From the journal of Flood Pants, explorer.
26 Leaf-Running Moon, AC 862
A new journal for a new expedition! I arrived in the so-called “Forbidden” Jungle this very morning, a harrowing experience in and of itself. The closest the embassy could come to a clear runway for the air carriage was a patch of bumpy, open ground hewn out of the jungle. Not the roughest landing I’ve ever had, but there was no mistaking it for dear old Canterlot.
The embassy itself was similarly rough, a few ramshackle buildings with only the Equestrian flag to tell me it was the closest piece of home. Not that I held it against Ambassador Evening Primrose. She didn’t exactly get a great deal of funding for the place. Indeed, she told me she had to help keep the embassy grounds clear herself! Granted, as an earth pony, she doubtless found it much easier than I would. Her slit eyes hinted at bat pony somewhere in her ancestry as well, likely why she was chosen for the spot and why the natives seemed to get on with her so well. Certainly better than with me. Most took one look at me, chittered at one another in their inscrutable native tongue, and flapped away.
“The chiroptera don’t trust unicorns,” Evening told me when we had some time alone.
I nodded. “I get that a lot in the remote parts of the world. Great deal of suspicion and superstition.”
She took a long look at me after that, and I don't think she liked what she saw. “Are you sure you want to do this, Mister Pants?”
That made me draw myself up with the dignity my experiences had earned me. “Madam Ambassador, I have braved the blizzards of the Yaket Range, watched the wandering mesas in the heart of the buffalo lands, and scaled the smoldering slopes of Mount Surtr. I assure you, this expedition will be naught but a trip through the park for me.”
She smirked. “So you don’t want a guide?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” I said after coughing into a fetlock.
That was how I met Dragonfruit, a bat pony of fine stock. Well-spoken, well-versed in jungle lore, and easily the most beautiful creature I’d set my eyes on, excepting Celestia Herself. Wit as sharp as her teeth as well. She did not even pretend to spare my feelings when I mangled her name in her own tongue, nor when I told her my goal.
“The minotaur fort? Truly?” she said, sounding for all the world like my mother when she found me perched atop the cupboard.
I nodded. “Well and truly. The historical wealth of Edamto cannot be overstated. Far too many ponies are willing to forget the past and let it rot. If we forget who we were, what will we become?”
“Remembrance is important, Mister Flood Pants, but some things are best left to rot.”
“Bah. Even the worst of history acts as a lesson of what not to do.”
Dragonfruit gave me a long, appraising look then. I cannot say for certain what she found. “Very well. I will take you there. When you see it with your own eyes, you will understand.”
Ah, native superstition, my ever-present travel companion. Where would I be if I could not prove you wrong time and again?
27 Leaf-Running Moon
Celestia above, this heat. I must hold the journal in front of me, lest sweat mar the pages. I had planned the expedition for winter, but it seems the jungle has never heard the word.
Evening Primrose had been less than sympathetic this morning. “You know,” she said, “I realized something after you listed all those places. Tundra, desert, volcanoes… not a lot of humidity in those areas, is there?”
“They aren’t known for it, no. But this place is lousy with pegasi, is it not? You can’t tell me everypony here enjoys these conditions.”
That got a look of pity. Given my state at the time, I cannot truly blame the ambassador, but it still rankles me to think on it. “Chiroptera aren’t pegasi, Mister Pants. They may be able to walk on clouds, but they can’t get them to do anything they don’t want to. And for the record, yes, yes we do.”
I could tell my welcome at the embassy was wearing thin. Well, best to set off in any case.
Dragonfruit started me on the path to Edamto. I hacked my way through the undergrowth as best I could. She leapt from branch to branch like a bat-winged monkey, smirking down at me the whole time.
I must confess, dear journal, where Ambassador Primrose’s disdain for me inspired only resentment, coming from Dragonfruit, it was… strangely charming.
To Dragonfruit’s credit, she did guide me to stretches of better-maintained trail. A given hour might see us cover a single city block or almost as much distance as I could cover on open ground. At times, Dragonfruit even deigned to trot at my side.
Alas, I was distracted by less charming topics than my company.
“Confounded insects. How do you cope with this plague at all times?”
She leaned in close. Star above, the smile on her face.
Then she snapped a mosquito that must have been as long as my horn out of the air, then chewed it with open relish. “We have our methods,” she said around her morsel.
Steady on, Flood. Remember, you are a professional.
29 Leaf-Running Moon
Minimal progress for the last two days. Yesterday, we exhausted the easy trails that lead to Edamto. The resulting struggle through the woods left me too exhausted to record it, likewise transcriptions of any pleasantries with Dragonfruit. Today was more of the same, but knowing I'd have to endure the same level of struggle from dawn to dusk at the start left me better prepared to tough it out.
(And yes, dawn to dusk. I shan't recount my putting my hoof in my mouth assuming Dragonfruit is normally nocturnal. High noon beneath the canopy is scarcely enough to see one's hoof in front of one's face here. It is only in the open when they must adjust their lifestyle. Or wear sunglasses.)
Still, I dare say I am growing on her given time and exposure. Which rather makes me sound like a fungus. Goodness, but I'll need to edit this into something sensible when I return to Canterlot. At least this spell lets me ink the words purely with magic. Imagine having to tot inkwells into the wilderness.
I am clearly more tired than I thought if my mind is wandering this much. However much time lies between this entry and the next, assume it was spent struggling through underbrush with a foul attitude.
1 Snow Moon
Dragonfruit has been regaling me with local legends to pass the time. Most of them are charming little "just so" stories. How the jaguar got its spots, how the dragon got his flame, and so forth. But today we approached Edamto proper, and she told me the history of the Colony Wars as the bat chiroptera remember them.
It is not a flattering tale, not for minotaurs or for other ponies. Certainly not unicorns. Black Rose's name is still cursed in these lands, and only for her first great crime. The locals do not forgive or forget broken trust. Having suffered more than a few betrayals by other enterprising explorers, I can empathize.
Tomorrow, we explore the ruins of the fort. I only hope I can account for myself better than Black did.
2 Snow Moon
Edamto stands!
It is a miracle, whether of engineering, magic, or nature, I cannot say. But the ancient fort, though timeworn, still stands proud after nine centuries and more.
And the terrain around it, my goodness. The trek through the jungle has been one blasted hassle after another: Swarming insects, boot-eating mudpits, predators barely held off by Dragonfruit's screeches and my own repelling spells. But the terrain here is what ponies dream of when they hear of the exotic tropics. Waving palm trees, a gorgeous beach with sand like powdered white gold, an ocean so blue it could be a second sky. Everything one could dream of.
Dragonfruit doesn't trust it. I admit, it does seem a bit too good to be true. But really, what manner of jungle beastie would construct a trap simultaneously so sophisticated yet so obvious? If anything, some entity acting to preserve the fort invites further questions, ones that I cannot let go unanswered.
Of course, when one's guide does everything but clamping her fangs on one's throat to stop one from investigating, one must find some manner of compromise. I managed to talk her down from fleeing immediately to watching the ruin for a day, just to see what, if any, suspicious activity may arise.
I write this entry during the fourth hour of our little stakeout. I shan't lie, it is dreadfully dull, but every moment of drudgery is another point in my column. Surely this miracle is benign at worst, revolutionary at best!
Dragonfruit doesn't think much of me dividing my attention, but it's helping me stay grounded. I swear, I've been watching Edamto for so long that the landscape seems to shift and soften when I'm not focusing on it. Would that I were a better sketch artist. I could've sworn the beach was further away when we first got here.
Surely my imagination.
2/3? Snow Moon
I write this entry under cover of darkness, by the dimmest hornlight I can manage. Dragonfruit insisted we turn in and hung all manner of amulets and charms over my tent. She even insisted on sleeping on a branch directly above it, dangling from her tail as is her wont. I normally scoff at superstition, but I've seen what such fetishes can do in the hooves of a capable zebra. Doubtless my guide's carry at least as much potency against whatever she fears. She refused to go into detail on either what foe she was thwarting nor the specific means by which her wards would do so.
I was tempted to reassure her, but her darting eyes and folded ears made it clear she would suffer no foolishness from me on the matter.
However, all the trinkets in the world couldn't ward off my own wanderlust. I do not know if it is past midnight or not, but I can wait no longer. Edamto calls to me, its mysteries beckoning like a siren of legend. I swear I can see it peeking out just behind the foliage, mere steps away.
Yes, I confess, I have already slipped out tonight, and already found something amazing. Dragonfruit was similarly restless. Together, we will discover many things in the fort's ruins. Some more personal than others.
Much as I'd love to bring this journal with me, I'm leaving as much space as I can spare for samples to bring back home. Perhaps it would be wiser to wait until morning, but...
No. I must go. I simply must. What awaits is quite literally irresistible.
Such a lovely place.
Such a lovely face.
Moonsister,
I return this journal to you through Evening Primrose, in the hopes that this fool will be the last you send to die in our home. While Luna still lies trapped above, leave us be.
Pitaya (Dragonfruit)