Dimensions of the Elder Gods

by Balkanboy

Dungeons and Dagon

Chapter 2: Of Dungeons and Dagon

Well I suppose this isn’t so bad. At least we get fed. It’s grass, how am I supposed to eat grass? Point taken. The dungeon had literally one other inhabitant whom he couldn’t see properly because of its inclination to sit in the dark. The dungeon itself wasn’t that bad. It was clean, there was no blood on the walls and for once the floor wasn’t coated in 34 different types of dung. What looked like light bulbs on closer inspection turned out to be balls of pure energy that were suspended in a glass casing. Probably magic.

I’m bored. Hey, let’s talk to that guy over there! I dunno, I doubt he wants to talk to us. What makes you think that? Well he is hiding in the shadows. Pfft, so what. Besides, it’s not really hiding if you know where he is. Go on, say something.

‘Hello? Anyone there?’ He called out in the general direction of the prisoner. There was silence, then an answer.
‘You can speak?’ Were they always going to assume he was an animal?
‘Of course I can speak. Why are you in the shadows?’
‘Well, that way you can’t eat me.’ He couldn’t see the logic in that.
‘Um, beg your pardon but how exactly does that work? I know where you are.’
‘You do? Horseapples, uh turn around for a second.’ He obliged and faced the wall behind him. It was an interesting wall, with ornate designs and some writing which said, ‘FRIENDSHIP IS THE STAPLE OF A GOOD LIFE’.

That doesn’t look like any propaganda I’ve ever seen. Nor I. I suppose if you think about it from a rehabilitative point of view it makes sense. Re- huh? Trying to put the criminals back into society. Where I came from criminals were treated with the respect they deserved. Oh? A pelting at the stocks and some lashes depending on their crime, maybe a hanging. Yes, that was real entertainment... Peter shook his head.

‘Okay, you can look now.’ He tried to spot him but couldn’t see where he had gone. Surprising considering their cells were only 10 square feet.
‘Where’d you go?’
‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out.’

He’s on the ceiling. Of course, he’s- wait, the ceiling? The hell if I know.

‘You’re on the ceiling.’ There was some more soft cursing and a thud as the pony fell to the floor.
‘That’s a very good eye you have there. Well in that case I suppose there’s no point in hiding.’ He stepped out into the light revealing the pony to have a grey coat with what seemed to be a mark of some kind on his flank. It was a bag of gold with a cloak next to it.

That’s interesting. I wonder why he has that tattoo... His mane seemed to have been cut short and he had a scar across his face. Currently, the grey stallion was looking down at the stone work and scratching at it with his hoof nervously. ‘So, you’re not going to eat me?’
‘Oh come o- of course I’m not going to eat you. I’m not french, and besides, how could I get to you from here? There are bars in the way.’ He had to admit that was true, and he sat down looking at Peter.
‘So, uh, what are you in for?’ The occultist thought back to the incident.
‘I’m not sure what, but I think, just maybe that it was murder.’ The stallion reared back into the shadows.
‘M-m-murder!?’
‘Yeah. This is a dungeon, don’t you ever have murderers round here?’
‘No, in fact there’s barely ever anyone down here. Sometimes the guards come by to spit in my food, but that’s it. But murder? How could you do such a thing?’
‘Relax, I didn’t actually do it.’
‘Yeah, and I didn’t steal the crown jewels...’
‘You what? You stole the crown jewels from that princess up there?’ The stallion emerged slowly and nodded. Peter sat back against the wall. ‘No wonder you’re still in here. Girls love their diamonds. I swear to god, if I ever get my hands on that crazy woman...’
‘Don’t speak about the princess like that!’ Shouted the stallion. Peter paused.
‘What do you mean? I thought she was the one that put you here.’
‘She did, but she’s not a bad pony, and she sure as discord isn’t crazy.’
‘Wait, you don’t hate her?’ He went back to pawing at the ground.
‘Well, she isn’t rude, and she always makes sure to visit the prisoners at least twice a day, although it was only me until you showed up.’

Peter started stroking his goatee, mulling over the idea of someone actually liking their captor. Nope, didn’t seem reasonable. A captor is always bad, that’s why he’s doing the capting... I’m pretty sure that isn’t a word... Shut up. Just saying.

‘What are you anyway?’ Peter looked up.
‘Me? I’m a human. Don’t you have humans here?’
‘A hyooman? No, we don’t have any of those. Wait, are you from the, *gulp, forest?’

I can feel his fear. It must be a really bad place if it is this heightened.

‘Forest? No I’m from Arkham city Massachusettes, though you’ve probably never heard of it.’ He noticed that the stallion wasn’t actually paying attention to him anymore, but was staring at his plate of grass. ‘You want it?’ The thief shook his head and looked up in surprise.
‘Sorry?’
‘The grass, if you’re hungry you can have it.’ His eyes lit up in delight.
‘Yes please! Uh, that is if you aren’t having it.’ Peter waved him away.
‘I had a daisy sandwich on my way in, I’ll do fine.’ He had meant it as a joke, but the stallion took it very seriously.
‘I haven’t had a daisy sandwich for three months. Ah well, when I get out of here I’m going to have the finest food bits can buy.’ He shrugged and slid the plate towards the thief who waited for the green strips to reach him, but it impacted with a hoof, placed there at the last second. The thief looked up and saw it was a royal guard, a very mischievous smile on his face.

‘The prisoners do not get second ‘elpings,’ he stated, and picked the plate up with his mouth. He turned ready to-
‘Just what do you think you’re doing guard?’ A feminine voice rang out. It sounded a little like Celestia, but it was , more... formal, no not formal, more... demanding perhaps? Not exactly, but it’ll have to do. He froze and dropped the plate which smashed on the stone.
‘I, uh, was attending to the prisoners your majesty.’
‘Were you? From what I understand that prisoner over there just passed a plate of grass to Slate, and you stopped him.’
‘Um, uh I uh-’
‘I think an apology might be in order.’ Grumbling, he turned from the unseen individual and faced Slate.
‘Sorry prisoner-’
‘His name is Slate.’
‘Sorry Slate.’
‘That’s better.’ The voice seemed more relaxed now. ‘Now go get him some more grass, actually no, make that a... daisy sandwich.’ He went back the way he came, and into view appeared a mare, one that looked a lot like Celestia except her coat was a bluish black and her mane was of the night sky. Who’s that? Slate shot up.
‘Princess Luna!’ She giggled and smiled at him.

Wait, another one? Looks that way. D’ya think it’s her sister? Perhaps.

‘I told you, Luna will suffice. So how are you this fine evening?’
‘Well, considering you’ve been listening to us the entire time, I think you might know.’ She giggled again.
‘Was it really that obvious?’ He rolled his eyes.
‘I taught you all your tricks, of course I knew where you were. Judging by the look on his face however I think you did pretty well.’ She spun on the spot and looked at Peter curiously but cautiously.
‘That was a kind thing you did there.’ He shrugged. You shrug a lot you know. I know.
‘Hey, everyone's got to have a friend.’ She smiled for a few seconds at that, then it subsided and her prior expression returned.
‘So I heard that my sister put you here for... murder.’ Well that answers one question.
‘Yes, though what gets me is that she hasn’t proved that I’m guilty.’ Luna raised her eyebrow.
‘Is that so? Hm... Well did she tell you at all why she thought this.’
‘Oh right, yeah she said something about me only being able to do magic with a sacrifice.’
‘Wait, you sacrificed someone?’ Called out Slate. Peter stopped speaking. He wouldn’t be able to tell them that it was a man living inside his head that took over his body and sacrificed the man for him, they’d think he was crazy. He’s just have to plead the it-was-me-or-both-of-us argument.
‘Well, putting it plainly yes, I sacrificed someone.’ She took a step back from him.
‘What kind of being would do such a thing?’
‘The kind of being getting chased by a a pack of ghouls. It was either him or both of us, and I didn’t see a point in the both of us dying.’

You should have said that upstairs. I didn’t think of that upstairs.

‘I suppose that makes sense,’ she became a little less tense, ‘but it was wrong all the same.’ Luna found the prospect of somepony killing somepony else unreal infact she couldn’t even imagine it. The goddess of the moon turned back to Slate. ‘Well I suppose we should get on with the lesson.’ He nodded and returned to the shadows.
‘I’ve taught you most of the things I know, and I wouldn’t want him to hear any of the advanced ones, so let’s go over the basics. What is the first rule of sneaking?’
‘Silence.’
‘Not silence, total silence is impossible. You can however be very, very quiet. So how does one go about being very quiet, besides the obvious spells and illusions.’
‘Limit breathing to its slowest possible pace, do not wear lose clothing and items, and soft hoof-falls.’
‘Correct. I assume you remember the correct way to test for anything you are wearing that could make a noise?’
‘The jump test.’
‘Correct again.’ Peter knew all this and would even go so far as to say that he was good at it, after all he was a field occultist. His real specialty was hiding. A monster can be scary and all, but if it can’t find you, you’ll have no trouble from it. They continued with their lesson, Peter half listening. He started ruffling though his pockets for anything he could find, though apart from shotgun shells, his wallet and a torch he had nothing. If only he had a hammer, then maybe those shells could be put to good use.

I’ve been thinking of a way to get out of here. You have? Yeah, ‘course. The problem is, it’ll require you to do some spells, and perhaps sacrifice something to Dagon. Are you talking about the same Dagon who is god of the deep ones. ...yes. Nope. Sacrifices got me into this mess, I’m not going to make it any worse. Come on, it doesn’t have to be a human or a pony just a living thing. What if the other animals can also talk? Besides, do you see anything I could sacrifice in here? Well there are those two. Are you insane!? What? You asked.

He sighed loudly which attracted a few glances from the teacher and his student, but they largely ignored him. There is one other way. Oh yeah, and what’s that? It’ll involve me taking over your hands for a few seconds, unless you want to say the spell. Oh god, that doesn’t sound good. It’ll blow the cell door open. Peter thought about it for a second. Fine, I’ll say the spell. Alrighty then. Here’s the spell... His brain burned once more, though this time he merely flinched a few times. ...and here’s the hand movements. His flinching caught the attention of Slate who was giving a small lecture on dealing with the stress of hiding.
‘Is there something wrong?’
‘Huh, wha?’
‘You flinched at my advice. Do you think you have something better to say?’ Slate said in an annoyed fashion.
‘Um, what was it about?’
‘Dealing with stress. Any tips other than mine to think happy thoughts?’ He scoffed at him. That was a hard one.
‘Weeeell, I suppose there is one.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Pray like hell.’ Slate’s face went blank.
‘Praying...’
‘Yep. Keeps your mind off of it and thinking god’s on your side tends to make you that little bit braver.’

Drinking helps as well.

As Slate continued with his lesson, Peter got ready to blast through the doors. Now remember, it’s pronounced Shayk-mar, not Shaykamar. I know, I know. He stood up and got into position. He started to wave his hands about, which the two ponys found fairly amusing.
‘What ever are you doing?’ Asked Luna, intrigued by his strange behaviour.
‘Maybe he’s lost it. Maybe he’s not cut out for prison life,’ mused Slate. He moved his hands about a few more times then initiated the spell.
‘Ia Dagon, Ia Hydra, stryuoi huyrem trwe.’ It was the second, less well known language of the Earth gods, that which is unspeakable, and the two ponies could barely take it.
‘What is that horrible noise!?’ Shouted Slate trying to drown out the noise in any way possible. Luna didn’t respond. Peter was finding it hard to listen to as well, though he was more used to it.
‘Ystrw optry shaykamar!’ The door to every cell blown off its hinges and the torches went off.

I said it was pronounced shayk-mar! There goes the stealth part of our plan. Sorry, I wasn’t concentrating. Franko mentally face palmed. The dungeon was now pitch black so Peter pulled out the torch and switched it on. Luna seemed to have been knocked out by one of the flying doors while Slate just blinked at the light.
‘How did you do that?’ Slate asked, covering his face with his forelegs, astonished.
‘Elder magic, now are you coming?’ As he got out of the cell he noticed Luna and rushed to her side.
‘Luna, wake up!’ He shook her, but Peter stopped him.
‘Look, I don’t know what exactly you have going on with her, but if you wake her up we’re both going back into those cells.’ The sound of hoofbeats could be heard from up the stairs.
‘But she’s hurt.’
‘Fine, do what you want, but I’m getting out of here.’ Slate looked back and forth between them, then decided to leave with Peter.

They headed further into the dungeons, the stone seeming to be more aged as they advanced more. Eventually it resembled something of the dungeons of old castles that Peter could remember from his visit to Austria; the stone worn and the ceiling crumbling. Still there was no one or nopony in any of the cells, though he doubted anyone would be down here. After what seemed like an eternity, they reached a dead end, the only visible way out a manhole. Pulling it out of place he got ready to jump, though Slate seemed reluctant.
‘Are you coming?’ Asked the occultist as he flexed his legs. Slate nodded quickly and jumped in ahead of Peter. He followed, landing in a torrent of water flowing in a direction he couldn’t see. The torch was hit out of his hands buy what he could only assume was a rock, though after being drenched in this water it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. He struggled to stay above the water as he was washed down stream. He could see a faint light at the end of the tunnel and eventually he reached it, being catapulted out of the pipe by the force of the water. He landed in a puddle next to Slate who was coughing out water.

‘Well that was something...’ The stallion commented. Sweet Azathoth, that was a close one. Did you think I would drown? No not that, look right. He turned his head and saw that it was indeed a close one. He was lying 3 inches from the edge of a cliff. He peered over the brink. My god, that must be at least 2000 feet. the occultist crawled away from the edge and got up, picking up Slate as he did so.
‘You a’right?’ He asked as the wet pony got up.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ He looked around. ‘Where are we anyway?’
‘Well from the looks of things we’re on the side of a mountain,’ he looked up at the castle, ‘and not far away enough from that. Do you know a way down?’
‘Of course I do, I broke into the castle didn’t I?’

(Just finished watching War Horse, and damn that's a good film. Now all someone needs to do is replace Joey with Big Mac and we've got our very own MLP war fic! Also the plan is to release chapter every saturday/sunday from now on, starting from one coming.)

Comments

[Sandman]

118826
The beginning of Chapter 1 is still pretty bad regarding wall-o-text, that italicized bit especially.

[Balkanboy]

125094

Better?

[Sandman]

126385
Much!
I'll get to reading the story in an hour or so.