//------------------------------//
// Raid Prep 
// Story: Story Shuffle 2: Double Masters 
// by FanOfMostEverything 
//------------------------------//

The Storm King rolled the Staff of Sacanas in his hands, watching his reflection shift in the facets of its crystal. “So. It's nice and all, but how's it work again?”

“The Staff was originally crafted by a great centaur wizard,” said Tempest, recalling her research in anything potent enough to restore her horn. She saw the Storm King's face start drooping in boredom, his eyes starting to glance at other wonders kept in the makeshift dragon's horde he called his personal chambers. “Then the warlock Tirek repurposed it to help him absorb pony magic.”

He perked up at the word "absorb," and more so at "magic." “Really?”

“However, the enchantments on it are patchwork hodgepodges of two very different beings’ casting styles, applied over almost a century. It’s…" Tempest hesitated for a moment, thinking of the word least likely to end in the Storm King snapping the Staff in two. "Finicky.”

He scowled. “And you couldn't have mentioned that before we looted that museum.”

Tempest gave him a cool look. “You seemed very pleased at the time, sir.”

“Because I thought I was getting my ticket to world conquest." The Storm King sneered at his own distorted face. "So, aside from being the world's most awkward backscratcher, what good is this thing?”

“It’s still one of the most potentially powerful artifacts I’ve ever heard of, sir. Feeding the magic of several alicorns into the Staff should result in virtually unmatched power.”

“Hmm." The Storm King stroked his chin as he twirled the Staff like a baton. "Not sure I like that ‘virtually,’ but it’ll do for now. Next question, what’s an alicorn?”

Tempest managed to keep her dumbfounded shock down to a few seconds. “A single pony with the magic of all the tribes, orders of magnitude more powerful than the average pony.”

He nodded along. “Nice, nice, I like what I’m hearing. How many are there?”

“Based on the most recent rumors coming out of Equestria, four.”

After a moment, the Storm King said, “So, what, four hundred? Four thousand?”

Tempest shook her head. “Four, sir.”

“Yikes." He tapped the Staff with a claw. "That even count as several?”

She nodded. “It should be perfect for our purposes.”

He relaxed, not that Tempest would ever call attention to his worry. Or how it made him fluff out like a startled cat. “And how will we track them down?”

“That won’t be difficult. Equestria is ruled by its alicorns; we’ll just need to go to the capital.”

The Storm King grinned. “Ah, nothing like a good, old-fashioned decapitation strike.”

“Finding them is the easy part, sir," said Tempest. "Actually subduing them...”

“What? It’s just four ponies. We can take them.”

Tempest kept her thoughts on the likely meaning of "we" to herself. “While I haven’t heard anything positive about Equestria’s military, I’d much rather have some sort of ace in the hole against the mares who move the sun and moon on a daily basis.”

“Uh huh, uh huh." The Storm King nodded along, giving Tempest half of his attention at best, the rest apparently devoted to color coordinating the Staff of Sacanas with other artifacts in the room. "What did you have in mind?”

She permitted herself one roll of her eyes. A touch of sarcasm slipped into her voice. “Ideally, something that would instantly incapacitate them while still preserving their magic for powering the Staff.”

“I see." And without even looking at her, the Storm King said, "You ever heard of Euryale’s Cloister?”

Tempest's mouth worked silently for a few moments. “I, uh, can’t say I have, sir.”

He turned back, a wide, sinister grin on his face. “Lucky for you, I have.”





Euryale’s Cloister turned out to be an extinct volcano in the southernmost regions of the Dragonlands, where the calderas had cooled. To the south, lush jungles flourished in the enriched soil.

But this peak had been claimed by something else long ago. The entire top portion of the cinder cone was covered in murals and bas-reliefs of incredible size, depicting dragons and other, stranger reptilian creatures. Smaller artwork lay in the margins of those great works, and even smaller ones in the margins of that. It reminded Tempest of the sleeve tattoos she saw among the Klugetown drifters and dockhands whose flesh could take ink, a vast and intricate work composed of countless smaller ones.

She was so engrossed by the sheer scale and complexity that it took her a good three minutes to recognize the largest part of the design, a vertical line five times as long as the airship cutting through it. Tempest tracked it up, then followed similar grooves until she realized just what she was seeing. “is that… a door?”

The Storm King nodded. “But all that bric-a-brac on them isn’t just for show. Some of it’s writing." He pointed at one part of the mural where the serpentine figures curled into unrecognizable glyphs. "All about how ‘no weapon forged may sunder this gate’ and yadda yadda yadda. And we’ve tried. I found this place years ago, and nothing we’ve thrown at it gets through. I even mixed it up: Wooden weapons, crystal, die-cast, you know, just to see if I could get by on a technicality. Didn’t even chip it."

“I see." Tempest considered her options. Best to tackle the obvious one first. "And, if you’ll pardon my asking, going over the gates?”

“The ship hits a magic barrier as it comes in for a landing. Then the giant snake snaps it out of the sky.”

“Ah. You hadn't mentioned the snake.” Tempest didn't have any particular issue with snakes, but giant anything was usually bad news.

“And we’ve already tried distracting it with one while bombarding it with another," said the Storm King. He ground his teeth at the memory. "Didn’t work, and I was out another airship.”

“And you think there will be something that can take out alicorns in there?”

“Oh yeah. The door isn’t just talking up how hard it is to get in." The Storm King pointed at a different inscription. "It also talks about the Blood of Euryale, ‘the sap whose amber imprisons all.’”

Some scrap of the equine collective consciousness deep in Tempest's psyche shuddered. She nodded at the promising reaction. "Interesting. But how are we supposed to get in?"

The Storm King gave the wide smile that preceded something horrible happening to someone else. "Well, you certainly weren't forged."

Tempest looked at him, then the door that made up a good chunk of a volcano, then him again. "With all due respect, sir, I think this one's a little outside of my weight class."

"You can't know until you try!" He went from cheery grin to looming menace in the blink of an eye. "And to be clear, I'm ordering you to try."

"Understood, sir." Tempest took a deep breath, then evaluated the situation. After a minute of thought and an increasingly antsy Storm King, she said, "How close can you get... the ship to the gates?"

He chuckled. "I wasn't going to throw you."

"Be that as it may, sir."

"Let's find out." The Storm King waved to the deckhands, who scrambled into action.

The ship circled the peak a few times, slowly spiraling closer. After a few orbits, the yeti at the wheel gave a few distressed grunts and shook its head.

"That's as close as we can get without risking the envelope. You're on, Tempest."

She shook her head. "Get us higher."

And there was the looming again. "Excuse me?"

Tempest bowed her head. "Sorry, sir. Deep in thought. Please get us higher. I believe I see a way to make this work."

"Now that's what I like to hear!" The Storm King slapped her on the back hard enough that she nearly collapsed. "You heard her, boys, up we go!"

Tempest took the opportunity to appreciate the intricacy of the murals one last time. If this worked, she'd be one of the last beings to appreciate them. And given what she'd do to Celestia...

She shook her head. She'd come too far to turn back now. Tempest reared up onto the guardrail and tensed her forelegs, eyes locked on the gate, power building in her horn.

"Thought you didn't want me to throw you," said the Storm King, amused.

Tempest didn't even turn away, narrowing her eyes as she thought through the upcoming maneuver. "It's different when I launch myself, sir."

"Understandable."

She pushed and flipped off of the airship, positioning herself so her horn faced the doors. Lightning burst forth, and Tempest shut her eyes a moment too late, spots dancing before her as the wind rushed past.

And only then did she realize she'd never actually mentioned how she planned on not hitting the rocks below.

"This is becoming a habit." Not the best last words in the world, but they'd do.

Then she came to a sudden stop, but not a lethal one. Shocked cries from the airship above got Tempest to open her eyes. The gates were still unscathed... but they had also opened out, and a massive scaled tentacle had emerged from them to take hold of her.

As it withdrew, she corrected herself. Not a tentacle. A tail. The great doors slammed behind her as it drew her within the Cloister, making dust fall from the tunnel leading into the inner sanctum.

Within, the serpentine theme had been taken to its logical extreme. Sculpted snakes and ivy suggesting them twined along every surface. Ancient pillars suggested a place of worship, as did the central dais, where a massive, shallow bowl continually emitted green fumes. As the great snake tail raised Tempest higher, she could see the fluid within. Even from far away, the foul scent overwhelmed the reptilian mustiness of the tail itself.

Then Tempest found herself facing the other end of the snake, scales in shades of green ranging from fresh grass to forest gloom forming elaborate patterns across its head, each scale as large as Tempest herself.

After several long moments of examination, the snake spoke, a deep yet feminine tone that resonated in Tempest's chest as much as her ears. "Interesting."

Tempest swallowed. "I... take it you're Euryale?"

The snake shook her head. "Merely her steward. I had not expected a unicorn to enter. The blend of height, stone, and wards was meant to limit access to only alicorns."

"You don't need wings to get into the sky these days," said Tempest, relaxing a bit as it became clear she wasn't about to be eaten.

"Clearly not." The snake adjusted herself, resting on her coils and lowering Tempest to near ground level, though still held in her tail. "Now, what brings you to the cloister of the last gorgon?"

"I think you know."

That got a hissing sigh. "Yes, of course. Why would anyone come here but to claim Euryale's last legacy?"

Tempest raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

"Perhaps. I was charged with granting her Blood only to those who need it to fulfill their destiny."

"I don't believe in destiny." Anything that preordained Tempest's life wasn't worthy of existing.

"No?" The snake tilted her head, her mouth quirking into something like a grin. "A strange sentiment from a pony. I assure you, Fizzlepop Berrytwist, destiny believes in you."

Tempest glared. "That isn't my name."

The snake began rearranging itself again, moving towards the central dais. "Oh, you can call yourself what you please, little pony, but I can taste your name in your scent. Along with all the heartache you've endured, and all that you will. But scent alone will not tell me if you will need Euryale's Blood." She raised her head over the great bowl and opened her mouth wide enough to swallow a roc. Great clouds of the fumes went down her throat.

The snake tilted back, slit pupils dilated. "I ssseee..."

The grip on Tempest slackened a touch. She started struggling against it, only for it to tighten hard enough for her to squeak. She told herself it was her armor.

"The ssstruggle," continued the great oracle. "The chassse. The climaxxx..."

"I'll have what she's having." Tempest muttered. She wasn't sure what it meant; she'd heard her mother say it once when her horn was intact and had run with it ever since.

The snake snapped back to lucidity, staring at Tempest with unblinking intensity. "Twice will you fly to the city on the mount. Twice will you conquer those who reign there. You will chase the stars across the horizon and return with friendship in tow. And you will need my mistress's Blood to do this." Her tail finally released Tempest before moving to the massive bowl. The very tip flicked against the surface, sending out a spray of fine droplets. By the time they hit the ground, they had hardened into blackened chunks of crystal, each with a viridian spark at its core. "Use them wisely, Fizzlepop."

Tempest looked at the drops of Euryale's Blood, then back at the snake. "What did any of that mean?"

"In time, you will know."

"Whatever," Tempest huffed. She gathered every crystal she could... which turned out to be all of them. She couldn't fit a single more in her armor's storage compartments, and there wasn't a single more to be had. She shook that off and approaches the great doors. On this side, they had a single mural, a creature that was neither snake nor dragon but some strange fusion of the two.

They were also still very large. "Well?"

"Try," said the snake. "Doors that seem impassible can be opened with little effort if one goes about it in the right way."

Tempest sideeyed her. "Is that another vague prophecy?"

"Advice, from one outcast to another."

Tempest raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She pushed against the massive slabs... and they swung open like the doors to a Mild West saloon.

"I see. Thank you."

The snake said nothing, but Tempest could feel the smugness, like grease matting her tail.

Or maybe it was coming from the Storm King, standing on the airship hovering below. "I told you guys she had this!"

"You were gonna cast off five minutes ago!" Grubber cried, clinging to the Storm King's horns.

"Well, the point is she's back. Tempest, you got the goods?"

"Yes, sir," she said with a salute.

The Storm King beamed. "Fantastic! Come aboard. A week from now, I'll have supreme power and you'll have your horn!"

Tempest nodded. "As it was foretold," she muttered.