Well this is goodbye... For now. · 11:10pm Mar 19th, 2016
Hello there.
I suppose I'd like to thank those who have supported my work and followed me (even when I had nothing written down).
Now then, onto explaining.
I'm going to be going away for a while. A long while. I don't know when I'm going to have access to a computer.
But this isn't because I've run out of money or I'm getting kicked out of where I live or anything like that; I'm not sick, I'm not in trouble with johnny law. Nothing bad at all.
See, thing is, I'm joining the military.
Shocking I know.
So I'm joining the military and my date to ship to boot camp has moved up rapidly from the date I originally thought I was going to leave to this Monday.
It is safe to say I'm not going to be able to finish the next chapter to my story. And generally I'm not sure when I'm going to have access to a computer again.
So I must say goodbye, for now, my dear friends. I must bid this site and the community in general goodbye.
But this won't be forever. I'll be back. I just don't know when.
So till then.
Goodbye
One for pain,
Two for strife,
Three for innocence,
Cut with a knife,
Five for bards,
Tales unfold,
This is a story,
Yet to be told.
Rarity hissed loudly, unsure if it was a cry of victory or some primal thrill of battle raging through her. She already ran out of blunt objects to smash the little devils, and even the walls were pockmarked with indented plaster and holes were she’d shoved more than one of the beasts straight through the wall. She was running out of wall.
The skeletons were far more annoying than the other undead creatures. Although always swarming her en masse, zombies were easy enough to dispatch. The skeletons kept trying to pick her off with arrows from a distance. They weren’t too difficult to avoid given how little breathing room the impromptu battlefield gave her, yet that did not dull the slow ache in her thigh where a broadhead had pierced the muscle.
For a while she had feared the creatures would attempt to attack Sweetie Belle’s still body. Small mercies could be found even in the middle of a fight as the beasts seemed intent on dealing with their central aggressor. Images—no, that wasn’t the right word for it. The burst of sensations that were drifting across her mind wasn’t simply sight alone. The smell of fetid flesh and bone dust, the irony tang of blood, each shuffle of fabric and her own thunderous heart painted a picture. A thousand bursts of color flashed across her mind’s eye. A million points of light that skittered within the walls were insects and dust mites milling about on their daily business, their only trouble being the gaping holes where she had punched through the walls and stout wood supports.
Each groan was a sign. The stress of a bowstring pulled taunt, how she heard it lost on her, forced Rarity to sidestep until her cutie mark was forced against the wall. The arrow’s fletching sang through the air, the displacement and the clatter of bones foretelling its trajectory better than any archer’s eagle eye. It was aiming center mass. She’d always had an eye for detail, but now it was if the fog had been lifted and she could see every minute facet of the world. How she knew the arrow’s path wasn’t in question. It wasn’t even a question. It just was.
Out of the original twelve, only two remained. The tight confines of the Boutique’s halls proved to be a nice means of bottlenecking the monsters. With her own overwhelming strength, fighting was child’s play. As long as they didn’t enter the bedroom and go for Sweetie Belle. Rarity wasn’t sure what kind of vitality Brimstone had given her to soak the damage, but even if she was on her last leg and devoid of strength, jumping in front of an arrow wasn’t out of the question.
The slight swish of an arrow tickled her snout as she dashed down the hallway towards the archer. Already it was preparing another projectile. It would never get the chance.
Rarity rampaged down the hallway and she swore the wood beneath her hooves warped and cracked under the force of her charge. A single zombie creature stood between her and the skeleton, completely oblivious to its comrade’s attempt to dispatch her. She didn’t even slow down as she forced the monster off of its feet and stampeded over its body. The beast didn’t even make a sound of protest as something compressed under hoof.
She tackled the last bony creature. Together they rolled, the nocked arrow clattering to the floor. There was as spider crawling on the outside. Eight little legs caused a slight vibration as it scuttled as noticeable as droplets on a still pond.
Why were they all the monsters empty?
For just a moment she stared at the beast she straddled. It was reaching for another arrow in its quiver. It didn’t even break its stride. All it wanted was to hurt and kill her.
Even the occasional termite shone with light. These beasts were hollow. Shells. No light, no vitality pulsed within them.
The skeleton didn’t even move to avoid the hooves coming down on its skull.
Rarity hissed again and again despite the lack of any more monsters to thrash. Each gasp was bringing in oxygen that didn’t feel adequate. Her blood sang in her ears and all she could hear was the constant thrumming of her own heartbeat like some great wardrum.
Ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum babumbabumbabumbabumbabum.
The primal thrill of war, that feeling of immortality that came with the rush of danger and the fear of death. That was all that mattered. Every wound was only proof that she was still alive. Bones were crumbling to ash and decaying. Blood pooled from her own wounds.
Kill them...
Rarity bit into her fetlock until warm blood dripped touched her tongue.
Kill them...
Were her bones groaning? Regardless, Rarity held firm until the slow throbbing in her soul understood she would go no farther. This wasn’t natural. Self defense was one thing, but this? This was bloodlust.
Kill them...
Her heart calmed. Her breathing slowed. Danger had passed.
Kill
Rarity felt something give in her leg and was met with a burst of hot, wet iron flooding her mouth. No. No! The fight was over. Calm down. Her heart wasn’t slowing but the fog of war had receded to manageable levels.
As carefully as she could, rarity extracted her own limb from her mouth. Blood had started pooling on the floor and yet all the self-inflicted wound had garnered her was a dull throbbing. The pungent taste of iron clung to her like an ever-present contagion.
She took a moment to examine herself. Her once immaculate coat had already been marred by sweat, dust, and some minor wounds. The arrow had impacted just above her cutie mark, leaving the area flush with the bright-red hue of blood. It stuck out all the more due to the alabaster shine of her coat. and yet the pain that should have had her on the floor moaning in agony, or at least nursing a nasty wound, gave her no more than a dull ache of protest.
What exactly had Brimstone done to her?
Rarity scampered back to Sweetie Belle’s room. Despite the loss of half her vision she navigated the corridors with ease. What sight beyond sight was this? To feel every inch of her environment as if all—
Sweetie Belle wasn’t breathing.
Even still in the door frame and a good six feet away, Rarity wasn’t sure how she knew; she just did. There was air diffusing in Sweetie’s lungs, but her diaphragm wasn’t moving. Somewhere a loud screeching echoed across the Boutique. Sweetie Belle lay limp on the floor away just as she had been right before Rarity smashed through the door. How long had that been? A minute? A second?
The screeching had come from her own throat. “Don’t you dare go back on your word now!” Rarity gently rolled Sweetie’s limp body onto her stomach. Taking a deep breath she blew a lungful of air into Sweetie’s mouth. Just as she put her hooves together on Sweetie’s chest for chest compressions, she hesitated.
She had just put a zombie-creature through a wall with raw strength alone. Whatever Brimstone had done, she’d given her a lot more than just a boost to her magic. If she wasn’t careful, she’d break Sweetie’s ribs with nothing to show for it.
Power. That’s what Brimstone had given her. The power to save, and the power to destroy. She blinked; the left eye socket felt strange. She could still see despite the loss of an eye. Sight beyond sight. She saw Sweetie wasn’t breathing before it was possible. Maybe, just maybe, she could use this brief gift to save her sister.
There was the surge of energy firing off in her brain and the dull thrumming of bodily processes it. Dearest Sweetie Belle was still alive. That was good. Rarity repeated that fact in her head again and again as she slowly gave her sister chest compressions. She felt the rib cage complain at the motion, but the bones weren’t under enough stress to snap. Is this what Brimstone always saw? The integrity of her very bones? The awareness of the dullest fly? It would certainly explain how she was capable of hiding so easily.
Rarity closed her eyes and pressed once more against the velvety soft fur of Sweetie’s chest. Even blinded she could feel her bones creak under the strain, the motion of air exiting her lungs. Again, slightly harder. This time however she could see something give in Sweetie’s sternum, the cells themself crying in protest. That was the limit.
All in all, Rarity felt as if she was barely pushing against her chest at all.
Rarity repeated the motions, carefully monitoring Sweetie to make sure she didn’t accidentally injure her darling sister. Breath, press, press, press, press, press. Breath, press, press, press, press, press. Breath, press, press, press, press, press.
She saw it before she felt it. The tingle of energy gathered in Sweetie’s gut and her diaphragm contracted. She took in breath after breath, still listless on the floor. Sweet, glorious oxygen flooded Rarity’s own lungs as she took the breath she had denied herself during her task.
Sweetie Belle was alive. Sweet, glorious Sweetie Belle was alive...
She was alive!
Rarity embraced her still sister and laughed. Ponyville was under attack, Luna was in trouble, her friends needed saving, and Sweetie Belle was host to an incorporeal spirit. The peal of laughter that echoed through the Boutique’s smashed halls was something more honest and pure than anything Rarity had ever experienced in her entire life.
“I will never let anything hurt you,” she whispered to the warm form pressed to her chest. That familiar scent was tainted with the stench of smoke and blood, but Rarity didn’t care. She wiped away the wet blood from her own face, only to see that it was nothing more than copious tears.
She needed her saddlebags. They couldn’t stay here.
Rarity gave herself one more moment of indulgence before pulling away. Just one more moment. Sweetie couldn’t fight to stay alive, but this moment, the memory of two sisters embracing would certainly be enough to keep Rarity alive.
And with a quiet breath to collect her thoughts, Rarity set to work.
Her first objective was to raid her own gem stores. The local contingent of Royal Guardponies, acknowledging her skill with gems, had commissioned her to sharpen and restore what weaponry they had, at least those that could afford her prices. She opened the back chest of her own store. Gemstones, all polished to a mirror shine and cut to perfection. Steel throwing spears with razor sharp diamond-tipped points. She neatly stashed them in one of the pockets, closed them up, and continued her brief supply run.
Sweetie Belle was still quietly sleeping. The slight buzz of her sleeping mind was both a concern and a relief. Shouldn’t Sweetie just wake up with Brimstone in such a weakened state? That’s what it sounded like. Brimstone was just suppressing Sweetie while the king did his business. Why was she still asleep?
Rarity bit back the fear. There was nothing she could do for her dear sister in the Boutique. She needed a hospital, or better yet, Twilight. If Sweetie never woke up...
Rarity swallowed.
She had collected a few bolts of cloth, her own pitiful stock of spider silk, and a couple lengthy needles. Already she was loaded down with enough weight to make her bags bulge and complain at the seams, yet the extra weight didn’t bother her in the slightest.
Rarity perked her ears. She could hear the grunts and groans outside from a hundred different sources. She needed to get out, needed to leave. Sweetie was the last item on her list, and carefully levitating her silent sister onto her back, she finished her preparations by lashing her sister to her withers.
All was set. Rarity gave her shoulders an experimental flex. Same pony. At least on the outside.
“I can do this...”
Rarity shoved aside her meager barricades, each moving with little effort. With that, she walked through her smashed front door and into the rainy night.
Well, good luck, then.
I don't know anything about military life except what I've read on Cracked.com, and it seems pretty tough and agitating.
Go out there and kick some ass! For the Greater Good!