//------------------------------// // Draw Your Blade // Story: Elements: Sworn Through Swords // by Nightmare_0mega //------------------------------// The warm and welcoming sun shone over the harsh and jagged horizon of the wastelands, pushing the shadows down farther and farther, revealing more of the barren land’s true face. Dust kicked up by the swirls of the wind as hardy creatures near and far retreated into the comfort of the shade to rest for another day. However, the sun’s brilliance wasn’t the only source of light on the dawning horizon, nor was it the earliest that day, for sitting a good twenty paces from the wooden caravan was the large, bestial demon Berial. His flames dimly flicked in the wind as his body remained cooled at a dull smolder. His gaze was transfixed to said caravan and the owner that remained sleeping beneath its shadow. He gave a listless sigh. It would be so easy to scorch her and move on, but the contract was set in place, and if there is one thing he held in the highest regard, it was honor. Going back on his word, no matter how hasty his choice was to forge the pact in the first place in such a manner would be beyond the realms of shameful. To be fair, the interloper that tried to usurp the situation hours before probably would have made his existence a thousand times more regrettable. Just a glance at her was enough to spring warning responses in his mind. He was in no mood to be contracted to by something so seemingly conniving. It was better to take the lesser of two irritants, especially over being trapped for who knows how long behind a stifling barrier. “Curses,” he grumbled. Never the less, the situation on the whole was just a misfire. He had ultimately jumped the gun, and now he had a ward that must have a contract fulfilled. “What did the little thing want, again?” She stirred a bit as the sun grew higher in the sky, shortening the shadows a bit more and raising the overall warmth of the desert land. Groaning in discomfort, she curled up tighter, muttering to herself, and scrunched her eyes shut as if she were trying to ignore the temperature shift. That, however, became pointless as the growing discomfort overpowered her fatigue and forced her awake. Bleary eyed and exhausted, she squinted about, barely able to see anything, and smacked her lips groggily. Berial snorted out licks of flames in annoyance, dreading what would surely come next. A yawn escaped the groggy mare before she rubbed her sleepy eyes and finally adjusted to the new waking day. As soon as she finally crossed that threshold of consciousness, hundreds of warnings flared off in the back of her head as she suddenly recalled the events that transpired last night. Her eyes then snapped open, and fixed their gaze upon the monstrous creature that sat not a stones throw away from her. Fear suddenly began to overtake her being as lips quivered and limbs shook, finding it too difficult to flee. “Good,” the great monster of dimmed flames stated, “You’re awake now.” The reverberating, booming words kicked Trixie’s locomotion and senses into high gear as she frantically crawled backwards in an attempt to get away, only to be thwarted by her caravan’s wheel. Her head hit it with a loud “thwack” as she jerked forward, covering the sore spot with her hooves. Berial sighed in annoyance. “This is my contractor? How shameful...” “Oooooh, my aching head,” she whined, rubbing the spot a little more before wincing and clutching a tender spot on her shoulder. Trixie then remembered what happened before she blacked out. Queen Chrysalis suddenly showed up, attacked Trixie, and... “Are you finished licking your wounds?” the huge demon mocked, “Can we get on with your pathetic contract? I have much to do once this is all said and done.” “C-contract?” Trixie stuttered. Confidence slowly creeped into her voice as the seconds passed by as she slowly rose to her hooves. “Th-that’s right. You have a contract with Trixie!” Berial gave another sigh as he too rose to his full stature and suddenly towered over the little pony and her caravan. Trixie wilted under the impressive size of the monster, now free from the circle that she was forced to shut down. Gazing about, she noticed that the changeling was long gone as well. “What happened to the Changeling Queen? Trixie demands to know!” “The coward fled like the locust it appeared to resemble. I will take my time in exterminating her... once your contract is over and I’m free, that is.” “R-right,” Trixie muttered. “T-trixie is a little fuzzy on everything that happened last night. The contract made was about you assisting me in...” “Vengeance,” Berial answered. Trixie pawed at her chin for a moment. “And assisting Trixie in creating a life of luxury for myself.” Berial clicked his tongue. “That will not be easy...” he snarled. “And in exchange... I...” she paused, unable to remember what the hastily agreed price was. She cursed her throbbing head and sore body for interfering with her, for trying to recall those crucial details did nothing but aggravate her growing headache. “What in blazes was it?!” “Your life.” “W-what?” Trixie sputtered, snapping out of her thoughts. “Vengeance and assisting your pursuit of wealth to your previous splendor, in exchange for your life at my discretion.” Trixie stood there, somewhat dumbfounded, and equal parts mortified and bothered she was hasty enough to make such a deal. It was then that she remembered she was in the middle of trying to negotiate down from there before they were interrupted by her childhood nightmares. Trixie shuttered. “F-fine. That was the agreement, but not before I’m satisfied.” Berial snorted out flames as he gazed up into the relatively clear morning sky. His face and stature said he wasn’t happy with the agreement, but his inner thoughts were nothing but. In the confusion of last night and the blows dealt to her, she had entirely failed to realize that she sealed the contract without agreeing to the toll at his permission, and was now led to believe that she had. On the one hand, if she ever figured out the ruse, she could easily get what she wants and attempt to abscond him, and there was a chance she could get away with her life intact. On the other hand, if she failed to find out, or failed to flee even if she did, he was still within right to murder her. Honestly, contracts with such a toll were more to guarantee that the toll be paid out of convenience and to keep mortals from growing too confident and egotistical when dealing with demons. Loopholes, Berial thought, are fine enough in cases like these. Sure, he could just do it now and save himself the headache of following her about, but that would just make fulfilling the contract that much harder. He’d have no way of knowing if he had managed to hold his end of the bargain until the binding was finally broken, and that would just be more of an annoyance than anything. His best option was to make this contract run smoothly, then swiftly be rid of her the moment the iron is hot. Maybe even eat the mortal’s soul for the trouble she’d likely cause. “Well, don’t just stand there,” Trixie said, whom had already fastened herself to the caravan, “We need to head out of the Badlands and begin Trixie’s Great and Powerful redemption! That, and Trixie wants breakfast.” Berial gazed about, realizing that the myriad of swords that made the spell binding circle were simply left behind as is. “Are you going to abandon these blades?” “Of course Trixie is! What does the Great and Powerful Trixie need a bundle of weapons for any-” She was suddenly cut off from the sound of a blade violently sticking into wood. The poor magician hazarded a gander, and found one of the seven blades halfway embedded into her caravan wall. She became slack jawed as the demon approached her, holding onto the formerly discarded swords like a bunch of twigs. “You stupid creature. You have financial woes, and you DON’T consider taking what you can to at least SELL?” Trixie shivered for a moment, considering Berial’s words. “Y-you have a p-point,” she managed to sputter. The demon simply tossed them before her and crossed his arms. Her horn lit up and gently put them inside of the carriage. The seventh blade, the one stuck in the wooden exterior, she tried and failed to remove. “I-I’ll grab that one later.” -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- After a lengthy trek through the badlands that took most of the morning, the two finally exited the harsh terrain and were on the path to the less harsh environment of the desert next to Hayseed Swamps. Trixie steadily pulled her caravan along the dirt path with very little vigor, despite the night’s rest she had. To be fair, traveling on an empty stomach wasn’t an entirely ideal thing to do, but it wasn’t the first time she ever had to suffer that type of annoyance. At least the carriage itself was absent her normal load of luggage, but thinking about that only brought about a very disgraced and humiliated feeling in the pit of her heart. She sacrificed just about everything to acquire the necessary materials, and a single blunder netted her the wrong summon. She wasn’t even entirely sure as to what demon she summoned. Only the name. It was upon realizing the fact that she lit her horn up and pulled the books from the interior of her mobile home and stage, and quickly skimmed through the “N” section for demon names in the translation book, before looking for the appropriate name in the arcane book of invocations. And it was there, clear as day, the name Berial, which depicted the exact same monster that now followed her closely behind. Weapons of all sorts and fire surrounded the creature in the illustration, as it appeared to roar towards the sky. Flipping back to BELIAL, the name she fudged, she quickly realized that both demons required the same materials for summoning. Inspecting further, she noticed a word that was singled out underneath the name. Turning back to the translation book, she swiftly realized that the term translated to Devil. At first, she thought this was just a redundant term. Aren’t the words Demon and Devil the same? Then, she turned to the index out of curiosity and read the definition. Devil: A superclass of demon, above the classification Archfiends and two above the classification Fiends. Devils are powerful entities capable of a variety of abilities, and embody elements and concepts. Nearly all Devils are highly intelligent and extremely dangerous. Caution is to be exercised when performing contacting rites and invocations. Summoning is highly discouraged and, in some cases, forbidden. “Th-there... there are CLASSES of these things?!” She blurted out. Hazarding a glance behind her caravan, she tried to discern on whether her little outburst was heard, but the look on his face either said he didn’t hear or simply didn’t care. She turned back to the book, which shook a little under her nervousness. She breathed slowly, trying to calm her nerves, before spinning the whole situation around in her head from a different perspective. “No matter. Trixie is going to get what she deserves. If Berial is of the same class as Belial, then I have lost nothing.” She gave a proud grin, now believing she made no real mistake. She then glanced back at Berial, and had a second thought. “His size might be an issue if Trixie is to have his assistance.” After several more hours of travel, she soon saw Dodge City in the distance. Despite what the name implied, Dodge City was closer to a small-ish town in density and size. Although, part of the reason for its existence was that it was once an old Canterlot outpost to keep an eye on the badlands so many lifetimes ago, but those details didn’t matter. She knew Dodge City quite well. It was one of her go-to stops after she left Las Pegasus years ago, and the people appreciated her tricks for the most part. It was quite easy to entertain ponies when the desert has almost nothing to do. She stopped trotting for a moment, and undid her bindings. Berial too stopped walking and raised an eyebrow. “You’re stopping here?” “No, YOU’RE stopping here. Trixie is heading into town. Trixie needs to trade these stupid scraps of metal in for some quick bits,” she scoffed as she donned her cape and hat, as well as pulled out the swords she used for the protective circle. She then tried once again to remove the one blade that was stuck through the side of her caravan, but no matter how much her magic pulled at it, she was simply still too weak to move it even an inch. The great devil gave an exasperated sigh as it walked up to the caravan, causing Trixie to go wide eyed and jump away, spooked from the sudden invasion of space. “What are you-?” Was all she managed to utter before Berial gripped the blade’s hilt with his index finger and thumb, swiftly and shortly pulled it out of the wood, and then unceremoniously dropped it to the ground, all while staring at his contractor. Trixie looked at the blade, then looked at him before collecting the weaponized metal and bundled it with the rest. “Yes, well, if you would have given Trixie a few more minutes, Trixie would have freed the stupid thing herself.” “Why do you speak like that?” The question threw the little unicorn off for a moment. “Beg your pardon?” “You speak in third person.” Trixie just stood and stared at the creature, not really sure how to respond. In all honesty, she never really had an answer, nor did she really think about it before. It just felt natural to say her own name under normal conversation. She pursed her lips and gave the demon a glare. “Why do you care to know?” “It’s an irritation.” “Well, get used to it, bucko.” Berial snorted flames from his nostrils in ire as the little unicorn turned in a huff and began her trek alone to the town, with the bundle of swords hovering beside her. The devil, otherwise, simply sat down as he was told, and awaited her return. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- Dodge City was a rather welcoming town, home to many humble ponies that lived a humble lifestyle near the harsh desert lands to the south and the swamplands to the east. Their claim to fame was the variety of cherry products that they produced, advertised, utilized, and sold, all spearheaded by the rather tenacious Cherry Jubilee from Cherry Hill Ranch, which could rival the famous Sweet Apple Acres some would say. Even lost and self exiled ponies tended to come here for sanctuary, and the citizens of this junction are more than happy to accommodate. So it was no surprise that when Trixie of all ponies were to stroll on in that she was immediately met with friendly smiles and waves. To be fair, as she reaffirmed, this wasn’t her first stop into this town, but that was beside the point. The gestures of good will didn’t go unnoticed in Trixie’s case, however they only truly served to puff her chest in pride and swell her ego. It was one of the rare times she actually felt like a proper star, despite the dusty surroundings and old-world vibe, and she was going to relish in it. She met her fans, greeted in kind, but declined any extended interaction. Rather, she headed for the trading post near the center of town in order to regain some semblance of finances. Stepping into the rustic and rather spacious shop, she marched up to the front counter and plopped the set of blades atop it, ringing the bell for service. There was a small commotion in the back, with clanging metal and scraping wood accompanying a few garbled cusses, before a weathered old earth pony stallion stepped up to the register. He sported a bluish-grey cotton-ball mane and curled beard, with a light grey coat. A monocle sat on his left eye, while a red tie hung loosely around his neck, and sported a pickax and gold bar cutiemark. “Ah, if’nain’t th’ great n’ powerful Trixie!” the old stallion remarked with a scratchy guffaw. “Relic Hoarder,” Trixie replied with a dismissive air. “That’s HERDER!” he snapped, before giving a small, wheezing chuckle, “Eh, ah know yer jus’ playin’, but ye could do meh th’ privilege of sayin’ m’ name right fer the greetin’.” Trixie sighed and roller her eyes. “Oh, very well.” “’pology accepted. Now, what can ah do ye fer?” “The Great and Powerful Trixie needs to sell these. They were purchased in Canterlot for two hundred and fifty bits a piece and have served their purpose. Trixie needs finances now more than anything.” Relic picked up one of the blades and carefully inspected it. He gave a rather impressed whistle. “Well, ah’ll be. This’s some good metal ye got ‘ere. Great forgin’ techniques. Mighty fine detailin’. Say ye got ‘em fer two fiddy?” “That’s right,” Trixie replied, “While Trixie is glad you like them, Trixie wishes to quickly wrap this deal up. Breakfast calls.” “Ye look like ye haven't eaten in a while, true ‘nough,” he laughed before he returned to scrutinizing the blade, “Eh, wait a cherry-pickin’ second. Were magic pumped int’ it?” “Indeed. It was required for my... latest project.” “Hrrmmmmm... Well, great n’ powerful Trixie, since ah may need t’ send ‘em t’ be processed for infused magic, which’ll cost a pretty bit, ah say... ah’ll buy th’ lot fer a hundred n’ ten a blade. Sound fair?” “A hundred and ten!?” Trixie parroted in shock and dismay. “Surely the metal alone is worth more than that!?” “Well, sure!” Relic agreed, “’scept it’s still used goods AN’ ah’ll need em’ t’ be sent away fer magic processin’, which’ll cost those fees plus shippin’ both ways.” “You don’t have any place in town that can “process” them?” “Nah. Not many unicerns stay in town too long as it is, and those that do aren’t interested in that type o’ work. Yer th’ closest one t’ be interested in magic itself, but ah know ye ain’t got th’ time or knowhow t’ do it yerself.” Trixie huffed as the facts were laid bare. He was absolutely right. As prodigious as Trixie was, and while it’s a simple matter infusing an object with magic for whatever purpose, siphoning magic out of an object was an entirely different affair. Further still, as open and welcoming as they were, Dodge City was very much an earth pony settlement. It’s not that they didn’t try, but most pegasi and unicorns weren’t entirely keen on staying long in such a dusty, down to earth environment, no matter how good the cherry products were or how cheerful the residents behaved. Those that do weren’t exactly big qualifiers for major handling of weather and magic. It’s a good thing Cloudsdale had enough horsepower to send over weatherponies to towns that need it, like Dodge City. “Fine, Trixie accepts.” “Great! A hundred n’ ten bits a piece fer seven of ‘em, equatin’ t’ about seven hundred n’ seventy bits total.” He tapped his register for the correct amount and quickly wrote up a small receipt. Passing it over to Trixie, he had her sign it, right before he dove under the counter to open the safe. Once opened, he took a small bag and placed the intended number of bits inside before presenting them to Trixie. “And,” he added, before placing a stack of twenty bits in front of the sack, “A li’l bit o’ breakfast money. Git yerself a nice stack o’ cherry pancakes. Mah treat, li’l missy.” Trixie gave a sigh and shook her head before she recomposed herself. “Trixie thanks you, Relic,” she said, taking up the money and stashing it in her magician’s hat. “Much obliged.” Before she left, she spent some bits there and bought herself a modestly sized chest, knowing she’ll need it quite a bit for the foreseeable future. With that, Trixie exited the trading post, but while breakfast was certainly more desired, she decided to instead hit up as many of the local shops as she could to pick up equipment and items. After all, her business took top priority, and she just may need some, if not all, of the extra twenty to get her stuff. First thing’s first, she hit up the local hardware shop, buying a small bit of patchwork lumber, some tools and nails, a set of chains, and a small stack of sheet wood (the sheet wood she’d have to come back for later, as carrying it around town was taxing on magic, even for a “great and powerful” showmare such as her. Next, she hit up the General store and picked up a small sack of flour, a brand new lock and key, a deck of cards, some fake flowers, a ball of string, some basic fabric, a needle and thread, plastic tubing, a few small cans of paint, a paint brush, and some cardboard. Many of these items were less than ideal, but they would have to do. After that, she headed over to the party store, and grabbed a variety of low-end fireworks. Once everything was accounted for, she placed it all inside of the chest. The whole excursion was enough to get a sizable portion of her general act back up to snuff, which was more than Trixie was hoping for. Last time she was in this predicament, she needed to take out a small loan, which required more than a few shows just to pay back the difference with interest. It was honestly her original plan A, but perhaps it was better she heeded a devil’s words this time. Now she can just focus on trying to make her profits. Trixie then took a moment to sit on her chest for a break and look through her satchel of bits, which felt rather light. Upon dumping the contents within onto her hoof, only four bits remained in total. She gave a haggard sigh, having been looking forward to a nice stack of pancakes for once, but realizing she’d have to settle for a plain muffin and coffee, provided the price hasn’t gone up. She threw them back into the sack, getting ready to find a cafe. However, just as she was about to, she noticed that ponies were gathering at the south side of town. She rose her eyebrow in intrigue, before she realized the most definite possibility of what they were looking at. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- Meanwhile, a good distance away from the small desert town, sitting idly in growing aggravation, Berial stewed and steamed over his predicament. It was bad enough that he was contracted to a mortal, but one so conceited and arrogant as her just added on top of his swiftly growing list of hells. While he still believed he netted a positive in going with such an annoying creature over either imprisonment or possible servitude to the interloper, it still managed to only raise it closer to a neutral situation, a far cry from anything he could consider positive. It was ridiculous, honestly. He was a warrior and usurper. He shouldn’t be taking such trite in stride, insulting his positions and titles. But he had to, and it was already reaffirmed earlier in the day. But 'why' was the better conundrum. To be fair, it was simple for him. In his world of monsters, especially those with powers beyond the forces of nature, to be a cut above the rest you needed something more. For some, it was authority and command, like the former devil king Mundus. For others, it was lineage and the knowing that your kin would take up your mantle if you were to fail. Some simply fostered intelligence to hide their true abilities and grew accordingly. For him, it was the code of chivalry. If there was ever one thing that he could admire humans for, it was their quick adaption of such a concept, as far as he knew centuries ago. The bond of blades and honor among the strong, willing to keep solid oaths, no matter the circumstances, and see anything through to the bitter end, be it battle or words. Only once did he ever falter on his core fundamentals, and fate subsequently punished him by throwing him to the infamous son of the traitor, to be excised from the world of man and forced to reset. It took him far too long to claw his way back up to where he was then. Never again would he turn his back on honor, no matter the challenge or irritant. Berial then stood up, stretching his limbs out for a moment, working the strains from staying so idle. While he would definitely remain near the blue horse’s caravan as told, he needed a distraction if he was going to remain alone for the time being. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned his massive blade from a plume of fire in his hand, standing far enough away not to scorch the little wooden cart, and prepared to practice his sword training exercises. As he began however, he noticed the telltale color of his current contractor running towards his position, followed by a small crowd other equines.