//------------------------------// // Prologue (edited) // Story: Experimentation // by PonyKnight //------------------------------// “And what do ye think ye’s doing?” the man heard. This prompted said man to turn around, his pristine white suit drastically contrasting with the dark surroundings, and to see the hunched-over figure wearing a wooden wolf mask and leaning on a staff. Said figure was illuminated by the dim moonlight rays entering through the holes of the roof, its rough cloth robe and the cross atop its long stick standing opposed to him. But his longest and biggest annoyance by far, was the cross at the end of the staff, the man long since stopping having faith to whom it belonged in specific. “Whatever you say won’t stop me Consequences.” “And ye judge me a fool doing his errand?” Consequences wheezed back “Ne, of course I can’t. Can I still disapprove?...” he tilted his head in a familiar gesture. “...Of course you can.” “Ye. It is not only mine, but God’s will.” “Tsk, you always say such things, and always do.” “Ne, not always, only most times.” a dry cackling emanated from Consequences. At that, the suited man grunted, straightened his already straight tie, and turned around to face the two stone thrones, one yellow and one blue, steps made out of the same material coming to them. When he did, he couldn't help but feel reminded of the two diarchs of this world. Celestia and Luna. Two sisters, blessed with great power, separated for a thousand years after which they reunited and rejoiced, ruling Equestria as equals… …And as with any of those thoughts, it made something that didn’t exist crawl up his spine. It was a familiar feeling that he tried to ignore, but at times failed to do. At times it was like swallowing a whole needle, and at times it was like having that needle stuck in your throat. But he was above that, of course. Above universes and above worlds. He just had to cast those feelings and thoughts aside, let them rot and fade away like the nuisance they are. And naturally if he did that Consequences would never let him hear the end of it. “Are ye gon’ do it, Actions? Or will ye finally come to your senses?” Consequences’ voice cut him out of his thoughts. “I must know what happens, and you know it well.” “Very well then! Do it, if that’s ye’s will. Only ye and God know the price ye pay.” Consequences said, yet no ire was present in his voice. It wasn’t a condemnation, or a threat, but rather just a statement. Actions didn’t spare his long-time acquaintance a glance, and simply tapped and held his own mask, before pointing an index finger with his free hand at the chamber’s floor. In a second, his hand darted in a blur, drawing sigils, tracing patterns, marks, runes, impossible and possible writings, until the second passed, and the mechanism was complete, glowing with a soft white light. “...Ye still can stop.” Consequences talked once more. But it fell on deaf ears as the mechanism was activated, now glowing brightly with hot white, its many pieces jumping to life, moving slowly before gently fading away. Actions knew it would soon embed itself into the fabric of this world’s reality itself, picking things from the past, future and which never existed in it but had potential to do so and summoning them here. Something crawled up his spine again. But there was no stopping what he put in motion now. Taking his hand off his mask, he then once again averted Consequences, and instead opted to gaze upon the ceiling’s large hole, and the marked moon present there. He wondered what would happen if the inhabitants of that land somehow got a hold of him, stripped him of his magic, and made a statue in a garden, or whatever other silly thing they could come up with. Could that happen? Could it not? Variables always got to him, that’s why it was important to know them. Either way, satisfied for the time being, he tapped his mask once more, and faded into smoke, the smoke fading shortly after. Consequences meanwhile breathed a sigh of someone who knew defeat too well. “May God have mercy on this land.” he simply said, and so, tapped his staff on the ground. A moment later and a flash of light, and he was gone as well. But the Mechanism remained, working and grinding its countless cogs and gears, defining its targets. It looked upon the land of Equestria, and saw it but a red-skied battlefield, covered in death and terror, a lone mare in cyan armor standing against the tides of monsters, fighting a battle she couldn’t win. It looked upon the land of Equestria, and saw holy temples and clashes of steel and dragonfire, a praised sun on most temples and a moon in a whispered few, as well as a yellow pegasus mare tending to the candles in one. Finally, it looked upon the land of Equestria, and saw it filled with factories of arms and wargear, and in a dungeon, a mare with a flowing mane in shackles and red, soaked eyes. And so it chose, and so it did its creator’s will.