//------------------------------// // Case Eighteen, Chapter Eight: Stormfront // Story: Ponyville Noire: Misty Streets of Equestria // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// Daring glared up at Ingwa and Snake. As if sensing her gaze, Snake swiveled the .50 hoofgun over to her and centered the sights over her forehead.  “Don’t try anything,” the stallion snarled, tightening his foreleg around Rolling Thunder’s neck; the Aborigneigh gasped as the machete blade drew blood, the red liquid dripping down the black polished metal.  “Take your pistol out of the holster and toss it onto the ground. Slowly,” Ingwa Wep hissed, crouching atop Creek Fog like a predatory animal, one of her knives at the shivering mare’s throat.  She hesitated for a moment, considering just drawing her sidearm and dropping Sand with one shot to the eye, or throwing out a boomerang; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phillip studying his foes with narrowed eyes, clearly thinking the same things.  The click of the hoofgun's hammer echoed through the cave like a punctuation mark. “Try anything and we’ll kill you and then slit these old fucks’ throats,'' he growled. “Guns on the floor, now!”  With a grunt, Daring pulled out her .38 by the strap as Phillip did the same. She glanced at their revolvers, then at Sand’s larger weapon, which was so large that the barrel was nearly the size of his foreleg.  “His dick is bigger than yours,” she told Sand as she tossed the weapon onto the stone.  Sand glared at her, but Ingwa had to fight down a snicker, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “She’s got a tongue on her, hon,” she sneered at Daring, looking up and down Daring’s body like a predator looks over a wounded mouse. “Maybe you should put it to use on yours, see the difference for herself.”  “She couldn’t compare to you,” Sand replied to his wife, his tone sweet even as his eyes blazed in fury over the sights of his oversized pistol. “Now you two, get up and figure out how to open that box and we’ll consider letting you live.”  “Do it your fucking selves,” Daring snapped back. “Daring, please stop antagonizing the pony with the gun,” Phillip said coolly, slowly rising to his hooves. Daring stood up as well and the two of them made their way to the locked chest, glaring at Sand Snake all the way. “We were hired to get those damned weapons above all else, and we’re not lugging that entire box all the way to the Outback,” Sand Snake explained as Phillip bent down next to the lock, picking up the small box with the keys. “Now get that open or we’ll--”  Lightning struck the ground just outside the cave, white light flaring through the darkness as a clap of thunder as cacophonous as an artillery strike seemed to shake the stone walls. Sand Snake and Ingwa Wep both flinched at the sudden light and noise.  As one, Phillip and Daring’s hooves went to their pockets, then snapped out in a move that they’d both performed a hundred times. The boomerangs whistled through the air and struck home with twin cracks of wood against bone, their targets roaring in pain and anger as the knife and the gun skittered across the floor.  Rolling Thunder tugged himself out of Snake’s grasp as Creek Fog tossed Ingwa off her and rolled away. Phil and Daring threw themselves at their foes like torpedoes, limbs and bodies colliding with grunts and oaths.  Growling as his jab broke Sand Snake’s nose, Phillip smashed his foreleg down onto his other arm like an axe brought down upon a firewood bundle. Bone smashed against bone and the machete clattered to the ground, where Phil quickly kicked it out of reach. Tears and blood running down his face, Sand swung wildly at him and missed as Phillip weaved beneath the blow, battering his ribs with his elbows.  “You fucker!” Sand shouted, ramming his hooves down on Phillip’s back like a pile driver. Shooting his hips back, he seized Phillip in a guillotine choke, gripping his own hoof and lifting up. Phillip spluttered as the edge of the bone painfully crushed his throat, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen.  “You like that, asshole?!” Sand shouted, driving his knee into Phil’s chest like a sledgehammer. Phillip gasped as all the air was forced from his lungs, his head spinning as he fought to stay on his feet. He drove forward and tried to ram Sand against the wall, but Sand twisted around, deflecting his attack.  They both stumbled over a chest of coins and tumbled to the ground, the coins clinking musically as they spilled over the tumbling, flailing limbs. After freeing himself with an elbow strike to the gut, Phillip wound up on top of Snake, his back to the stallion’s chest; he attempted to roll away, but the larger stallion seized him in a chokehold.  “Should’ve stayed in Ponyville, tosser!” Sand laughed through his bloody nose, his bloodstained yellow teeth parted in a horrid grin as Phillip futilely struggled.  Phillip grunted as he tried to buck his hips up and wriggle out of the chokehold, his every attempt foiled. Looking up, he got a blurry, dark, upside-down view of Daring and Ingwa fighting in the entry tunnel: Daring, her violet eyes wide with panic, was trying to get to him, but Ingwa was blocking her at every turn, each slash of her knives coming closer and closer to Daring’s skin.  Suddenly, with twin roars of screwed-up courage, Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog both charged. Creek snatched up a carved didgeridoo and swung it at Ingwa like a club while Rolling tried to stomp on Sand Snake’s face.  Sand tried to shift away from Rolling Thunder’s kicks while keeping his hold on his struggling prisoner but received a sharp kick to the side of the head. “Ow! You old fuck!” he barked, swiping at Thunder and forcing him away with a sharp blow to the side of the head.  His iron grasp on Phillip’s neck loosened just a moment. Gasping in a breath, Phillip thrust an elbow into Sand’s chest, drawing a cry of pain as the fragile rib bones snapped, then slithered out of the hold. He rolled out of range, coughing and massaging his burning throat.  “Get back here!” Sand shouted and grabbed at him, only for Thunder to throw himself upon the stallion. “Will you--fucking get off me!” Sand shouted, throwing Thunder off like a rag doll. Thunder crashed into a chest of jewels and tumbled over with a grunt of pain, clutching his shoulder.  Shaking his head as his vision cleared, Phillip glanced up at the tunnel. A flash of lightning illuminated the rain-streaked exterior: Creek Fog was sprawled across the sand, unmoving, while Ingwa and Daring continued to battle, Daring gripping Ingwa’s forelegs as a knife inched closer to her face, the pegasus’ limbs stained in her own blood.  Pounding hoofsteps behind him. Phillip turned just in time to see Sand Snake bearing down on him like a train, bloody face twisted in rage and hooves stretched out towards him.  Phillip took the outstretched hooves like accepting an embrace and fell back, rolling as he placed his hooves against Snake’s gut. “Bwaah!” Snake screamed as he was sent flying through the air, arms flailing as he tumbled through the tunnel and crashed to the ground outside, sending plumes of mud into the air.  “Sand!” Ingwa cried at her lover’s crash. Her shout was punctuated by a whoosh of air as Daring’s knee rammed into her gut.  “Eyes on me, bitchface!” Daring taunted as she twisted and threw Ingwa to the ground. She punched Ingwa’s hoof, sending the knife spinning away into the mud. “Whore!” Ingwa wheezed, forcing Daring away with a kick to the chest.   Huffing, his face red with fury and sweat, Sand Snake stood back up just in time to receive a punt to the face from Phillip, sending him flying back like a goal-making kick. He formed a canyon in the mud as he skidded, howling through his shattered nose and missing teeth. Phil gave Creek Fog a glance and felt a weight fall off him when he saw her stirring and sitting up.  He charged at Sand, but the other stallion’s horn lit up a sickly green. Hearing a whistling sound behind him, Phillip dove aside and rolled as the machete spun through the air, the blade hissing through the space where he had been standing before returning to Sand Snake’s hoof.  Sand’s other hoof snapped up and Phillip grunted as a wave of stinging red dust assailed his face, fortunately missing his eyes this time. The red-faced train, spitting and slurring through a mouthful of blood, rainwater, and broken teeth, charged him again, but Phillip easily sidestepped him, his counter-kick missing Sand Snake’s side by inches.  “Creek!” Rolling Thunder gasped as he rushed outside, carrying his dazed wife back into the cave.  Sand Snake spun around, panting as he faced off against Phillip. For a moment, all was still, the two stallions and the two mares glaring at one another through the rain, mud and blood dripping off of their forms, panting heavily. Lightning flared across the sky, illuminating the battleground in stark white.  And then they all heard it. A shriek that they felt in their bones, a cry of rage that tore itself from a dead throat.  Daring froze, her heart skipping several beats. Oh, no. The wind shrieked and then it was there, standing behind them, its sopping mane swaying as it shivered; its head wobbled like a bobblehead on a neck that still bore gouge marks from Daring’s knife. They heard it sniffing the air, turning its head from side to side with insectoid movements, like a mantis stalking prey.  The four ponies remained frozen in place, eyes tracking the beast as it slowly started to stalk through the mud. It growled, clicking its rotten, chipped teeth in a staccato clack-clack-clack.  Phillip shuddered as he felt the hot, stinking breath stroke his back. Holding his breath, he watched out of the corner of his eye as the head, reeking of rotten flesh, sidled into view. The head turned towards him, dead eyes glinting in the darkness.  The namorodo leaned in close, sniffing the air, dead eyes glinting. Phillip cursed the pounding of his heart as if it would betray him; the effort of not breathing made his chest burn. Clack-clack-clack-clack, the rotten teeth sounded in his ear, each rancid breath coming in a growl.  Daring watched the namorodo stalking Phillip in horror, her mind racing as she tried to think of something. She glanced down and spotted a rock next to her hoof.  Before she could think better of herself, she snatched the rock up and threw it at the beast. Her throw was spot on, striking the beast on its bony side.  It yelped and whirled around to face her, letting out another terrible shriek of rage. In a blur and a howl of cold wind, it blurred over to where Daring and Ingwa stood, whipping its head back and forth as it searched for them.  Ingwa, shivering in terror, slowly stepped backward. The splash of her hoof coming down onto the soft mud sounded like a cymbal crash, even beneath the pattering rain. The beast whirled towards the sound and roared, its hot breath striking Ingwa like a physical blow. She whimpered in horror, flinching away from the beast.  “Hey! Get away from her!” Sand Snake shouted, sprinting at the namorodo and tackling it, hacking at it with his machete. The monster snarled and threw him off like a rag doll, but Sand was back on his hooves in a heartbeat, bellowing out a challenge as he flung himself at the namorodo once more.  Two knives spun through the air, reflecting the harsh glare of a lightning bolt, and stabbed into the skeletal hide with two thumps that blended with the thunderclap. The namorodo whirled towards Ingwa with a howl of fury, launching itself at the shrieking, babbling mare.  “In the cave! Now!” Rolling Thunder shouted. Phil and Daring turned and ran for the cave entrance, sliding in the mud as the Aborigineigh waved them in like lineponies waving runners to home plate.  A terrible scream of pain and fear made Phillip stop and turn. In a flare of lightning, he saw Sand Snake laying on the ground, screaming in horror as the namorodo bit down on his neck, slamming his machete ineffectually against the bony hide. Ingwa was wailing in despair as she frantically stabbed the beast in the back, the monster completely ignoring her attacks as it fed upon Snake.  Phillip watched, frozen, as Sand Snake’s body began to wither, spasming in agony. Blood leaked from his neck as his muscles shuddered beneath his skin, seeming to shrink down to the bone until his skin was hanging off his skeleton like an oversized coat. The skin around his abdomen shriveled down until Phillip could see his organs, all of them deflating like balloons. His screams turned into gurgles, then rattling wheezes as his eyes rolled back, seeming to shrink into his withering cranium.  “Ingwa! Over here!” Phillip shouted.  Sobbing in terror and despair, Ingwa abandoned her futile attacks and tried to run towards them, blinded by her tears and the darkness. Behind her, the namorodo finally released Sand Snake; in another flash of lightning, Phillip saw that the lipless mouth seemed to be smiling as it looked down upon the shriveled corpse...which suddenly twitched and stood up slowly, moving like a marionette being operated by an inept puppeteer, every movement making a loud crick as it turned to glare at Ingwa.  “Ingwa, freeze!” Daring called.  But Ingwa either didn’t hear her or didn’t register her words, continuing to sprint towards safety.  The wind shrieked. Two figures blurred through the darkness. Ingwa let out a scream of pain and fear like a pig being slaughtered as both namorodo tackled her. She desperately reached out towards Phil and Daring, screaming as they bit down on her neck.  Daring started to run back, but Creek grabbed her tail. “Don’t!” the Aborigineigh said, pulling her back into the cave. “It’s too late! Come, the chests!”  Ingwa’s screams turned into sobs, then wheezing rattles. Phil and Daring hesitated for a heartbeat, then turned and headed into the cave to the sound of cracking, dead joints.  “Find their weapons; they're enchanted, they're your only chance,” Rolling Thunder urged, beckoning them towards the back of the cave. The chest with the decorated lock waited for them. Daring grabbed the key and swept her eyes over the multicolored array of locked boxes.  “Which one is it?” she hissed aloud, her hoof hovering over the ruby chest for a moment before reconsidering.  Three dead voices roared from outside, their cries answered by a crash of thunder. Everypony froze, looking up in horror, instinctively looking around for an escape that they knew didn’t exist. Three skeletal shadows stretched into the cave as if reaching out for their victims; shuffling hoofsteps echoed over the stone. Phillip, Rolling, and Creek all pressed into a line between Daring and the entrance, all three of them trying to suppress their shivering.  Daring gulped and focused on the boxes, trying to ignore the heavy stamping of hooves, the hissing growls that were nearly drowned out by the thumping of her frantic heart. Licking her dry lips, she looked down at the painting of the Rainbow Serpent on the key, its body running along the bow and down the blade.  Wait...where the Rainbow Serpent touches the ground… Her heart lifted as she spotted the blue-green box. Opals! Coins clattered across the stone. Hot breath brushed against Daring’s back with low growls and sniffing, and she froze like she was facing a cockatrice. The shadows loomed over her own, spread against the back wall; the beasts were all shivering, panting and huffing as though they were tired or in pain. She felt Phillip’s tail wrap around her own; their combined panic settled in Daring’s gut like a lead block. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. Lightning crashed from outside, the flare illuminating the entire cave as thunder shook the stone walls. The three namorodo all flinched at the noise, lowering their trembling heads, then turned and howled at the sky, their teeth-grating cries echoing through the cave.  She wasn’t going to get another chance. Daring slammed the key into the lock of the opal-colored chest, nearly wincing as she turned it.  The lock clicked loudly as it opened and the chain fell away. Daring threw the chest open and looked inside.  Inside was a carved wooden club with one end carved into a spike and the other formed into a round head, the entire reddish-brown surface decorated with Aborigineigh art. Next to it, the rope coiled up like a serpent, was a stockwhip, the handle adorned in blue and white cord with an opal attached to the bottom.  Daring seized the whip by the handle, her hoof buzzing as she felt the magic dancing through the decorative cords and up her limb, and whirled around, swinging the whip around with a swoop! Her three companions all ducked beneath it and the whip began to glow faintly, yellow sparks skittering across the length, illuminating the faces of the three namorodo.  All three of them had the same expression on their shriveled, dead faces, the same look shining in their shrunken eyes as they stared at the whip. Fear.  Daring snapped her wrist down and the whip lashed out, striking the first namorodo’s face with an ear-splitting crack! Lightning raced up the length of the rope and struck the beast in the face and it reared away with a shriek of agony, clutching its face. Flesh melted through its hooves, spilling onto the ground like a rain of ashes, exposing the yellowed, rotten bone beneath.  A thrill of power ran up Daring’s spine, banishing her terror. “Ha!” she shouted, drawing the whip back and cracking it into Sand Snake’s face, forcing him away with a scream. "Not so fun when your food can fight back, huh?!" Motion to her right. Daring turned just in time to see the thing that used to be Ingwa Wep lunging towards her, hooves reaching for her neck, the namorodo’s scream stabbing into Daring’s ears.  The shriek was returned by a roar of fury and a heavy swooshing. Thunder crashed and Ingwa was sent flying like she’d been struck by a wrecking ball, smashing into a stalagmite so hard that her back curved around it with a sickening crack like dry wood, leaving her writhing in pain on the ground.  The painted waddy clutched tight in his hoof, Phillip turned towards the former Sand Snake, deflecting a swipe at his throat and countering by smashing the rounded end into the thing’s face. There was a great boom like thunder and Sand was thrown back into the wall, clutching his bony face and writhing in agony, trying to scream even though his jaw bone had been knocked to the floor, shattered into pieces.  A predatory grin spread across Phillip’s face and he lunged once more, only for his second attack to miss as Sand threw himself aside, half-formed bays of pain and desperation spilling from his throat as he tried to run for the tunnel entrance.  “No, you don’t!” Phillip shouted, throwing his boomerang out. The smack of the spinning weapon striking Sand’s hind legs mixed with another clap of thunder and the beast fell to the ground with a cry as Daring whipped the stunned Ingwa, her strike burning away flesh about her neck to expose stringy red meat clinging to rib bones, making the dead mare writhe in pain as she screamed.   “Behind you!” Creek Fog shouted.  Daring jumped back and turned, cracking out her whip once more as the first namorodo lunged at her again, her attack striking it in the side with another flash of lightning. The thing flinched and stumbled into a pile of books, causing the journals to fall all over it like rain. Snarling and snapping, it scrambled to its hooves, crushing one of the older tomes into ripped pages beneath its hoof.  “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” Daring growled, glaring back at the monster.  Behind her, she heard Ingwa getting back to her hooves, huffing and growling. The other namorodo snarled and lowered its head as if gathering its courage, then lunged again.  Daring smirked and sidestepped again, cracking her wrist out. The rope coiled out and ensnared the skeletal foreleg and Daring pivoted around, pulling with her entire body. The namorodo screamed as it was guided helplessly into Ingwa, both of them crashing together and tumbling to the ground like bowling pins.  Daring glanced up just in time to see Phillip knocking Sand Snake to the ground with a blow. The undead monster laid sprawled onto the ground, the single eye that remained fixed in its skull wide in horror, one hoof raised as if to defend itself.  It was futile. Phillip brought the club back, holding it in two hooves, and slammed it down onto the exposed cranium with a roar. With another boom of thunder, the skull shattered like a china doll, shards skittering across the floor. Before the eyes of the witnesses, the body began to dissolve into sand, leaving behind only Snake’s vestments.  Phillip pounced on Ingwa and the first namorodo, the waddy smacking down on Ingwa’s foreleg with a crack. She screeched in agony and threw herself at him, swiping in wild desperation. Phillip was forced to backpedal, gritting his teeth as he deflected every blow.  The first namorodo shook its mane from its skeletal face and threw itself at Daring, growling and snapping at her face. Holding the whip taut between her hooves, Daring ducked and weaved around every attack, gasping as she felt its hot breath slap the side of her head. A hoof darted at her face but she knocked it aside with the whip and countered with an elbow to the exposed jaw, grinning as she saw jagged teeth fly from the mandible.  “Back up!” she barked, snapping the weighted end of the handle into the namorodo’s flesh, striking it where flesh was already eaten away from yellowed bone. It hissed and reeled back, and Daring flapped her wings sharply to push herself back, uncoiling her whip with one hoof.  “Watch it!” Creek warned too late.  Daring bumped into the stone wall and felt her heart drop into her stomach. In an instant, the thing was upon her and she only saved herself by thrusting the still-taut cord out before her, pressing it against the bony neck. It screeched as its skeletal hooves battered her face, jaws snapping as it tried to reach her throat; the dead eyes, hidden behind the slimy, waterlogged mane, blazed with hatred as it tried to reach her. Daring locked her elbows out, writhing in a desperate bid to escape death.  “Wandji--!” Daring tried to scream, but a blow to her throat left her gasping and coughing as her neck burned with pain, her panic doubling by the moment.  “No!” Phillip screamed, trying to get around to her, only to cry out in agony as the dead mare bit his foreleg. A horrid cold started to spread from the wound across the bite, feeling as though his muscles were rippling beneath his flesh, as though worms had crawled beneath the skin.  “Wandjina!” he shouted, summoning his defiance. A rush of cool rain ran up his body and Ingwa reeled back with a hiss of pain, but latched onto his foreleg, gritting her teeth as she stripped the waddy from his grip and tossed it aside.   Panting and huffing in exhausted desperation, Phillip fought for balance as the cold hooves tugged him back, gritting his teeth against the burning pain of the bleeding bite mark. Ingwa lunged at his face once more and he just barely managed to duck in time.  And then lightning lit up the entire cave with a furious roar. Both of the namorodo screamed as bolts assailed their dead bodies like machine-gun fire, releasing their prey and whirling around to face their new attackers. Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog held a bundle of clouds between them, the conjured mist writhing as though with barely restrained fury. Lightning crackled within the amorphous shape, illuminating the Aborigineigh's faces; their countenances practically glowed with a righteous rage that was at once terrifying and inspiring to behold. For a moment, both Phil and Daring thought that in the stormy glow, the elder couple's eyes were glowing white. "Defilers," Rolling Thunder growled, his voice rumbling through the cave. "You are not welcome in this holy place." "You cannot stop them from taking what is theirs," Creek replied, her voice chillingly cold. The namorodo both trembled for a moment, their bones rattling almost musically, then screamed in unison, voices a mixture of desperation and terror and defiance as they blurred towards their prey. Thunder and Creek both gestured, spitting out a word in their native tongues, and the clouds that they had conjured swirled around them, covering their bodies. The beasts tore into the clouds, dissipating them into wisps. The Aborigineigh were both gone. Swoop-crack! The first namorodo fell to its knees and screamed, clutching the side of its neck, yellow dust spilling between its hooves, its head flapping like a loose lid, barely hanging onto its neck by a few remnants of vertebrae. Her dead eyes widening in horror, Ingwa spun about just in time to lock her gaze on Phillip charging at her like a freight train, his face twisted in rage as he drew the waddy back and swung it like a baseball bat. At the same moment, Daring drew the whip back, the glow of the whip illuminating her grin as she snapped it once more towards the wailing beast's neck. A pair of thunderclaps shook the cave walls. Ingwa's skull shattered into pieces as sparks flew from the end of Daring's whip, cleaving through the remainder of the monster's neck. Another flare of lightning illuminated the cave, catching the look of shock and disbelief on the bony face as it flew off its shoulders and clattered to the floor. Phillip and Daring sagged like ragdolls, panting as they watched the corpses dissolve into sand until there was nothing left but dust and a pair of cloaks.  "Well done!" Creek Fog cheered as she and her husband emerged from the shadows, both of them beaming at their charges. "How did...?" Daring stammered. "Where did you--?" "Aborigineigh illusion magic," Rolling Thunder explained as his wife bent down to tend to Phillip's wounded foreleg, helping him apply disinfectant and bandages. "Is he gonna be okay?" Daring asked, her stomach twisting in concern. "Don't worry, he got her off before she could do any real damage," Creek reassured her, tightening the gauze wrap around the bite mark. "It'll hurt for a while and you'll need to get plenty of rest, but you should be okay." "Ripper," Phillip nodded, relief washing over his face, then wincing as another wave of pain radiated across his limb. "Daring, you okay?" “Exhausted,” Daring said, fighting the urge to just close her eyes and sleep.  "Same," Phillip nodded, his head lolling. “I’m not surprised,” Creek replied, nodding to the stockwhip that lay next to Daring as she started to clean and bandage the younger mare's forelegs. “Aside from fighting three namorodo, you both have been channeling a lot of magic through yourselves.”  Daring grinned at her new weapon. “Wasn’t expecting to get a lightning whip out of this trip,” she admitted.  “When we get back to Sydneigh, you two are going to be famous,” Rolling beamed at her.  “You mean even more famous,” Daring corrected him.  “Your uncle is going to be so proud,” Creek said, sitting down next to her to tend to her wounds.   “Uncle Prom,” Phillip said, looking up from bandaging his bite. “Bloody hell, almost forgot about that.”  He started to pat down Sand’s vest, looking for any clues. “Aha,” he declared, pulling out an envelope and a folded-up typewritten letter.  “Note explaining what the journal is and how to break the code,” he reported, looking over the message.  “There an address?” Daring asked.  Phillip glanced at the envelope. “Not a return one, but…” He examined the envelope more closely beneath his flashlight. “There’s a logo on this, painted over with whiteout. It’s…”  He tilted the envelope back and his eyes widened. “We gotta get back to Sydneigh pronto.”