The Corrupting Influence of Cold - Letters From a Little Princess Monster · 5:33pm Sep 1st, 2020
Still working on Letters, but since I had such a good response on How To Kill a Character I thought I’d show a tiny example of how to corrupt a character. And as a bonus, it brings Gilda into the Monsterverse. Um… She may not think it’s a bonus, though.
First, you want the reader to pick sides. If you’re corrupting somebody the reader already dislikes (like Sombra) you need a character who cares about them, who the reader can care about (and root for) in turn.
Second, dangle a little hope in front of the reader. Show a struggle, allow a chance for the corrupt-ee to free themselves from the inevitable grasp of Evil. You can even have setbacks, dragging the POV character deeper before struggling back up.
Third, a good ‘Oh, Hell’ moment works well to wrap things up in a segment.
Here’s a DRAFT segment out of Letters From a Little Princess Monster, still being developed.
* * *
A chill numbness far more than the growing frost on her beak kept Gilda from feeling. She should have felt terror when she realized just what was in the joint feast with the Emperor of Griffons. Or revulsion enough to throw it up. She could not even feel fear at what she was becoming. The strength. The acuteness of her already sharp senses. The power.
All it cost was her soul, a dark and loathsome thing that had never been worth a single bit.
She was doomed, doomed to the Underdarkness, where griffons went when they dishonored their ancestors. No amount of penance would be able to buy off their wrath, even though Talon held her will subservient in a grip of frigid iron. A twinge of emotion had momentarily threatened to break through Talon’s icy control and free Gilda when she backhanded her niece into the wall, but it was only for a flash, and the numbing cold flooded back into her heart.
Cold helped her not feel.
Cold helped her not think of Sunny’s anguished cry.
The fledgeling was the only bright spot in this pestilent stone hive, a cheerful pinfeathered bundle of curiosity and joy who had rubbed off against every griffon who touched her life. Even that faker Canterlot noob had fallen for her cheerful attitude, and could be suckered into telling or listening to stories for hours on end.
Now both of the innocents were going to die, eaten by…
“Bring the child to me.”
Wingmaster Talon crouched directly in the center of the open area of the council circle, a massive griffon far larger than he was a few days ago, but twice as fierce and ugly. The transformation to Windigo was deep beneath the surface, and had been going on for weeks if anygriffon had been able to see the signs. His coal-black feathers had begun to fade, which age might have been able to excuse, but the flickers of blue in his golden eyes should not have been ignored by everygriff until it was too late.
At least Gilda should have seen the corruption growing when her father became so cold to the rest of the griffons. When he stripped her of leadership authority in the aerie and passed the title over to the cruel Plummets, who treated the pony servants as little more than pests. When he struck Green Grass and nearly killed him. The hapless mensch couldn’t be more harmless on the surface, and liked nothing more than to sit and listen to griffons talk about how great they were all day. Sunny adored him probably more than her own father, and Gilda had considered him as… a friend.
Now the pony was nothing more than another trembling coward who could not even struggle when Gilda tossed his skinny body onto the ground like a bag of ice cubes. It brought a chill down her back far stronger than the icy breeze through the council circle, or the frost on her own beak, but it was nothing compared to the dagger of ice that stabbed through her heart when she tried to rebel against the beast who had once been her father.
“The child,” hissed Talon, his eyes so blue they blazed with cold malice. “Obey me! Bring the child.”
She wanted to fight his chilling control over her body, but the sheer glacial power of his will crushed what little warmth she had in her heart, and she stepped over Green Grass in the pile of sacrifices when she leaned forward to pick up her niece. The snap of a beak drew her up short.
The Emperor had brought two dozen of his family and court associates for his visit, which was the opening the Wingmaster obviously had been waiting for. The celebratory feast had given the Wingmaster and his son power beyond anything Gilda had seen before, and that power had trickled down to those who ate the tainted meal, driving them into a blood-frenzy at his command. As a symbol of Talon’s newfound power over the Emperor, his majestic airship was first to fall, the thick skin of the vessel feeling like paper beneath her claws and terrifying the untouched with the rapidity of its destruction. The freedom of the remaining griffons and pony servants did not last long, because once the flagship of the Griffon Empire was ruptured and shredded across the mountain like a child’s toy, it was their turn to be wrapped in rope and tossed into a pile for the upcoming sacrifice. Powerful griffons would make powerful Windigo, and the ones who would not command were doomed. Particularly those who were weak, and expressed their sympathy for other weaklings.
The emperor’s own son was one.
Prince Sky had fought when Wingmaster Talon had overwhelmed them all, had fought when Sunny had fled the feast and Gilda gave in to her own weakness. He had fought when his own mighty father’s golden eyes glazed over to blue, forcing himself to expel their meal in his face when he had discovered what it contained. It was bizarre to think of throwing up as an act of defiance, but it had purged his body of the tainted meat enough for Sky to spit out venomous words against the Wingmaster while the rest of the griffons bound him and tossed his struggling body into the pony pile. Now, he was a prisoner doomed to consumption, just like the rest.
“Don’t.” The word was muffled by the ropes around his beak, but Prince Sky’s golden eyes locked onto her own, giving a plaintive plea that made her hesitate.
“The Windigo’s control is weaker now,” rasped Green Grass from where he was sprawled out on the cold ground. “Fight it, Gilda! Fight him for your niece!”
“Aunt Gilda?” The pinfeathered body in Gilda’s claws shifted and looked up at her with golden eyes. The love, even confused, in that familiar gaze gave off a warm burst that cut into her cold heart. “What’s going on?”
While Gilda fought for control, Green Grass twisted around with a rattle of his ice-clogged coat so he could face what her father had become. He only gave her one plaintive glance before launching into his obvious distraction, but the warmth in his blue eyes gave her a needed thread of hope to cling onto in her turmoil.
“Doom!” he hissed. “Your time has come and gone, monster! Your son is dead, and you will be next when Celestia drops the sun on your head! Oh, yes,” managed the gasping pony. “She knows! I told her student, and even now, Princess Celestia is bringing the Royal Guard to slay you and free the others from your influence.”
Jabbing one hoof in the direction of the cloud-tangled sky, Green Grass fairly shouted, “When the three tribes united, they drove your kind out of these lands like vermin! United, they reached out to griffons and plucked them from your cold grasp! United, they brought the fire of friendship that burned your kind into nothingness!”
Nothing but silence answered the pony’s strident declaration, although the corrupted Wingmaster ever so slowly shook his head, allowing the frost-tipped feathers to jingle slightly with his motion.
“That was then,” he breathed. “This is our time now. Even Celestia’s magic will have no hold upon us. Our people will fill the skies, and drive you petty squabbling vermin into the darkness where you belong. Unlessss….” he hissed, letting his pale tongue lick around the edges of his beak and across the sharp teeth inside.
“Sunny,” whispered Green Grass out of the corner of his mouth. “Run. Run to the Ancestor’s Shrine and beyond! Wake the Old One!”
“The Old One?” A burst of cold air washed down from the center of the council circle, and the budding Windigo gave a short cackle of ghoulish laughter. “The dragon of this mountain is over a thousand years old, and has passed into the Forever Slumber. If he was a threat, I would have slain him already.”
“The Dragons never fell to your corruption,” spat Green Grass, “Even they lacked your lust for power.”
“And you ponies were blameless?” This time the monstrosity’s laughter was long and hard. “Pegasi drank the blood of their own children to fly with us. They slaughtered their entire families for our power. I can feel the same desire in you. For control.”
There had been confidence flowing off the scrawny pony, the feeling that was letting Gilda build her own will, and it cut off like a knife. The whirling of the storm clouds overhead sped up, and the rumble of thunder could be heard from beyond their darkness, but all Gilda could see was those terrible blue eyes of the monster.
“You already have the cold heart of a killer,” growled the Windigo in a voice like blowing snow that spat little pieces of ice across the cold ground of the council circle. “Your mind is strong, but your body has always been crippled. Weak when you were born, weak when you grew up. Killing my son was a fluke, but once you drink the blood, you will finally gain the power that has always been withheld.”
“No,” gasped Green Grass weakly. “I’d rather die!”
“Oh, you will,” gloated the Windigo. “Die in your weakness and be reborn into power. Gilda, bring the child and the coward. We will bleed her to see if this pony is worthy of our blessing.”
On the plus side, you can see that Green Grass survived the last blog post. On the minus side...
Quietly begins to take notes...
5346628
You bastard.
5346632
What? I have an evil changeling queen who's trying to corrupt a member of the royal guard. She needs all the help she can get.
So wait, I haven't read this story. How the F̷̸̢͔̙̥͚̱̩̗͎̬̖̰̟̟̱̰̻͉͇ͬͥͦ̇̑̍̅̏̃ͯ̈͛Ư̢ͯ̈́͐̾͋̓̍͒̑ͥ̎͂͆͌̈́͠҉̸̝̜̥͙͖̻C͛̓̎̓ͤͪ̉̄ͪͣ̍̽ͧ̆̿̅ͨͣ҉̵͙͇̙̠̼Kͨ̅͛ͣ҉̵̹̻̝̪͚͘͜͟ does it not have the 'Dark' tag?
5346640 Sigh. Because I'm a softie, and all my readers know I'd never actually kill off Gilda or turn her into a Windigo. Marshmallow power. Heck, they knew I wasn't going to kill Green Grass in the last blog peek.
5346667
Well, other ponies are dying horribly, aren't they? Just because they're not main characters doesn't mean that their deaths are any less Dark.
Okay then so it's the entire empire, more fun for my Bionicle OC as that gives him a wider range of options, including various means of enacting scorched earth.
You know, if you kill off Sun Shines on the Misty Mountains at Dawn Through Early Morning Hazy Skies, I will be very, very cross at you
5346678
It has only been this arc that has been dark. The rest of the story is full of whimsy, misunderstandings, and Big Mac getting his mac on.
5346678 5346974 And daring rescues
* * *
One single stunning burst of wind roared through the mountain top, ripping shingles off the nearby castle, throwing the rumbling thunderclouds in all directions, and revealing what had been concealed behind them. Every creature in the council clearing looked up at once to stare at the circle of Stormguard airships and glittering Royal Guard chariots hovered in place. They were arranged in waves of militant steel and feathers spread across the sky, glittering golden and white in the evening sun like an immense hammer above the ancient castle of the griffons while the piercing notes of a lone cornet split the chill air.
To arms! To arms! cried out the strident call, and for one moment, every single griffon crouched with their wings angled for flight, even the massive bulk of the corrupted Wingmaster at the center of the council circle. With a brief snarl of rage, Talon forced his will back upon the gathered griffons, and wan flickers of icey blue once again overrode their natural colors, although Tempest Shadow was not waiting for them to recover.
The commander of the Equestrian invasion force stood tall in her own chariot, looking down at the milling griffons with a sneer. Her dark armor gleamed against the sun in a fashion far different than the gold of the Equestrian guards, but just as effective against claw or spear, and her long horn glowed softly with the violet glow of powerful magic. Griffon eyesight was sharper than any pony, and it was a fair tossup whether the griffons remained ground-bound due to the enormous number of armored Equestrians, or the sheer impossibility of their leader.
“Griffons of the Misty Mountain Aerie!” thundered the lead unicorn’s voice across the mountain with enough power to shake the stones of the ancient castle and make the trees tremble on the mountain slopes. “I am Commander Tempest Shadow, and I am here to receive your unconditional surrender in the name of the Storm King. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.” A cruel smile spread across Tempest’s face, and she reached one foreleg over to lay it across the trembling shoulders of the small alicorn standing by her side. “Either way is fine with me.”
5346667
See... I'm still not sure about this because I get the feeling that you've got this deep down mean streak that's one day gonna just erupt when we least expect it and it's just gonna be tears and horror... Somehow involving bunnies.
5347103 Hm... A Watership Down/MLP crossover. Interesting...
5383194
... Aw hell...