//------------------------------// // My Nightmare Begins // Story: Legends of the Shady Trough // by _No_One_Remains_ //------------------------------// Razor snapped, “If you wanna hear a cool story, leave it to me old man!” He sat beside me and ordered a nice tall glass of wine, offering his own tale. I shook my head and chuckled, “That’s certainly not necessary Razor. I’ve had plenty of stories to last a dozen lifetimes.” I handed him his glass and he immediately sipped it up. He handed me the glass back and laughed, “Nonsense, Barman! I’m in an imaginative mood, and I’m gonna tell my story!” Razor smiled slyly at the Changeling Traveler as he slowly staggered upstairs. … There once lived an unbelievably dashing Changeling, with all the power of a thousand bulls, and the speed of a dozen birds. He ruled his hive with justice and kindness, never passing blame on his advisers or his subjects. He always carried himself with an- … “…air of regality…” I interrupted the rambling Changeling in annoyance. Razor’s jaw dropped low and he simply stared at me in disbelief. Wolf tried to stifle a fit of laughter, but he was doing a horrible job. The interrupted Changeling growled, “How the hell’d you know what I was gonna say?!” I slid another glass of wine his way before chuckling, “I’ve heard it all, kid. There ain’t a tale of kings and queens you can tell me that I ain’t already heard. Now go back to your damn table and enjoy the show!” I passed Wolf his own glass of wine on the house. “Ssssss!” The now-angry Changeling snatched up his glass and stomped back to his table, muttering something to me in his native tongue. Wolf stared at me for a minute before shrugging his shoulders and trotting back to their booth. I found it half hilarious and half disturbing that not even he could translate whatever it was the doppelganger said. Just as the hunting stallion took his seat, I heard the hinges of the basement door creak beside me. I could feel the smile immediately creep up on my face as my most favorite employee staggered up the stairs with a messy mane and droopy eyes. Caitiff waved a single hoof in my direction before yawning and rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. They were a particularly dark shade of red that night. I chuckled, “Good morning, sunshine! I need you take room thirty-two’s order.” I shoved a notepad and quill into her inattentive hooves as she finally stopped yawning. She moaned, “Already? But I haven’t even been up five minutes! Couldn’t you have had Scourge do it?” She shook her head in drowsiness and pointed a hoof at the most disturbing patron of my dear bar, who was sitting still in a chair just beside the stage. “Ha! After that last incident, I ain’t sending that mare anywhere without you.” I chuckled lightheartedly as she turned toward the staircase. She let out a deep sigh, “Yeah, yeah, whatever…” She slowly started stumbling up the stairs to the Changeling Traveler’s room. “Hey,” I called behind her, “if the kid’s asleep, leave him be.” She waved a dismissive hoof in my direction, the usual method of signaling that she understood. Just as Caitiff left my sight, a deep voice roared at me from across the bar. With his single arm raised high in the air, Sir Ox Berry called, “Hey Barman, another mug of that salty dog!” He slapped his hand down on Wanderer’s shoulder, a sign that he was beginning to get a little tipsy. The brute never enjoyed physical contact, except when drunk. I nodded silently at the Minotaur and began work on the concoction I had crafted. It was a simple mixture: vodka, grapefruit juice, water, and salt. The old war heroes seemed to enjoy it the best of all my house specials, though I could never figure out why. At any rate, I hurried the drink over to the veteran and turned back to my counter. Before I could start the walk back, Sir Ox Berry grabbed my hoof in his hand. He chuckled, “I saw how focused you were while listening to that newcomer. I bet you five nuggets I can tell you a better story!” He dropped a thick bag of money on the table beside his drink. I waved a dismissive hoof and groaned, “No thanks pal. I’m good on stories. Just enjoy the booze and the show.” I wrenched my hand from his surprisingly loose grip and turned back toward the counter. “Did I hear something about a bet, Sir Ox?” Electric appeared out of seemingly nowhere, causing me to flinch at the glint in his eyes. A lump formed in my throat. It was at this time I noticed that the performance on stage had stopped. Before I could say anything, Plot Twist popped between me and the drunken Minotaur. The performer chuckled, “If it’s nuggets on the line, I’ll take that bet! After all, I am an actor!” Conrideas appeared directly beside his partner, a cheeky grin on his face. He clapped his hooves and scoffed, “You’re an actor, but I’m a visionary! I’ll take your bet Sir Ox!” He pulled a few nuggets from the pocket of his outfit. Razor hissed across the bar, “Yes, I think I’ll join in on this little game of yours!” He started a brisk trot over to the gathering group of patrons. It was at this point I recovered from my temporary paralysis and groaned, “No, no, no! There won’t be any story-telling contests tonight! Not while I’m forced to listen!” I tried to shoo a few of the betters away, but they were stubborn enough to ignore me. Wolf joined Razor in the group. He growled, “Ha, I bet I can top all of you! I can tell you tales of hunts that most of you would never see in your wildest dreams!” He plopped a hoof on his friend’s back, placing the other one to the hilt of the sword hanging at his side. Sir Ox Berry roared, “My war stories will send you to bed with nightmares, kid! You ain’t got nothing on me!” He slapped the table and downed his salty dog in one gulp. “I said no, fellas! I don’t wanna listen to any more stories!” I cried out to them desperately, hoping they would listen. Freezing muttered from his booth, “You’re all daft. I’d wreck you with a tale of my creation!” He sipped his mug of frosty cider before turning to face the group. Conrideas burst into laughter and cried, “You keep dreaming, pal! Ain’t no way you can top me!” He received a sour expression from his partner. A horrible voice caused my skin to crawl, “I’ll take that bet! My pyrotechnics have brought me plenty of stories over the years!” Monochrome tumbled downstairs with his usual cheery demeanor. The smile plastered on his face was the same as just before he destroyed half of my bar. I screamed as loud as my middle-aged lungs would allow, “Dammit I said no! I will not tolerate a story-telling contest!” The entire bar fell silent at my outburst as I stomped back to the counter. Just as I began to pour myself a glass of whisky, Caitiff appeared at the top of the stairs. She tittered, “You should really lighten up, old man. You’ll dig yourself an early grave if you don’t control that temper.” She slapped the small notepad onto the counter with a wide grin on her face before turning toward the crowd of customers. She cheered, “I’ll gladly take your bet, Sir Ox! And I’ll even raise you a round of drinks!” I can’t exactly say why, by the wicked smile on her face made me feel a bit calmer. I suddenly had the urge to let the drunks have their fun. I shook my head in disbelief and groaned, “Fine, you can have your dumb little contest. But I swear, the second the details get too juicy for my tastes, you’re shutting your traps!” I looked down at the notepad to see that the Traveler was really taking advantage of his free meal. Without a moment’s hesitation, I set to work cooking up the food. Over the sounds of fire and food, I could hear the betters chatting away and bragging. I wondered to myself just how the Traveler would be able to hold all this sustenance down. Seriously, he ordered a ton of food: four slices of golden toast, three scrambled eggs, two blueberry muffins, and a side of grape jam. At any rate, I hurriedly cooked his food and sent Caitiff to deliver it. Just as she returned to the crowd, a much unexpected happening took place. Louder than I’d ever heard her before, Pigeon called out, “I’ll see your nuggets and drinks, Caitiff, and I’ll raise you free meals for everypony!” She held her locket tightly in one claw and lifted a bag of money high in the other. The smile on her face unnerved most of the other patrons. “You’re all ignorant losers. It’s my literary art that will make you all wish you had never taken the bet.” Lavender leaped from the stage and wrapped her hooves around Plot Twist and Conrideas. She winked in my direction, as if expecting me to agree with her. She then giggled, “As a matter of fact, why don’t we get Barman to be the judge? After all, he’s not telling a story and has nothing to lose. He’s the perfect unbiased stallion for the job!” A sudden chatter of agreement erupted within the group of betters. I remember feeling something in the back of my head snap and my temples begin to throb. I was just about to disagree and scold them when the door to the basement slammed closed. A weird feeling filled my gut as Lamia stepped out to greet the group. She grinned slyly and chuckled, “If it is a contest you wish to hold, allow me to join if you’ll be so bold. The stories I can tell you are those worthy of fear, and I will gladly tell them for some free beer.” I could never stand the way she spoke in rhymes with that creepy tone. After a small period of silence I was able to object to judging the contest. I groaned, “I said you could have the contest; I never said anything about judging it myself!” Sir Ox Berry cheered, “C’mon Barman, who else has enough world-weariness aside from me and Wanderer to judge such a colossal bet?” The entire crowd turned to face me with wide smiles on their faces. “Not to mention the…intelligence…required to tell a good story from a bad.” Caitiff ran a hoof softly down my spine with a slight hiss in her voice. To this day I swear she had some sort of ability to subconsciously manipulate ponies, because I could never refuse her when she wanted something. I think it was her eyes. At any rate, I eventually caved in to the pests’ requests and agreed to judge the contest. The entire group decided to draw straws to see who would tell the first tale, so I went to the back to fetch the grain from my stores. As I was heading back to group of betters, I heard the front door creak open and the sound of thunder in the distance. “A storm’s brewing, I s’pose.” I sighed under my breath, dreading the pounding sound of rain on the roof of the Shady Trough. Normally it would be a welcome and relaxing sound, but I would be forced to listen to the screeching of each patron’s voice during the course of the contest. When I returned to the front of the bar, I was greeted by an unexpected guest. “Hello darling. My name is Violet—Miss Violet—and I would like to purchase a room for the evening.” A rather small donkey was sitting awkwardly on the barstool closest to the entrance of the bar, attempting not to intrude on the group that was mingling in the other corner. I slapped a smile on my face and greeted the elegantly-dressed customer with a chuckle, “Well Miss Violet, if you have the bits I have a room.” I took the momentary silence to analyze the donkey in detail. She was dressed in a fabulous dress with jewelry adorning her body. She had a gold and diamond necklace, as well as two pairs of diamond earrings on each ear. She had a golden band wrapped around her ankle. Her face was done up with makeup, and she reeked of perfume. She maintained an elegant posture and pose. Her voice seeped with snobbish superiority from the few words she had spoken before. She sighed, “I’m quite tired, dear. Just inform me how much a nightly room costs and I’ll be off to bed.” She placed a small jingling satchel on the counter in front of her. I turned around to check my room registry to see which ones were available. I heard Lamia whisper to the newcomer, “Ah, but dear Violet would you like to partake in this contest in which our money we forsake?” “Come again dear? I’m afraid I don’t speak gibberish.” The newly-arrived snob muttered to the zebra in an annoyed tone. Caitiff immediately butted in before Lamia could retaliate, “We’re having a story-telling contest tonight, m’lady. Perhaps you would like to join in? You look like a woman with plenty of interesting experiences to share with us young hoodlums.” My employee’s voice was flooded with deceitful insincerity. I simply adored it. I found the perfect room for the lady and cheered, “I have just the lodgings for a lady as elegant as you. The fee is two nuggets per night. It comes with a small meal and a bottle of hard liquor.” I smiled widely as the donkey reached into her satchel and tossed the two nuggets at me. She giggled, “Thank you, good sir. I assume you’ll send for my order once I’m settled in?” She staggered off toward the stairs. An idea suddenly washed over me. I was already trapped in the contest, so why not make her suffer as well? I chuckled, “I’ll waive your lodging and food fees if you participate in the contest.” She stopped dead in her tracks and smiled slyly at me. She sighed, “I’m afraid nopony wants to listen to the ramblings of an old lady. I will have to pass, thank you.” Sir Ox Berry didn’t hesitate to call, “My dear sweet donkey, won’t you reconsider? You could teach us your wonderful secrets of a long and wealthy life!” He raised his empty glass high as if to honor the old mule. I could barely contain a laugh at his blatant lie. “What is the wager?” she replied bluntly. Pigeon giggled, “Five nuggets, a round of drinks, and meals for everypony.” Miss Violet burst into an elegant fit of giggles. She sighed, “If you truly wish to hear a crazy lady’s ramblings, then so be it. Be warned that my experiences are not suitable for innocent ears.” She winked at me with a sneaky glint in her eye. My mind immediately began to swirl with thoughts of the possible tale she would tell. I immediately cast the thoughts out of my head in fear of bringing about nausea. I briskly trotted over to the group and held out the straw in a clasped hoof. I groaned, “Okay everypony, draw straws so we can see who starts this disaster…” Without hesitation every patron of the bar yanked a straw from my hoof, eager to find out which would begin the bet that each one felt confident they would win. In the back of my mind I was already tired of this contest. Sadly, I had agreed to judge it, so I had to stick around until each contestant told their story. Each gambler held up their strand of straw high in the air. All eyes shot at Sir Ox Berry as it became painfully obvious he had drawn the shortest one. I let out a small chuckle as the irony wasn’t lost on me. He had started my nightmare, so he would actually be the one to start my nightmare.