//------------------------------// // Innovation and Idiocy // Story: Skeletons of the Past // by Sturrn //------------------------------// Chapter Thirteen Innovation and Idiocy I couldn’t really say I opened my eyes, so I’ll just say my vision returned to me with my consciousness. “What time is it?” I muttered to no one but myself. I lifted my head to look for a clock and realized quickly that not only was the clock missing, but my mohawk-crown-thingy was too. “Crap, please tell me I didn’t leave it back at the castle. I’m not flying all the way back for a hat.” I searched fruitlessly through my bag on the floor and only found what I had on me earlier in the chariot. I didn’t find the helmet, but I found an alarm clock on the room dresser. It was the old kind that had a bell on each side of an little hammer. I got a little pissed off when the clock told me that I missed dinner by over two and a half hours. I sighed greatly in defeat. ‘Guess I should go see if I anyone is still up.’ I grabbed my axe and threw it on my back before quietly opening the door and walking out. The hallway was empty, as well as the next one, and the one after that. Every hall I went down was devoid of life, not even a single pony crossed my path until I saw a single door slightly ajar and leaking light into the dim hallway. As I walked closer I could hear grunting and the impact of hooves coming from inside the room. “Please don’t be doing what I think you’re doing.” I said quietly, hoping that I wouldn’t be walking in on something private. I peeked through the door cautiously and saw a lone stallion training in what looked like some sort of half gym half sparring arena. My vision was transfixed for a few moment. “I know you’re there!” He shouted without even turning to face me. Of course my reaction was to yelp like a kicked puppy, jump back, and successfully hit the back of my head on the wall a few feet behind me and fall on my face. “That didn’t happen.” I got up from the floor and saw the pony standing in the doorway staring at me. “So you’re the famous Rorke?” The unnamed stallion said in an oddly familiar voice. Regardless, I got up from the floor and stood tall once more.“Who needs first impressions, right?” That got a good laugh out of the stallion who I could see was a pegasus. He had iron colored fur and a blue mane like a half submerged iceberg. If the pun could be bypassed, his appearance was chilling. “Well you missed dinner so let’s get the meet and greet out of the way.” He drew a hoof up toward me. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Maple Danish.” “I’m Rorke.” I took his hoof in hand and gave it a good shake. “Nice to meet you. Would you mind helping me with some endurance training? My guards aren’t very good for the task.” I almost said ‘A skeletons gotta stay in shape somehow.’ but saved myself at the last second with a simple “Okay.” “Great, come inside here and we can spar for a bit. I don’t get to do it that often anymore. Most of the guards have a problem. They either don’t want to hit a superior officer or they think it gives them a free pass to try and beat me into the floorboards.” He said with a burning gaze and steeled complexion. I figured he was trying for some heroic guard look but I just walked through the door regardless. “You’re gonna have to put those weapons and that face mauler away before we start.” He advised. I looked at him strangely, but he simply pointed at my glove and it made sense. I unclasped my sword belt and put my axe along with the sheathed sword on the ground, placing the ‘face mauler’ next to them in a corner of the room. “Stand on the other side of this circle.” He instructed, pointing to the white sumo-like circle on the floor. “Ready?” One would think ‘sparring’ meant a bit of friendly competition and ‘little contact’ meant to not injure the other person, right? Not even close, the moment I said “Ready.” he sprung into the air on his wings and started throwing hooves at me immediately. I sidestepped, but he was like a ninja in the air, hitting me three times in the face and knocking me out of the circle with a yelp before five seconds of the match had even passed. “You don’t have a lot of experience fighting, do you.” He said factually with no question to it, even as he was still hovering a few feet in the air. “I’ve fought plenty in the past week,” I replied as I got up and stepped back into the circle. “only a couple of ponies put up what could be considered a fight though.” “Well that clinches it, I’m done with my training.” “What?” I asked in surprise. “Your training just started though. I’m going to teach you how to start and finish a fight. Ready?” “Ready.” I had a plan in mind I was going to try. It involved not getting hit in the face and actually throwing a punch. He used the same opener as last time, so I ducked under the hoof strikes and threw a bony-knuckled punch right under his chin. Of course it didn’t hit and I was sent hurtling off the mat. He had given me a flying buck to the side of the head and being only about forty pounds meant I was literally sent flying and hit the wall of the room with a resounding slam. “Definitely better, you managed to put up some semblance of a mediocre attack. Let’s try again.” “Again.” Another toss out of the ring. “Again.” Thrown against the wall. “Again.” I managed to get a solid hit in, before getting kicked in the leg and tossed out of the circle. ‘I think I know why his guards don't spar with him. Freaking last kick broke my leg.' It was strange to think, but I was starting to accept that I was going to be a skeleton for the rest of my life. We sparred for hours, right into the bleak daytime hours. He didn’t even look fazed by all the work, but he was a guard so it could be dismissed easily. “You pick up things a lot faster than most guards their first day. I didn’t expect you to come with this much endurance though, one last round. Let’s see what you learned.” He said confidently. Whether he was confident in himself or me would be up for debate. I took a place in my half of the circle and lowered my point of gravity. Earlier on he had taught me being tall in a fight against something tiny is more often than not a huge disadvantage. I kept my hands closer to my chest so he wouldn’t headbutt me out of the circle again. I had a crazy idea and just had to try it. The world around me looked like a cartoon, why couldn’t it act like one too? “You want to try something new?” I asked the skilled pegasus. “Like what?” He asked with a hint of anticipation in his voice. I pointed to the marked lines we had been using for all our fights. “Let’s forget the ring since this is our last fight. What do you think?” His face contorted into a devious smirk, though he had no idea. How could he? Even I wasn’t sure if my plan would work. We started the match in the circle, but the boundaries it displayed were no longer relevant. He started us off just like every other fight. After eighty three losses though, the same opening loses its surprise and opens him up for retaliation. He charged forward and gave the equivalent of a flying roundhouse kick. Easily blocked when you’re expecting it. I caught his leg in the crook of my arm and brought my other arm down on the base of that leg. If I had hit his knee with a forceful blow it would have broken the joint in half. It’s truly amazing what memories Rorke had given me, a little disturbing for a few, but amazing all the same. His flight-bound form slumped in front of me and for once I held the momentary advantage. My fist made a quick acquaintanceship with the side of his muzzle and my elbow met his chest on the return trip. I released his leg suddenly and the appendage’s escape threw his wings into a flutter. He groaned deeply as he laid on the floor. “You okay?” I asked. ‘Please tell me I didn’t break ANOTHER pony's muzzle. I’m not even wearing my gauntlet this time.’ He groaned some more and I saw a bit of blood leaking out of his nose. “Crap! Come on, lets get you up.” I rushed over to him and picked him up. I noticed the evil smile and raised hoof before I realized I’d been had in the worst way possible. He punched me square in the face and with a cracking sound broke MY muzzle. It was an easy enough fix, but the additional seven punches and four kicks made the task impossible. My back was to the wall before a reflexive punch gave me some breathing room, as well as putting a bit more blood on the floor. ‘I’m not losing again, insanely stupid plan GO!’ I bolted from my position and began running around the room with Maple in tow, the numerous hits to the head making his flight slower than he probably would have liked. I gained a bit of speed and with a jump of no skill at all, I achieved what only a movie star in a kung fu movie could do. ‘Screw physics, I running on the walls!’ My sparring partner took immediate notice of my disregard for gravity and stopped his flight. I rounded the corners of the square room and in an instant was behind him. Only then did he realize that staying still had been a bad idea. With all the dramatics of a pro-wrestler I jumped from the wall and neck slammed the unfortunate officer into the floor. His body shuddered and he groaned out in pain, it probably hurt... a lot. I was surprised my miniscule weight managed to put him on the ground, but the fight was over and the tally finally matched up. “One to sixty four.” I said, getting back up. “That makes us even in my book.” He groaned some more as I offered my hand down to help him up. He stopped eating floorboard for a moment and tossed a hoof into my grasp. “That was really good for your first day. You know how to use that axe?” He said as I helped him on his hooves. In truth I almost got pulled down on top of him. Forty pounds trying to counter balance over a hundred doesn’t figure well. “Actually no, I’ve barely used it at all. My sword gets more use on average.” The toothy smile he had almost broke his face in half. “I took a course on some exotic weapon techniques and could teach you a thing or two. We need to have a proper meet and greet first though.” “Can’t wait.” I said as he walked out. I wasn’t sure what he would want to talk about, but it didn’t feel like it would be something entirely pleasant. If it was, then why wait? I retrieved my undisturbed weapons and armor piece. I was surprised that the chainmail I still wore hadn’t made a sound during all the sparring except for the occasional small jingling of metal. I walked out of the room and up the hallway. The hall led to some stairs, and before I knew it I was on the deck looking out at the city below me. I had watched over Canterlot back when I emerged from the museum basement, but the view from atop the Liberator, when the sun wasn’t even a sliver over the horizon. It was amazing. I stood there with my hands on the rail for a make believe eternity, it couldn’t have been more than six minutes. A strange sound coming from behind me shattered the morning silence. A mix of nails tapping on wood, and what sounded like someone with boxing gloves on their feet, walking along the deck. I figured the griffin was behind me, Cutter. “Hello Rorke.” I took one last look at the city and turned around. I never did get a good look at him when he saved me after I jumped off the ship. His feathers were a dim grey all across his body, a lot like Thule. “Looking at the city?” He asked. “I was.” I replied curtly. 'Why ask? It's obvious what I'm was doing.' He ignored my spoken lash. “Dad told me a bit about you.” I should have been expecting him to say something like that. “And what did he say?” “Well you didn’t tell him a lot, so all I have is a tattered remnant of what could be a story about yourself. You said you aren’t a diamond dog and have a bit of an issue calling him Captain.” “Then it looks like you got some good info.” His face screwed up in confusion, and even though I wasn’t that good at seeing past someones expression I knew he had something he wanted to say. I gave a breath out. “Well, go ahead, ask away.” “What do you mean?” He asked trying to step away from the subject. “I know you’re going to ask about the Captain thing, go ahead.” Determination posed itself across his beak. “Okay then, why can’t you address my father as Captain?” “I’m not a fan of ranking equal people on a different scale. I don’t call Celestia Princess or my friend Sturrn Captain unless it’s needed. It doesn’t seem necessary.” “Wait, you don’t even call Celestia Princess? What about Princess Luna?” I gave a shake of my head. “Is it some kind of weirdo respect thing?” He asked with no erring inclination to the subject. Without even thinking of it my arms crossed and I thought about what he said for a minute or two. “Except for the weirdo part, yes,” I stated. “I’ve seen what Celestia can do and what Sturrn has done. I understand why they deserve their titles. Thule hasn’t gained the same from me, I might be more inclined to use that Maple guy’s title. He wrecked me so many times the title came with the beatings.” I explained tensely. I just really hated the way I knew he would try to change my perception. “How old are you?” He asked in a serious manner. The question actually took me back, I wasn’t expecting it. “What?” “How old are you?” He repeated. “I’m not really sure anymore.” I thought on the notion for a second. ‘Do I use my age or Rorke’s? Do all the years he was dead still add up? I blame the weirdo that sent me here.’ “Y-you don’t know how old you are?” He stuttered out incredulously. “Can you blame me for not knowing?” I replied. “I woke up in a box, surrounded by darkness, and little memory.. My birthday is coming up and I know that much.” I replied as my thoughts betrayed me. ‘It’s so hard remembering things from before. Ha, lot of good ‘The Doctor’ did. What happened to the Hippocratic oath?’ I thought with all the sarcasm vested in my body. Cutter nodded absently, ignorant of my thoughts. I knew telling him about my lack of memory would come back to bite me sometime. What would anyone say to that kind of story? After a few moments of silence I went back to watching the city below. All the clouds were shifting away from their cover of the city, either through pegasi maneuvering or natural winds. “You want to share a bit about yourself? I’ll go first if you want. I just thought if we’re going to be on the same ship for a couple months we should get to know each other a little.” “Sounds good, I’ll go first though.” I wanted to spin the most amazing web of intrigue and adventure possible for a dog of the non-diamond variety, but it ended up being pretty plain. He was surprisingly polite through the whole thing. The stand up of high school had attuned me think the absolute worst of any teenager I happened to meet. He was totally quiet through the whole thing and it looked like he was hanging onto every word. His act was pretty good. “So what about you?” I asked. “I’m sure there is more to it than just the quickie stowaway story your ‘dad’ told me.” How a griffin smiles with a beak I’ll never know, but he made it happen. “Actually that IS the whole story. My parents died before I could even get a look at their faces. I was taken in by a family with some extra food and some clay for a bed. When I turned six I flew as far as my little wings could take me and ended up on the Liberator. Thule took me by his side when I got caught and I’ve been learning from him ever since.” “There has to be more to it than that. What happened when you were caught?” The smile shrunk down to a much smaller size. “I was scared.” He admitted freely. “I had finally been able to have a full stomach and a safe place to curl up at night. It was warm, safe, and well stocked. I didn’t exactly want to give that up when they found me, one of my claws got a crew-member pretty bad.” An embarrassed red pigment flowed over his beak and face, how that’s possible on a beak the world may never know. “They were grabbing some rope to gift wrap me for the port guards when Thule stepped in. He still had them tie me up, but I was delivered to his quarters instead.” ‘If they still tied him up I’m sure his claw got the crew-member worse than he’s telling.’ I gestured for him to continue regardless. “He untied me as soon as the door was closed. He didn’t want to do it outside and have me fly off.” That explained it. “He sat me down and we talked for hours, about a million things, he was born in a diamond dog warren you know?” That tidbit was interesting. “I heard the word before, what’s a warren?” An explanation would have deciphered Thule's comment from earlier. ‘Not many ponies can say they’ve seen an alpha and still walk away from it.’ “A warren is the giant mining-housing complexes for the diamond dogs and their slaves. The one Thule came from was called Marble Pillar and is the only one that doesn’t use slave labor. It also allows the miners to have actual lives, they can leave just like Thule did. It’s pretty much a safe haven for any runaway slaves or anyone that could use some safety from the badlands.” ‘Looks like I wasn’t the only one keeping things private.’ The aged stallion hadn’t made a single reference to being born in a warren, even with the hours of conversation we had. It would explain the Alpha comment though. “Thule is pretty well traveled.” I stated with little emotion leaking into my voice. Cutter didn’t really say anything to that as he took a spot next to me on the rail, grasping the wood with his talons like it was a porterhouse prime cut. “You were at the gala, right? In Canterlot?” He asked haphazardly. “I was, I’m also sure those things aren’t supposed to be destroyed by the guests every time one takes place. Why?” “Did you meet Griffin?” Which griffin he was talking about was plainly obvious, he interest on the subject was too. “I saw him, but we didn’t speak. If you want my opinion though, the guy sounds like a psycho and not the good kind either.” “How can you say that without meeting him? And how is there a good kind of psychopath?” “A good psycho is one that is obvious, anti-social to the extreme, and can be identified easily.” “How would that be a GOOD psycho? They would be caught instantly.” He replied, making sure his voice didn’t rise too high. It was still insanely early in morning and a lot of the crew was probably still asleep. “Exactly, they would be caught. It wouldn’t give them time to destroy much or hurt anyone. The ones you have to watch for are those like Griffin. Just from the info I’ve gathered and the snippets of conversation I heard I know he’s the worst kind.” “And how exactly is he the worst?” He asked impatiently. “I’ve only seen it once, but he has every indication of severe mental instability. The griffins that resided in the Dominion just handed the reins to their future over to someone ripe for institutionalizing. I have every confidence he’ll make a difference in this world, but what kind of difference is up for debate.” Cutter and I stood in silence for an eternity on the deck of the ship, letting the conversation soak in. The sun was exactly TWO slivers over the horizon by the time either of us spoke. “I’m not sure right now, but I think you’re wrong. The Princesses wouldn’t let a griffin like that be in charge.” My rebuttal was instantaneous. “Maybe, but let’s change the subject. Save the political debate for another time.” So we did. It seemed like no matter what I did I got sucked into a few hours of conversation. This one was much more enjoyable though, someone who was intellectually my equal, but not filled with scathing knowledge that seemed to leak into their everyday speech. We joked around for a while and got into a mock fist fight when I mentioned sparring with Maple. I hadn’t even taken my glove off before he wrapped his tail around my boney ankle and pulled. Gravity took revenge on me for defying it earlier and I fell down, but Cutter decided that wasn’t good enough. He threw me off the ship. ‘Once more the idiot award goes out to...’ I was somewhat glad my thought were cut off by Cutter diving off the ship after me. It would have been hard to explain how I would have still been alive after hitting the ground. “I gotcha string bean.” He said as his talons sunk into my bone and busted a couple links in my chain mail, even going as far as putting a few small holes in my robe as well. ‘Did he just call me string bean!?’ I thought angrily, maybe my brain wasn’t squared on my apparel at that moment. “You know I was sure last time but you’re really light for a not-diamond dog. You’re just skin and bones!” He resounded with a laugh. ‘He just make a PUN!’ I couldn’t stand the nickname, but a pun? That was just crossing the line. ‘I’m adding that to the list of reasons why I’m not telling anyone I’m a dead guy. Right at the top, next to mass panic and being chased like Frankenstein’s monster.’ We landed on the deck a tad better than last time but not by much, I still fell down and right as I was going to tell Cutter about making puns with the word “bone’ in it a static shot through the air of the ship. “This is Captain Thule speaking, Cutter report to the bridge for your daily beating and cup of gruel. Rorke is to report to Steam Cog in engineering. That is all.” Apparently the ship had a PA system I hadn’t seen. I turned to Cutter and watched as he rested a claw over his face, not really a facepalm but close enough. “Your daily beating and cup of gruel?” I asked accompanied by a skeletal equivalent to a raised eyebrow. He put his claw back down and grinned back up at me sheepishly. “It’s a joke aboard the ship, don’t ask.” I was so tempted to ask, but figured it would be explained later. Things seemed to happen that way. I offered an alternate question instead. “So which way is engineering? I never got a look around the ship.” Cutter was about to say something when he saw a blue earth pony strut by. “Stonehoof!” The pony turned and walked over. “Can you do me a favor and get Rorke here over to engineering? I need to see my dad.” “Depends, can I have your dessert tonight?” The pony was ruthless in his demands. Cutter almost got tears in his eyes from the aggressive negotiations. “B-but Bread n’ Butter made brownies.” He said sorrowfully. Stonehoof leaned in closer and flashed an evil smile, Cutter looked ready to cry. “Fine,” He said dejectedly. “You can have mine, but I have to go.” He swept himself into the air and took off. I looked down at the pony and just stared at him. Bringing my eyeless stare into a gaze. “What?” “You just extorted his dessert from him.” I replied darkly. He backed up and I stepped forward. “Y-yeah, so?” “You took food from his mouth...” I rested a hand on my sword. “What sick person take brownies from someone.” I stared at him with intensity. He tried to put on a brave face, but faced with the prospect of fighting something almost twice his height that was armed as well, he just about looked ready to pee himself. “Y-yeah, I know right?” He said weakly, almost above a whimper but not quite. “Um, w-w-we should get going.” He chuckled all too nervously. ‘A griffin’s dessert has been saved this day.’ I took my hand off the sword. “Great, let’s get to engineering then, I’m sure whoever the person waiting for me is, doesn’t want to wait longer than they have too.” I tried to sound as cheerful as possible. I didn’t need him running away from me, he still needed to get me there and I didn’t have a clue where that part of the ship was. “Yeah, let’s go.” We walked down the stairs, throughout the corridors, and before I knew it we were outside a door marked ‘Engineering’. “Well here you go, say hi to Steam Cog for me.” He ran off as quickly as he could as I opened the door. Ordinary wooden door? No, it was one of the first things that didn’t make any sense, whatsoever, aboard the Liberator. It opened just fine, but on the other side of the wood was easily SIX INCHES of metal, steel or otherwise. “Hey!” An angry voice shouted. “Close blast door, I am working with prototype in here!” I took my eyes away from the door and looked around. The fairly thick russian voice was hidden somewhere in the clustered room that had been marked ‘Engineering’. It looked like a steampunk workshop had thrown up in there. Brass and bronze everywhere you looked, valves and regulators in abundance with pipes running through the whole place. I obeyed the voice and closed the door, it wasn’t nearly as heavy as it looked. I walked around the workplace and examined every little trinket and doodad that looked interesting. “What’s this?” I asked myself quietly. The object was mystical if anything at all. It was a sphere that housed several layers of spheres in it that seemed to be moving constantly in random directions. When I held it solely in my gloved hand the gems on my gauntlet actually arced with the ball, it unsettled me a little, though I still kept the object firmly grasped. Running along the middle of it was a smooth ring connected to the sphere. The whole setup looked like someone had replaced Saturn with a version of earth, the various mantles of earth being visible in sections and flowing over each other in layers of what I could only guess was blue pigmented magic. If I had been paying attention I would have notice the clip clopping of hooves behind me. “Put that down!” The now deciphered female voice from earlier shouted.Unfortunately I wasn’t known for my iron grip. My arm had jerked upward and the sphere shot out of my claw. “Nyet! Grab it, grab it!” She screeched in distress. My hand sprung into the air within the second. The globe almost hit the roof but my reaction had stopped it before gravity claimed another victim. “Thank you, but please put it back, is a work in progress and very fragile.” “Sorry.” I replied turning around, not at all ready for what I saw there. She started to say something but it didn’t even register. A tall pony, obviously a mare, with a welder’s mask on and a well used work apron stood in front of me. She cocked her head a little and we looked at each other, entranced for different reasons. She brought a hoof up and raised the face guard of the mask, taking in my height once more. “Woah.” I shot out. She looked like an earth pony variant of Fleur di Lis. Her stature and general shape was almost exactly the same, and the only thing different was the lack of horn and a color shift. Like someone had ripped the colors straight off of Spitfire and thrown them on the mare that stood in front of me. “You are Rorke, yes?” She asked in a proper inside voice rather than the shouting from earlier. “Yeah... I’m Rorke.” I dulled out. ‘Wow I actually managed to keep my thoughts above the stupid line long enough to say something, that’s impressive.’ She had the stature of Fleur and the looks to boot. It was mesmerizing just looking at her, I didn’t even bother entertaining thoughts of her looks beyond registering she had them though. It would have been a slap in the face to Painkiller. “I am Steam Cog, but this you already know. Welcome to steambuck central station” She propped herself up on a short stool. “Why did Captain call you down here? Only Cutter and Rose Thorn enter my den.” “I’m not sure.” I replied. “Maybe he wants me to help you?” It could have been his notion, but I didn’t think about it too much. ‘Ponies with steampunk, just when you thought it was safe to go outside.’ She put a hoof to her chin and thought for a moment. “Perhaps, what do you know of steambuck?” “Absolutely nothing” I admitted a little too cheerfully. “Would not surprise me,” She rebutted. “never was Canterlot business. Bitsburg, Stalliongrad as well; is where you find good product. You can still help though.” Thule DID send me there so it wasn’t like I could just say no and leave. Learning about ‘steambuck’ sounded like a good venture too. ‘I just wish I could understand her though, she’s laying the russian on thick.’ I mumbled nondescript words to myself before speaking up. “Sure, what are we looking at first?” She grinned hugely, motioning for me to follow as we walked through the workshop. “I need fresh look at new work. I thought a non-lethal ranged weapon would be handy, we aren’t murderers.” I didn’t really put much stock into what she said. Getting attempts on your life exclusively from ponies does that to a person. I wasn’t in a big rush to shoot her thought bubble down though. “How do you put a pony down without killing them? From range as well, and no magic?” We approached a table which had a sheet-covered object on it. Only later did I realize most of our meeting had been a setup by Thule and her to see this. “I present the answer!” She exclaimed, pulling the sheet off. I took one look at it before I fell over laughing. “Non-lethal!” I blurted out before continuing the very definition of ‘rofl’. Needless to say she wasn’t very happy with having her invention laughed at. “Get up you idiot!” She kicked me with a hoof. “What is so funny?” It was a full two minutes before I could gather myself, she kicked me the whole time. Finally I grabbed the table nearest to me and eased myself up. My laughter died down to a few snickers in the meantime. “Now, what is so funny?!” She demanded. I gathered a tremendous sigh and rested a claw on her shoulder. “Congratulations, you just invented the magic of guns.” Under the white sheet had been a primed and ready blunderbuss. ------------------------------------- So, that's some of the crew. Rorke saves a brownie from certain doom, gets the snot beaten out of him whilst defying gravity in all its forms, and meets a Russian with a gun. All in all a good day. This part is about me and what happened to 'updating faster than before'. The chapter would have been out two weeks ago but it was so bad I deleted it... three times. I kept rewriting and now you see the finished product. If you have seen some of the old chapters you may notice I put a notice on them. All chapters marked are due for re-writing. It is canon to the story itself that Rorke went to the gala but I'm not putting anything to outrageous in any new chapters that reference the party until I actually get that chapter rewritten. Edited by: Salacar and Thule