HURRICANE TRINITY
An MLP Extended-Universe Story
Written by M.J. Hopper
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Hurry up, slowpoke!”
“I’m…hah…coming!” The little goat-creature leapt upward, grabbing onto a fence, and struggled to work himself over to catch up. “It really isn’t helping that you’re going way too fast, Gallyen! For the sake of the gods, slow down a bit!”
“But if we slow down, we’ll miss the opening ceremony!” Gallyen declared, although he did stop for a moment regardless as his younger brother finally made it over the fence and appeared beside him. “Look, Stormy, I know I’ve been to them before but this is your FIRST Rammer’s Tourney. I really want you to see everything, so you know just how great they are.”
Prince Stormbreaker, at the time now roughly ten years old, gave his older brother a bit of a look, brushing a tuft of snowy-white fur back from his forehead. “Are they really as good as you say they are, Gallyen? From what I’ve heard, they’re basically just, like, gladiator matches, right?”
“They’re not ‘just’ gladiator matches,” Gallyen retorted, sounding petulant. He rolled his eyes in utter disbelief at what his younger sibling was saying and continued to run onward. “They involve fights, yeah, but they have an entirely different set of rules. Plus, it’s a great way for the Caprinian race to prove just how strong and honorable they are! Winning the Rammer’s Tourney…there’s no greater feeling of exhilaration for our kind.”
“So, uh…” Stormbreaker could not think of anything to say in return without the possible chance of offending his brother, so he held his tongue as the two raced through the streets, headed in the direction of Tambelon’s Great Arena.
Built centuries ago, the Great Arena was meant to host a traditional tournament amongst the Caprinians that was dubbed the “Rammer’s Tourney,” an annual event that had taken place, as far as either Stormbreaker or Gallyen could remember, for over a thousand years. Very much inspired by the arenas of the Olden times, it was a circular dome of great diameter, with walls reaching toward the open sky and thousands of seats carved into its sides, from simple seating to intricate balconies where the higher-ups could witness the events. Grogar, Rivvon and Windcaller, of course, were allowed the finest of seats, but more often than not Grogar was far too busy with the judging; Windcaller felt uncomfortable there for a reason Stormbreaker had yet to grasp, and Rivvon simply deemed it “unfitting and barbaric” or something along those lines of talk; thus the two females never attended.
But Gallyen was a different story. From the time Stormbreaker had known him, the young Caprine ram had always been fascinated with the Rammer’s Tourney, and the little white-furred youngster knew that one day, Gallyen wished to be among their ranks. For the moment, though, all he could do was witness, and now it was Stormbreaker’s turn at long last to see it take place. He was excited, he knew, but at the same time something about it didn’t really pump the blood through his veins the same way it did to Gallyen.
Nonetheless, he was determined to both make his brother happy and prove his worth among the ranks of the Caprinian race, so he had agreed to attend.
If only Gallyen would friggin’ SLOW DOWN…
“We’re almost there!” Gallyen declared; he gave a bit of a happy prance as they approached the bazaar spread out in front of the main gates to the Arena. Stormbreaker could wish with all his might that he had the powerful lungs of a Caprine, but sadly that was not the case and he was nearly out of breath. Panting, he attempted to lunge ahead but something shot out from under him and tripped him; he yelped in surprise and tumbled forward into a somersault, landing flat on his belly.
“Eh?” Gallyen stopped and turned around when he heard his brother’s cry, his ears perked, and saw…
Oh, crud.
“Well, well, well…look who it is.” A young Caprine ram with ashen-gray fur and a pitch-black tuft of a tail and mane stepped in front of the fallen Stormbreaker, a disgustingly unctuous smirk on his face. He was flanked by two other Caprinians, a doe and a ram, both of them snickering in unison.
“Stormy the half-breed.”
Stormbreaker’s ears lowered and he eyed the Caprinian with a mixture of irritation, sorrow, and embarrassment; Gallyen immediately pushed his thoughts for attendance aside and bounded in the direction of the incident. “Chyme! Stop it. I’ve told you a million times—“
“Stay out of it, Gallyen.” The ashen-gray goat—Chyme—gave the older ram a conceited sneer, his shoulders raised. “There’s no need for someone like you to be involved in this…you’re not anything like this waste of flesh.” He gave Stormbreaker a light kick in the side. “Isn’t that right, you little bastard mutt? Just admit to it…you’ll never be one of us.”
“Do…” Stormbreaker finally raised his head, his glacier-blue eyes attempting to glint with courage. “Do I have to be? I thought, that—“
“Wrong.” Chyme gave him another kick in the stomach, this one more forceful and sending him onto his side. He rolled his eyes disdainfully. “Your kind don’t THINK, is the problem. Ever since they arrived here, the Yeti have been nothing but bit-grubbing, food-stealing, ugly-ass—“
“Don’t try talking, Chyme.” The doe, a cinnamon-tan ruffian with one eye hidden behind a long tuft of fur upon her head, stepped forward and jabbed a hoof into Stormbreaker’s ribs. “He’s not gonna get it. Either way, his blood is far too muddy to even deal with in a delegate manner.”
She grinned and twisted the hoof that she had placed down into his side, beginning to cause pain now. “Stupid half-bred degenerate…it doesn’t matter whether or not you’re a member of the royal family, nor does it matter that you have King Grogar’s blood. Ultimately, in the end…”
She raised the sharp end of her hoof and cuffed him upside the chest with it, causing him to cry out in pain and sending him flipping over onto his back. The doe’s eyes glinted like ice.
“…You’re just another pitiful attempt at creation with no real purpose or identity.”
Stormbreaker clutched at the area she had struck with desperate breaths, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. Chuckling, the doe turned and walked away, nudging Chyme in the side as she did so.
“See, Chyme.” She sounded very certain of herself, something that was irritating Gallyen to no end. “THAT is how you deal with half-breeds.”
Gallyen ran to his brother’s side and stepped between Chyme’s group and the little yeti-goat, his face feeling hot and his features twisted into a furious snarl. “I told you to STOP IT. Every time you see us, every friggin’ time, you always feel the need to pick on my brother for something that he CANNOT HELP. Do you just enjoy seeing others writhe in pain, or are you really just that wasteful of your own lives?!”
“Oi, we don’t need back-talk from YOU!” The second ram reared up his head angrily, stomping one front hoof in the dirt, but Chyme held up his own, directing him to stop.
“Let him engage in his little fantasy world,” Chyme told them; he smirked and turned around, using one hind leg to kick a spray of dust in Stormbreaker’s face before walking away. “The half-breed knows what we mean now. I don’t see any reason to hang around these tainted losers any longer.”
The doe and ram eyed the two brothers with disdain before turning around and walking after him; Gallyen watched them as they left, shivering with pure rage but knowing that if he attempted anything, they would just sweet-talk their way into being the victims, not the agitators…and that in turn would only make matters worse. Instead he decided to tend to Stormbreaker, who was still curled up on the ground, whimpering and sobbing. The little one wasn’t sure which had hurt more—their words, or their blows; either way it had upset him greatly.
“Don’t listen to them, Stormy,” Gallyen told him gently, lowering his head to nuzzle his brother’s ear a bit in comfort. “Chyme and his stupid gang have always been that way towards things they don’t understand. We’ve talked this over before, haven’t we?”
“We can talk about it a million-billion times and it still wouldn’t matter.” Stormbreaker sniffled and attempted to get up, still clutching at the place where the cinnamon doe had struck him. He paused to wipe a few tears from his eyes. “Chyme’s a complete and total bully. All he ever does upon seeing us, is choose to attack us for no reason other than the fact that I’m different than he is. It’s…it’s not FAIR, Gallyen!”
“I know it’s not fair.” Gallyen’s ears dropped slightly and he rested his muzzle upon his brother’s shoulder in another attempt to comfort him, rubbing against the soft white fur gently. “But sadly that’s what our lives have come to be. Other than your parents and maybe a few other couples, Stormy, the Caprinians and the Yeti have never really gotten along that well…I know that Father is attempting to mend the issues between the two, but…powerful as he is, he’s just one goat.”
“Why do they feel the need to hate each other over being different, though?” The little yeti-goat whimpered again and nuzzled his cheek against his older brother’s. “I…I never understood that, Gallyen. I don’t think I ever will, no matter how many times anyone explains it to me.”
“I honestly don’t get it either,” the young Caprinian replied, shutting his eyes. “But…try as hard as we might, we cannot change how others think, no matter what we attempt. All we can do, is keep being ourselves, and keep pressing onward with the ones that DO care.” He sighed and opened his eyes again, removing his head from his brother’s shoulder and pacing in front of him, sitting down on his haunches.
“Stormy…I know I can’t really stand up to Chyme properly. I know that I’m only one goat among probably a million others. But…” He lowered his head for a moment. “I’m still your big brother, and I’m still a Caprinian prince, damn it. It’s not only my sworn duty to protect the innocents who are tormented by others…it’s…well, my PACT.” He looked Stormbreaker in the eyes again. “Seven years ago, I told you that we would rule together and always be by each other’s sides. And I still mean that to this very day. Next time Chyme tries something dumb like that…” He glowered in determination, his ears flattening.
“…I won’t show any mercy whatsoever.”
“Gallyen…” Stormbreaker tried to fight them back but the tears re-appeared, and he hung his head in an odd mixture of happiness and despair, his little body shaking as droplets of wet struck the dust beneath him in a rhythmic pattern. The older goat gave a wan smile and nuzzled his forehead gently.
“Don’t let them see your weaknesses, Stormy,” he encouraged. “Be strong…stand.”
*
“Aye, the winds be great t’day,” Boyle declared as he shielded his eyes with one talon, looking toward the vast horizon that spread out before them. The Sea of Clouds, indeed, lived up to its name well…there was nothing in sight but the open sky, the setting sun, and, naturally…a vast sea of clouds. Though Storm had been through this area many times before, he had, admittedly, always enjoyed the view of it during sunset: a gradient of beautiful, warm color with the cool night sky forming above. It had been such a long time since he had seen a sight like this…
Naturally he had to take it in.
He was standing at the edge of the ship, leaned over slightly to allow his arms to rest upon the surface as he scanned the vast expanse of fluff. They gleamed in several colors; gold, orange, red. The air felt cool and fresh as the ship soared the skies, beginning to grow ever-cooler with the approaching night. Behind him, he could hear Capper talking with Celaeno, as well as Grubber chowing down on some of the leftovers from the dinner Lix had cooked earlier. He was more focused on the conversation, however.
“…So you just so happened to pick these daggers up, and they somehow connected with you.” Celaeno turned one of the weapons over in her claws, sizing it up. “I really don’t think that this is some sort of ‘Fate’ thing, Capper. I think it’s just pure coincidence that they reacted the way they did.”
“If it were a coincidence, it was a damned specific one,” Capper replied; his ears fell a bit and he shook his head. “Look, Feathers, I know y’all don’t trust magic, but these things are WEIRD. Like I was tellin’ Storm before, I have never been one to wield any kinda weapon, but for some reason these things felt GOOD in my hands. And, it was like I knew what I was doing the entire time.”
“They certainly are beautiful.” Celaeno murmured this to herself as she eyed the green runic patterns etched into the dagger, running a talon over the ebon surface; her eyes glittered with something that looked like wonderment. “I have retrieved quite a few treasures in my days, but…I have never seen runes like these before, nor have I ever felt this type of material. The runes intrigue me the most…I have no idea what language it’s even in.”
“Probably a dead one, is what I’m guessin’,” Capper responded, shrugging a bit. “Maybe the Hippogryphs will know how to translate ‘em for us. Either way, I doubt they tell any sorta story other than the fact that they kill things.”
“Honestly, Capper, if you want to find out more about these daggers, at least make the effort to do so,” Celaeno griped, rolling her eyes. “Runic patterns have always told a story, one way or another, in ancient times, and weaponry is no exception. They’re not there solely for décor purposes…weapons normally aren’t like that. If it has a decoration, it’s usually meant to represent something.”
“But why react to ME?!” Capper declared, clapping both paws to his chest. “I’m no one special, at least not to these ‘ancients’ or whatever. Like, Baalade told me that these here things were wielded by a champion centuries ago, during something called the Titanfall or whatever. But I legit know NOTHING about this, so…”
“Wait…you’re going there because of the Titanfall?” Celaeno shook her head slightly. “I thought you were going to get information from the Hippogryphs regarding the daggers. The Titanfall is just a myth; a fairy-tale—“
“It’s real.”
The two turned their heads to see Storm, who had abandoned his haunt at the side of the ship and was walking towards them, looking slightly angered. Celaeno crossed her arms, looking a bit defiant in response. “No one was talking to you, I believe…”
Storm ignored her words, looking at Capper. “The Titanfall was something that indeed did happen, but, due to the fact it was never recorded officially where it took place and was strictly meant to be passed down to the next generation through oral tradition, well…” He shrugged and shook his head almost helplessly. “There are a lot of renditions of the story, some true, some…kind of out there.” He snickered a bit and rolled his eyes. “Like, I remember this one version where—“
“Either way,” Celaeno interrupted, shooting Storm an annoyed glance, “The daggers obviously mean something to you, Capper, and that’s the main reason why I agreed to let you all come along. Magic or no magic, Titanfall or no Titanfall, there is no denying that they apparently are precious to your being beyond mere words.”
“Well, uh, I wouldn’t say that exactly, but yeah, I need to figure out what’s goin’ on behind ‘em,” Capper replied, nodding his head and slightly shaking it at the same time—quite the stunt to behold. “If the runes are in fact the key…well then, the Hippogryphs could probably tell me all about ‘em…if they can even translate this here language to begin with.”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” Celaeno told the young Abyssinian; she turned her attention to Storm for a brief moment. “Also, you…you’re stuck working with Lix tonight in the mess hall. She has quite a few mouths to feed with you and the other two on board, and she needs assistance.”
“Dwuh--?” The white-furred beast was completely taken aback by this order; he shook his head and raised his hands up in misunderstanding. “B-But why ME?! I’m probably the worst cook out of anyone here…I haven’t really touched a pan let alone COOKED with one in years.” He mumbled a bit in frustration, gesturing toward Capper and the still-blissfully-eating Grubber. “Why can’t you let one of THEM do it?! They’re better than me anyway…”
“Because the Captain says so.” Celaeno gave a flick of her bangs before walking past him, grinning matter-of-factly and giving him a small nudge in the tail with her emerald peg-leg. “And what the Captain says, GOES.”
Storm eyed Capper, then Grubber, then finally turned his attention back to the parrot woman, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “You cocky bit—“
“On second thought,” Celaeno declared, whirling around to face him and tapping at the side of her beak with a talon, still smiling away, “I think you should assist Lix sooner than later, don’t you think?” Storm’s eye twitched slightly but he knew better at this point than to open his mouth. “Show me a leg and get to the mess hall kitchen immediately. Lix should be expecting you either way.”
Storm could feel the fur on both his neck and tail bristling with vexation but he knew that if he did anything to retaliate he would immediately be cast into the open bed of clouds below; rather than mouth off again, he turned around and trudged angrily toward the direction of the mess hall, muttering under his breath.
“Never did like pirates…”
*
“Ah, there ya be.”
“Yeah, yeah…hi.” Storm grumbled to himself as he entered the backroom kitchen, still looking heavily irked. He looked around and recoiled slightly in disgust. The place was an absolute mess; food stains lined the walls, there were scratches and stains on the floor he didn’t even want to think about, and everything was covered in either a fine layer of grease, flour or dust of some sort. It was amazing that Lix could get anything done in this condition.
Did I really allow these conditions while I was still ruler…?
“Ye don’t sound that enthusiastic, but, t’will do for now,” Lix told him, gesturing with a ladle she currently held in one claw. “Well, get yerself t’work then. There’s much to be done b’fore dinner. Ye can start with the veggies over on the table over yonder.”
“This place is a MESS.” Storm could no longer contain his view on the matter; he shook his head in utter disbelief. “How am I supposed to work in this dirty grease-trap?! I don’t even know the first thing about cooking…”
Lix eyed him for a few moments, though her expression did not seem peeved in the slightest; rather, she shrugged her shoulders and turned to tend to the pot that was currently bubbling on the stove beside her. “Learn, then. Ye won’t know how t’ do anything unless ye try it at least once.”
“That wasn’t the answer I was…” Storm grumbled under his breath for the incoherent remainder of the sentence and knew that there was no winning with THIS parrot woman either. He approached the table opposite Lix and picked up one of the knives nearby, eyeing the assortment of vegetables on the semi-dirty table with a mix of uncertainty and vexation. “Oh-kay, so…”
“Just cut ‘em in any way ya see fit.” Lix shrugged again before spooning up a small taste of soup with the ladle and touching it with the tip of her beak; she grimaced a bit and shook her head. “Ugh…it needs a few more carrots; this won’t work at all.”
“I can take a hint,” Storm told her, before taking one of the carrots before him and attempting to slice it. He shook his head, trying to keep the blade in rhythmic movements and preferably FAR away from the few fingers he was gifted with. For a few moments, there were no words from either one of them, but then Lix finally spoke, her attention still on the pot of soup:
“You like ‘er, don’t you?”
“Pardon—?” Storm jumped in his skin at this statement and his grip on the knife nearly slipped. The elderly pink parrot woman could only grin knowingly in response as she reached out to stir the soup further.
“Oh, don’t act as dumb as ya look. Mullet had told me…what’was it, over two years ago now…? Ye were onto the Cap’n harder than a yowling dog.” She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Kissed ‘er hand even, too, from what’was told.”
“I didn’t—what I meant was—I was only—“ Storm was so taken aback that he was finding it impossible at this point in time to form a coherent sentence in his defense, which was only making the elderly parrot smile broader. He jabbed a finger in her direction. “Don’t you judge me!!”
“T’would be the last thing I’d do.” Lix calmly stirred the soup again, pausing to grab the carrots Storm HAD managed to finish off and dropping them in one by one. “No one has any right in their mind t’ judge when a guy likes a pretty girlie. ‘Specially a guy as lonely as yerself.”
“I am NOT—“ Storm began, but immediately withdrew his statement; he knew that there was no getting it past anyone that, despite his desire to conquer at that time, his desire for affection from a lovely female had been just as powerful. Even Grubber knew that…maybe that was why he had said what he had earlier. (Granted, he had probably only found that one tidbit out by reading Storm’s diary, but regardless.) The white-furred creature sighed and lowered his head a bit. “Was…is it…really that obvious?”
“Judgin’ from Mullet’s testimony, the stars t’weren’t the only thing sparkling that night,” Lix replied; Storm clenched his teeth a bit and blushed heavily in response, rubbing at one arm sheepishly. “Ah, no need to be ashamed of yerself. The Cap’n has always been a bit of a looker.”
“Smarter than she lets on, too.” Storm, despite his misgivings, seemed to drift into a temporary reverie for a moment. “Smarts AND beauty…that was ultimately what I was looking for at the time. She’s not afraid to speak her mind either…first female I have ever known of to properly stand up to me at that point, before…” He drifted off, then, and his smile faded for a moment; shaking his head, he snapped out of the dreamlike trance he had been in. “Uh…either way, yeah, she has my secret respect…but that doesn’t really mean that I…”
“With the way ye were prattlin’ on, I wouldn’t attempt t’ say anything in my defense just yet.” Lix shook her head, although she was smiling as she did so…that kind of knowing smile, almost. “Indeed, all of us were angry with ye when ye made us into cargo haulers. Times’ve passed fer certain, but I doubt the Cap’n realizes that…she’s always been kinda one to hold grudges, to a bit of an extent.”
“Why are you even bothering to hear me out?” The goat-creature had to ask; Lix merely shrugged a shoulder and pecked the tip of her beak against another spoonful of soup.
“Ahh, that’s the stuff…and, t’ answer yer question, I’m an old parrot, lad. I’ve seen a lot in my days and there’s no point fer me t’ be wasting time holding grudges over the past. B’sides…ye make fer excellent conversation in here. It’s so quiet normally.”
Storm had no idea what this meant at all, but he gave a small, grateful smile regardless and turned his attention back to the task he had been assigned with. “Okay, so…anything else we need before soup’s on, so to speak?”
“Potatoes.” Lix said the word almost immediately. “And also maybe a hint of celery…but mainly potatoes. Ah keep telling Boyle that starch is no good fer ya, but he insists upon eatin’ it anyway.”
“Right…” The white-furred beast picked up the spud and eyed it as if it were something foreign. “Er…do they need to be peeled? Because I don’t know the first thing about—“
“If ye were to ask me, the skins are the part that add flavor…but I should probably show ye just in case.” Lix plodded up beside him and snatched the knife away, picking up one of the spuds. “Now then, observe carefully. Ye need to peel it off in a spiral motion. It starts out like this…”
Things lasted long into the night; before Storm finally crashed onto the mattress in the guest quarters he had at least managed to obtain information that they were to hit Mount Aris, or at least its waters, at the crack of dawn the next day. Capper was determined; Celaeno was still being her usual smart-aleck self towards him, and Grubber...was, well, being Grubber, he supposed.
At least dinner had turned out okay.