Horns, Hooves, and Fur

by Deyeaz

XXVII - The Truth-Telling in Tartarus

Jace, Praxis, and Vinyl followed Aksheal to wherever the Markarth god was leading them. While Jace and Vinyl already know of where their destination would be, Praxis didn’t even have a clue.

“Say, where’re we going?” the satyr asked.

“We are going to the place where Reapers are born, Praxis. Where they are taken and created. It’s not bad, really. Only harm you’ll encounter is the transformation itself but the most major of changes happen in about three days of constantly being inside of this place.” Aksheal walked to a large wooden and steel door, snapping his fingers and made them open on their own. “Here are the front doors to the tower. Go outside and take a breathe of fresh air... You’re going to want to beg for clean air when you’re down there.”

Praxis shuddered slightly at Aksheal’s words before stepping out of the castle. The layout of Markarth looked similar to Canterlot, but Praxis assumed there was so much more beyond the walls of the city. Ponies, humans, griffins, diamond dogs, even a few draconnequi and other creatures that Praxis had no name bustled through the city, either chatting, playing, or buying and selling with, from, and to one another. The civilians were clad in robes composed of a myriad of colors, ranging from pitch black to blinding white.

“Enjoy the view?” Aksheal walked out beside Praxis, getting to the edge of the floating island and looking down at his kingdom. “My world is created equal in all ways. I enjoy the equality, gives it a very nice touch than other worlds.” He turned to Praxis and smiled. “You are revered here, can never be in trouble and everyone respects you; no matter what they think. Same with Jace. This is your safe haven from the everyday world of Equestria you two live in.”

“Yes, it’s very nice, Aksheal. But now we must be taken into Tartarus, yeah?” Jace patted Aksheal on the back and looked at Praxis, standing at the edge. He had his back turned to the cliff edge and folded his arms over his chest. “See you down there, Fluffy.” He let himself fall back, right off the island.

“Ah, Tartarus. I wonder if Fluttershy can teach me how to tame Cerberus....” As Praxis went off on his rather unusual tangent, Vinyl rolled her eyes and jumped down after Jace, leaving Aksheal and Praxis in their lonesome.

“Aksheal... when we die, do we come here?” Praxis asked. Aksheal turned to the satyr with a questioning look.

“Praxis, it won’t be a matter of WHEN you die. It will be a matter of IF, for I know you, Jace, and Vinyl Scratch are capable of defeating Insanity, and ridding the world of a plague that has existed for far too long. But... when you do find yourself in a situation of death, your soul is put here in Markarth where it is nursed back to health by Lyniv. As this happens, your Dream Personality takes over for you in the other world and bodies are swapped, making the latter fully healed and your body ready to be occupied by yourself again.” Aksheal turned to him and laughed at the confused look on his face. “That’s the expression I get all the time when I explain it for the first time! Don’t worry, it’ll make sense to you if you see it happen to one of you which I’m pretty sure will happen.”

“So... lemme get this straight... if I die, your wife Lyniv - which is Vinyl backwards --”

“-- Excellent observation,” Aksheal said sarcastically.

“-- recovers me, while my Dream Personality - in my case, Aflatoon --”

((You rang?)) The minor god of agriculture and combat asked when he passed by the doors.

((No, but good timing, bro,)) Praxis complemented.

((Damn it...)) With that, Aflatoon stalked off inside the castle.

“--will take control of my body, which will be like his and be fully healed?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” Aksheal moved back to the castle and stepped inside before turning back. “Might as well go join Jace and Vinyl, I have something to grab before we leave for Tartarus. Off you go, now!” Aksheal magicked Praxis up and over the edge of the island. Upon seeing how deep the drop was, Praxis’s eyes shrunk to the size of dust specks.

“Aksheal, you son of a--” The Markarth god let go of his magical hold of the satyr.

“BIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!” Praxis vanished from sight.

“Oh, quit your bitching, Praxis!” Vinyl said as she, Jace, and Praxis walked through the large walled-off town. They all were being greeted by the ponies, humans, and others of the towns. “It wasn’t that bad!”

Praxis, who had crash-landed in a massive pond, spat out water and looked at Vinyl with unamused eyes. “Yeah... It was fantastic.”

“Well, escuuuuuuuse me; Praxis!” Vinyl rolled her eyes and was approached by a green robed pony.

“Sis? That you?” The three stopped and Vinyl beamed with happiness, “It’s me! Record!”

“Oh my Celestia, Record Spin!” The two siblings embraced and the pony in green robes pushed his hood down to show a neon green mane, the color of his robes, and a Van Dyke beard that was the same color as his mane. He had piercing orange eyes and a snow white coat like Vinyl. The two looked eerily similar.

“Whoa, wait. Brother? How can he be your brother when you’re--”

“Not in the same world?” Jace finished for Praxis, who nodded in slight confusion.

“Simple. I used to live in Equestria and was transferred over to Markarth with Jace’s help.”

“That’s when there was that three year gap of nothing in my life here...” Jace put a single hand in his pocket and snapped his fingers to change his own clothes into robes. What had replaced his street clothes were long flowing black robes with a black aura swirling around him. The civilians in the area instantly stopped and bowed except for Record and Vinyl.

“What... In the name of Tartarus...”

“You forget that I’m Death, Praxy boy! Here, I’m a lesser god and am worshipped here. The robes are the dead giveaway about me being Death.” He raised a hand and then threw his hood up, his face being cloaked with the black veil and two red dots where his eyes were light up inside the black. “My followers! Please, you do not need to be so formal towards me. Death is here for a time of happiness and life, not to take that away. Go about your day.” The ones who were bowing got up and slightly dipped their heads to show respect and went about their day.

“Not sure if swag, or... aw, fuck it, it’s swag,” Praxis concluded. Jace gave a short laugh.

“Not swag. Respect, Praxis.” His scythe slowly appeared in his hands as they walked for the gates of the town and was given a respected dip or a ‘good morning’ every now and then. Vinyl and her brother, Record Spin, had - more or less - received the same treatment as Jace had been given.

But since Praxis was a newcomer, he was considered anonymous. An outsider.

‘Just the way I like it.’ With arms behind his head, Praxis walked along, a small smirk on his face.

‘Good job not checking for the magic on me, Fluffy.’ He turned to Jace who had a red light surrounding his finger. “Rule One of being a Reaper: perception. Be. Aware.” He moved in front of him, using his scythe as a walking stick and going towards the gates of Tartarus. “When you enter in here, you enter into the very heart of the Calling Card. Zeke’s domain.”

“Speaking of Zeke’s Domain...” Record chimed. The four of them had reached a monolithic mansion, wrought of black bones and the occasional corpse. “Yeah, I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that’s Zeke’s mansion...”

“Record,” The pony in question turned to Jace. “Say, ‘Allons-y’ for me.”

“Augh, Jace. For the last time. I won’t say-”

“Pleeeeeease!”

“Fine!” He sighed and looked down, then looked up and jumped up on his hind hooves, pointing at the mansion with a large smile. “ALLONS-Y!~”

“Oh, my life is fucking complete now....” Jace knocked on the door of Zeke’s mansion. The sound of his knuckles striking the bone of the door reverberated all around them. After a few moments, however, the doors opened, prepared to see Zeke with his black robes, tall stature, and deadly scythe.

But what they weren’t prepared for was that the Grim Reaper was holding a large black teddy bear, with red crosses for eyes, bat wings, and small fangs.

“Aw, fuck!” Zeke threw the stuffed animal inside the mansion and out of sight. He leaned casually on the door before saying, “...’Sup, guys?”

“W-w-w...” Jace turned to the others then back to Zeke. “The fuck was that? A teddy?”

“Shut up! The god of Death can’t have a nap? Jeez, you people are judgemental. Can I offer you a cup of blood? Tea? Coffee?” Jace raised his hand. “Which one?”

“The blood, extra A-negative.”

“Coffee, please. Cappuccino, preferably,” Praxis answered, still slightly disturbed by the size and the existence of the cuddly stuffed animal.

“Tea. One sugar.” Record said calmly, before moving past Zeke into the mansion.

“Likewise,” Vinyl said a little grumpily. Zeke would’ve raised an eyebrow until Praxis told him.

“Her eggo is preggo, so she can’t have booze.”

“Noooo, you don’t fucking say?” Zeke’s head twisted in a very inhumane, lengthwise manner. “Hello? Where have you been? We know everything that Jace knows.”

“Where have I been? Well, I can only assume getting eaten by hydras, whipped by your brother in a fit of drunken hysteria, and having to solve everypony’s motherfucking problems in Ponyville counts as a good answer,” Praxis said coldly.

Zeke crossed his arms and rubbed his bony chin. “Hmmmm, hmm- No. It’s not.” He walked into his mansion and went to the kitchen. “When you’re going all over a world, taking souls and moving them on and also know what’s going on not even in your own world, talk to me.” He fixed the drinks and brought them out to their respected owners.

“Oh, I will, my friend,” the satyr chuckled as he took the cup and went to sit in the kitchen table. “Beep-beep, motherfuckers; cup of molten lava coming through.” Jace, Vinyl, and Record snorted into their drinks from the joke.

Zeke only facepalmed. “Just drink your goddamn beverages so we can get onto the training. You do know you’re going to be here for a while, a day or so. The fighting will come to you naturally staying here and I’ll teach you some myself.”

“Why not have Jace do it?” Praxis turned to the Reaper in question, who was sipping on his blood. He put down the cup and blinked.

“I’m still in training myself.”

“Wait, the way you fight now and you’re still in training?!” Praxis gaped.

“Yeah, Reapers are meant to be unbeatable and know every style of fighting. Yeah, and you might wanna close your mind, there, Praxis. I can hear what you say about me drinking blood. No, I’m not going to fucking sparkle.” He took another sip and then turned back to him. “Yes, and I fucking hate werewolves. They suck ass to play as in Skyrim.”

Praxis blinked a few times before laughing loudly. “I know that feel!” he exclaimed.

“Yeeeeeah, no you don’t.”

“Bitch, please, of course I do. Even though I gave up on Skyrim because of the infinite motherfucking quests. Besides, I was in no mood to be eighty years old and STILL playing that damn game.”

Jace held up his hand, all fingers extending. “This is how many days it took me to finish all quests possible and beat the game with every achievement.” Praxis stared at him with a hint of disgust.

“You had no life at all....” Praxis only tutted his disapproval.

“Back on Earth, no I didn’t. Why do you think I stayed in Equestria?”

“Because you HAVE a life here.”’

“Exactly!” He finished the drink and set the cup down on the table. “Now, can we get this started?”

Praxis nodded and downed the rest of his drink as well. Unfortunately, the cappuccino was still rather hot... and in turn--

“AH! CARPET TONGUE!” Praxis put his empty mug down and went to the sink, turned it on, and quickly splashed the water into his mouth. It would have helped, had it not been for the fact that--

“Praxis, the water is blood.” Zeke stood in the middle of the room, picking up the finished cups. The satyr closed the tap on the running sink and wiped his rough, bloody tongue on his Shadow Fiber robes. The material vanquished the blood and a bit of saliva, but Praxis’s carpet tongue persisted.

“What kind of bullshit is this!?” He exclaimed. Vinyl had almost fallen out of her chair from how hard she was laughing at Praxis’ bad luck streak. Record Spin was resisting the urge to follow in her stead.

“Why would I have water?! I hate water! Reapers drink blood to kill off all thoughts of killing. It’s what keeps our morals straight.” Praxis only turned to Zeke with a look of anger.

“That statement was so ironic, it hurt,” he said. “Drinking blood, a fluid that is released from damaged flesh, gets rid of the thoughts of KILLING?!”

“Not this blood! It’s synthetic, and can be used as blood for transfusion but it’s specially made for me,” Zeke said with a smidgen of pride. Praxis pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Can we just hurry this along!?” Vinyl finally interjected. “I just wanna go home.”

“I second that notion,” said Record.

“Well, we will be going home. Praxis is going to have to say here for a couple days on his own.” With that, Jace and Vinyl began glowing white. After a few seconds, they had disappeared and had returned to Equestria.

“Umm... where’s Record?” Zeke and Praxis said in unison.

Vinyl and Jace reappeared in the living room of the mansion, crashing onto the ground in another heap. After getting off of each other, Jace picked up his Calling Card and put the chain of it around his neck again.

But little did they know, they brought along an unexpected guest.

“Wait, why am I here?!” They turned to see Record Spin standing with them. Vinyl just laughed.

“Sweet! We got my brother to come with us, this is great!”

“That’s friggin’ awesome.” Jace laughed into his hand at the sight of Record examining his surroundings.

“Haven’t been here in three freaking years, and it’s so different! The colors are so dull!”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Jace asked incredulously. “The colors look like someone ramped up the contrast to 100% on a video game! The first time I came here, it was so bright, it burnt holes in my retinas!”

“Obviously, you’ve never lived in Markarth for more than three days. A week of being there, I was still seeing stars.”

“Well, alright, then, maybe I’ve only been there for a few hours, but still!”

“Guys,” Vinyl interjected. “Ya think Praxis’ll be alright?”

“I don’t doubt it. If Goat-Boy could survive getting swallowed by a hydra and a swarm of horny mares, then I don’t see a problem.”

“Now that that’s over with, you can come with me,” Zeke instructed before exiting the kitchen and heading down the hall of the estate, Praxis following him. After a few minutes of walking, the two came across two doors, each one with a sigil above them. The one of the left had a black crescent moon turned open-side up with three drops of black blood coming off of it; the other on the right had a brass scale with white skulls in each pan. The door on the right had indeed seen better days: the threshold bore innumerable cobwebs and was slightly weathering from age.

“So which one is which?” Praxis asked.

“The door on the left is the door where Chaos Reapers get initiated, while the door on the right is for Order Reapers to be born.”

“Man...” Praxis’s heart was hammering in his chest from how nervous he was becoming.

“Are you sure you want to do this? If this is completed, it cannot be undone,” Zeke warned.

Praxis swallowed with difficulty, like his throat had been slightly clogged. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He nodded to emphasize his determination to go through with this.

“Y’said you wanted to be an Order Reaper, right.” Praxis nodded. “Step into the room on the right, you’ll have difficulty breathing in the beginning so breathe slowly and deeply.” Zeke slowly made his way to the right door and pushed it open to reveal a pitch black room that had no features in any way shape or form.

“Being an Order Reaper means that you will have the same priorities as Jace. You will have to take the souls of the dead and lead them to their final resting place. The Chaos Reapers are fighters, not the ones that carry out the duty of being the Grim Reaper. Step into my office...”

Zeke entered the room briskly, but what came next when Praxis came in... was completely unexpected.

The second Praxis brought his hoof past the threshold, excruciating pain shot through him like a lightning bolt. He stepped back from the door, biting his lip to refrain from shouting in agony. As quickly as it had come, the brunt of the damage had faded away.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Aksheal asked as he turned around to face Praxis. The satyr tried again with the same results. As he tried to withstand the mysterious damage, several terrible, fearsome voices rang in his skull.

“Unclean.... Unwanted... Unnecessary... Unholy... Unloved...”

Praxis was rejected from the room, as if some strange entity had pushed him out. Praxis tumbled down the hall, skidding to halt on the long hallway runner rug.

“Praxis!” Zeke bolted out of the room, running for the fallen satyr. “That voice, it’s the voice of Order, Deyeaz. It only does that when one is corrupted to the point where Order cannot exist. Seems we’re going to have to make you a full out Chaos Reaper then.”

“No, Zeke!” Praxis abruptly sat up. “Jace may be fine with Chaos, and so might you, but with the state I’m in?! Dabbling with Chaos ain’t gonna help!”

“Trust me, Praxis, it WILL help!”

“EXPLAIN DISCORD!” Zeke surprisingly recoiled from Praxis’s bellows. “EXPLAIN THAT FUCKED-UP FLIPPER BABY AND HOW EVERY SINGLE FUCKING LAW OF PHYSICS AND LOGIC GETS DEFIED EVERY TIME HE BREATHES!”

“You can’t explain Chaos. You can only look at it, smile and wave.”

“Exactly. I don’t like ANYTHING I can’t understand...”

“So, you don’t like Typhoon?”

“No, Typhoon is something I can understand: the magician Marrin ENCHANTED the gems. THAT is something I can actually understand."

“Marrin was an old fool.”

“So was my uncle, but then again, I don’t make a big deal of it.”

“Marrin was an old, old Reaper. I took him into the order long ago, but he didn’t serve his entire time in the Void, as we like to call it. He used the magic he possessed to make weapons before he died, each imbued with Chaos magic.” Praxis slowly pulled out the scimitar from its scabbard and held it in the light of the torches on the walls. The Tempest Jades were fully lit from his battles in the Everfree Forest, the silver dragon scale blade glinting in the torchlight.

As all this was going on, Aksheal was leaning against the Chaos Reaper door and spoke up. “This is why you don’t see many Order Reapers anymore... Most are corrupted because they didn’t understand the Chaos that they become possessed with when becoming a Chaos Reaper. That is enough to throw you out. Becoming an Order Reaper then a Chaos Reaper will be a good way to do it.”

Zeke caught an eerie glow out the corner of his eye. Looking down at Praxis’s stomach, his eye sockets went wide.

“Uh... Zeke, my eyes are up here,” Praxis told him.

“That’s not what this is about, you dumbass. Look!” Zeke pointed at what he was eyeing. Praxis looked down at his stomach, groaning in both frustration and despair.

“So that’s the reason why you’ve been cast out.” Praxis’s lifted up the front of his robes, revealing the Curse Seal on his abdomen. The Seal was pulsating viciously from having entered the room of Order Reapers. Zeke pressed a palm on Praxis’s stomach. Rather than dying on the spot, A small jolt of pain surged through the satyr’s stomach. Zeke hissed in pain and withdrew his hands like they had been burned by the contact. “It’s worse that I thought... this isn’t Chaos Magic, this is BLACK Magic.”

“Well, what’s the difference?”

“While Chaos Magic and Black Magic can be summoned and used at will, Chaos Magic can be used for good. Black Magic, however... is an entirely different story. Everyone knows that when someone gets even a small amount of Black Magic in them, it could turn them over into something terrible... something evil.”

“But I don’t get it! How could I be harboring evil when I’ve DONE nothing really evil?”

“Insanity came from you, correct? He’s YOU. He’s committed evil deeds, which in turn means YOU’VE committed evil deeds.”

Praxis sighed. “That’s not it. Insanity was spawned from all of the memories of hatred, anger, and sadness that I had back on Earth. And because I’ve come to Equestria, these memories manifested themselves into one sentient, sapient entity. He does evil deeds for the sake of doing them, slaughtering innocent bystanders. Now think for a second. Does that even REMOTELY sound like me?”

“Of course not,” Zeke answered.

“Exactly. I'm not evil... and that... THING... is NOT me.” Praxis sheathed Typhoon. Zeke only sighed.

“Praxis... I have something for you.” Zeke dove his skeletal hand into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small vial. He tossed the vial to Praxis, who caught it.

“What is it?” he asked as he examined the contents: brightly glowing golden sand.

“That, my boy, is a bottle filled with magical sand, collecting at the beach of the Ocean of Torment. While the sands of the ocean are mainly black, rare pockets of this golden sand appear deep underground. While I have as much of these sands as I want, I want to give one of them to you.”

“What do they do?”

“Pour them into your hands, and toss them into the air, and anything that you are thinking of shall come to be: anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes... anything.”

Praxis smiled at the prospect. On one hand, he could wish for Insanity's annihilation, thus ending the Night of Fate. But on the other hand, he feels like he owes somepony something... or somepony else that was important to them...

"Hey, Zeke?"

"Yeah?"

"Can these sands resurrect someone?"