Ponyville seemed remarkably at ease with the strange creature that was now wandering its way through the streets. Some of the braver stallions were even daring to get within a few feet of it, before retreating to the relative safety of their groups with bold grins on their faces. Not that the biped hadn't noticed the commotion, for it wore a smile on its small face and had a glimmer in its eyes. When one of the ponies who was following started to reach for it with a forehoof, the creature span and grabbed the limb with remarkable speed. Everything seemed to slow as the crowd inhaled a nervous breath, then relaxed as the thing gently shook it.
"Name's Farle, its a pleasure to meet you." It spoke with a hint of amusement.
"F...Felix." The stallion stuttered as the human released its grip.
"Well Felix, do you think you could point the way to Sweet... The nearest apple farm please?" The stallion gestures with the still-outstretched hoof. "Thanks." The pony ran back to the assembled groups yelling about how he talked to the human.
Her prey turned in the direction of the farm and walked away. Using all her stealth, the mare silently slipped from shadow to shadow to follow it. As luck would have it, it was heading in the direction of her friend. 'Yes! Soon. Very soon my little human!'
Although I be sailing on oceans unmoving... Farle started to hum to himself as he wandered roughly in the direction that pony had pointed to. Being the center of non-hostile attention was marvelous! Sure, they were equines, but at least they weren't trying to skewer him with spears or turn him into genetic soup. Plus, this place was pretty cheerful! It seemed like pain and suffering here were only vague concepts rather than filthy realities.
In the distance, rows and rows of obviously maintained apple trees came into view as he walked on. 'Ding ding! One very obvious apple farm located! Now, to follow the. Oh for fuck sake'. He sighed. A pony had been following him for the past 5 minutes, trying to be sneaky but failing as it giggled effeminately from every hiding place. Weighing up his options, he could continue on and let the thing have its guilty pleasure. Alternatively, he could end this amusing farce right now before he ended up drugged at the mercy of a pony. Thinking of a rather perverted train of thought for a moment, he recalled the events of the night before. Dismissing the latter option with an internal shudder, he quickly swung around the corner of a nearby building and waited.
It didn't take the stalker long to catch up. Running around the corner at a fair pace, it slammed into his armored legs and collapsed into a pile on the floor. It shook its head, presumably to clear it. Then looked slowly upward, realising what had cut-short its pursuit. Raising its eyes slowly to meet his frown, which was returned with a sheepish 'I-just-got-caught' look.
"Err, Hi?" It was obviously a mare.
"I think introductions can wait. Why are you trying to follow me? Oh, I say try because laughing every time you successfully get to the next patch of shadow without me noticing isn't stealthy at all." Annoyance creeped into his voice.
"Oh, well I. Err. My. Friend wants to see you?" She smiles weakly.
"Is this a very unsubtle way of asking me out? Not that I'm opposed mind you..." He half-grinned at the mare's sudden switch to a shocked expression
"No! What I mean is. Oh. My friend would really like to see you in the flesh! No not like that! Oh this isn't going how I planned..." He chuckles at her poor choice of words.
"Well, I suppose if flesh is what you're after.." Pulling several latches and seals, he slipped the gauntlet off his left arm and showed the fleshy hand to the now wide-eyed pony.
"Oh she won't believe it! You must come with me now!"
Before Farle could react, he felt the hot, moist breath of that weird mare around his fingers as she took them into her mouth. His normally chaotic mind suddenly went very quiet as the pony began to lead him to whatever or whomever it was talking about. Several thoughts whispered in the stilled void of his brain. 'Should we be aroused by this?' 'Is this thing leading us to danger?' 'How is it possible that this mouth feels semi-solid? Like it has internal grasping sections?' 'Oh baby don't stop!' 'WHERE'S THE FUCKING BOOZE?!'
Not really paying attention to his surroundings, the human slowly pondered those questions as he felt the warmth around his digits disappear. He'd arrived at its intended destination. Before him was a blue pony, sitting on a bench in a manner that should technically have been impossible given the skeletal structure of a pony. She looked at the other mare briefly, before presumably taking in his form with what looked like mild-disinterest.
"Lyra! Look! I found a human! He has HANDS!" The light apple colored hand-sucker practically yelled with glee.
"What!? Where the hay did this rumor start that I have this obsession with hands and humans? Damnit Bon-Bon! I told you to cut this out, it wasn't funny the first time and its not funny now." The angry unicorn yelled, gesturing angrily with a forehoof at her supposed friend. The other pony looked disappointed.
"You sit funny." He said to the blue one, deadpan.
"You look funny." The mare replied.
"Touche. Well this has been... weird. I'm just going to go now." He gave them both a short wave with his ungauntleted hand, then looked at the moisture still clinging to it with a slightly disturbed expression for a second. Turning to walk away, he managed to spot the Apple farm in the distance before overhearing the stalker mutter something in a disturbingly seductive tone to the angry friend.
"I had a hand in my mouth.... and I liked it."
Hearing the crazy desire in that mare's voice, he quickly and quietly sped up. Images of being locked in a cellar as it carved off digits for it to suck on flashed through his mind. He offered up a quiet prayer to whatever deity ruled this 'verse that he be allowed to keep his fingers.
Void Travel. That terrible combination of screaming, multicolored light, pain and velocity. The magics that had brought it from its former plane had ripped much of its black fur from its body, both revealing and scarring much of its thick grey flesh beneath. But this did not bother it overly, so used to pain, its only concern it felt was for its young pups. The Mistress would gladly rend them to little more than chum if it died before its time.
It emerged from the Void still retaining much of its former speed, having only a moment to adjust its arrival angle before slamming its left meaty foreshoulder into something wooden and green. Its velocity arrested, its tentacled maw twitched spasmodically as it recovered from that punishing impact. Shaking its head, it glanced at the pained left shoulder. The grey flesh was already turning vivid purple and a gash ran down the limb, thickly oozing blood. It gave this only a small amount of concern, if it started to infringe on its ability to continue the hunt more drastic measures would need to be taken, but for now it would wait and see. Its life was already forfeit in the grand scheme of things.
Pushing itself to its four paws, it surveyed the landing zone with half-hearted interest. Before it was a tree, its trunk broken from the arrival surrounded by large splinters and a settling cloud of wood-dust. There was a pervasive sense of foreboding to the forest before it, like every blade of grass and every shadow held a monster or some creature. Ambush could come from anywhere, diving above from the tree branches or from the side, the predator hidden within the shrubs and vines of the floor. Had it a jaw capable of expression, it would have worn a soft smile. This was to be a glorious hunt!
Taking a triumphant lungful of that alien atmosphere through its nose, it considered what lived in this malevolent place. The smell of wood dust, burning fur and grass hit it first. All side-effect smells of the void exit. Then other disgusting smells of fruit and flowers. Finally, the sweetest of smells! Prey! Thousands and thousands of varying scents in all directions, a veritable feast of flesh. Saliva dripped from its tentacled maw as it dreamed of consuming all of them, turning meat into muscle and fat into fierce purpose.
The thing flexed its uninjured right forepaw, letting its claws escape the captivity of its prehensile extremity and ran it through the mulch of this new world. It still retained much of its original sharpness and would be useful in the coming slaughter. Taking a step forward on uneasy muscles, it smelled the faint copperish tang of freshly spilt blood. Something had evidently found a new meal. Focusing on that smell, the decision to steal whatever had been slaughtered to renew its energy was made. Scavenge now, fresh prey later.
It heard the predator before it saw it, something with a large and entirely unstealthy roar that broke the silence of the forest. Shortly followed by the wet, slapping sound of flesh being consumed. Padding closer, it snuck a look around a particularly bushy tree to see what the beast was.
Hovering over a corpse, the yellow thing let loose another almighty roar before dipping its head to continue its bloody feast. The tail was akin to a scorpion, a poisonous barb held high. The rest was like a winged lion with meaty paws that clawed at the flesh of the animal it had conquered.
Overconfident. Not checking for other predators, not watching for ambushes. Eating too loudly, eating in the open. Roaring and most importantly, with its back to this tree. This creature would not survive for more than a minute in the Pound Pits It thought to itself as its tentacles started to move involuntarily, the excitement of a potential meal forcing the cocktail of fatigue poisons into the tiny injectors near their tips. Forgetting the previous idea of simply scaring this pathetic prey away disappeared, it would consume it and then continue onto the hunt.
Unsheathing its claws, it began to haul its body up the bushy tree. Every muscle in its bulky legs burned from the effort, but in its weakened state a frontal attack would leave it vulnerable to a counterstrike that could potentially ruin the chance of a successful hunt. Reaching the canopy, it gripped the tree tightly as it watched the prey dine on another piece of sanguine gore with a pang of hungry jealousy.
Inching along the thick branches quietly, claws retracted for better stealth, it continued its observation as the prey finally finished its meal. Barely two metres away, it could see the thin film of sweat on the golden fur. Its claws looked too small for such a large prey animal, but were contained in burly paws that looked better for crude bashing rather than cutting. When the prey finally roared with apparent satisfaction, it felt the moment had come.
Pushing off the branch with a half-pounce, it fell silently for a moment before its forepaws landed squarely on the back of the prey’s neck and its hindpaws thumped into the creature’s back. The manticore, apparently surprised by the impact, didn't had enough time to let let out a roar before tentacles flared and clamped around its jaw. Extending its claws finally, they bit into the foolish flesh of the prey as it began to thrash to force it off.
Elation flooded its mind as the tentacles pumped out a flood of fatigue poisons into the head of the animal. Already weakened by its own hunting, the prey was slowly starting to tire. Feeling the warm blood from its body between its claws sent another spark of pleasure to its mind as the creature beneath it finally collapsed to the forest floor.
Carefully plucking the tentacles from the prey's maw, began to consider what this beast’s place was in the forest as it idly retracted its claws. If the Pits had no bigger reavers, would I be this sloppy in the hunt? It thought to itself as it turned to face the prey. Its tiny black eyes looked at the reaver with a mixture of surprise and fear. No, I wouldn't. Pathetic pup.
Pushing aside the fleshy meat-appendages that surrounded its maw, it finally licked one of the bloody wounds made when it clamped its jaw. It tasted of its own poisons and of sweetest, richest blood it had ever tasted. Well fed prey, always a hearty meal.
Extending its foreclaws once more, it dragged the still-living body beneath the cover of the bushy tree it had ambushed it from. The manticore let out a tiny, pitiful whine as the reaver considered something for a moment. Then blood sprayed from the new slash it had made on the prey's midsection, painting its burns and fur with delicious proof of its skill. The creature's whine rose in volume for a moment before its eyes went cold and lifeless.
Soon, the hunt begins. But, for now, first blood is mine.