Epilogue
Five years later
Virgin Lore rose from his desk with a sigh. The sun was already beginning to wane, and it was about time for him to be heading home for the day. He took a look at the immense pile of paperwork that was still incomplete and decided to forget about it for the time being, choosing instead to try to enjoy himself for a while.
He opened the door to his office and stepped into the hallway of Canterlot Castle. Guards and civilians were milling about as usual, all going about their business as they always did. He hummed himself an idle tune as he trotted out of the castle.
Figuring that he had enough time before he needed to be home, Lore decided to take a leisurely walk around the castle grounds. Since the crisis that nearly destroyed Equestria years ago, his life had been hectic, as the demand for research into the rifts had increased exponentially in the interest of preventing another disaster. From time to time he found himself needing time to escape from all of that and just be alone with his thoughts, away from work.
He elected to start his leisure with a trot through the statue garden, which he had been frequenting for some time. The statues all stood exactly the same as they always had, completely untouched by the war. He pondered again their old foe’s battle strategy, and the apparent decision to leave the city of Canterlot itself completely untouched after its capture. It seemed that the spawn had no interest in pillaging or otherwise ravaging the city, so when the city was reclaimed it was found in impeccable condition.
As he passed by the statues of the heroes and celebrities of old he mused upon their stories. Having always loved learning about new things, he knew at least the basics of the stories of every statue in the garden. Soon, he began to near one such sculpture that held special meaning for him.
Carved from a gigantic block of fine marble, a statue depicting Tristan and Krik stood towering over him. Tristan was in a heroic pose that Lore had never seen him actually take, with a sword in one hand and a potion flask in the other. Next to him stood Krik, who was also wielding a sword, despite the fact that he had never done so. Lore recalled arguing with the sculptor about that issue, but the sculptor was dead-set on their new hero holding a suitable weapon.
On the base of the statue was a plaque in their honor. It read, “In memory of the rift spawns known as Tristan and Krik, who proved to Equestria that some spawn can be trusted. They gave their very lives in heroic sacrifice to protect Equestria during its darkest hour, giving as much as any native-born Equestrian would have.”
Even after all these years, it seems like just yesterday that I was working with those two. It wasn’t easy dealing with them, but I’ll admit, I do miss them. Everything from Tristan’s sarcasm to Krik’s stoicism. I suppose it’s just natural, after having spent so much time with them, and after almost dying alongside them. For all their faults, they turned out to be quite the interesting friends...I wish that they were still here. But if they didn’t do what they did...well...I remember all too well what was about to happen…
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Five years prior
Lore watched sadly as Tristan and Krik walked away. Celestia and Luna stood by him as they watched Tristan, Krik, and Noble leave the room. Lore wondered if he would ever see them again, and found himself doubting that he ever would.
“Do you honestly believe they’ll make it?” Lore asked the princesses quietly. Neither of them responded.
After a brief moment of silence Lore began to speak again. “Well, princesses, I believe we still have matters to attend to, don’t we?”
Celestia and Luna both snapped their attention back to Lore, having both been lost in apparent thought for a moment. “Yes, that is correct,” Celestia began. “It has been decided that losing Manehattan, as the current largest city in the country, would be a deadly blow to all of Equestria. So, this city is to be defended at all costs.”
“I understand. How do you want me to help, Princess?” Lore responded in the most dignified voice he could muster.
“While you have talent on the battlefield, I believe you’d be of far more use as a researcher than an active defender of the city. Quarters have been arranged for you, with all the provisions you’ll need to continue your work. All available office space has long been claimed, so I’m afraid your room will have to do. I trust that you’ll find such an agreement acceptable?” Celestia said. Lore noticed now more than ever how detached Celestia sounded, the motherly intonations of her voice all but lost.
Canterlot falling has been hard enough on me, but I can only imagine how it has been for the princesses. I don’t envy their position, having to take responsibility for everything that’s been happening. Yet, if there’s anyone that could get Equestria through this, it’s them.
“That will be fine, Princess. Thank you,” Lore responded.
“As soon as he’s done with his current escort, the guard Noble Cause will be back to show you the way,” Luna added. “We are afraid that we will need to leave you now, as there are still many pressing matters to attend to. We thank you for your continued service, Virgin Lore.”
Lore didn’t respond but sank into a kneeling position as the princesses left the room. As soon as they were gone he stopped kneeling and simply lay upon the hard floor, his energy nearly exhausted from the day already. He soon recovered himself, so as not to let Noble see him in such a state.
Soon Noble came back, looking forlorn. Neither spoke, and Lore followed Noble outside. The streets of the city were packed, and though Lore had never been to Manehattan before, he imagined that it couldn’t possibly be this crowded normally. Noble lead him silently through the streets, past the tall buildings and noisy crowds that seemed to be everywhere. Finally, they came to a fairly nice looking building that jutted towards the sky. A large sign on its front read “The Mareiott”.
As soon as they entered a frazzled mare, apparently the receptionist, ordered them to halt. “I’m afraid that I don’t care what your story is or how badly you need a room! We just don’t have any left!” she said harshly.
“This is Virgin Lore. The princesses arranged a room for him,” Noble said wearily.
“The...oh!” she replied, a mix between recognition and fear on her face. “Right, yes! Sorry about that!” She quickly trotted behind the desk and withdrew a key from somewhere, which she tossed to Lore. “You’re room four-twelve, on the fourth floor!”
Lore muttered a half-hearted thanks as Noble cleared his throat. “I believe that you can handle yourself from here. Take care of yourself, Lore,” Noble said.
“Yes, I should be fine...and take care of yourself too, Noble. It’s dangerous out there,” Lore responded.
“I know,” Noble said flatly as he turned around and left. Lore lingered for a moment, watching him leave, before going up the stairs to find his room.
He’s going to have it as bad as Tristan and Krik, if not worse. I don’t envy anypony that’s going to have to fight that army. Still, Noble is a stout fellow...I’m sure he’ll be fine.
Though he had heard that The Mareiott was supposed to be fancy, and the general decor proved as much, he began to notice an unpleasant odor as he ascended the stairwell. It was something between rotting food and feces, and it caused him to gag a little. As he exited the stairwell on the fourth floor the reason was made apparent, as he saw heaps of refuse piled outside most of the doors.
Either the hotel can’t keep up for some reason, or there must be something wrong with the trash pickup in general...I really hope the smell doesn’t reach my room.
He quickly found his room and unlocked it, finding that it smelled much nicer than the hallway, likely due to a window that was currently open. The room itself was quite nice, with a large bedroom and a sitting room that already had papers and data for him to process lying on a large table. It had some amenities as well, including a small refrigerator stocked with food and a radio.
The sheer amount of work to do was enough to make him want to rest before getting started, so he decided to ignore it for now, instead trotting over to the window and looking down. The view was pleasant, with a good view of the streets below as well as the neighboring buildings. Had he been here for any other reason, he figured it might have been a nice stay.
He left the window open to keep fresh air flowing into the room and trotted over to the restroom to attend to his needs. As he finished he chanced a look in the mirror and saw just how terrible he looked. His eyes were bloodshot and his mane a mess, his lips dry and cracked and his coat dirty.
I...saw the princesses...looking like THIS?
Lore let out a long anguished yell, provoking somepony into banging on their ceiling below him for him to shut up. He slammed his head once against the mirror and let his head slowly slide down it, only making sure his horn didn’t scratch it out of instinct. “I swear, if the rift spawn don’t do it first, this workload is going to kill me! I just...need some sleep.”
He stepped away from the mirror, noting that there was a trail of oil from where his soiled mane had slid down it. His lips formed a scowl at the sight of himself again, but he couldn’t bring himself to tidy himself up just yet. He walked over to the bed and jumped on it, throwing the sheets over himself. For now, all he wanted was sleep. And that was what he got.
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The ensuing week was filled with the paperwork, tests, and data analyzation that Lore was so very accustomed to. This cycle was only broken once, when the familiar face of Nightingale came by to check up on him. Despite her protests that he looked terribly unwell, he shooed her away, insisting that he was fine. The routine he fell into consisted of new data being delivered to him several times a day, which he had the task of making sense of. While there were others doing the same thing as he was, he knew that none of them had the same experience with the spawn as he did, so the pressure of his task never abated.
While before most of his findings were about the behavior of the spawn as they adapted to Equestria and the physiology of specific specimens, now he was being tasked with finding things of direct relevance to fighting the spawn. The useful information he gleaned off the reports he analyzed was painfully little, as there was only so much uniformity and predictability to be had in such a diverse collection of creatures. Still, from cross-analyzing the new information with his prior knowledge of the spawn, he was able to put together at least some useful information on how to better combat the army.
A full seven days into his time in Manehattan, Lore’s work came to an abrupt halt. The army was already at the city.
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The first sign Lore noticed of the rift spawn army’s arrival was the screaming. As he looked out from his window he could see ponies going through the streets announcing the news, though they didn’t seem to be doing so in any official capacity. Nevertheless, hysteria immediately ensued, and from the vantage of his window Lore had an excellent chance to witness the pandemonium in full.
Since most of the guards were at the outskirts of the city attempting to ward off the army, there were far too few within the city itself to maintain order. Ponies ran to and fro in the streets, mostly screaming their heads off. There was little in the way of violence, but Lore did see quite a few ponies get knocked underhoof in the panic. While his own heart had already jumped into his throat, Lore found their behavior irrational and foolish. While their days might now be numbered, it would do little good to panic.
Lore was torn, half of him wanting to go outside and gather information on what exactly had happened, while his other half wanted nothing more than to stay in the relative security of his room. The latter half won over, and he spent a few hours ignoring the piles of work and sitting on the couch, playing battles between the spawn and the guards in his head. The guards didn’t win frequently.
Finally, somepony came in to see him. It was a messenger who only stopped long enough to deliver a note to him before galloping off to do something else. Lore looked over the note, which simply told him that the army had arrived but hadn’t attacked, and that he should stay put.
So I’m just supposed to wait this out from this room, hoping that things go well? And if they don’t, am I meant to just cower here while the victorious spawn raid the city? But...what other choice do I have? I might be able to fling a few fireballs at the army, but I’m no trained soldier...I’d just get in the way out there. So I suppose all there is to do now is to sit...and to wait. I just wish I could at least know what was going on. I’m so used to being in control, at least somewhat. Not even knowing what the plan is, it’s...discomforting.
Lore checked the door to make sure it was locked and went back to his window to see what was going on. Over the last few hours the streets had quieted down, resuming what seemed to be an extremely uneasy normalcy. Ponies walked around with their heads to the ground, and there were far fewer of them on the streets than before.
A feeling of futility enveloped him as he glanced over to his unfinished work. He had been putting all of his effort into his job, and yet it had accomplished precious little. For all of his worry, all of his stress, it seemed nothing he had done would amount to anything. He turned his attention back to the ponies milling about in the streets.
And what of them, then? Is this truly the end for them all? So many lives, so many stories...will they all end in one fell strike? It doesn’t seem fair...though, I suppose life doesn’t generally care much about fairness. If it had, then none of this would have ever happened.
After gazing inattentively at the ponies below him for a long while, Lore finally tore his eyes away. He began to trot away from the window and to his bed, but stopped short when his hoof grazed a paper on the table. He turned absently to regard it and stared blankly at it for a moment, scanning over all the figures and descriptions that covered it. It all just seemed so pointless. He let out an involuntary snort and kicked his leg forward, causing the offending paper to flutter slowly to the ground. He trotted to his bed to sleep, and didn’t look back.
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That night, Lore heard more screams. He was instantly roused from bed, trotting over to the window before he had even fully woken up. Outside, he could see ponies running around on the dimly lit streets, and for a moment he thought he spied a black shape dart between two ponies.
Wait, they...they attacked? They got past our defenses? Then...but that means…no, if this was all of them, there would have been more commotion. These must be scouts, or the like...yes, they must be...
Lore immediately shut the window, but it couldn’t drown out the noises from outside. He felt helpless, absolutely powerless to do anything to help anypony. He cursed his weakness as he sank down to the floor and leaned against the wall, but he knew that there was nothing he could do. The commotion lasted for several more hours, the sounds of screaming intertwining with the sporadic sounds of battle. It didn’t end until the sun came up in the morning, when the spawn apparently retreated.
That day Lore didn’t work at all. He hardly ate, electing to only nibble on a bit of leftovers from the previous day. His papers sat where he had left them the day before, and it seemed that it was just as well that they did, as the messengers that had been supplying him with new work and taking away his findings had dried up.
The city outside was eerily quiet, with only the low murmur of voices down below him. Lore didn’t know what they were talking about, and he didn’t care. All he knew is that everything that was happening was out of his control, and that the chances of defeating the spawn was slim to none.
It seems Tristan and Krik really are our only hope. All we can do now is try to survive as long as we can, but it’s ultimately pointless. Unless they accomplish their mission, there isn’t any chance of actually winning, just prolonging the inevitable. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for it to be like it was just a year ago, even...or better yet, before those blasted rifts started opening up! We didn’t know just how good we had it, then...and now those days are gone.
Try as he might to change them, Lore’s thoughts never diverted from their gloomy path. Despite the sun shining brightly outside, he could see no light at the end of the conflict. In time he began to cry, all notions of his dignity lost, as the stress of the conflict reduced him to nothing. Seemingly oblivious to the state of the world beneath it, the sun lazily crossed the sky as it always did, and eventually night fell again. Though Lore could feel the dark bags beneath his eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep.
Just as they had begun before, Lore heard screaming on the streets. This time, he didn’t even get up to open the window and see what was happening. He knew all too well that the spawn had returned to wreak more havoc, using the cover of the night to infiltrate the winding alleys of the city.
If they wanted to, they could just attack us head on, and we couldn’t do anything about it. Yet they attack in small groups in the night, for Celestia knows what reason. Are they just toying with us, now? Or do they want to minimize casualties so that the army can march right on to the next city? Are we just that insignificant to them? That they aren’t even willing to give us a fair fight?
Lore’s anger built up inside him until it finally came to burst. He let out a scream and turned to the table that was still covered in his scattered notes. “All I ever wanted to do was learn!” he shouted as he flipped the table with his hooves, magic seeming too precise for the matter at hoof. “A life of peace!” He stamped down on some of the papers. “Quiet!” he threw a broken leg of the table through the window, which shattered easily. “And tranquility!” He finally fell to the floor, clutching his throbbing head.
“What have I ever done to deserve this?” he muttered, his anger nearly spent. “I just...I just want to go back to how things were…”
With that, Lore finally passed out.
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Lore awoke to the warm sunlight on his fur. He groggily rubbed his eyes with his hoof and looked around him. Remembering the previous night, he gave a small scowl at his theatrics, but didn’t bother berating himself. He rummaged through the mini-fridge and retrieved some food for his rebelling stomach and ate it in silence, his attention directed at anywhere that wasn’t the broken table or window.
They must have forgotten about me. Nopony has come to check on me for some time. Is that how it goes? All this work, and when it starts getting really bad, I’m abandoned? Have I just outlived my usefulness?
Lore let out an undignified snort and went to the window, using his magic to instantly clean up the broken glass on the floor, as well as the jagged glass that still remained attached to the window frame, and dumped it in a nearby trash bin.
It’s just as well, I suppose. Not like they’d be able to do anything for me. Perhaps I could get myself evacuated from the city; my research has earned me that much, I’m sure. But even then, the princesses were right...if this city falls, and if our forces are defeated, fleeing won’t do any good. It’ll just delay things…
Lore paced around the room for some time, the lack of exercise getting to him somewhat. He was no stranger to long stretches spent in his office, but over a week without leaving the room wasn’t helping his stress. He periodically glanced out the window, though the scene never changed. The same depressing thoughts ran through his head again and again, as he had nothing to distract himself with.
Some hours into the day, he noticed that something was somewhat off. The light that the window cast into his room hadn’t moved in at least two hours. He stuck his head incredulously out the window to see where the sun was, and found that it was nowhere near where it ought to be. For a moment his heart dropped into his stomach, as he instantly pictured Celestia laying dead, assassinated by some spawn.
Celestia, did they...no! No, that doesn’t make any sense! Even if Celestia was killed, Luna would still be around to move the sun. And there hasn’t been any force inside the city strong enough to kill them both at once...has there? What would we do if they did die, though? Unicorns haven’t raised the sun or lowered the moon in millennia...even I don’t have any idea of how to do it…
Lore’s pacing quickened around his room, as he trotted in the same circle repeatedly. He wasn’t willing to believe that both princesses could have been dead, and so he convinced himself they stopped the sun for a reason. Despite that, a small smidgen of doubt and fear about the matter wouldn’t quite let itself be quashed.
Finally, Lore retired to his bedroom, after hours of muddling around the sitting room, attempting to distract himself. He lay motionless on the bed, wondering just how much longer this was going to go on. Through one eye he kept watch over the sunlight that streamed into his room, and he never noticed it moving at all. Finally, the comfort of his bed lulled him to sleep once more, despite his worries.
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When Lore finally awoke his room was exactly as he had left it, though the air was markedly warmer than before. As he suspected, the sun hadn’t moved at all since the previous day. A glance to the clock on the wall told him it was what should have been early morning.
So the night passed, and there wasn’t a commotion outside. Regardless of the reasoning for it, then, the sun staying up worked out well. Without the darkness to sneak in under, no spawn would have had a chance to attack...but if they can’t do that, what will they do? Seems all I can do, once again, is wait...
He didn’t bother getting out of bed. He knew there was nothing out there for him to do, and he’d just end up returning to bed in the end. So he lay there, shifting to and fro in the sheets, not knowing what it was that he ought to be doing.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, something happened. Sirens suddenly began to blare, causing Lore to jerk his head up abruptly from his bed. He hastened his way to the window and looked outside, to see that ponies on the streets had already begun to run aimlessly around.
Sirens? But there weren’t any of those the previous nights when attacks were happening. Does that mean the main army has finally made a move?
Lore continued his vigil from the window, watching as things unfolded. It didn’t take long for everypony outside to rush indoors, leaving the streets eerily devoid of all movement, save for a few small papers fluttering in the wind. Lore could barely make out the sounds of fighting going on from far to the west, near where the armies had been standing off.
So they did attack, or somepony started something with them. Well, at least the waiting is likely over…
Rather than feeling fearful, Lore felt empty at the prospect of the rift spawn invading the city in earnest. After being nigh hopeless for so long, it seemed like the inevitable end to things. Even so, he still mustered the will to at least push the heavier furniture in front of the door and the windows, to avoid attracting spawn, and, if they did come after him, to hold them off.
The room was darker now, as the windows were now almost completely covered by furniture. The sounds of fighting, which had already been faint, were now almost imperceptible. The only other noises he could hear were the sound of his own breathing, coupled with the muffled sounds of hushed speaking in the room below his. There he sat, waiting for something to happen.
For several hours, nothing did. He sat there silently, his eyes rarely leaving the slivers of light that escaped through the cracks, having nothing else to do. Even the sounds below him completely stopped, leaving a ringing silence and nothing else. Lore couldn’t will himself to move, though even if he could, he saw little point in it. There was still nothing to be done.
Then, finally, after what must have been at least four hours, there was sound from outside. He could faintly hear the frantic yelling of ponies, though he couldn’t make out a thing. Still he sat; the only movements he made were those of his ears as they desperately tried to hear what was going on. Not long after the yells of ponies had begun, there were the cries of spawn.
The cries were met by an increasing number of wailing screams, as the spawn quickly passed by. Soon the sounds rose to an absolute bedlam, the discord of noises leaving each individual part absolutely incomprehensible. Lore trembled slightly where he sat, but he still did not move. Then, slowly, the sounds died down, going off into the distance. Apparently, the spawn were still moving in at least one large group, and had not yet come to stay in that section of the city.
While true silence did not return, as screams and wails could still be heard coming from inside the building and on the streets, it was nothing as it was before. Lore didn’t get up to check, not daring to unblock the window to see what was left in the wake of the spawn. He thought about everything and nothing, no particular thoughts rising to dominance over the din in his mind. He stayed that way for an indeterminate amount of time, the static light level disorienting him even further as to the passing of time.
Then, without warning, there was a pounding on his door. In an instant Lore’s attention was regained, his whirr of thoughts snapped back into absolute lucidity. Something had come, and it had chosen his door to take first.
“Lore! Open up! Please, open up!” a familiar voice shouted from outside.
“Nightingale?” Lore said absently. “Nightingale! Just a moment, I’m opening the door!” he shouted out, rising to his aching legs for the first time in hours and using his magic to hastily throw aside the dark shapes of furniture that barricaded the door. Then, using his magic to unlatch the lock, he opened it.
There stood Nightingale, one wing bleeding profusely, looking as if she was about to collapse, her white coat splattered with blood. Lore quickly lit the lights in the room, which had been neglected until now, and beckoned her in. As soon as she was inside, he slammed the door, locked it again, and moved the battered furniture back into place.
“Just what do you think you’re doing here, Nightingale? And what happened to you? Your wing!” Lore questioned, his attention turning to her mangled wing. Two long and deep gashes ran over it, the feathers around the wound hopelessly out of alignment.
“They went for the hospital, Lore! They just, they just…” Nightingale spat out, only barely finding her way to the couch before collapsing on it. “They’re all dead! All the patients, the other staff members...they just came in and…” She shuddered, face visibly wincing at the thought.
“So they went after the hospital? But why did you come to me?” Lore responded, feeling oddly calm given the situation. The emotions he felt at their encounter didn’t quite mask the emptiness he had been wallowing in, which kept him oddly grounded, in an almost dreamlike state.
“I just didn’t know where else to go...I only just got away, and I galloped as fast as I could. I’m lucky this was the only injury I got. If I wasn’t just coming back from running an errand, I wouldn’t have been so fortunate!” Nightingale replied, her attention turning to her wing. She tested it slowly, her attempt quickly quashed as the movement elicited a drawn out exclamation of pain. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fly any time soon. If I don’t clean this quickly, I might never fly again...”
“It’s not like it will matter, anyway,” Lore said curtly. “Do you think those spawn are going to stop after taking out our defenses? They’re just going to keep coming, and they’ll eventually find us. Even if they didn’t, I don’t have very much food, and the water won’t keep running indefinitely without maintenance. There’s no hope for us left.”
“Don’t say that!” Nightingale exclaimed, a sudden movement on her part eliciting another wince. “The princesses are still alive, so there’s still hope! There’s always hope!”
“So, they are still alive, huh?” Lore said, calmly slouching back down to a sitting position. “I thought they might have died. What with the sun and all.”
“Oh no, that was just to keep the spawn from attacking in the night. Hadn’t you noticed?” Nightingale said, her eyes scanning the room, locking position for a moment as they stared at the barricaded window.
“I figured as much. But you know as well as I that they aren’t invincible. Either they’ll flee, or they’ll die. It’s as simple as that,” Lore responded.
“But, they wouldn’t just…they must be able to do something!” Nightingale exclaimed. “They must have some sort of plan!”
“Hah! Do you know what the big plan was, Nightingale? What all of our hope has been hinging upon?” Lore laughed out, which instantly gained Nightingale’s full attention. “Tristan and Krik! Those two, trying to take out their leader alone! Other than that, we’ve got nothing!” he finished, his demeanor becoming increasingly unstable as the unspoken stress of the past few days was made manifest.
“Tristan?... But, if the princesses sent them, they must know what they’re doing!” Nightingale began. “They wouldn’t send those two out without good reason!”
“Don’t you get it?” Lore snarled back. “The princesses aren’t perfect! They’re doing what they can with what they’ve got, but they don’t have much of anything! We tried for the one-in-a-million chance, and look where that got us! It’s already over!” Tears began running down his muzzle as he halfway attempted to choke back his emotions. “It’s been over since the elements failed!”
Nightingale didn’t immediately respond, but looked away from Lore. Her eyes were drawn once more to the slender beams of light that escaped past the barricade that covered the window. “...If they’re our last hope; I’m just going to trust them. It’s all we can do. I’m just going to trust them…” she finally said, her voice trailing off.
Lore looked at her for a while, then turned his gaze away. “Your wing. We’ll need to bandage that up, if it’s ever going to get better. The adrenaline will leave you soon, and the pain will be setting in,” he said calmly. Nightingale slowly nodded, and so Lore arose once more and prepared some wet towels at the sink.
As they cleaned Nightingale’s wing, neither pony spoke, though Nightingale visibly fought to hold back her pain. Lore hardly thought at all, letting his mind fall into the bliss of distraction as he worked. Soon Nightingale’s wound was properly bound and cleaned, the risk of infection minimized. Nightingale offered a quiet thanks to Lore, which he accepted with a grunt.
There they sat, neither having anything to say, as they waited for something to happen. The commotion outside had slowly but surely died down, but they could hear what was unmistakably fighting elsewhere in the city. Each time a door slammed within the hotel, or a scream rang out nearby, Nightingale would jump a little from her seat. Lore had begun to zone out, the tension of the day causing him to mentally flee from the situation.
Eventually, after what was almost four hours by the clock on the wall, the sounds of major fighting elsewhere in the city had died down. There had been no cheers or the like, so a victory for the defenders was unlikely. Soon after that, while the sounds of fighting in earnest did not return, the screams began to pick up again.
Nightingale began shivering, her eyes clenched tightly shut as the screams continued growing nearer. “All those ponies getting hurt…” she mumbled. “They need me. Lore, they need me!” she suddenly exclaimed, her eyes growing wide as she arose from her seat with shaky legs.
“Sit back down!” Lore barked at her, which caused her to freeze. “I won’t have any of your nonsense now!”
Nightingale said nothing but looked pleadingly at Lore, before eventually slumping back down, her gaze turning to the blank wall.
“You know as well as I do that there’s nothing you can do for any of them. I don’t want to restrain you, but if you’re going to keep that foolishness up I will, for your own good,” Lore said resolutely as he looked at her with a hint of disdain.
“Don’t you feel anything, Lore?” Nightingale asked dreamily. “All of the ponies dying out there, don’t you feel anything for them? Don’t you want to help?”
Lore was silent for a moment. “We don’t get that choice. We don’t have that luxury. It won’t do any good to pretend that what we might do matters…” he finally answered quietly.
Nightingale’s eyes began to water, tears coming close to falling. As Lore saw it, for a moment he felt contempt for her weakness, but then he began to think.
Can I really blame her? All I’ve been doing is sitting here wallowing in self-pity for the last few days...she just wants to help. It may be simple naivety, but in truth, I suppose that’s an envious state. When you know too much, when you think too much, hope can be hard to come by. I shouldn’t shoot her down...not in our final hours…
Lore’s expression softened as Nightingale’s tears began to fall, her hoof covering her eyes as she attempted to wipe them clean. He gave a sigh, got up, and slowly trotted over to where Nightingale was. It seemed as if she hadn’t even noticed him. He clambered up onto the couch and pressed himself to her, which caused her to choke away her crying.
Nightingale turned her head to face Lore, but before she could speak, he cut her off. “Don’t say anything. Just stop your damned blubbering,” he said with a hint of a smile. Nightingale stared at him blankly for a moment before returning a halfhearted smile of her own. Though the screams grew nearer, and the cries of the spawn were becoming clearer, neither pony shivered or cried. Together they sat, awaiting their end.
Soon the sounds made their way into the very hotel they were staying at, as the walls shook slightly in accompaniment to the sound of the main doors being smashed open. Being on the fourth floor, they knew they still had a little time left.
How thorough are they even being? Will they clear every door in this sweep? Will they just take a few? Will they even ascend the stairs? I almost hope they’ll find us...death might be preferable to waiting, at this point.
Hysterical screaming was coming from downstairs, though Lore didn’t even flinch. He stared resolutely at the door, as if expecting something to burst through it at any moment. His gaze was not a harsh one, waiting for an attack, but a weary one. He knew that if something came inside, he wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight, and even if he could, it wouldn’t matter anyway. The only thing left to do was accept death with what shreds of dignity he had left.
Lore turned his gaze to Nightingale for a moment. Her eyes were tightly closed shut, her head resting on the couch as she was halfway curled up. At each crescendo of screams she shook slightly, and Lore could see the muscles in her face stretched taut as she grit her teeth in an attempt to deal with the stress.
She shouldn’t have to go through this. She may be a bit too soft, but really, is that bad? Is the world really better for hard, grim ponies like me, instead of soft, kindly ponies like her? All of my hard work and seriousness has amounted to nothing, but she’s managed to save lives on a regular basis. She deserves a bit of kindness in return…but it’s too late for that now.
Lore’s gaze returned to the door as he returned his focus away from his thoughts. There was something amiss now, though, something he couldn’t quite place. Nightingale still lay next to him, screams echoed through the city, the lights on the walls emitted gentle hums, but something was missing. He just couldn’t quite place what it was.
“Nightingale…” Lore said softly, to which she rose her head. “Do you hear any spawn?”
Their ears both sought out the sounds of spawn, and they eventually heard some farther away. However, it was nothing like how it had been before. While it seemed every single spawn in the city had been intent on being as loud as possible previously, now their noise was all but gone. The screams that plagued the city were also dying down, to be replaced by sobbing.
“What happened, Lore? Did they stop? What’s happening?” Nightingale asked uncertainly.
“I...I don’t know,” Lore said. He turned to the barricaded window and removed the furniture from it with a single burst of magic, letting the sunlight re-enter the room. He thrust his head outside and looked to the street below them.
At ground level there was devastation. Bodies littered the streets, both of guards and spawn, though the corpses of the former vastly outnumbered the latter. Windows had been smashed, signs had been uprooted from their foundations, and blood ran freely through the street.
Towards one of the buildings he saw a single spawn. The thing was quadrupedal and covered in scales, and seemed to be sniffing around for something. Then, another spawn, this one larger than the first, emerged from a nearby entryway to a shop and immediately charged at the smaller, which couldn’t get away in time and was snapped up in the maw of the larger. Lore immediately withdrew from the window and collapsed on the floor.
“What was it? What did you see?” Nightingale questioned, apparently afraid to go to the window herself. Lore sat there dumbstruck, his brain failing to process what he just saw.
“There was carnage out there, and a spawn...a single spawn...it got attacked by another one!” Lore said slowly. “One of the spawn, it attacked another spawn! It attacked another spawn!”
Nightingale immediately ran to the window and looked out, before almost instantly turning back with a queasy look on her face. “I didn’t see any spawn out there, but those bodies...I’ve seen a lot but, those bodies…”
Wait...Lore, you’re better than that. There’s an exception to every rule, and you only saw one spawn do that. That doesn’t mean they’re all turning on eachother. But then, the cries just stopping, the screams dying down, and that, all happening so quickly...that couldn’t just be coincidence, could it? But then, why? How? What’s going on?
“You said earlier than Tristan was going off to do something, to try to take out their leader, didn’t you?” Nightingale said, hope rising in her voice. “Do you think they did it? Could this be it?”
“Tristan and Krik? Well, if the leader died, then maybe...but they set out over a week ago? Could they really have?...” Lore said, trailing off as he was lost in thought for a moment, consolidating the new information in his mind. “They must have. They must have done it. Nightingale, I think they’ve done it!” he shouted, energy suddenly returning to him.
For a moment the two embraced each other as they involuntarily burst out laughing. Lore noticed what he was doing quickly and disengaged himself from the embrace, but didn’t dampen his spirits.
“I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but if they really did, there really is hope! There’s more than just hope! We might just have won!” Lore exclaimed.
“But wouldn’t there still be spawn left? Even if they killed the leader?” Nightingale asked.
“If they were working together that’d be an issue. But now they’re just animals! Beasts! Without cooperation, they don’t stand a chance! And with how many were travelling together...they must be massacring each other!” Lore answered.
Suddenly, they heard more commotion from outside. Lore craned his neck out of the window while Nightingale stayed back, and he saw several rift spawn fighting each other on the street. More interesting than that, though, was the group of ponies coming from farther down the street. Guards, beaten and battered but still alive, were charging down the street, bellowing their fiercest battle cries. They crashed into the embattled rift spawn and swiftly slew their enemies.
Lore let out a cheer for them, though it seemed to be unnoticed. Upon closer examination, he noticed that he recognized one of them. Wielding a great bloodsoaked hammer was none other than Noble Cause, currently stomping the neck of a dying spawn. Lore cried out to him but Noble apparently didn’t hear, as one of the guards barked out some order and the group rounded a corner to another street and disappeared from view.
“It’s really happening! The guards are already pushing back! And Noble’s with them!” Lore exclaimed gleefully. “Equestria is saved! The next time I see those two...well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be good!”
Lore and Nightingale spent the rest of the day still locked in Lore’s room, but for the first time in months, Lore felt secure.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Five years later
Lore snapped himself out of his reminiscence, taking note of the sun’s position in the sky and realizing that he needed to get home for the night. He gave one more long look at the statue of Tristan and Krik before trotting away.
It would have been nice to see them again. When I heard that the bomb had been used, and that they never came back...that was hard to take. Harder than it ought to have been, what with all the ponies dying back then. I must have grown more attached to them than I realized at the time…
Lore wound through the streets, passing through the main marketplace on his trot. The area wasn’t nearly as crowded as it was during earlier parts of the day, with only a few ponies doing some last minute shopping. They were all going about their lives so peaceably, so happily. Lore let a small smile creep onto his face as he continued onwards.
Sometimes it seems like none of that ever happened. Like it was all just some terrible nightmare. We’re not exactly where we were prior to the rifts, but the way ponies act these days...it’s like they’ve finally come to peace with the things that happened. I suppose five years is quite the long time, especially for the younger generations.
He was out of the main marketplace now, getting to the fringes where some of the less posh shops were kept. Many of them were still closed, their owners having died during the crisis. Shops nearer the main marketplace were all open, but that was due more to new ponies wanting the prime real estate than any discrimination on the part of the spawn. One shop, still doing business despite two closed shops adjacent to it, caught his eye.
The Golden Elixir stood clean and well-maintained, a drastic contrast to many of the shops that were rapidly becoming shabbier by the day. It still sported the same sign above it, nailed in the very same spot where Tristan had put it so long ago. On a whim Lore entered it, and he was immediately greeted by the zebra inside.
“Welcome to my humble store, where I’m sure I’ve got just the thing to make your spirits soar!” a grown Shauku greeted happily, before realizing who it was that walked in. “Lore! I had not expected you to be coming through my door!”
“I was just in the area, and thought I’d stop by,” Lore responded, taking in the shop. It was much the same as it was when Tristan worked it, save for a few Zebrican decorations that now adorned the walls.
“I’m always glad to see a friend stop by. Perhaps there might be some potion of mine that you’d like to try?” Shauku asked, motioning to the potions that sat on the immaculately clean shelves.
“Still going at that rhyming thing, are you? You’re getting better,” Lore commented as he examined a few of the potions.
“To keep my kin’s culture alive, I must honor it in all the ways which I may contrive,” Shauku responded without missing a beat.
Lore finally decided upon a potion that sounded interesting, which promised to help the imbiber to recall things forgotten. He lifted it from the shelves with his magic and swirled it around in its vial, its dull orange color contrasting to the blue of his magic.
One would think a potion like this wouldn’t exactly be in demand. There’s a lot ponies these days just don’t want to remember.
“What can you tell me about this one?” Lore asked Shauku, presenting the potion to him.
“Ah, with one drink of that potion of orange, memories lost shall be...shall be…” Shauku began haltingly. “I always fall for that one…”
Lore chuckled slightly and put the potion back. “Seems you’re not quite as good at rhyming as most zebras just yet. But don’t worry about it right now; frankly I’m rather tired of formalities and procedure at the moment. Can we just speak plainly?”
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind a break from that. It’s hard!” Shauku said, trotting over to the window and flipping the sign to closed. “What did you want to chat about?”
“Just...things. I’ve been thinking about it again,” Lore said solemnly.
“You know you shouldn’t be dwelling on the past, Lore. Weren’t you the one that told me that?” Shauku said knowingly, trotting behind the counter and retrieving stools for them to sit upon.
“Yes, I suppose. Those days still haunt me, though. I think they always will,” Lore said sadly, taking a seat. “I find myself thinking about Tristan and Krik more frequently now, as I’m getting reports of new intelligent spawn being found. Sometimes I want to get a chance to examine one, but I think it might be a little painful…”
Shauku looked at Lore expectantly for a moment before speaking. “It’s not your fault they’re gone, you know. You did everything you could. Their legacy will live with every sapient species in Equestria, and especially with every intelligent spawn that now survives.”
“I don’t think they’d have cared much about legacy. Tristan just wanted to get home. And I wasn’t able to help him do it,” Lore said sadly. “I should have tried more. There must have been something I could have done. I was just so caught up with trying to save Equestria, I didn’t think enough about their wellbeing.”
“You’ve really changed, Lore,” Shauku said suddenly. “I remember when you were all about business and efficiency, to the point of always being cold and blunt. As I recall you thought of Tristan more as something to be researched than as a friend. Now look at you; you’re practically a normal pony!”
“And what’s that supposed to mean? That I’m not efficient now?” Lore said haughtily.
“No no, don’t get me wrong!” Shauku said with a small laugh. “You’re still plenty efficient, what with all the work you’re still doing. You’re just, well, nicer.”
Lore was silent for a moment. “I blame you lot. Before you, and Nightingale, and Noble, and Tristan...and to some degree Krik, I didn’t have to deal with so many ponies being sappy. And non-ponies. You’ve all been making me soft.”
“Believe me, it’s an improvement! And I mean that in the nicest way possible!” Shauku assured. “Even coming here is an improvement; it means you’re coming to value friendship!”
“I suppose so,” Lore said, his eyes turning to the window and noticing the waning light. “But all the same, I had best be off. It’s going to be getting dark, soon.” He arose from his stool and started to trot to the door.
“Don’t be a stranger, alright? I went through a lot of the same things. It helps to talk,” Shauku said as Lore left, not yet standing up.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Lore said as he opened the door and left. The sun was in the process of setting as he looked to the horizon, half of its mass already below the horizon. Lore watched it for a few moments before turning away and beginning to trot home.
That day, I had given up all hope that the sun would ever set again. That life would ever return to anything like what it was. But it did, and it has. Despite everything, we’ve pulled through. And dammit, we’ll thrive!
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Now that this story is done we can all agree that Eldamaur can now move onto a new story. Heres hoping its just as good ,if not better then Rifts.
so is there a sequal one day?
4246249 I don't plan on a sequel to Rifts, no. I'm going to be writing some other stories instead, which should be a lot of fun to write, and hopefully to read as well!
Outstanding sir!
I think this is the only story I enjoy on the site where things did not end 100% happily for our hero. I was upset before but it was still a damn good read.
Damn good story
I'm gonna miss this.
4253272 You responded to a comment I made over a year ago. Bravo!
Ah, yes, those kind of dreams must be very enjoyable, also, I still see dreams of me being split in multiple personalities, it's kinda fun actually and I think I figured it out why.
It's because I like those dreams, and I actually like to think that when you're angry, you can be an "entirely different person" than normally, at least it's so in my case. I become like some fucked up douchebag when I'm angry :P
AS much as I enjoyed the story itself, I find myself most impressed with the writing of the epilogue: your writing seems to be developing quite well!
Well done!
4264516 That's great to hear! I was worried that people might not like the epilogue very much. Thanks for the feedback!
A nice epilogue. I still feel quite neutral when it comes to this story. I like it but don't really at the same time. I feel like a lot more could've happened, but what I like is that this showed a nice realistic version of what would happen if a boy would be dropped in Equestria filled with deathly beasts.
Still, it was a nice run.
Loved it. It's to bad I'm a sucker for happy endings. It makes me want a sequel so the main character comes back. I no it won't but that's just me. Great story, like, favorite, maybe follow author. Maybe.
so whos footsteps did he hear before setting off the bomb?
4288428 Those were from the spawn that the enemy had called there to defend it.
4292178 still you killed him.... as punishment for this murder, i say you must make a spin-off chapter where he somehow lived and went back....
4305207 I'd rather not ruin the tone of the ending with something like that. That would have been fun if I finished in time for April Fool's Day, though...a little something where he comes back, except he's now a red and black alicorn, and he proceeds to fall in love with all of the mane six, to be deleted a day after publication. Oh well, too late now.
4308296 there is always late april fools....
Hello, good sir, this is ChromeMyriad here with your review courtesy of WRITE. For those who haven’t read the story, beware of SPOILERS!
Mechanically speaking, there are a couple of consistent errors I need to address. The first is comma usage. There are missing commas in dialogue, general sentence structure, and some lists. Here’s a link to a decent reference for comma grammar. The most common error is probably:
Missing commas to separate introductory clauses.
Correction:
The second consistent error is hyphen usage. Here’s a link to the page on hyphens. The most common error with hyphens is:
Two words being used as an adjective or adverb. To avoid confusion and be grammatically correct, ‘stone’ and ‘faced’ should have a hyphen between them.
Correction:
I’ve PMed a more exhaustive list of typos and errors to you, but have probably not caught everything. There were also a few errors with using ‘pegasi’ as an adjective. The reason this is an error is that noun adjuncts are singular. You don’t say ‘pegasi guards’ for the same reason you don’t say ‘tankers trucks’.
The hook in the first chapter is weak. Eric is obviously just a throwaway character that’s going to lose contact with Tristan and never be seen again. Ideally, the sort of information being established by this introduction would be woven into the story every now and then. Instead of spending time faffing about with Eric in the beginning, Tristan could establish his origins when he speaks to ponies for the first time. He could also mention a few key aspects about his former life during internal dialogue while he’s traveling through the forest.
The thing is, Tristan being a normie from modern-day Earth isn’t interesting enough to open with. The very beginning of your story should be the part that draws your reader in and makes them want to continue. To draw readers in, you need some sort of intrigue. An adventure story like this one needs to open with mystery or danger: some form of foreshadowing to grand events. I feel it could be made stronger by simply picking up the story when Tristan falls out of the rift and establishing his past along the way.
The plot is decent, I suppose. It’s a bit of a standard hero’s journey deal, but that’s fine if executed well. Unfortunately, there are a few distracting holes that aren’t really addressed.
Too risky because… why? The Elements—and it should be capitalized in the above quote too—have been sent alone to fight every major villain the ponies have faced. This includes Discord, who can warp reality any way he wants. What made these rift spawn so dangerous that the Elements couldn’t fight them before they were an unstoppable horde?
While partially justified by Applejack’s abduction, the spawn would be far less dangerous taken one-by-one than as a horde. The reader is left wondering why the Mane Six weren’t already traveling around with a few protective guards trying to use the Elements.
It’s distracting, but also fixable. The Elements are, as you establish after the above quote, ineffective. It’s important to address the obvious solution that the Elements present, but that can be done with a single line of, “We tried to use the Elements earlier, but they didn’t work.” The cameo isn’t worth the plot hole.
There’s also a part later on—after Tristan’s party waits around in Stalliongrad—when Lore explains they only started scouting the enemy after Canterlot fell. Why not be constantly scouting the enemy so that Tristan and co. can move out right after Canterlot? Having them wait around in town doesn’t really add much to the story and it actually hurts the tension because the characters just bemoan their boring circumstances.
Again, it’s distracting but easy to fix. All that needs to be done is to change Lore’s explanation so that the scouting is continuous. The pacing issues will be addressed a little later.
One of the things the beginning does decently is the pacing. While he’s traveling through the forest, there’s a genuine sense of suspense and danger. The narrative slows down and emphasizes the difficulties of making it through the wilderness while keeping the plot going, effectively creating a fairly intense atmosphere. This atmosphere is somewhat let down by Tristan’s inner dialogue, but more on that later.
Where the atmosphere begins to fall apart is when Tristan starts to get ingrained in pony society. Once he starts hanging around the other characters, Tristan starts talking to himself a lot more. This can be pulled off in character-centric tales, but this is a war/adventure fic. The story starts focusing on Tristan’s whining more than describing the world we’re in or the mounting wartime situation. Plot points and characterization get relegated to expository telling to focus on Tristan. Now, it’s perfectly okay to focus on character in a story and every story should have some level of character focus, but this story focuses too much on a single character without developing other important parts of the tale.
While the pacing in the beginning was good, it got worse as the story went on. Sometimes Tristan’s inner monologue got in the way, sometimes the plot got derailed by a random aside, and sometimes… well, let me mention something specifically:
When Tristan escapes Zebrica, the story feels like it’s building to a climax. The horde has been marshalled into an army of apex predators. The city is destroyed, untold thousands dying in the attack. The zebra population is decimated and their country is occupied, forcing the survivors into refugee camps. Tristan arrives back in Canterlot bringing with him news of an unstoppable army...
Thus begins an entire chapter of Tristan opening a potion shop in Canterlot, eating out at restaurants with friends, getting hit on by mares, buying candy; you get the idea.
Our adventure fic just got tackled and stuffed into a bag by a shipfic. This isn’t as much a hiccup in the plot as it is a complete derailment.
This isn’t even an isolated incident. I counted at least three times in this story where the plot grinds to a complete halt so that we can watch Tristan reminisce or recover in a hospital or be bored. These things add nothing to the narration and Tristan’s boredom squashes any tension the story manages to build.
For the pacing to reinforce the sense that this is building to a great event, it can’t keep stalling out the way it does. It seems that you want to tell more than just this adventure story, but every extra plot thread thrown in detracts from the other plot threads.
Characterization is something else I need to go over. You do a fairly good job of choosing unique characters for Tristan to interact with. Each one has an interesting attribute or backstory that should give them distinct opinions and differing outlooks on any given situation. I say ‘should’ because while the interesting aspects of them are firmly established, they often seem to lose those aspects when they’re conversing with the main character.
It’s almost as if they’re afraid to offend Tristan or something. There are plenty of times the cynical intellectual could make a snarky remark about Tristan’s mistakes, but he doesn’t. There are several times Tristan does something selfish and the righteous one doesn’t bat an eye. I don’t really know how to interpret Krik’s staunch adherence to ‘order’, but he doesn’t seem to have a problem with anything Tristan does either.
I actually rather enjoyed the jokester character until he was killed off. I’m not even really sure why he was killed, but more on that later.
Now we come to Tristan himself. I’ll go ahead and say that Tristan is very well-characterized, as he should be. By the end, we have a very clear picture of who Tristan is. Unfortunately for the story, however, Tristan is an asshole.
I’m sorry. That’s harsh, but I need to be harsh here. The protagonist is the character we’re meant to root for and support. They’re the one we’re supposed to be cheering for as they face down obstacles, but we can’t. Not for this guy.
Near the beginning of the story, Tristan comes upon a pony village and decides to sneak into one of the outlying houses to get some food. While there, a colt wakes up and discovers him. Upon knocking the colt out and trying to escape, he encounters the colt’s mother and the strangling scene ensues.
This is an understandable reaction from Tristan the way it’s written. I’ll give it that. His contact with ponies so far has been largely unfriendly and he has reason to believe his life may be in danger if the mare alerts the guards. The fact that, upon being spared, she cleans his wounds and puts him in the guest bed is a bit questionable. Lord knows if somebody broke into my house, knocked out my kid, and nearly strangled me to death I’d throw the fucker to the wolves, but pony society is characterized as more pacifistic here.
The point is that I thought this would lead to some evolution of Tristan’s character. I thought perhaps that Tristan would have to start thinking quicker in battle or would have some further negative reaction from ponies that would turn him against them. What happens instead is he helps the ponies defeat a monster, meets Celestia, and gets a room in the castle.
This isn’t a very realistic outcome given his initial introduction to pony society, but I was ready to let it slide because I thought the life-threatening injuries he sustained from the fight might then have some bearing on how he developed. Instead, he shrugged off his internal bleeding and got handed a suit of armor to go have adventures in.
On said adventure, one of his ‘team’ gets killed. The character was a snarky one with personality and I was genuinely surprised and saddened to see him go. Again, I was ready to forgive this because it was a golden opportunity for Tristan to go through some changes to deal with the death of his friend. Instead he actually needs to be reminded that it happened.
You’re starting to see the pattern, I think. Every time something happens to Tristan that should change his character or get him to come to grips with reality, he just brushes it off and moves on as if nothing happened.
This is doubly hard to take because Tristan is a horrendous person. If any character needs to be developed into someone relatable, it’s him.
The rest of his party gets captured by slavers in the jungle. He knocks out the slavers with a sleep potion and Krik kills them in cold blood. His reaction to that? He gleefully loots their lukewarm corpses for money.
Shauku comes to him after they get out of Zebrica. Shauku has literally nothing left and may very well die from neglect in the refugee camp because everyone is too busy to take care of him. Tristan, in the time it’s taken to ride a train to Canterlot, has completely forgotten about not only Shauku, but Pombe as well. Further than that, Tristan actually needs to be convinced to give Shauku a place to stay despite having just come into a ton of money and opening his own store.
Tristan is selfish, greedy, and lacking any sense of empathy or honor. He has frequent inner monologues that almost universally deal with how the situation is negatively affecting him. This can be forgiven early on when only he is being impacted negatively, but when an unstoppable horde starts massacring civilians, it’s time to stop whining about your personal problems.
Let me go ahead and say it’s fine to have a hated character. It may even work to have the hated character be the main character if we’re meant to peer into the mind of a psychopath or a sympathetic villain. However, we aren’t supposed to hate him. We’re supposed to identify with him, as evidenced by the massive amount of inner dialogue lamenting his various crummy situations.
It’s kind of hard to call Tristan a Gary Stu considering all of his flaws (I haven’t even mentioned the times he wets himself), but he fits the bill. Everyone loves him, he gets given anything he wants, he overcomes every obstacle with no development. He even dies heroically to save the world.
Conflict is what drives a story. Conflict between characters makes them interesting. Real friends fight all the time. They have good-natured criticisms they fling, they make each other feel bad every now and then, they have strong opinions that cause strife between them. Characters that don’t have any conflict with each other aren’t relatable because they don’t feel real. They’re also uninteresting because nothing happens with them. When the characters interact with each other, they seem opinionated and unique. When the characters interact with Tristan, they lose all of that and revert to agreeing with him or doing nothing at all.
The audience needs characters who interact in a realistic fashion in order to feel invested.
This story has good and bad points. The pacing when Tristan is on his own trying to survive is good. The pacing when Tristan starts interacting with everyone else randomly faints dead away and needs CPR. The characters who aren’t Tristan all have diverse backgrounds which ought to give them diverse interactions. Tristan himself sucks the air out of the room and turns everyone else into a shadow of their would-be selves. The plot is fairly interesting and is decent enough to drive the adventure story, but has a few minor holes to be patched up.
The plot holes are relatively small and easy to fix. The pacing problem is simple to solve, if rather work-intensive. To fix the pacing, decide which story you really want to tell and remain focused on it and what it needs to develop.
The sections of story where the plot stops so that Tristan can open a potion shop don’t need to be there. Most if not all of the inner dialogue devoted to Tristan’s tragic circumstances is unnecessary. Every time the story mentions Tristan being bored, that’s a place that should be occupied with news of a distant battle that went badly or maybe interaction with a side character who barely escaped from the spawn. We do need calmer sections of the story to breathe, but those sections shouldn’t deflate all of the tension that’s been built up. If anything, they should increase the suspense for what’s going to happen.
The characterization is the thing that needs to be addressed the most. The protagonist needs to be relatable for the audience to really be immersed. I hope I’ve firmly established what makes Tristan an unrelatable protagonist, but there are several things that can be done to fix it. You can give him more redeeming characteristics or have him develop redeeming characteristics as a result of his hardships. The other characters can disagree with him when he does something against their moral code or sensibilities. It would also help to have more realistic reactions from the populace concerning his actions. People don’t normally get given tons of money just for surviving, nor do they usually get room-and-board for assault.
Finally, don’t be afraid to let your characters fight each other. Real people fight all the time.
I hope you enjoy your review! If you have any questions or comments, feel free to PM me or reply to this comment.
~ChromeMyriad, WRITE’s Nanite Construct
4463574 I keep finding myself wishing that I had someone saying all of these things in the editing phase of the story. It sure could have changed things for the better! Thank you for bringing up all of these good points.
I don't plan on doing a re-write of Rifts, but the things you've brought up will undoubtedly help me to make future stories better. Before this reviewing process, I had thought my protagonist was a reasonably good character, but now I understand the flaws he had, and I believe I can avoid them in the future. Better to learn from your mistakes than pretend you never made them, after all. I'll do my best to take this criticism to heart.
When I submitted my story for a WRITE review I had high hopes that I would get feedback that no one else had given me yet. I wasn't let down in the slightest. Thank you very much for this review and your time.
I don't usually hand out these things, but as I don't know what to say and I'm very tired I want to give you this:
. You know what, since I don't hand these out often why don't you take a few more 
For all that people call the protag an asshole, he doesn't point out the things that I'd expect to come from a selfish or even moderately self-interested person. Like, for example, that, if anything, Celesia owes him. The Rifts are the ponies' fault, as is anything that happened or that he did because of them. He was effectively abducted from his home, his family, everything he cared about, with no guaranteed way home and a substantial chance of dying painfully - mostly at the hand of her ponies. What's more, Celestia's lack of foresight, as well as the ponies' general incompetence and arrogance at meddling with magic they didn't understand the consequences of, is to blame. And despite all of that, he spared ponies' lives when he needn't and risked his own to protect them!
She should be begging him on her knees to forgive her for doing that to him, not demanding that he "earn his keep" while being stuck as their kidnapping victim. She's being a giant asshole to a complete innocent. Dislikable or no - and he sure has good fucking reason not to care or be particularly nice to anybody - he's practically behaving like a saint towards them, not like the victim of gross negligence.
Nice...but..somehow it make me sad. but it a good ending.
This is a good story, it didn't end how I wanted it as I wanted Tristan to live happily in Equestria but I enjoyed it.