//------------------------------// // Wot Jus' 'Appened? // Story: O.i.E. // by MAGO5 //------------------------------// This isn't much, but I'd just like to let you guys know that this ain't anywhere close to dying. I've been writing non-stop to churn this out because one, I enjoy writing this very much, and two, you guys seem to enjoy reading it even more. Savor your orky goodness, my readers, because we ain't done yet! Over the centuries of its existence, a great deal of wild misconceptions of Everfree Forest have festered. Mostly, what everypony can agree on is that it is dark. This is true. The thick canopy of multifarious, tangling ebony branches ensnare Celestia’s boon and shelter the creatures that reside there. The darkness was one of the main reasons the forest itself was enshrouded with superstition and fear. Ponies, especially the older generations of Celestia’s reign, have always avoided the dark. The dark obscures the truth. The dark stifles the mysteries of the unknown. Therefore, equines have always been deterred from exploring and cataloging the fantastical wonders within the boundaries of Everfree. It’s not surprising, considering that ponies are the pansiest sentient beings on the face of the planet. Seriously, 90% of the population would break the land-speed record just to escape the “malevolent” clutches of a common flippin’ house spider. It’s sad, really. How they ever prospered in the first place is a mystery even they don’t understand. Anyway, besides the obvious truths of this thick, vegetated landscape, many have come to agree that it is filled with some of the deadliest, scariest animals in all of Equestria, not counting dragons, because they tend to not reside in one particular province of the world. Some would even go as far as to label the entirety of the area as evil. This is simply not true. While, yes, the creatures that make their home among the dank trees of the forest are strange and unquestionably lethal, it is rather an incarnation of the untamed aspect of nature. Back when Equestria was first discovered by the three pony races in search of warmer climates, first thing they did was make it their own. The unicorns used their arcane arts to force the land to their submission, making everything manipulatable. Instilling order from chaos and molding their kingdom to their desire. How Everfree came about was a series of fateful events that have forever been lost in the annals of history, but somehow, the land had wrested itself from the grip of order and reverted back to its natural state. There, no one rules. It is a vicious ballad of life and death. It is an eternal cycle of struggle that has persisted over the inevitable march of time. But evil? Not so. The beings of Everfree have all accepted their way of life. They thrive on conflict. They love to survive. It is within that battle for prosperity that they have found their own sort of “chaotic equilibrium”. What the forest truly means to them is freedom. In many ways, it is paradise. That is, until... you know... Grundy showed up. “ZOG OFF, YA WOOD WUFFS!!!” The one-armed ork fended off the seemingly unwarranted onslaught of Timber Wolves. The loss of his mechanical limb threw his balance off considerably, but he kept his legs spread and his feet planted firmly on the ground. His Thunda Stik whooshed through the air before it connected with the wooden torso of one pouncing beast. The wolf landed with a roll, either dead or too wounded to move. Its body was casually dismissed by the rest of the pack as they continued to pace a predatory circle around the bulky, green intruder. Grundy took note of their collective growling. The sound itself had a strange, resonating quality to it, but now was not that time to dwell on such idle pondering. He merely growled back. A low, ominous rumble surfaced from the ork’s throat. He bared the full set of his spear-like teeth. His beady, red eyes were obscured by his battle goggles, which gave him sharper vision during combat. Another wolf was slowing its pace slightly, which, Grundy had learned, meant it was about to turn and pounce. The grip on his heavy mace tightened. The solid cords of his muscles flexed in anticipation. He spat out the stub of his cigar, blowing out a plume of smoke from his nostrils. “Bring it, arse’ole. Oi don’t gots all day.” The Timber Wolf accepted his challenge and leapt at the ork. With a bestial warcry, Grundy raised his crudely fashioned weapon high above his head, arcing a streak of finality as it came down right on top of the quadruped's skull. A nauseating crunch was heard as the wolf’s head was flattened between the dense earth and the ork’s mace. He yanked the mace from its twitching corpse. It was covered in sticky, sap-like blood and chips of bark. The Mek couldn’t quite remember when he had seen these animals before, but they were mentioned in the show. He... sorta spaced out sometimes. Orks weren’t well known for their attention span, but he did have a vague recollection of this particular beastie. Wolves made of wood. It struck him as illogical. They shouldn't have been possible, yet here they are. Of course, in retrospect, the apocalyptic hellions of the Warp could chalk up to illogical as well, but that was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment. He may be an ork, one of the strongest creatures in his galaxy, but he was at a clear disadvantage. Without his other arm, he could only use one weapon at a time. He opted for his Thunda Stik as opposed to his Shoota, so if he got swarmed by these ligneous predators, he could break them apart with the force of the charged weapon. For now, the weapon was not active. Not that he wanted to conserve power; orks had no grasp of the concept of sensible resource management. He just didn’t want to make it too easy. “So...” He began, embellishing his statement with the flip-toss of his mace. “Which one’a yew zoggers wants tah take a shot at me next, eh!?” They all did. All at once. The next half-minute became a blur of bark, steel, and the color green. While the wolves dogged on with mindless animal instinct, Grundy descended into a good old-fashioned blood rage. Screaming out the signature warcry of WAAAGH!, he swung his heavy instrument of carnage side to side, weeding the attackers and tossing them aside like yesterday’s trash. Amidst the chaotic battle, one of them had the gall to chomp on the end of the mace, trying to tug it from his grip. The Mek sneered and, with his massive hand, felt his way to a button above the hilt. One quick press later, the spiked head of the bludgeon spun to life with a whir of a motor. The wolf’s maw was processed into wood chips, followed by the rest of his head. “Chew on dat, why don’ ya!” He quipped and deactivated the mace. Meanwhile, some of them managed to cling onto his back, clawing and biting his clothing and thick, green skin. This merely annoyed the ork. With a heave of his massive body, the wolves were detached from their purchase. Grundy turned around and clipped one across the jaw with his steel-toed boot, drawing a satisfying yip of pain. Judging by the number of mangled bodies on the ground, the pack was certainly thinning. They were starting to attack with more hesitation. Grundy savored the familiar rush of adrenaline, the euphoric sensation of inflicting violence. Every skull he cracked, every spine he broke, every limb he snapped, it all reverberated up his arm and made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. This was an ork in his natural state. While he now considered himself to be different from other orks, he could not deny his instinctive love of fighting. Now, only a handful of wolves remain. The rest were either dead, crippled, or running scared with their twiggy tails between their legs. Grundy reversed the grip on his weapon and brought it down on the ribs of a wounded Timber Wolf, bringing about one last painful yelp of finality. Without breaking his stride, or even looking in a different direction, he held out his hand and snatched up the throat of a pouncing wolf in mid-air. It struggled in his iron grip, kicking out its hind legs and gasping for air. He then brought the wolf down and impaled it on the sharpened pommel of his beating stick. A gargled scream tried to force its way out of its mouth as it slid halfway down the shaft. The ork gripped the handle, swung it around the metal-coated stub of his left shoulder, and swung it overhead, putting as much gravitational force on his victim as he could. At the high-point of the arc, the wolf snapped in two. Splinters and blood-sap rained down on Grundy as he stood there breathing heavily. No more attacks came. He had fought and won, like orks always do. Well, not quite, spoke a menacing growl that came from behind him. The Mekboy turned to find one last Timber Wolf, standing defiantly among his fallen brethren. It narrowed its glowing eyes and gritted its thorn-like teeth. It was much bigger than the other wolves that he wasted. Grundy shifted to face it, smirking to himself. “Yer sum kinda stupid...” He said. The wolf only growled more intensely in response. Finally faced with a semi-worthy challenge, it was time to kick off the ol’ training wheels. Pressing a button on the hilt of his sap-covered weapon, the mace came to life in a blaze of electricity and spinning parts. The sharp stench of ozone filled the air. The bludgeon vibrated in his hand as if it was eager for blood. “C’mere so I kin pretty-up dat face’a yers.” The wolf charged at him head-on, frothing spittle dripping from his mouth. Grundy readied his mace. +++++ Twilight was starting to regret picking up the strange object. The weight on her back was too much for her bookwormish physique. Panting audibly, her pace petered out to a crawl. The metal thing was balanced on her back well enough, but the metallic surface was making the transit extremely uncomfortable. Finally coming to a halt along the trail, the lavender librarian dropped to her belly to catch her breath. She certainly couldn’t leave it here. That was out of the question! This thing was too interesting to discard. He had to endure so she could bring it back for study. But first, she still had a ways to go before she reached Zecora’s hut. Twilight decided to expend some of her mental energy instead. Picking up the thingy with her magic, she trotted on. The reclusive witch doctor arranged this meeting personally. Twilight thought it was extremely uncharacteristic of her. She never particularly cared for the company of others, let alone sought it, and when she asked Zecora what this meeting was for, the zebra didn’t give much of an answer. She just left it at “informal”. Very strange indeed. Speaking of such, the librarian wasn’t ignorant of Zecora’s most recent behavior, which was out of the ordinary, to say the least. When Twilight was with her, she would be a bit more talkative than usual. She would start asking her personal questions like her favorite color, or what kinds of books she liked the most. She didn’t know the zebra was interested in books beyond volumes about herbalism and brewing. To add to that, every time Twilight would suddenly look at her, she would suddenly turn her head away, as if she had spent most of the time staring at her instead of concentrating on the potion she was dictating to her. Well, on the upside, she seemed to be a lot more friendly. She seemed to smile and laugh a lot more. Twilight had read books about this. These were sure signs of happiness. She must just be in a really good mood lately. Humming that dorky tune she invented, she blissfully trotted along the path, the strange doohickey still in tow. She was sure that Zecora would also be interested in seeing it, too. The only bad thing about it was the smell. It reeked. Twilight took care to keep it away from her face. Even so, she could still sniff it from here. She was starting to suspect that it didn’t even come from Equestria! If that was true, then just where did it come from? Her ear twitched and the thought was interrupted. In the distance, she could hear a commotion rising above the constant noise of the forest. It almost sounded like... a roar. But it wasn’t a Manticore roar, no, this was different. She was no expert on zoology, but since the day that she met her five true friends, she had not forgotten what a Manticore sounded like. It almost sound like something, or somepony, was in trouble! Before recklessly charging into the forest to offer her assistance, she hesitated. She was all alone. The last time she was alone in Everfree, she was turned to stone by a Cockatrice. That was not a pleasant experience. Even if she were to help, she was putting herself in danger, and her friends may not be able to save her this time. She broke from the path anyway, taking care to watch her step. The forest itself seemed to tighten its coil around this nervous traveler. She could feel the trees beaming at her with hunger. Her heart pounded in her ribcage and the magical grip on the object wavered. Suddenly, she came to a small clearing, nearly gasping for air after being submerged in that dank grove. To her despair, she forgot where the sound came from. She paced around, straining her ears for anything she could use. She heard what sounded like a whump! Like a big pocket of air was suddenly decompressed. It was very distinct, and it echoed neatly throughout the woods. Maybe that’s where she needed to go- *THUD!* “GAAAHHH!!!!” Startled by the sudden noise, Twilight darted under the nearest patch of tangling foliage for cover. She lay there, trembling, hooves over her head and eyes clenched shut for what seemed like minutes before the more logical part of her mind snapped her out of it. “Wait... I’m not Fluttershy! What the hay am I doing?!” Cautiously, she peered towards the center of the clearing for the source of the abrupt disturbance, and almost dive back into her bush. It was a Timber Wolf! But she noted that it wasn’t moving. Not in the slightest. Was... was it dead? A more scrutinous inspection told her that the limbs were twisted in ways that shouldn’t be, and its mouth and eyes were leaking sap. In all likelihood, it was dead. But where did it come from? A glance at the glimmering object next to the corpse told her of another problem. In her haste, she had broken the levitation spell and left the metal thing behind. Twilight mentally berated herself for being so careless. “Oh well.” She thought. It was only a simple matter of picking it back up and returning to the path. There was nothing to be done here, so it was high time she got back on schedule... Wait... What was that? Just as the librarian was about to leave the safety of her vantage, she heard heavy rustling coming from the obscured tree-line. It was getting closer. She tried to make herself as unseen as possible, all while the commotion got louder. Something was coming this way, and it might not be friendly. It came into view. Her eyes widened. Twilight almost had to hold her throat with her hooves to stifle a gasp. She, with all of her knowledge and vocabulary, could describe what it looked like to another pony, but she no idea where to start. There were too many horrific details about this... creature to tell of. She had never seen anything like it before, from experience or book. To start off, it was huge. Tremendous. As if the scale of its largeness was more than just a simple measurement of height and width. And it was green. Almost a natural, plant-colored green, but not quite there. Most of its head was made up teeth, making a Manticore look like a harmless house cat. A pair of pointy ears and glowing orange eyes made up the rest of the head. And it wore clothes. Clothes! A combination of metal, straps, pouches, and dense material adorned most of its body. It stood on two giant feet, stomping its way to the dead wolf, which wouldn’t be too far-fetched at the moment to assume it was the one that killed it. Its back was hunched over, and had some bulky, metal, club-like object slung over it. The thing that stuck out the most was in the case of bilateral symmetry. On one side of its bulging body was an arm, complete with thick muscles and fingers that ended in talon-like fingernails. On the other side, however, there was nothing. Just a shiny stub where she assumed the limb should be. The creature only had one arm. How peculiar... She took her mind off of meaningless ponderings and tried not to breath loudly. The hulking thing was close enough that she could hear it respiring. It looked over the corpse and seemed to smile, showing more of the wide rows of its pearly whites. It then kicked the corpse and watched in satisfaction as the limp body rolled away. “Dats wot ya get, zog-fer-brainz.” It... He spoke?!?! The beast suddenly caught the strange metal object Twilight found on the path in his gaze. “Lefty!” He shouted in a perpetual, guttural tone. “Where ya been?! Oi’ve been lookin’ errawhere fer ya!” The green creature reached down and effortlessly picked up the heavy object. He manipulated it in his hand until the five smaller hinged parts were held in the pit of his arm. Then, he took the other end, lined it up with his stub, and shoved it into the socket. He gave an intense grunt of pain. The metal thing seemed to twitch. He released a sigh and let go. The new metal part whirred with motion as the previously inert hinges moved to their own accord. He rolled his shoulder, as if getting used to the weight, but the hand part kept jerking sporadically. Groaning in frustration, he withdrew a handheld rod from his belt and stabbed it into the machine, twisting it firmly. When he took it out, the hand was moving smoothly, clenching and unclenching without any unwanted movements. Twilight was slack-jawed. She was in absolute bafflement. Her mind was reeling with this sudden overload of fantastical information. This large, brutish creature had taken an inanimate object and made it part of his body. It should have been impossible, yet here she was, witnessing this miracle as it was performed. She could have recognized it as an arm when she found it, but the thought had never even come close. The arm moved as if it was wholly organic, but she could clearly hear the now animate inner mechanisms of the device! The creature produced a... cigar from his pouch and put it in his mouth. A flame sparked to life from his mechanical thumb and lit the coffin nail. Twilight wished she could get closer, but that would risk too much. This thing was obviously no friend. Anything that could launch an alpha Timber Wolf into the air was nothing to be trifled with either. Whatever this creature was, it was too dangerous to be around. The lavender librarian began her retreat, taking care to make absolutely no sound- “*RIBBIT!*” Well... at least it wasn’t something as cliche as stepping on a dry twig. A loud boom nearly shattered her eardrums and a patch of dirt exploded to her immediate left. The unicorn froze in place, heart throbbing and wheezing in and out. The injured and frightened frog she stepped on hopped back into the forest. In the monster’s biological hand was a boxy, metal object with a smoking hole facing towards her. “Oi know yer there, ya stinkin’ mutt. Cm’out so I kin gives ya a propah greetin’!” “Oh no, oh gosh, oh no, oh gosh, oh gosh...” Twilight’s mind raced. Her eye burned with tears. “Do it, er I’ll jus’ fill yer hidey-’ole wiff lead!” He fired another warning shot next to his first. Twilight gave a high-pitched yelp. She had no other choice. Trembling uncontrollably, she inched out of her hiding spot and into view. What happened next was yet another instance to add to the list of unusual occurrences. A look of jaw-dropping surprise crossed the beast’s face. The box slipped from his grip and he pointed a wordless finger at the unicorn. “Youz... youz Twilight Sporkle!” He said in his bestial accent. “W-w-what...?” Was all that she could manage to say. The green hulk threw his arms open. “OI’M YER BIGGEST FAN!!!!” +++++ It the realm of twisted evil and warped reality, only rage and death existed. The scarlet skies ran on horizonless. Thick blood filled every square inch of air. There was a constant atmosphere of the death screams of untold trillions ringing constantly. Here was a place of unspeakable horror. Here was a grand monument to the eons of bloodshed that scoured the galaxy since its birth; the same bloodshed that will continue until the end of time. Mountains of ravaged bones covered the landscape, as abundant as grains of sand on a beach. Their soulless sockets gaze out into nothingness, their sacrifice as unnoticed and meaningless as one taking a breath of air. On his great throne of black and brass, in his mighty fortress which sat on the very foundations of conflict and terror, surrounded by a mote of the boiling blood of the fallen, he shifted slightly. The grand pile of skulls which held aloft his throne shifted with him, sending down an avalanche of clattering bones into eternity. A roaring, red fire raged in the center of his chamber, fueled by the souls of cowards and unworthy warriors and exuding primordial anger. The gloomy light flickered off of his gleaming brass armor. He gripped his mighty sword, Warmaker, while he envisioned the ungodly, obscene amount of conflict and murder that existed throughout the galaxy. He took no pleasure in any of it. That was a sacrilege performed by his nemesis. The very thought of it fills his mind with hatred. He only required more. More blood. More death. More carnage, dismemberment, disembowelment, bone-breaking, skull-crushing, and beheading. He dreamed of endless tides of blood sweeping over the masses of weaklings. He dreamed of the fires of war scorching the surface of every planet in the universe. He dreamed of the day when he would reign as the supreme lord of all existence, his subjects constantly spilling blood in his name. As he dreamt, thought, a peculiarity came up in the fabric of reality. The Warp was an overlapping universe that did not share the same laws of physics or distance as its counterpart, but still resonated with the events of reality proper. Couple that with the fact that he was omnipotent, he could sense a single drop of blood being shed anywhere in the galaxy at any given time. However, this was no sensation of the triumph of his champions, nor the feeling of a planet being cracked asunder. This was a tear. No, not a tear... A gateway to another realm. A realm completely untouched by his influence, so pure it nearly caused him pain. This was an affront to every fiber of his being. No world within his reach will remain unscathed. In the end, all things would belong to him. This world would be conquered, it was only a matter of finding purchase. He took in a breath of the blood-soaked air, inflating his monstrous lungs, preparing to bellow out his order, his decree, his law, and nothing would stand in defiance. “It shall belong to Khorne.”