off if it meant getting out of this damn situation. My jaw hurts.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, Sedhoas, I’ll take you to my mistress and we’ll hide you out there until the coast is clear. But we need to move fast if we want to give the law the slip.”
“Uh, who is your mistress?”
He frowned. “You don’t know? You only did champion her household in the arena.”
I blinked. “Oh. So you’re the Knecht of that one mare with the daddy issues.” I grabbed his hoof and used it to get myself back up. Then I thought about what I’d just said. “Because that description really narrows it down, right?” I shook my head. “Fine, whatever. It’s not like this day can get any worse.”
And that was how I tempted fate into what I was sure would end up as the cosmic equivalent to being held down and savagely getting punched again and again in the asshole.
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And on this day, Jericho became a punching bag..
On another note, How goes Pheonix Fire??
I was fairly sure the more I read, but yeah, the entire second half of this chapter is a reference to the early Half-Life 2 scene where you go through the apartments and avoid the police... cool.
Aww yeah, pony-time again. Also, he gets his horn back soon, which is sweet.
YEEEESSS!!! He's PONY again!!!
He also seems to be back to his old tricks straight out of the gates.... eeeeeeexcellent
And now I wait for pony Cards to show up so I can enjoy her misery.
Great way to start part 3
Just a quick question: was this chapter inspired by the beginning of Half-Life 2, perchance? It feels very City 17-ish.
Good stuff, and I can't wait for some more pony-based action.
4053573 Yeah. From about the halfway point it mirror's your progression through the apartments near the beginning, up until the rooftops. Then there's some bits inserted where Jericho jumps through a building and falls through to ground level, then like in the game, the protagonist is ambushed and knocked out by police, someone yells “Oh no you don’t!” and single-handedly (hoof-edly) takes out the police.
4053611
4053573
Actually, that guard (Ylv) was not alone.
Also, inspired? Boy, it was damn-straight ripoff, just with a Crystal, Winterized, magical, and Jericho flavor. And stuff. For some reason, I wanted to do a scene like the start of Half Life 2, symbolism junk and whatnot, I think. It fit with the theme of rebellion against foreign rule that the Crystalfoken have now.
"If you came to hear a story, i'm sorry to dissapoint."
God i love this fic.
4053828
That line will remain accurate until the audiobook version of Jericho.
4053843
Did you laugh a lot this chapter, then?
4053567
Thankee big-big!
4053495
I was trying to be unique for ponyfic. I had fun and changed Jericho. Seems like some folks didn't like what I was doing, but stuck around because they found Jericho to be worth following. Pony time once more!
4053456
For Phoenix Fire, I am writing and planning bits out, such as the fact that IRL!Cards wants to be a character in the book, a sort of Viking Princess whose role is that she's being sold to the King of Virginia to be his wife, and Jericho is tasked alongside 12 Viking warriors to defend her on her path from Chicago to Virginia.
But I am a whore for feedback ,so I needs to writes Jericho(s)
...there is a real Cards? Man, she must have a really weird sense of humour to appreciate the abuse you're heaping on her in-universe counterpart.
Then again, you have a twisted and crazy sense of humour yourself. You and IRL!Cards should totally get together and make lots of babies who will all use made-up adverbs in every sentence.
Also, yay, Jericho is pony again! Now let's hope he gets to Snechta soon so he can get fixed up.
I've probably said it many times before, but this story is in a class of its own. There is nothing else like it. Depending on how you look at it, it's either the coolest thing ever or worse than The Eye of Argon... or both at the same time. I'm pretty convinced it's the former, though.
I've never played Doom (which is a shame), but Brütal Doom sounds cool, I guess?
And on it goes back in Magical Land of Ponydom!
Awesome chapter, again! The beginning caused me to make an appointment in a vary special clinic but that is kinda the reason I read this.
I'm giddy how it'll continue and can't await to find out what Elkington is planing once more.
LFU Nightjar
P.S.: Always have a cup or mug with you - it's the perfect personal defense weapon! Screw SMGs, Pistols or boot- and neck knives!
Eh, just call him Football Head and be done with it.
4053864 God yes. Never have I seen a fic so gracefully combine murder, cults, and humor so perfectly.
Jericho really needs to learn how to whistle.
Eye, aye?
4053463 Heh, my thoughts too.
24.media.tumblr.com/b30da8726527766d1f6b7e3778c70286/tumblr_mj5823ohgL1ru74s4o1_500.jpg
When I was reading this, I thought it was written by someone else. It just seemed different.
Also: YAY HE'S BACK IN PONYLAND!
So, that orange stallion Jericho accused of banging Shining's sister/dog... Did he have a blue mane, perchance?
WHAT
4057599
4055072 4054032
What's wrong? Got a question for Cards? I have a direct ear to the adorable girl. She's just as adorable and lovable IRL as in Jericho, if not more.
And Cards might not be entirely aware the extend whereto her scope extends in Jericho. Not yet, at least. She's too socially awkward and adorkable to confront me over the matter, but I'd imagine it'd be so adorable to see her angry.
Sure. Just because I might have a slight thing for IRL!Cards doesn't mean she's capable of knowing someone likes her in any way shape or form. I'd imagine she'd get super red and start stammering and clamming up were I to even note that people were shipping her and me.
4055571
...mayhap...
4054715
Aye, sai.
4054092
Coffee Mugs will mess you up, brah.
4055158
It felt different? How do you mean? It was entirely me, mate. I am now curious.
4058218 Nothing was wrong, I was just going with the "Everybody hates Cards" thing. Hooray for bandwagons.
It'd be a mite akward if she read about the part where she sexually offers herself to Jericho...and the part where she's naked...and the part where she dies...and pretty much every time it's been explicitly stated that she'll never get laid. Don't forget about the time she lost an ear! And her best friend. And most of her dignity. Wow, you really don't like her, don't you?
Show her this conversation. Post results.
4058218 Well the first thing is the length, but that's not very important. The second is that a lot of parts in this seem a bit rushed. Also, I know lot's of strange things happen in this story, but there was too much "suddenly this happened", with no explanation. It might just be me, though.
Once again, Jericho has caused me to go into hysterics at an unreasonably late hour. Keep it up!
Also, this chapter totally gave me flashbacks to Half Life 2. WHICH IS ALWAYS A GOOD THING.
"were the very act of breathing was likely to give your lungs frostbite."
Should be "where".
"Plus, with all the snow reflecting light into my eyes"
"Eyes". As in, more than one?
4054032
Jericho confirmed for zerosum fic
Alpha as fuck.
4068299
Ehrm, what does that mean? Is that good? I was really wanting to worldbuild here.
4065532
More reasons why it's fun to be the only person I kenn in my real life in person who speaks Deutsch, to a degree well enough.
4058281
4058473
IRL!Cards is so adorable, I can't help but want to her her ponysona suffer adorable. Also, IRL!Cards is probably much, much smarter than me.
I for some reason was reminded of Dishonored during this chapter. Huh. Also, the name "Strider" Should stay. Because out of the MANY names Jericho has been given, Strider is the best one.
BY THE FUCKMOTHERING WAY
So, I was re-reading some chapters, right? And chapter 26 Jericho says, Corvaet is a liar. May have spelt that wrong.
JUMP TO THE CHAPTER BLACK
C IS A LIAR
Corvaet (Korveit)
C
OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOD
4069386
Strider is the best?
It's funny, because on the Google Doc whereupon I wrote this chapter, there is still a note which reads with regards to Strider, "Temp name: will replace when better name comes"
Also, hot damn! People seeing some of my shitty attempts at little things. But, ah, spoilers, asínada más para tí.
4068333
Basically, I'm saying he is bretty kewl guy. I like him.
Also, do more world building! I wanna see more o it.
4075400
No, they are not Fallout references. A reference is just a modern term for an allusion, and no such allusion with Fallout in mind is made here. Like the two German names imply, this represents something different than what you're thinking of, because I said "Screw it, I like this name and ain't nobody gonna whore out all the names".
That little part to the end really feels like a reference to Blind Guardian's Noldor (Dead Winter Reigns). If it is, neat! If it isn't, then I am just seeing things and please disregard my bold assumptions.
Anyway, thanks for the chapter, looking forward to the next one
4078137
Dead Winter is an approximation of the German "Todes Winter".
But the events Jericho notes were inspired by Tokien, although with nothing really to do with Tolkien any more than the vague name similarities in Fhæonûr and Nûlkor. Thus, it's not a reference so much as a homage: it is a similar-ish idea-ish, but used differently and with other stuff and for other purposes. Ergo, homage.
Any yes, that exact song was the song whereto I listen whilst writing this scene, since the song was telling the story of the elf king Fingolfin leading the elves across the Grinding Ice.
Oh hey I grew a brain and remembered i could find the rest of Jericho on here :D
~Eclipse~
4078488
Ooh, awesome!
Howdy there, I recall thee well, so I do.
Also, note how this version is the version with more updates and with the older chapters having more contents added thereto in fixes and slight world-building retcons that i didn't do for Fanfic.net because it's too tedious over yonder.
4079267
I love comments like yours. I am slowly turning all my readers into sociopaths as they laugh and laugh at all the poneh suffering in Jericho. I like to think that, at times, Jericho is almost one of the most grimdark fanfics in the fandom, but only Jericho's narration and way of thinking keeps it as funny as it is, nay?
Ah, and just think:
I am currently writing a proper novel-book, wherein the main character is humanized Jericho to a T (or to a J, as 'twere). Heck, I even call him Jericho.
In other words, I shall spread the insanity of Jericho far beyond the distant star! Muhahaha!
Now if only I had more fanart of Cards, because IRL!Cards (yes, Cards is a real girl) wants to see more art of her ponysona.
AH FUCK!! I have read spoilers in the comments, and now must kill my self with a rubber chicken covered in turpentine and biological lubricants. Then, I must come back to life, my memory purged, and read this story from the beginning again
4081108 I would love to read that when it's finished. But first, I need to read more of Jericho.
I feel that Sandmann by Oomph is a good song for Jericho as a whole. Jericho's theme should either be that or Labyrinth. Because fucking Oomph.
Armes Deutschland.
I hope that eye is completely deactivated and will not sprout little spider-legs and come skittering after Jericho a la The Thing... Maybe he could melt the eye down into a little silver filigree commemorative horn-ring for Cards? She could be a good guinea pig to test to see if Jane's malign influence has leaked into Equestria.
"Here you go Cards, a little gift for you from Beyond the Portal. Try it on! I can almost guarantee* it is mostly free from any remaining mental links to a mechanical, psychopathic eldritch horror. I am pretty sure her influence was cut off when the portal closed.
If you ever have sudden, violent thoughts of limbs and grinders and running down puppies, foals or orphaned puppies, accompanied by noises, like a mare in the throes of passion, do not worry; that is perfectly normal. However, if you develop a sudden fascination with trains and contemplate taking up trainspotting as a hobby, then there is no choice but to immediately amputate at the neck to stop the contagion from spreading any further.. Oh do not worry, I will be perfectly fine; it is not in any way contagious. I just find trainspotters and railfans bloody annoying."
*(guarantee not guaranteed)
An escalator...
Somewhere in Ponyville, Twilight is simultaneously bursting into flames and having an aneurysm.
derpicdn.net/img/2013/10/27/458134/medium.png
Does this "random" guard also have a blue mane and a cutie mark Party per cross, Azure and Sable, a thunderbolt Or?
This breakout is brought to you by hepatitis and the letters "A", "B", and "C".
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
Now that you know how much others see you as a completer tosser, there is only one thing for it: embrace it fully!
I see Shining had a squad of iron-shoed military thugs raid one of Cheese's Pony Proletarian Party Partisan safe-houses and seize one of the supply caches scattered around Côrint.
I will kill you with my coffee mug
There is a nursery rhyme in here somewhere. Lets see...
The Queen of Graves
She wanted slaves,
And saw the Reich was grand;
To reach her goal
She sold her soul,
And raised a demon band.
The Lord of Slaves
Summoned his knaves,
And sought to join the war;
He had no need
But in his greed,
Wanted a little more.
The evil horde
Through portals poured,
And ravaged through the land;
The Teutcher king's
Defensive ring
Fought one last wintry stand.
They fell fast
Until at last
The Good King drew his blade;
They broke the hold
Of evil's cold,
All demons quickly slayed.
The Queen of Graves
And Lord of Slaves,
Both swore to keep the fight;
With power dead
And minions fled,
They left behind Korweit.
(On second thought, maybe I should keep the day job...)
That sounds fun. (only a week late!)
!
(cliché response is clichéd)
As a side note, does Jericho still have his freaky, eldritch C arm? If so, did he ever take note/discover what was making it go all runny and slough away back in human Sleepy Oaks? That might come in handy once he has to put down C/Corvæt/Corvite/Korweit
.
(Come to think of it, what happened to the enervation ray thingy Bigs/Chausiku the Kuato zebra were working on?)
*BREAKING NEWS*
The first Prussian Pony has been sighted onscreen in MLP.
Slowly but surely, Jericho is becoming canon.
4095405 The day Jericho becomes canon is the day many things shall happen.
1. This fic will ascend to god-status
2. Crushric will be granted the ability to write episodes
3. Equestria will burn as Jericho abuses Cards
AND finally
4. The mane six will get a moral. Fucking. BEATDOWN.
This is what I would have said:"RAAAIIILROADING! Abuse of GM fiat! I refuse to be filler in your novel"Then proceed to throw down my dice bag, rip up my char sheet and storm outOf course, it would have made no sense because equestria has no internet where people can go to complain about Gms and create meaningless buzzwords.Anyways since this comment feels to purposely less, I'll ask: why are chapters getting shorter? Is it to make updates quicker?
*Smiles* Jericho, thou bring tears of joy to our eyes.
Hey Crushric, is the Cards in this story actually the same way IRL or is there any difference?
Ya know, besides the real cards not being a pony... unless of course someone was able to teach them to use Skype, then that would be the coolest shit to ever grace the interwebs.
I can tell that this next chapter will be freaking awesome, and probably long. Caaaaaaaannnnnnnnn't waaaaaaaait.
King Sombra and his stairs.
Flash Sentry?
This is not Flash's day.
That's probably Jericho, both protagonist and story, in a nutshell.
Like Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings.