//------------------------------// // Monsters // Story: The Overworked Alicorn // by BreakDown //------------------------------// Monsters... In a realm beyond time, beyond space, and beyond sanity lay the home of the mighty Discord, Spirit of Chaos and Disorder. In this realm, which made about as much sense as it's master, things that shouldn't be were and that couldn't exist did. Also in this realm, strangely enough, was a picturesque house atop a floating mass of land, complete with white picket fence and mailbox, and seemingly out of place among the chaos of the realm. Of course it was by being so normal in such a chaotic place that it was, in turn, one of the more random things there. Within that home however... well, it was a very different story, for this was the home of Discord after all. Such was proven truth when the spirit appeared mere moments later in an explosion of confetti. He seemed a bit... off... however. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses, a sun-hat made from straw, and several rings of flowers around his neck. In his claw was also a fruity umbrella drink, which he casually sipped from. The spirit of chaos then smacked his lips and stretched his limbs in all directions... literally... "Ahhhhh," he groaned as his body broke into pieces which scattered across the floor, "I haven't felt so relaxed in aeons," his head remarked. "There's nothing like a nice relaxing vacation to really relieve stress," he remarked as he melted into a puddle and then reformed into himself. Albeit his arms were reversed, his wings upside down, and his horns had somehow replaced his legs. The spirit of Chaos realized this a moment later and idly pulled on his goatee with a frown. "Although maybe there is such a thing as being too relaxed," he admitted to himself. Then, with a snap of his claw and a flash of light, his limbs were put back in their 'proper' places... meaning he'd somehow turned into a small zoo's worth of different animals. "Well this is new," the admittedly tiny dragon among them commented casually while idly petting a snake laying across it's right forelimb. The little green snake idly hissed it's pleasure as the larger creature managed to work one of the many aches out of it's coils. "We should definitely show this to Fluttershy," the deer remarked with a grin while a sleeping bat hung from one of his antlers. "Well then isn't it our good fortune that we're just in time for Tuesday Tea with dear Fluttershy," the old goat from the group noted with a stroke of his goatee. "But I thought I was the deer," said stag noted, which caused the sleeping bat on his antlers to groan and slap a wing to it's face. An action which was mirrored by a majority of the other animals in the room. "That was horrible," an eagle remarked with a shake of it's head, "Good job," he allowed with a smirk. "Yes yes, but all fun aside, it is indeed our good luck that today is Tuesday," a lion declared boisterously. He then idly looked around at the other animals that made up his, well... self... and nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm sure she'll get a real kick out of this," the lion noted and received several agreements from his compatriots. "Well then, which of us should take us to see Fluttershy?" the pegasus of the chaotic group wondered as he hovered in the air. He also happened to be upside down, with his wings still at his side, forelimbs folded behind his neck and rear limbs crossed one over the other. Strangely it looked the most like Discord's 'head', what with the grey coat and cropped mane, albeit his own head seemed a bit more squished / morphed to fit properly on a pony's body. "Oh please, do allow me, I've always wanted to do this," the crocodile of the group offered, and with a snap of his jaws the small zoo's worth of creatures vanished in a flash of light. Less than a fraction of a second later and with yet another flash, the menagerie reappeared in the home of the butter yellow pegasus mare. The instant they arrived the majority of Fluttershy's animals scattered with startled cries of fright, amusing the menagerie greatly. "Ahhh, I do so love making an entrance memorable," the snaggle-toothed lion remarked. Meanwhile the goat among them, who oddly had the bushy brows and goatee of Discord, couldn't help but note how the mare they had come to see didn't seem to be home. "Strange, I don't hear Fluttershy," the bat remarked as it's ears twitched from side to side. However the eagle rolled his eyes as he lazily flew over to the bat. "Oh please old boy, we both know that darling Fluttershy is about as quiet as a mouse when she," it began to say before the snake of the group suddenly piped up as well. "I don't smell Fluttershy anywhere," the snake noted. That caused the rest of the animals to still while the lion sniffed at the air as well and frowned. "Strange I don't either... nor do I smell tea," the lion remarked and the crocodile idly made it's way into the kitchen as the bat flew up to the pegasus' mare's room. "She hasn't even put on the tea," the crocodile cried out from the kitchen. "Nor has she slept in her bed in a while," the bat called out in a somewhat squeaky voice. "So she hasn't been home for at least a day or two," the goat murmured softly as it stroked it's goatee. "Which probably means Tia sent her off on yet another cockamamie adventure into who knows what kind of danger," the deer noted and then frowned. "Remind me again, why were we considered evil when she has been known to knowingly send a group of tiny ponies up against dragons and things that have literally crawled out from the pits of tartarus?" the deer suddenly questioned and received a shrug as it's response from the pegasus of the group. "Really good PR," it suggested casually. "Monsters from the literal pits of tartarus!" the deer reiterated loudly and the pegasus grinned sheepishly. "Really really good PR," it suggested and the lion gave a snort. "Saying the same thing multiple times doesn't make it sound any smarter," the deer noted with a bemused expression. "No, but that never stopped anyone from trying," the pegasus replied with a smirk. "In any case," the dragon declared and the rest of the menagerie turned to it. "Perhaps we should visit Twilight's dragon to see if he knows where Fluttershy and the other's went this week," he suggested. "Or we could wait like thirty minutes for it to all be over," the crocodile remarked with a grin and received eye-rolls from the rest of the smirking menagerie. "Cute, but seeing as she's not been home for a day or two, I'd hazard a guess this will take a bit longer than that," the goat noted and the menagerie idly agreed with him. "So, do we go as is or reform?" "I vote we go with a giant mecha style transformation sequence!" one of the menagerie declared and the rest hummed with looks that suggested that liked the sound of that. "Unfortunately we can't," the pegasus noted with a pout, "visual aids would be necessary for it to look cool after all," it remarked and all the menagerie groaned in disappointment. "So we might as well change back during transit," the pegasus added and the lion suddenly huffed. "Oh fine," it grumbled and snapped it's fingers. With another flash of light the menagerie vanished and, with yet another flash, Discord himself reappeared in Twilight's library. The spirit of chaos idly looked around with a frown and began to hover through the library. "Now if I were a baby dragon, where would I..." he began only to pause when he saw a statue of spike seemingly screaming not far from his bed... "Well I definitely know that feeling," Discord murmured with a grimace of sympathy. "Though at least yours are only temporary," he muttered then took a sniff of the air and promptly gagged and ripped his nose off to toss it away so he wouldn't have to smell the tiny dragon. "Oh by Samhain I forgot how foul that smell actually was!" he declared with a visible shudder. "I'm all for chaos dear boy but you really do need to put on some deodorant if you're going to be going through a molt this bad," the spirit remarked as he pulled a can of air freshener from... somewhere. He then sprayed around Spike for a moment, "There, that should do for the moment," he mumbled and then pulled an old gold pocket watch from... somewhere. Oddly the watch had several hands that seemingly made no sense with no numbers but odd symbols ringing around the outside of it's face. "It's a bit on the early side for him to go through the molt," the mad spirit mumbled as he rubbed at his jaw. "Well Spike certainly won't be of any help to me like this," he muttered and idly noted what sounded like a large bird screeching. "Oh right, the Roc, it was probably drawn by the smell," he recalled with a slow nod of his head then looked to Spike with a hum. "Well I suppose Fluttershy would be quite cross with me if I allowed you to get eaten in such a vulnerable state," the spirit mused to himself as he tapped his claw against his cheek. "Not to mention the Roc would probably destroy the library if I didn't do something," he added to himself, "and I know that definitely wasn't supposed to happen for a while," he murmured with yet another hum. "First to put you somewhere where I can't smell you," Discord said as he looked at Spike, "Or, well... I mean somewhere safe," he corrected on the off chance the dragon could still hear him, as he snapped his claws and the dragon vanished, "I think the basement should do nicely," he mused aloud. "Now to go build up my good karma," he mumbled to himself as he snapped his fingers to appear in front of the library. He idly noticed that everypony was literally running around and screaming while the Roc was screeching and circling over the library overhead. With a roll of his eyes and an exasperated sigh, Discord snapped his lion's paw and the Roc vanished in a flash of light. The mad spirit then smirked as a glass bottle appeared in his eagle's talon. Within the glass bottle was the Roc, clearly confused by screeching despite it's less than threatening state. Discord snickered to himself as he held up the bottle and looked at the now minuscule creature with a grin. "You'll look just darling next to the tiny manticore on my mantle," he remarked to himself as with yet another snap of his claws, the minuscule Roc vanished. This time the bottle and Roc appeared on a seemingly normal mantle, right next to another glass bottle with a strange looking tiny manticore on it. But back with the mad spirit, Discord idly brushed off his claw / talon as he looked to the clear sky with a smirk. "Not bad if I do say so myself," he remarked with clear amusement. To be fair though, it'd literally taken him next to no effort to deal with the Roc. However he was not going to tell anypony that, certainly not when what seemed like the entire town suddenly swarmed him with there thanks. They surrounded the briefly surprised spirit, some hugging him, while other's thanked him fro his 'timely intervention' with the Roc... Needless to say, Discord basked in their praise of course, "why thank you, it was absolutely no trouble at all, I assure you," the mad spirit stated and then grinned widely. He gave several grand bows to the ponies, casually accepting a few offers for a meal, and then thought back to why he'd even been in town. 'I suppose no one would mind if I enjoyed the benefits of being a hero for a little while,' the mad spirit mused as he decided to ham it up a bit... Besides, he could get back to looking for Fluttershy later, he was sure she wasn't doing anything too dangerous after all. In ancient times, the tower of Faust was seen as a sanctuary by the ponies of dream valley. A place which they could retreat too should their homes or lives be threatened. It was also a place of knowledge, where scholars and sages congregated and stored whatever they learned. But that was in far better times... before he attacked and destroyed the valley. 'I haven't seen this place in years,' Mort, once Mortis the Black, thought as he silently moved through Dream Valley. He had returned after feeling something was amiss. He remained only to see the ruin his ancient self had caused. He had of course heard of it, from the spirits of explorers who dared venture this far out, and from Faust herself. Yet none of their words could match the horror he felt actually seeing it again. This time, with his sanity intact and his morals restored, he truly understood the kind of monster he had become back then. Truly, seeing what he had wrought was more horrible than hearing about it. Faust had a right to hate him, he was sure, given how decimated the land was. The still walking dead who yet inhabited parts of it, the scarred landscape which could never be healed. Certainly the Spell-Storm above had done a great deal of damage, but only because his own actions all those many millennia ago had allowed it to be created. His undead army, which had included windigos, sinisteeds, and zomponies among a host of others, had driven the ponies to paranoia. Fighting the corpses of your loved ones after he raised them, really, it was no wonder they were quite literally jumping at shadows after he was done! They had probably seen enemies in every corner at that point, so of course they had seen even the most harmless creature as an enemy. The flutterponies had paid the price, and if Mort were honest with himself, it was all on his head. He shook his head of such thoughts as he passed into a ruined village. 'Hundreds died here,' he thought as his eyes darted here and there. It had been one of the first places he'd attacked, the surprise had allowed him to take more lives than he did later on in the war. Certainly the death-toll had been kept to a minimum by Faust, but it had still been a great tragedy. Back then they had merely been a means to an end, make Faust angry, lure her out into the open so he could claim her as his... somehow... he'd never really figured out the details of how that would work actually. To be fair though, he had been genuinely insane at the time. Although... likely he would've killed her then raised her corpse as some kind of ghoulish zombie servant... or made her brain dead... or he could've possibly pulled her soul out and kept her body around... or... 'Please no more,' the pale pony internally pleaded as he tried not to think of the horrific ways his once insane mind would've 'kept' Faust for himself. The majority of which caused pure disgust to well within him. Most were half-baked at best with others being the delusions of a true mad-pony! 'Was I really such a monster? That I was willing to destroy what made her her just to have her to myself?' he wondered to himself. 'Yes... because if I'd actually succeeded then she'd have no longer been Faust, but a soulless doll at best and at worst something foul,' he mused and raised a hoof to cover his face. 'I was such a fool,' he thought with a shake of his head. He looked back up as he passed the final building in the small village, and saw the distant shadow of Faust's tower. The tower was visible from all around Dream Valley of course, being as tall as it was and had been designed that way, but from his new vantage it seemed different. Different from what he'd seen so very long ago. In his youth he'd marched into the tower fearlessly, drunk on power and 'victory' without any worry of what Faust could do. Truly he was a fool, Faust's magical prowess trumped his, she'd had decades of practice and a much wider array of spells to pull from... Yet in the end all she needed was a few illusions, a well placed trap, and that bubble spell of hers. "IT CERTAINLY WASN'T THE WORST WAY TO DIE," Mort admitted to himself, he could think of many worse ways he could have been killed. Faust had honestly been kind, if she'd been looking for true revenge she could've turned him into a tree, petrifying him painfully slow and leaving him to silently bear with that pain for however long he could endure it before he was inevitably cut down. Instead he felt no pain, merely a strangely numb sensation as each bubble floated off and popped away... Unless that numbness had been her form of revenge. Her way of saying he wasn't worth hurting, wasn't worth thinking about as he'd drifted away to nothing. Wasn't worth so much as a memory as he disappeared into the Aether, never to be seen or heard from again. Or that was how it should've been at least. Yet things hadn't gone that way, fate it seemed had had another plan for him. Instead of death he had come back, as an alicorn like her no less. An alicorn cursed to eternal rot, but an alicorn all the same. What must she have felt when he had returned? How much anger had welled within the ancient mare? How much had she hated him and hated the world that allowed him to continue when so many had been slaughtered by him... He didn't know, but given how long she'd carried her grudge, it was a substantial amount indeed. He suppressed a shudder at the thought and then paused his thoughts as a sound caught him. He remained perfectly still, watching on silently as a massive shadow slowly crawled up the length of Faust's tower. The bulk of the creature was quite obvious and as a pair of massive wings blocked out the dim light in Dream Valley Mort took a slow step back. Magenta scales, partially blackened by the consumption of iron, and spiky due to the consumption of diamonds, green eyes narrowed as he let loose a bellowing roar that shook the entire valley and left Mort feeling so very small. For, in all this time, he'd forgotten that Faust was not the only one to remember Dream Valley as it had been. She was not the only one who recalled what he had done to this once beautiful place. She was not the only one who's home he had so irrevocably ruined in his madness. No, there were others, but one was unlike Faust who tried desperately to restrain her hate, to curb her near limitless rage. It was plain she did so, after all, despite all he'd done she mostly just limited herself to a few snide comments and clear disgust. However Spike, King of all Dragons, absolutely reveled in such savagery... Said dragon looked down on Mort, confused for only a moment before his vision narrowed in on the pony. Much like a bird of prey, a Dragon's vision was extraordinarily good, even at insane distances. It was due to this fact that he was able to see the little pony dressed in black. Further, upon recognizing the pony, his vision was then bordered in bright red. He recognized the armor he wore quite easily, he also recognized his posture, but more importantly, even at this distance he recognized the foul smell of an undead. There was but one undead in that armor he knew of, one undead who he had sworn with all his fire to destroy. With a snarl Spike leaped off of the Tower and crashed into the ground with the force of a meteorite. The ground shook and cratered beneath his claws as it kicked up a cloud of dust and dirt into the air. He passed a wing through the dust cloud, dispersing it effortlessly and growled darkly. He slowly stalked forward, every fall of his claws sounding more like explosions than a steady approach. He passed the ruins of several villages with surprising care, never once stepping on any of them. Of course the fact that he had known those places in his youth, and the ponies who lived there, were the only reasons he was so careful. Yet Spike's focus was still on Mort, his eyes narrowed hatefully as his shadow passed over the little pony. Spike could say without any hyperbole that he absolutely hated Mortis the Black. He who had destroyed and defiled his home, Dream Valley, with the filthy Undead. He who had tried to capture and own his oldest living friend! He who created that horrible book, the Necronomicon, which had cost so many their lives and caused him so much trouble recently. But most importantly, he had been the source, the very reason that Faust had gone down such a self-destructive spiral of hate and self-loathing after she'd banished all the ponies from Dream Valley. Faust of course blamed herself, feeling that at the time she'd been irrational and out of control. Spike put all the blame on Mortis the Black, who had been the reason she'd been away at the time, the reason she'd needed to fight again, the reason the ponies were so paranoid, and the reason that everything had turned out so horribly. And now there he was standing beneath him, just standing there, as if he Spike posed no threat to him at all! It made him furious! "WELL... THIS IS CERTAINLY A SURPRISE," Mort murmured while Spike narrowed his eyes. "GIVEN YOUR FAIRLY ADVANCED AGE, I WAS CERTAIN YOU'D BEEN CLAIMED BY THE LONG SLEEP," he remarked, yet was completely ignored by the dragon. The 'Long Sleep' was a dragon's term for death. But not a death in battle, no, Long Sleep referred to a dragon who had grown so massive that they could no longer sustain themselves and so passed into eternal slumber. Their bodies would eventually turn to stone, the many gems they had eaten in their life and the magic that made them returning to the soil from whence they came to sustain the next generation. Spike knew this of course, but he was actually insulted that Mort had the audacity to think he of all dragons would be so weak as to let the long sleep claim him! "You," the gargantuan dragon growled as smoke began to pour from his mouth and nostrils. "SO... I TAKE IT YOU RECOGNIZE ME?" he questioned and Spike narrowed his eyes, lips pulled back to show all of his many sharp teeth. "Mortis the Black," he hissed with enough venom to make a snake ill. Mort flinched and then cleared his throat. "YES... THAT WAS MY NAME ONCE, I PREFER MORT NOW ACTUALLY, BUT I TAKE IT YOU'RE ALSO STILL," the pale pony began and Spike dragged his claws through the dirt, digging deep gouges from the land. "A little bit absolutely livid," the dragon commented as his wings spread and soot and ash fell from between his jaws. "QUITE," Mort squeaked. While he was for all intents and purposes immortal, not to mention cursed to eternal rot, he was not in the habit of letting dragons set him on fire or trying to destroy him. Mostly because somehow it still really really really really bucking hurt something fierce! "Yes," Spike snarled and inhaled a breath, "so could you maybe be a pal," he began and then quickly raised his claw before he slammed it into the ground where Mort was. "And just hold still and die like the bug you are!" he roared furiously while Mort himself reappeared in the air. His black wings kept him aloft and Spike spotted him, only to snarl at what he saw and what the pale pony had become. "I don't know who commands fate or destiny, but they have a sick sense of humor letting you of all ponies ascend," the dragon growled as he sucked in his breath. "OH PONY FEATHERS," Mort muttered as he shot off like a dart while Spike let loose a magnesium powered stream of fire in his direction... Clockwork didn't like it when things didn't go according to plan. Not because he was arrogant mind you, but because when things went off the rails things tended to get ugly quick. Case in point, something seemed to have happened to Faust, as he couldn't contact her, and he couldn't get in touch with Twilight either, which was incredibly worrying on their own. However, the Tower also seemed... off... as it was showing a mass of black where the Simulacrum chamber should have been and he had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Why it showed naught but pure black was a mystery to the stallion. Though surprisingly simple in design, the Tower was very intricate in detail. 'Clearly this was Majesty's work,' he reasoned. Between Majesty and Faust, Majesty had obviously been more inclined towards technical knowledge, while Faust had offered creative ideas and a flare for on the spot alterations. With that in mind, he could only surmise that Faust had actually had limited involvement with the creation of the Tower-Heart itself, and that Majesty had likely put her heart and soul into it's creation. Actually... Clockwork paused that train of thought as his ear flicked back to catch some of the nearby conversation. "So you're like super-old right," Clockwork heard one of the little ponies question of the three other alicorns in the room. "Yes, though I'll remind you it's rude to mention someone's age," Aquaria noted. "But it's true," War-Helm commented bluntly and received a look from the water-alicorn. The living-armor then looked at her and snorted. "Don't give me that look girl, it's true and you know it," he stated flatly. The other alicorn grumbled under her breath while War-Helm focused on Rainbow. "So was there a point to bringing up our age?" he questioned. Rainbow shifted a bit and chuckled nervously. "Actually I was just wondering if you guys know about storm-calling really," she admitted. Having heard so many mentions of the old pegasus magic had really gotten her curious. "Huh... I was actually kind of wonderin' bout that myself," Applejack admitted and then looked at Rainbow strangely. "But I didn't think y'all would care 'bout somethin' like 'at," she admitted. Rainbow snorted and glared at her friend in response. "Well yeah! I mean I'm like one of the best Pegasi when it comes to the weather, so why shouldn't I be curious about the old ways we manipulated it?" she questioned. It was, if the other's were honest, actually a pretty decent point. While yes, Rainbow's talent mainly dealt with pure-speed, she did clearly have a great aptitude for weather magic as well. However War-Helm and Aquaria both looked to one another. "Do you remember the old Storm-Calls or how it worked?" War-Helm questioned. However the undersea queen frowned in response. "I'm pretty sure everypony here knows that my people more or less kept to ourselves since the fall of Dream Valley," she remarked and received a few nods from the assembled ponies. "Aside from that, I may be old but I'm not that old," she added with a slim frown across her lips. With a roll of his eyes War-Helm let out a gout of flames from his snout and looked to the little ponies himself. "Sorry, but neither of us are really old enough to have," he began only to stop as Tree-Mane, who was usually silent, made a few noises which drew the flaming war-pony's attention. "Wait you mean that's how it worked?" he questioned and Tree-Mane nodded his head in response. "Uh... pardon darling, but what did they say?" Rarity questioned curiously. "Apparently Storm Calling was done with music magic, and only pegasi with a talent in music could do it," he began as Tree-Mane continued to 'speak' to him. "Also it wasn't exact or even easy, some ponies were better at it than others, and by the time Dream Valley fell, the modern method of manipulating storms was starting to surface," he continued to translate for the wooden-pony. "Also, Faust was apparently against the modern method due to it coming from a... wait, do you mean those powers come from a literal storm demon?" he all but demanded of the wooden pony. "What?!" Rainbow demanded with wide eyes. "Now hold on, how the hay did weather manipulation come from a storm demon?" Applejack questioned and the wooden-pony made a few strange 'sounds' to War-Helm. "Unfortunately Tree-Mane wasn't actually around for that part, just knows that it was a thing," he replied and then listened further to the wooden pony and grimaced. "But it does know that modern weather manipulation was a lot more wild and unpredictable back in his era, and when used with unicorn magic created the Spell-Storm that basically annihilated most of Dream Valley," he added and saw most of the ponies flinch. As they did Rarity cantered over to Clockwork and peaked at the tower heart curiously. Unfortunately Clockwork seemed worried, his eyes were moving from place to place, an uneasy frown across his lips. "Forgive me for prying darling, but is something the matter?" she questioned and Clockwork gave a brief start. He then raised a hoof to his chest and offered an uneasy grin. "I'm not really sure," he admitted as he looked back to the heart. "Faust has gone completely silent and I don't know if it's because the Simulacrum Chamber is solid iron or if she just doesn't want to talk," he admitted and then looked elsewhere to a glowing white spot. "I'm not sure what's happened to Twilight since she's also not responding, nor are the princesses, and I can't tell if something is blocking my attempts to reach them or not," he admitted with a sigh. "Oh dear... that doesn't sound very good at all," Rarity remarked and Clockwork chuckled nervously. "No it doesn't," he admitted, then cleared his throat and offered a comforting smile. "But I'm fairly certain that if anything were wrong Miss Faust would be able to handle it," he remarked and Rarity breathed a slow sigh of relief. However it was then that they all heard a disturbing noise. For a moment, all the gathered ponies looked from place to place, trying to see where the noise had come from. That is till they noticed War-Helm staring straight at Tree-Mane. The ponies looked at the wooden pony as well and then to War-Helm unsure. "What is it doing?" Pinkie questioned slowly, an unsure expression on her face. She'd heard a lot of strange sounds over the years, between her time as an element and occasional visits from Uncle Mort that was a given. However that said, whatever sound Tree-Mane was uttering was by far and away the single most disturbing thing she'd ever heard in her life. In response to her query, War-Helm glanced back at the party pony with clear unease. "It's laughing," he replied somewhat ominously. The assembled ponies took that... somewhat well. Most simply grimaced as they stared at the wooden pony, while Pinkie decided she really didn't like it's laugh. Most of the time she liked laughter, it was her element after all, but when this pony laughed it felt wrong. She wasn't sure why it felt so wrong, but she knew that it felt entirely wrong to hear it. "P-Pardon me, Mister War-Helm sir, b-but why is Tree-Mane laughing?" Fluttershy questioned softly, wary looks occasionally directed towards the creature. She was the first to admit she was a very timid and fearful pony. As such she had no qualms admitting to herself or anyone else that the wooden pony scared her beyond rational thought. It was only the fact she had precious cargo on hoof that prevented her from sprinting to the other side of the room and hiding. "Hey yeah! What's so funny!" Rainbow agreed, flapping her wings and hovering just above and to the right of Fluttershy. To say that she was not absolutely bucking terrified however would be a bold faced lie. Unlike most of the other's she'd heard the stories of what Tree-Mane actually did to ponies and griffons directly from her once friend Gilda. Most of those stories tended to end with the words 'and then he died too' or some permutation thereof. In response, Tree-Mane ceased it's laughter, going completely silent before twisting it's neck to one side with a sickening crunch. Fluttershy grimaced in response, ears splayed back, while she slowly backed away from both it and War-Helm. "M-Maybe forget I said anything," she suggested with a shiver while Rainbow quietly gulped. With a roll of his eyes War-Helm turned to Tree-Mane and then hummed when the creature began to explain why it had laughed. "Ahhh... I see," he whispered softly. "Well? What'd it say!?" Rainbow all but demanded impatiently. War-Helm glanced at her for a moment and then rolled his eyes with a sigh. In his youth he'd have torn the mare's throat out for being so rude. She was very lucky he'd mellowed out with age. With a snort he turned back to Tree-Mane and narrowed his eyes, sending an impression of a question to the creature and awaiting it's response. Tree-Mane, finally, ceased it's laughter and then focused on the flaming stallion. It then used it's branches to cause several odd noises and War-Helm hummed. "Tree-Mane will answer your question with another question," he began, then turned to look at the other ponies, "Why do you think Faust locks herself up in this tower?" he questioned. He then watched a few of the ponies blink in response. "Because she needs to protect this place, duh," Rainbow responded. "Not to mention keep them 'ancient evils' locked up," Applejack noted with a visible shudder. "And she also records and stores knowledge," Rarity finished. War-Helm slowly nodded his head, yet Tree-Mane began to laugh once more, a cruel horrible sound echoing around them. "W-would you please stop that?" Fluttershy pleaded softly, shaking like a leaf while War-Helm turned to Tree-Mane as it answered the ponies. "Why would Faust need to protect this place? The tower is centered in Dream Valley, a desolate wasteland of in-numerous undead monsters and a spell-storm that attacks anything that moves, not to mention all the revenants in midnight castle," War-Helm translated for the wooden pony. "Then, even should they get passed all of that, they still need to get passed me," he continued to translate for the alicorn of fear. "As for keeping things locked up, well that is partially true, but why would she need to be inside of the tower with them?" he continued, "She could just as easily lock the doors to them, lock the tower, and then leave whenever she wants, so why doesn't she?" he questioned. Tree-Mane didn't bother to wait for the ponies to reply as he quickly continued, "as for recording, have you forgotten that that is a self-given job. She doesn't need to do it, her spells do it for her mostly, all she needs to do is sort them and even then it's not entirely necessary," he remarked coldly. "Wait, what are you trying to say?" Pinkie questioned, a bad feeling welling in her chest. Something about this didn't feel good to her. "I am old and I have lived in this valley since it's fall, I was cared for by Faust, and respect and admire her. I have learned many secrets of this world, unable and unwilling to speak them, for the damage they could do. But here, here I will speak one such secret, unknown to all by two," War-Helm translated as he slowly turned to the other ponies. "That secret, rather, a question long unanswered, when do you think Faust stopped hating ponies?" he questioned slowly. The assembled ponies were momentarily confused by the question. After all, Faust had been amicable to all of them, she hadn't seemed hateful at all. In fact the few times she'd seemed angry since meeting her had mostly pertained to Mort or some other ancient incident. She rarely spoke about what had happened to dream valley, and even when she did she tried to avoid the topic or steer it away. "Wasn't that like a really really long time ago," Rainbow commented and got a look from Aquaria. "Actually... she never really did," the ocean queen admitted and the ponies turned to her. "About well, five thousand years ago or so is when I first met Auntie Faust," she admitted and idly rubbed at her forelimb. "She was... different back then, angry mostly, but also so... so very very sad, it broke our hearts to see her that way," she noted and sighed. "It was pretty bad at the time, so we helped her to 'clear her mind' of whatever was making her so angry, but the sadness never really went away," she explained and Clockwork sat up and turned to her. "What did you do?" he questioned with a deadly serious tone. "N-Nothing intrusive I assure you," Aquaria admitted swiftly, "It was just an old song that flushed the anger out of her system and into a necklace she made," she explained, "I mean the only odd part was just how... wrong the necklace was," she admitted mostly to herself. However it was clear that she'd been loud enough for the others to hear her as Clockwork focused intently on the ocean mare. "Are you telling me you created a necklace filled with all of her hate and rage," he all but demanded incredulously and she chuckled nervously. "To be fair, at the time we just wanted to help her and couldn't think of anything else to do," she admitted and Clockwork brought a hoof to his face and groaned. "What about therapy?!" he demanded and Aquaria tilted her head. "Thera-what now?" she questioned and Clockwork groaned. "Right... five thousand years ago therapy didn't even exist did it," he muttered to himself. That had to have been the chief cause of so many of their modern problems now that he thought about it. Powerful spellcasters without access to therapy doing insane things because they could and no one talked them out of it. Faust wasn't even the first pony to do it, and he couldn't really blame the Sea-Ponies for wanting to help the mare... But still! "Now you said the necklace was odd?" he questioned grumpily as he rubbed his temples and Aquaria nodded. "Yeah, when she made it it was made from some lapis and a diamond," she admitted and Clockwork arched a brow, "when auntie channeled all of her hate into it, it turned the gem blood red and the lapis turned pitch black," she explained and several of the little ponies suddenly stilled. "D-Did it also have a little unicorn head on it?" Applejack questioned slowly. "Yeah," Aquaria replied and tilted her head. "Oh, and little wings too," she added. "You know what, that sounds really familiar for some reason," Pinkie commented while Rarity's mind quickly pulled up the logical conclusion. "Wait darling, are you telling me that the Alicorn Amulet is actually charged with five-thousand years worth of Faust's hate and rage at ponies?" the marshmallow unicorn questioned, only to pause, "Oh dear, that would certainly explain all the power in it," she admitted to herself while Aquaria tilted her head to one side. "Is that what you land ponies are calling it now?" she wondered and then shrugged her forelimbs, "we just called it as Faust's Amulet," she admitted. She then noticed the sudden oppressive air in the room. "Is... is something the matter?" she questioned slowly and Clockwork suddenly got up and looked to Tree-Mane. "You said you have a secret to tell, but I'll assume that the Alicorn Amulet's origin wasn't it," he noted crisply. The wooden pony silently nodded it's head and the time stallion took a few steps towards him. "Right, then what is the secret? Why does Faust keep herself locked in this place?" he questioned and Tree-Mane looked to War-Helm. The flaming pony let out a soft grunt as he listened to the wooden pony and narrowed his eyes. "More questions must be asked for the answer... Why does Faust collect so much knowledge if she has no need for it? Why did she have the Necronomicon in an easily accessible bookcase instead of locked in an iron-vault? Why does she have a Simulacrum Chamber? Why does she collect simulacra and their pieces at all when she already has their blueprints stored? Why did she help build Marionette?" Tree-Mane questioned and Clockwork frowned. "I don't know," he admitted softly. Tree-Mane suddenly began to raise itself on it's branches, growing taller and taller and looming over all of the much small ponies as it twisted it's head to the side. "She does so, to right an ancient wrong, for which she cannot forgive herself," it explained while War-Helm closed his eyes. "What? What could she have possibly done that requires so much of her?" Rarity questioned softly, though was unsure if she even wanted the answer. Some part of her mind told her that she didn't want to know, and when Tree-Mane's neck snapped as it turned to her, she was inclined to agree... "When she banished all the ponies from this place, she conjured an army of their worst nightmares to drive them out," it began and slowly looked around the room, "In fact she did not truly banish them, she instead chased them out of this tower," the wooden pony continued to explain. "Her guards stood against her to protect the ponies as best that they could, all but one left to further defend them in the forsaken wastes, while the last remained behind to lock herself and Faust in the tower," War-Helm continued to translate and closed his eyes. He knew where this story was going... "S-So how did her guard get back out? D-Did she like get to another exit or..." Rainbow began to question warily only to stop when Tree-Mane's head snapped in her direction. All was silent for a moment, as the wooden pony loomed over the rainbow mare. After a moment it made several final sounds that War-Helm translated with a sigh... "What makes you think she survived?" In the depths of the tower, an ancient mare sat silent and grieving... Memories forgotten where at last reclaimed... Yet they brought no comfort or joy... Only sorrow... and guilt... 'All your fault...' 'I'm so sorry...' the thought echoed in her mind endless. Ancient armor lay discarded, scattered to the floor. 'Not worthy,' 'I'm so sorry...' she continued to think as she looked at the bits of armor. Mind conjuring images of good ponies, good friends, who had once gifted it to a friend and ruler. 'Not worthy,' 'I didn't mean for this...' she continued to think as she instead turned eyes to a pitch black amulet. 'All your fault,' 'I'm so sorry...' An image appeared within her mind of an old friend, breaking apart, vanishing into motes of light... 'All your fault...' 'I'm so sorry...' In the depths of the tower, an ancient mare sat silent and grieving... 'All your fault.' 'I'm so sorry...' And as she looked up, tears of regret and sorrow would not cease... 'All your fault.' 'I'm so sorry...' And in her mind, a secret yet unspoken, a promise yet unbroken... 'All your fault!' 'I'll put you back together...' A pony suddenly sat up, ears twitched and turned from side to side. For a moment, all was still as the echoes of a voice whispered to the pony. Till soon enough it was gone. With a frown, they turned to the nearest window and looked to the distance. "Hey, you okay there Downs?" Shining Armor questioned. Yet the false pony didn't respond, instead they focused on the sky outside. "Breakdown?" Shining questioned slowly as he placed a hoof onto their shoulder. The false pony turned and looked at Shining, yet strangely seemed to look passed him for a moment. "Downs?" the prince questioned slowly and his friend slowly blinked his eyes. "Shining... did you hear that?" they questioned slowly. The prince simply looked at his friend strangely for a moment before he replied. "Hear what?" he questioned. "I... don't know," the false pony admitted. In the distant lands owned by the dragonic horde, an enormous dragon groaned as he felt a pulsing tingle from between his spines. He grunted and grumbled as he tried to ignore the feeling entirely. He was tired, looking after all the whelps in the dragon lands took a lot more energy than he liked to admit and he was really getting on in years. Sure he was basically a glorified baby-sitter, but at least his head was still attached and his wings worked. That was more than he could say for some dragons who had dared challenge the king... With a shudder he recalled his youth, how a young strong and arrogant dragon had dared challenge the king for his throne. Many had done so, most were beaten to within an inch of their lives, or were burned by a fire so hot it was like he had the very power of the sun itself backing it. He had been one of many, but he'd been lucky, the king had liked him and so had gone 'easy' on him. He made him 'Dragon-Lord' which sounded important, but it was really just a glorified way of calling him a baby-sitter. He also hadn't been able to complain about it, what with how his 'king' had literally ripped his chest open in their fight, leaving him to forever wear a chest-plate to hide the horrifically deformed flesh and scales beneath. If any dragon was willing to argue with the dragon-king before, when he'd only killed his challengers, then they all shut-up quick after seeing what he did to the challengers he 'liked'. It had also effectively killed his ego as well as rid him of the worthless arrogance he'd built up in his youth. At first he'd hated it, it had been demeaning and of course the king had laughed at him when he complained about it. Their king wasn't nice after all, he was honestly a monster of the worst sort in his opinion. He'd never say that to his face of course, but he would think it pretty loudly. With a snort he recalled those early days of thanklessly looking after a horde of whelps while their parents lounged in magma pits and scavenged for food. Meanwhile he was stuck with a legion of crazy whelps, none of which listened to him unless he used the blood-stone scepter to keep them in line! Said scepter had actually been made for that purpose, keeping whelps in line so they didn't do anything too stupid was apparently a lot harder than it sounded. In theory it should've been easy, he was hundreds of times their size and they were such tiny runts... in practice, they were tiny and could get into places easier than he could which had often ended with him chasing them or outright using the scepter to keep them still. Eventually he'd gained the respect of the whelps, but that had taken a lot of time and effort. With a snort he shook his body as the tingling pulse in his spines continued, but he also continued to ignore it. He heard a small sound and realized he'd probably jostled his tiny daughter around in his attempts to shake the feeling. He stilled and felt her shift and then settle on his snout, lightly breathing and bringing a smile to his face. Honestly... even if being Dragon Lord was nothing but a tittle for a glorified baby-sitter, he felt that it had been worth it. As it was only thanks to being 'Dragon Lord' that he'd eventually met his mate, a lovely dragoness, slender and with the most beautiful white scales he'd ever seen. She'd chosen to help him reign in some of the more rambunctious whelps at the time, and had been surprised by how well he could handle them all. Apparently, some females really liked a male who could look after whelps without chewing on them, which he had never guessed before. Most male dragons were of the opinion that you had to be big and strong to attract a mate... Heh, the truth was a bit more complicated than that. He remembered that time fondly, and his mate as well. Together they had looked after the whelps and for a long long time all was right and good in his world. Eventually, when the king had gone to take a nap, the whelps he helped raise had seen 'Dragon Lord' as a tittle with more weight behind it than being a glorified baby-sitter. The older they got with whelps of their own the more respect he received from them. Eventually, while the true dragon 'king' was still an honored tittle, Dragon Lord was seen as someone who looked out for the whole of their species. Unlike the Dragon King, who was seen as either a lazy bully, or an outright monster to be feared. Even the dragon council, made up of the oldest and wisest of their species, respected him. Yet strangely enough, he didn't care about any of that. He didn't care that the dragon-king had made him a glorified baby-sitter, he'd found his mate because of it. He didn't care that he had horrific scars across his chest from when said dragon-king had all but ripped his heart out, his mate had thought the armor he wore looked rather dashing on him. He didn't care that dragons respected him more now than when he was young and powerful, he recalled them all when they were still a bunch of crazy whelps. And even if his mate was gone now, claimed by the Long-Sleep, he still had his daughter to remember her, and even though she was a runt, he didn't care... He paused his thoughts as the pulsing tingle between his spines came back with even more intensity and let out a groan. 'Oh bugger me... what now?' the dragon wondered as he opened an amber eye and let out a massive yawn. With a smack of his lips he reached back between his spines and pulled a tiny scepter free and brought it up to his face to get a better look at it, only to pause when he saw it pulsing. The scepter was made from purple stone which formed a claw to hold a bright crimson stone in place. Said gem was pulsing wildly with power, as if something was happening. Yet as far as he knew there was nothing wrong, the whelps were all sleeping and even then they couldn't do this to the scepter. Tartarus, even he couldn't make the scepter pulse like this and he was the Dragon Lord! Wait... he couldn't do this, but what about... Oh... Oh no... Oh no no no no no... "He's awake," he uttered with a grimace and brought a claw to his face. If the king was awake, then he'd have to go find him. He considered finding the council and informing them... no... the lot of them had more than enough to deal with without having to find and placate the king. Further, he was bigger than all of them and closest to the king in terms of sheer size. With the king's temper, it was probably a bad idea for them to look for him or he might just eat them... With a grunt, Dragon Lord Torch climbed up onto his claws and let loose another yawn. The bulky dragon had ruddy blue-green diamond shaped scales, two massive horns at the sides of his head that pointed forward, three sharp spines at the middle of his back, enormous wings with a tattered orange membrane, a tattered orange spade / fan at the tip of his tail. He, unlike most dragons, also wore a black chest plate with segmented pauldrons and gold accents. With another yawn, Torch idly reached to the side with one claw as he rubbed at his eyes with the other to grab his crown. It was, in his opinion, a gaudy number with pinkish-red crystals on a simple black base which he placed on his head. The only reason he wore the bloody thing was because his mate had made it for him and he was loath to deny her anything. He only continued to wear it because... well... honestly it just made him feel closer to her. With a sigh, Dragon Lord Torch stomped out of his cave and into the dragon lands. He spotted many of the adult dragons sleeping, while their whelps were cuddled near them for warmth. Torch paid the dragons no mind as he ducked down and then with a few beats of his massive wings rose into the air and shot off into the distance. He had an idea of where the dragon king might be, likely the forsaken lands as many dragons called them. The Dragon King still referred to them by their proper name, Dream Valley, but the rest saw a desolate wasteland with few redeeming qualities, hence why they referred to them as 'forsaken'. It was only the fact that the king and the council had lived there that they didn't torch the place to try and burn away whatever undead or other misshapen monsters still remained there. All Dragons and their types and a job in nature much like many of the other smaller species, no matter what the king said. The jobs that they did were just of a simply greater scale than what Ponies did. Some simply burned away what was unnecessary, some built mountains or carved out the leylines beneath the ground, others maintained the icecaps or created the wind-currents of the world. In Torch's opinion, the forsaken lands should've been turned over to the Wyrms and Lindwyrms to be burned ages ago, burn away the rot and the death to leave their ashes to aid in the growth of something new. But the king wouldn't have it, stubborn to a fault he'd said that 'Dream Valley' was to be left alone and any who dared challenge his decision also challenged him. None were brave enough to challenge him then, and few even recalled why that place still existed now. Torch paused his musings as a thought suddenly occurred to him. 'I'm forgetting something,' he realized and looked to his snout where his daughter was still seated. Only now she too was awake and giving him a sleepily annoyed look. "Ugh... Dad, what're you doing?" she questioned. His daughter 'Princess Ember' was a tiny thing despite her age, standing only a little taller than the average pony.... when she stood up on her hind legs as was common for whelps. On all fours, as was common for most adult dragons, she stood at roughly the same size as a pony. She was truly a runt and every dragon in all the dragon lands knew it, but didn't dare comment on it out of fear, or maybe respect, of Torch. She had diamond shaped scales like her father only they were blue save for several 'freckles' beneath her eyes and the softer scales along her underbelly where they were sea-foam colored, she was slim and slender like her mother, with her mother's deep crimson eyes and dark blue spines, she had her father's curved horns at the sides of her heads, with an average wingspan for her size with a light blue membrane, and a similar spade / fan to Torch at the tip of her tail only in dark blue. Idly the tiny dragoness looked around and then fixed her eyes on her father. "Wait... where are we going?" she questioned curiously and Torch sighed. Ember wasn't like most dragons, she was always thinking, she spent too much time around the council in his opinion. She was also very curious, but that was more in line with a whelp than the thinking part. Whelps tended to just do things without any thought, curiosity was there, it was just curiosity for the sake of curiosity. Ember wasn't like that, she was only curious with a purpose and that made things so much worse in his opinion. With any other whelp all you had to do was warn them it was dangerous and they left well enough alone. With Ember however, you had to explain why it was dangerous and then answer a bunch of other questions on top of it. Even then she often went off to check whatever it was just to be sure. It had led to more than a few headaches and worry for Torch in her younger years. Now it wasn't so bad, but she was still tiny and so he still worried about her getting hurt. Sure he was probably a little overprotective, but in his defense, Ember was all he had left of her mother. "We," he emphasized as he narrowed his eyes on the much smaller dragon, "aren't going anywhere," he stated as he reached up to pluck the dragoness from his snout. Ember frowned as she was lifted up by her wings, forelimbs crossed and a clear twitch to her eye. "I have business to get too," he stated, then snorted, "you on the other claw are going to go and stay with Ignitus until I return," he stated firmly. Ember scowled in response, she liked Ignitus, she really did, but she didn't see why she couldn't go with her dad. "Are you doing something dangerous?" she questioned and Torch palmed his face. "Not really," he murmured then paused in thought. Well no more dangerous than going to find out why the king had either summoned him or was beyond angry causing the blood-stone scepter to go haywire... okay so it could be pretty dangerous. "Well, maybe," he allowed. And it would especially be dangerous for Ember, Spike might just eat her if he thought she was a runt, he wasn't known as a 'dragon-eater' for nothing after all. Ember would probably look like little more than 'Finger Food' to the big dragon. "Why?" she questioned and Torch flinched. He was not going to tell her about the king, mostly because then she would really want to see him. Even if he said he was a dragon eater, she'd still find some way to follow him just to see what the king actually looked like. "No particular reason," he said with a grimace and idly rubbed his snout. He saw Ember's eyes narrow and then frowned as she glared at him. "Then why exactly do I have to go stay with Ignitus instead of going with you?" she questioned bluntly. "Well," he tried to reply but Ember continued. "And if it isn't going to be dangerous then should it even matter?" she continued and Torch frowned. "I never said," he again tried to say but she cut him off again. "Also, even if I stayed behind why would I need Ignitus to look after me?" she questioned, eyes narrowed, "I'm not a whelp anymore dad, I can take care of myself," she stated resolutely and Torch internally snorted at that idea. Ember was grown and very mature, yes he'd agree with that, but she could hardly take care of herself given how small she was and the size of her peers. Also... he was kind of annoyed with her constantly interrupting him. "Because I said so!" he responded in a roar and she growled. She hated when he got like this! "No get your tail in gear and get to Ignitus!" he ordered and Ember started to grumble as he released her. "Now!" he added when he saw she was sluggishly moving. He saw her growl in response as she then shot off and he watched her intently. Torch snorted as he watched her fly away and then quickly turned his attention back around. 'Now to find the king and hope he's in a reasonable mood,' he thought to himself. However had he turned back around he would've seen Ember smirk as she herself turned and landed on Torch's armored back. She was thankful for his armor as she climbed the length of it, and then flew up to hide in his crown. 'Nice to know this stupid thing is useful for something,' she thought as she hid among the crystals of her father's crown. She also couldn't help but wonder where exactly it was that they were going... TBC...