//------------------------------// // Chapter I- The Outcasts, pt. 1 // Story: My Little Claymare // by Waltzwriter //------------------------------// The land of Equestria could be described as a hell on Earth and for one particular reason. It wasn’t the animals. There were no monsters of legends or myth, though monsters were quite real. It wasn’t the plants, none possessing any sort of primal cunning or a hint of sentience. They just photosynthesized as plants do. No, Equestria was Hell for one reason and one reason only: Changelings. No pony, griffon, or dragon can remember where the Changelings came from. For all that they knew, the Changelings have always been present. What the races did know, is that Changelings are evil. They can disguise themselves to look like any creature. They can sound exactly like loved ones. They also ate any living thing, feasting on the guts from each victim. The ponies of Equestria needed saviors. What they got instead, were Claymares: specially selected mares transfused with the flesh and blood of Changelings to give them power, abilities, and stamina beyond those of the normal inhabitants of Equestria. Even though the inhabitants were thankful, the knowledge that the Claymares contained the blood of their killers set the saviors as outcasts in society, shunned from towns and cities unless required. Ponyville was one such town that needed saving. It was a modest village, the kind of place where everypony knew everypony. Now, suspicion and fear gripped the village: there was a killer in their midst. Spike was both, just like everypony else. He was a bit of an outcast, he and his brother Thorn. They were both dragons. While ponies and dragons generally had amicable relations, there was still some distance. Most of the residents had reason to stay away from the two of them beyond racial differences. His parents were two of the first ones killed in town, about a month ago. He watched the Changeling bust in through the wall and with a sweeping arm knock his mother into the wall. He and Thorn ducked between an overturned table and a wall, while their father attempted to fight it off. Spike closed his eyes and covered his ears, but that still didn't block out the wet sounds of eating. When he felt Thorn grip him tightly, he looked up and saw the neon green eyes of the Changeling staring back at him. Blood & drool mixed and dripped together from it's gaping mouth, bits of flesh still stuck between it's pointed teeth. He and Thorn quivered together, whimpering in fright as it roared once more and lunged at them. And then... that was it. Spike couldn't remember anything past that. He knew he hadn't been eaten (obviously) and neither had Thorn because Thorn was the one that shook him awake. Big brother later told him that a large group of the other ponies had shown up and chased the monster away. Currently, they were staying with a pony couple who was nice enough to take he and his brother in. While his memory about that night was still fuzzy, the sight before him was perfectly clear. The poor pony had been assaulted from behind, obvious from the abrasions grazing the stallions face. His eyes stared, blank and glassy, at the crowd encircling him. Track marks on the dirt showed where he tried to claw with his nails and push with his hooves, but to no avail. His back, or what was left of it, was a gaping hole. The killer had jumped the victim and tore through the back, ripping through the spine and ribs to get to the soft parts inside. There was nothing identifiable inside anymore, just chunks of meat slowly drying in the sun. Rib-bones, held somewhat upright by the skin and muscle still attached, poked towards the heavens like fingers in supplication. The jagged edges where they were broken outwards were white and dry, while a few inches down were reddish brown from dried blood. The stallion's cutie marks across the sides of his hip were ripped through, but it was still possible to make out the hammer and plank symbol. "What's going on here!?" cried out an authoritative voice. The ponies across from Spike started jostling each other to move away and to the side, no pony wanting to get closer to the corpse than they had to. They parted to let the town Elder and a few guards through. The Elder was a an old stallion, his once dark blue mane now streaked generously through with gray. He looked around at the crowd a second before tilting his gaze down. There was a few second delay while his brain processed the grotesque scene before him. Once the sight came together, he gasped and backed away a few steps, a hand flying to his chest. " Oh my Faust! Lumber Knot!" At his cry, the blank stares of the gathered ponies found life again and with a collective gasp, they all backed away. The guards left the side of the Elder and started encircling the body of Lumber Knot, helping to push the crowd away. Having regained a semblance of composure, the Elder examined the corpse, forming a plan in his mind. With a heavy sigh, he called to several of the ponies gathered in the crowd to follow him and they headed away. One of the guards took the cloak off his back and laid it over Lumber Knot, obscuring the sight and thus putting an end to the gathering. The crowd dispersed slowly after that. Spike looked up at Thorn. "What does this all mean? Who would kill Mr. Lumber Knot!?" He didn't realize he was crying, the fear coursing through his body. The full impact of the butchered body hit Spike's young brain like a charging bull. He felt his stomach churn and was just able to get to the side of the closest building before vomiting everywhere, a scaly claw digging into the wood to hold himself up. Once his breakfast was on the street, he got shakily back up to his feet. Thorn had only moved enough to watch his younger brother expel the contents of his stomach everywhere. "It means, younger brother," Thorn began, turning once more to stare at the covered body. "The Changeling is still among us." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "The Changeling's back!?" the stallions all cried. The Elder, seated at the head of the table where he and the others had gathered, nodded his head slowly. "That's the only explanation for this horrific act. And that would also explain the disappearance of Morning Glory. It's been five days since she's gone missing, Fillydelphia said she never showed up, and none of our searches have turned up anything. Lumber has got to be number four." An earth stallion with a leaf green coat and bark brown mane & tail stood up and leaned on the table. "We've looked miles into the forest and haven't found any sign of her. How can we be sure she wasn't taken by a forest cat?" A unicorn stallion leaned forward, crossing his arms slightly on the table-top. "Arbor, we can't ignore the obvious anymore. Glory was a capable unicorn and no mountain cat would have been able to take her. It must have been the Changeling." Arbor looked at unicorn. "How can you be so sure?" His right eye started to twitch. "Unless you're a Changeling yourself!" He cried, pointing a finger. The room exploded in shouts as the unicorn shot to his hooves, denials streaming forth as his horn became sheathed in a reddish aura. Arbor tensed his legs, ready to preempt the magical attack with a flying leap of his own, when a loud crack sounded in the room. The red glow vanished and shouting died as everypony turned to see the Elder on his hooves, his hand splayed across the table from where he slapped it. Inside, he was howling in pain with how much his hand stung; but outside the Elder was composed as best as he could be. His voice was a little strained, but he convinced himself that it was stress. "There will be none of that, do you hear me!?" He looked each pony in the eye, holding for an extra moment on Arbor. "If we start accusing and pointing fingers at each other, it'll only lead to panic. Now, everypony take your seat." He paused while the members present sat back down again. Arbor was the last to take his seat, a guilty look across his face. The Elder took a deep breath to steady himself before beginning again. "Now then, there's only one solution available to us and I need the consensus of everypony here. We know that we alone can't battle the Changeling," he stared pointedly at Arbor. "And we can't expect it to just leave again like it did before. I see no other option than to request the help of the Claymares." The room erupted once again, cries of disgust and anger spewing forth: "They're unnatural!"; "They'll curse our village!"; "They're not like normal ponies!"; "Daemons!" "SILENCE!" the Elder cried, voice cutting through the outrage. "You're all right, but what other choice do we have? Our only hope--," The mayor was cut off by a knock at the door. It opened slightly and a guard stuck his head in. All eyes of the council present glared at him for the interruption. The guard swallowed nervously as he stepped in the rest of the way, the door still slightly cracked behind him. "Forgive the interruption, sirs, but there's a mare outside, wanting to speak with you." If gazes could cause spontaneous combustion, the Elder wouldn't have need of a Claymare; he would just have to turn his present stare on the alleged Changeling and also look to hire a replacement guard. "We're in the middle of an important meeting! Turn her away!" The guard saluted again, nervousness apparent from the profuse amount of sweat coming from his body. " I would, your Eldership, but she's, uh... she's..." That was as far as he got before the door opened up again, catching him in the back, knocking him to the floor. The members of the council all leapt to their hooves, but any outrage that had been forming on their lips died as the mare in question stepped in. Her coat was a sheer white, at least the parts that could be seen. She was covered head to hoof in a long, dark-brown trench coat that, while large, still managed to emphasize her femininity. A horn rose from her head, perched just behind it was a fedora of the same color as the coat. Her eyes were obscured by shades with ruby red lenses. Dangling from a finger was a pair of cobalt blue headphones, a pony skull embossed on the outside of the speaker portion. "Sorry to interrupt," the mystery mare said, sounding anything but. "But I can't stand shouting unless it's coming from these," she finished, giving the headphones a twirl. Arbor was the first to regain his composure. "Who the hay are you!? We are in the middle of a very important meeting here!" The lenses turned their focus on Arbor. An involuntary shudder ran through his body. "You mean concerning the Changeling you have in your midst?" At the accursed creature's name, there was a sharp intake of breath from every stallion present, including the guard on the ground. "Oh, don't act so surprised," she said, stepping further into the room and closing the door. "You all know it, but none of you wanted to say it. So I did." The Elder collected himself and sat back down, his fingers steepled before him. "And you know this how, Miss...?" The mare waved off the question. "Who I am is unimportant. Who I represent, though..." she paused for dramatic effect, "is what really matters. And I happen to have first hand knowledge about Changelings and their attack habits. The Company likes to stay on top of... current events." The stallions let out a collective gasp of awe at the mention of The Company, but also all took a collective step back. The Company was the organization that handles and manages the Claymares, employing them where Changeling attacks were prevalent. The Elder reset his face to neutral and spoke. "I was just about to propose contacting you ponies. How did you get here so fast?" A smirk crossed the mare's face. "I was in the neighborhood. Let's just leave it at that. As it just so happens, I can have an employee here by tomorrow afternoon, should you agree to our price." The Elder arched an eyebrow. "An employee?" he asked. "You mean... a Claymare?" The mare shrugged. "That's the name you ponies gave them, but yes." Arbor spoke up, a touch of defiance in his voice. "Isn't it you ponies' job to kill Changelings!? Why should we pay you!?" The lenses once again focused on Arbor and like before, a chill went up his spine. "You're mighty outspoken, aren't you? To answer, yes, it is our job and that's the exact reason why you pay us. Should you refuse, we'll leave you 'brave' ponies to deal with the issue yourselves." The stallions present didn't have a proper response and Arbor felt his bluster waning fast at the implication of a Changeling loose in their midst. The Elder closed his eyes for a brief moment, then motioned for the mare to take a seat at the foot of the table. The guest lifted her shades from her face, eyes the same color as her lenses gazing out. A smile crossed her face that put none present at ease. "Excellent," she said, getting settled and perching her glasses over her horn. "Now. Let's talk business." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Later that night, miles away from Ponyville, a small fire burned in a field. The night wasn't cool and no food was staked over it to cook. It was just made to burn for the sake of burning. The mare who started the fire stared into the flames, seeing visions of times past. None of them were pleasant, but still she stared. She'd lost count of the amount of other ponies she'd come across or the distances traveled. The only constant in her life (and for that matter her only companion) was the long claymore-type sword currently buried almost half-way into the dirt, whose flat she leaned against. A light breeze blew across the field where she sat, gently brushing her purple mane across her horn and making the flames waver. She didn't lift her gaze from the flames at the crunch of dirt behind her. "You know," she began. "If you were anypony else, you'd be dead by now." "And you know," the white unicorn mare said, standing directly behind the sword, staring at the flames as well, "that that's an enormous lie. You're very well aware of the rules." The purple unicorn continued to stare at the fire. "Exactly," said the white, fire light reflecting off of her lenses. "I have a job for you, in a village just south of here. Not more than a few hours out for you." "How many?" "Just one, by my guess." "Class?" "A C. Anything larger would have been noticed a long time ago. I'm guessing this one is a fairly recent addition to the town." "Understood. I'll take care of it." "See that you do. And don't disappoint me." Another breeze blew and the flames danced. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The following morning: Spike was walking with Thorn, out on an errand for the ponies they were staying with, when a shout sounded from the front of the village. "She's here! It's the Claymare!" Spike stopped and turned towards the shout. He wasn't the only one, as almost every pony around him stopped their work and looked towards the village front. In ones and twos, the citizens started making their way towards the entrance to town. Spike joined the throng making their way towards the front. "Spike, get back here!" Thorn called out. "We have work to do!" But his words fell on deaf ears as his brother was running to get to the front. A sizable crowd had already gathered by the time Spike showed up. As small as he was, he was able to push and jostle his way to the front, rewarding himself with a few curses directed his way and his tail being stepped on. He bit back a curse as he got to the front of the crowd and his breath caught at the sight. The mare was about average female height, but of a thin, statuesque build. She wore shin-high, lobstered-style steel boots over her hooves and Spike could hear the clink of the metal. White tights covered her legs the rest of the way, with mid-thigh and waist being obscured by a metal-studded, tanned leather skirt; the skirt being made of overlapping strips as opposed to a solid piece. The same material that covered her legs also covered her stomach, chest, & arms, so Spike made the assumption that it was a bodysuit as opposed to separate pieces. The only real armor that the mare seemed to be wearing was her mantle and even then it was only the pauldrons. The mare's coat color was identified only by her face, being a light purple, similar to that of an early evening. Her mane and tail were slightly darker shades, with a magenta streak going through it as well. The handle of a giant sword stuck over her right shoulder while the naked bladed extended down past her left calf. Spike couldn't help but feel disappointed. Here was this warrior, this outcast hero of the people of Equestria and she looked so... normal. He was turning away, spirit crushed at this mystery pony, when something glinted. He looked again and gasped in shock. It was her eyes: they were silver! "Her eyes are silver," Spike muttered to himself. "That they are," said the pony next to him. Spike looked up. "That's why we call them the 'silver-eyed witches'. It's said that their eyes turn glowing green when they fight Changelings." The crowd parted to let the mare pass. Ponies were intrigued by her, but none wanted to stand too close. " I can't believe the Elder agreed to hire her," Arbor whispered to a pony standing next to him as the mare walked past. "She's half-Changeling. I guess it really does take a monster to kill a monster." The mare stopped walking and spared a side-long glance at Arbor. The pony next to him reached up and covered Arbor's mouth. The mare continued walking in the direction of the Elder's residence. "You idiot!" the pony hissed. "You talk like that and she'll kill us as well." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A large bag of gold bits thudded onto the table "Here's the payment for the assignment," the Elder said, gesturing. "You can count it to confirm." The mare didn't even glance at the bag. "There's no need for me to." The Elder looked slightly confused. "If I should fail and die, then there's no need for the payment. If I succeed, then somepony will be by to collect it later." "I... I understand," the Elder stuttered. "So... how will you go about finding the Changeling? Will you be able to find it right away?" The mare turned to leave. "Depends. If it's suppressing its Yoki*, it'll be a little more difficult to find." *(Author's Note: In the "Claymore" series, the Yoki is the aura the Yoma, the daemons, emit. It's detectable only by the Claymores. This is a different energy type as opposed to that given off by the magic of unicorns.) Just as she was about to exit, "Either my corpse or the Changelings will appear soon." And with that, she left walked out the door to begin her search. The Elder finally gave in to his weak knees and sank to the floor. I thought she would be more like us, but that... that wasn't a pony! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The mare set a steady pace as she walked down the center of the street. Ponies young and old hurried into their houses, grabbing fillies and closing windows. She expanded her focus and sense when the sound of running feet came dangerously near. Eyes flashing to glowing green, she reached up and pulled the sword from its sheath and into a horizontal cut in one smooth motion. The blade stopped a hair's breadth from scalping Spike, as sweat immediately jumped from his scales and his eyes went crossed trying to focus on the deadly edge in front of him. The mare gave him a glare and sheathed it, continuing her walk. She had gone a few steps when Spike snapped out of his daze. "Hey, wait up!" he called, running to catch up. "So, are you really a Claymare." "No." "No?" "Our organization has no formal name. That's what you have chosen to call us." "Ooooh, I see," Spike said, arms behind his head as he strolled along behind her. "Well, I honestly thought you'd be a bit scarier and stuff." He almost walked into the mare from her stopping so suddenly. She turned to give him a sideways glance. "You... aren't scared of me?" The mare was a little intrigued by this young dragon. Spike chuckled a bit. "Nope! I guess it's because I'm a dragon, but you look just like any other pony around here," he said, giving a big, toothy grin. The mare gave him an unreadable look before walking again. "Hey, wait up!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Later that evening: Spike had stayed with the Claymare for the full day, wandering around town with her. Everywhere they walked together (well, he followed), other ponies would either duck inside houses or hurry in the direction away from the mare. Spike frowned every time he saw this. These ponies aren't even giving her a chance. Like they don't want to know her. He was a little sad that they never came across Thorn. He wanted to introduce the mare to his brother. That's when it hit him. I don't even know her name. Spike opened his mouth to ask just that question when she stopped walking. They had come to the edge of the town. "Is this where the village ends?" the mare asked. "Yep!" Spike answered, eager to be of assistance. "There's only a mine and a small orchard out that way. And past that is the forest that leads to Manehatten." The mare didn't reply. She did, however, take the claymore from her back and drive it about halfway into the ground. She sat down and leaned back against it, closing her eyes. Spike cocked his head to the side. "Uhh... what are you doing?" "Resting. I haven't slept in three days." "... Oh." The mare cocked an eye open as she heard something thud into the ground. Looking over, the young dragon was sitting a few feet away with his legs crossed and arms folded, leaning back against an old, discarded fence post, a look of triumph on his face. "Why are you interested in me?" "Because you're here to take care of the Changeling!" When she didn't respond, Spike became pensive, looking at the ground. "My parents...," he began, voice soft. "They were the first to die. I remember the Changeling attacking and hiding with my brother Thorn. I can still hear the sound of it eating my...," his voice trailed off as he composed himself. "It found us and... that's all I remember. They were right there and I... I couldn't do anything. But you're here to kill it, right!?" he exclaimed, eyes wide with hope. "Don't be mistaken," the mare said coldly, eyes closed again. "I'm not here to avenge your loss. I'm here because I was hired." The hope in Spike's eyes faded. He stared at the ground. "Yeah, I know." He was going to say more, but then the bell rang out. He looked towards the horizon and the setting sun. "Oh snap, I didn't realize it was this late! I've got to get home and make supper!" He got to his feet and ran a few paces before stopping. "Oh yeah!" he turned back towards the mare. "I never found out your name. I'm Spike! What's yours?" "There's no need to tell you, as it will soon be forgotten anyway," the mare said. Her eyes were open, but they were glassed over, as if a distant scene of some kind played before her. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Spike thought about the mare's words all the way back to where he was staying. It's like she expects to never be remembered. Surely there's somepony who'll care that she's gone... is't there? His train of though broke off as he arrived at the door. "Sorry I'm late!" he called out, wiping his claws on the rug. "I'll get started right a...way...," his voice trailed off as he entered the kitchen, mind going numb at the sight before him. The kind pony couple he and Thorn had been staying with since their parents were butchered now lay butchered themselves. Blood and viscera covered multiple surfaces, fresh enough to still be dripping from the ceiling. Whether it was the light from the setting sun itself, the light reflecting off of the blood, or a combination of the two, it bathed the whole room in a deep red and gave the appearance of a charnel house. Spike backed out of the kitchen, letting the door close to obscure the sight, but not the smell. What little was left in his stomach came back out again as me expelled it's contents on the floor. He was just getting his breathing under control again when he heard a step. Looking over he saw his brother. "Thorn! The ponies, they're...!" Spike cried, but cut himself off. No, something was wrong. Something was very wrong. "Sssssspiiiiiiike," Thorn said. It sounded like Thorn, but there was an overlapping echo to the sound, like the buzz of a swarm of insects. Thorn's body started to twitch and it sounded like bones were breaking on the inside. "They were quite delicious. Their guts, that is." "Th...Thorn?" Thorn started to grow in size before Spike's eyes. The snapping of the bones that he was hearing was in face the dark purple scales falling off and the endo-skeleton being brought to the outside to form a glossy black exoskeleton. Thorn continued to twitch and spasm, the row of spikes running down his back falling to the floor. A set of gossamer wings, laced with several holes and wet still from mucus, started moving, filling the house with a buzzing noise. His snout extended slightly and became a little more rounded. The large fangs inside shrank and were replaced with small, yet needle sharp teeth. The dark, golden eyes of his brother transitioned into glowing green with no pupil. The final transformation took place where a jagged horn extended from the Changeling's forehead, about a full foot in length. "What, you never noticed?" the Changeling buzzed as Spike, who's brain had effectively shut down at the twin sights of the horror before and behind him. "I ate your brother at that time. How else do you think I was able to pass at him?" The Changeling whipped out his claw and back-handed Spike into the wall. The young dragon cried out in pain, but was quickly cut off by a choking grasp around his neck. He scratched feebly with his own claws, but the carapace was too strong. "I was planning on staying here for a while longer," the Changeling continued, bringing Spike closer to its face. "But then you ponies had to call that NAG here!" It threw Spike, hard, into the opposite wall. Spike felt blood on his mouth as his nose broke. Tears sprang to his eyes as he squinted against the pain. "Before I leave, though...," the insectoid monster said, stalking closer. "I was holding back, saving a delicious morsel like yourself for the end...," the monster lashed out with it's hoof this time, catching Spike in his stomach. He flew into the wall again. "You're the cook, so you know it's best to tenderize the meat before eating." The Changeling reached down and wrapped Spike's head in a vice-like grip. Lifting up the young dragon effortlessly, the monster brought it's other fist back, ready to hammer his next meal. The roof imploded and Spike was aware of the pressure leaving his head and being sprayed with a warm liquid. A roar of pain filled the room as he slowly fluttered his eyes open. The Claymare's sword had shattered the stone flooring. The Changeling had backed away from Spike, spraying and dripping purple blood everywhere. Probably the most shocking sight was the mare herself: her eyes glowed the same green color as the Changelings. "How'd you...!?" the Changeling screamed at her. "Your foul stench was all around this young dragon," she replied, turning her gaze on the other monster in the room. "I knew if I followed him, I would find you." "You bitch!" the Changeling howled. Faster than he had struck Spike and faster than normal eyes could follow, the Changeling took a swipe at the mare with his remaining hand. Even faster than the insect was the mare herself, suddenly appearing behind it in a flurry of her blade. The Changeling's last arm was severed as well, transforming it's howl of rage into another scream of pain. Spike stared in awe at this turn of events. Here he was, about to be this...thing's next meal and this demure pony appears and lays waste to it in no time! She truly is..., he began thinking but cut off at the new sight playing out before him. The mare turned to face the Changeling, who had fallen to its knees. Spike noticed the mare's right arm, the one holding the claymore, began flexing and expanding starting at the wrist and working up. Even through the bodysuit, the veins in her arm were obvious! His eyes kept traveling up and stopped at her face, where the most shocking change had taken place. Her eyes were still glowing green, but her muzzle was pulled back in a rictus, her normally flat teeth replaced with the needle-like ones of the Changeling. "No, wait!" the Changeling begged, struggling to its feet. His stumps dripped blood onto the stone floor, the purple liquid spreading and pooling along the cracks. "Spare me, pl-," was as far as it got before the mare's sword arced high, sundering the insect-like monster in twain from cleft to crown. The sides split apart, new blood and gore falling to the floor. With a swipe of her sword, the mare flicked the blood off and sheathed it once more along her back. She glanced over at Spike, who from his seated position, had watched the one-sided fight transpire. Shock, horror, disgust, & fear all danced through his eyes thousands upon thousands of times all within the blink of an eye as his brain tried to process was had just transpired over the past few minutes and what the implications of those same minutes meant for the past month. His brain settled on curling him into a fetal position and crying. The mare walked out, leaving Spike in his broken state, with nary a backwards glance.