//------------------------------// // Chapter 1:- Regrettable Actions. // Story: Something Else // by Mr Clumpy //------------------------------// It’s a strange sensation, isn’t it, when you return to a place you once knew so well, still somehow the same and yet so different? No longer were these halls a soothing white stone, filled with the senseless political bickering of the nobility. No... now it was saturated with menace and a foreboding atmosphere lay heavy on the air. I lent on a decrepit balcony, overlooking the chambers below and watching the elected speaker for those despicable Thalmor rant and rave about moving troops freely through the imperial provinces, a feat which had apparently become significantly more difficult since that little rebellion up north had ended. I smiled; how could I not? Below was all pointless bantering. I knew they would never catch their prey, more so as I sensed a familiar presence appear to my right. One of the few immortal men who would ever have been able to recognize me... a strange day indeed. After all, it wasn’t every day you got a visit from the Count of Skingrad, but then again it had been almost 150 years since I had last returned to Mundus, to this place. The location of the last great heist, and seat of the old empire. I turned around, grasped his wrist with a firm shake and a one armed hug, earning us several disgusted looks from the pompous nobles, well, those that didn’t recognize the Count at least. Those wise enough to identify him, or perhaps those unnatural golden eyes swiftly turned their gaze away from the two men. “It has been too long, old man, much too long!” I exclaimed, earning several disgusted looks. “It has indeed, old friend, it has indeed, but unfortunately this is not a simple social call.” he replied, voice lowering at the same rate as his face seemed to darken. “I must admit, I was quite surprised when I got your summons.” I returned, in a muted tone. I glanced down at the floor below, before swiftly continuing, “I’m guessing this has something to do with the “gift” I left you?” “Hmm... I suppose you could say that, but perhaps this isn’t the area for such talk... do you remember the village of Aleswell?” he asked, and was answered by a swift nod. “Well... meet me there at sundown... tonight. Oh, and you do realise weapons are not permitted in here right? Ah, of course you did, why am I even asking?” He sighed, before turning around and walking back towards the stairs. A sly grin spread across my features as I eyed the nearest guard, his eyes no longer glazed over from the simple illusion he had been under but moments before. Instead, they were angled in my direction, staring at the rather obvious twin hilts sticking out from beneath my robes, and the unmistakable honey-coloured armour poorly hidden under the dark cloth. Drawing his sword, he walked slowly towards me as the other guards followed suit, drawing their own swords and closing in. A grin still splitting my face, and growing wider by the minute, eyes glittering in the mixture of torch and diffused sunlight, I glanced between the fast approaching guards and the now screaming nobles, and down at the council chambers whose members were looking up at the gallery in confusion and fear at the sudden screams. My choice of action was apparently decided for me. I slowly slid one of the aforementioned, barely hidden blades out of my robes and pointed it at the rapidly approaching guards. Grinning like a madman, I leaped at the railing, grasped it in one hand and launched myself over it into the council chambers. Landing on the floor with a heavy thud, I stood up quickly. The giant doors into the chamber were slamming shut, locked tight with some unnatural force. As I neared the dais in the centre of the room, the silver matrixes embedded in the metal of my honey-coloured armour - still partially obscured by the dusty old robes I was wearing - started glowing perceptibly with rapidly storing power. Ignoring the screams and yelling of the local audience, I turned, my sightless eyes scanning the chambers, seeing more now than they had ever done before; of the mortals surrounded the giant dias, revealing truths and lies, fear and anger, but also curiosity and contempt. Pulling my hood back caused a shocked silence to fall across the hall. Facing my audience, white eyes staring, I gave a quick bow. “Ladies and gentlemen, man and beast, if you would please be quiet a moment, I will make this brief... I know what you have done, and what you are going to do, and I will tell you this; it will fail. This is not an opinion but a fact. Every man and woman you have sent have died, every man and woman you send will die.” I turned to the Thalmor delegation. “I know what you are and I know who you are, and I say this; you will not win. Try as you might, you will fail. The arrogance of Altmer will be your downfall. Power and age are relative, and yours is waning... Ira Dei manet in vobis, ut et caput eius verba tua veritas mendaciis!” I stopped, manic smile widening, eyes following the flow of magical energy surging into the focal points of the the various mages around the room. Their intent was clear, but it didn’t leave me worried as I crouched down and slid the tip of my sword cleanly into the stone beneath me. I was preparing a little gift, a gift only suitable for one of nobility and importance, the same gift I had once received from a mischievous prince, for a party of fellow nobles. Albeit, slightly altered. The power of the spell I was casting reached a crescendo, before flowing down the embedded weapon and discharging the amassed energy into the dais below. That moment, the room started to shift around me. ------------------------------ The primary spell is a strange one, though of course, when dealing with magic, everything is strange. The more you learn of it, the stranger it gets. Most forms of teleportation and summoning require the use of a focus, or several focuses, in the form of a spell or naturally occurring magic. Be these self replenishing pads crafted by mages, or special types of material and minera, it always revolves around the presence of an enchanted anchor, so to speak. When considering how to power these spells and relevant anchors, there are various ways; acting as a waypoint oneself, as done when summoning, using sigil stones, found naturally occurring in the folds of oblivion, or even a daedric prince, sharing a portion of his magic to create a stable gateway. Each option comes with their own dangers and limitations, but a displacement and overlay spell was altogether a unique type. Crafted not by man or by mer, Daedra dragon or Daedroth, constructed instead by a mad Khajiit bearing the name of Qo’dar, one who once had taken me to a little sliver of oblivion. There, he had unfortunately met his fate. A peculiar spell indeed, created by an increasingly peculiar race of cats, especially once combined with Sanguine’s party spell... ------------------------------ The transition happened smooth enough, causing me to land just steps outside the inn itself. I stood up swiftly, sheathing my sword and concealing the hilt back under my cloak as I pushed my way into the darkened inn. “Wow.” I muttered, slightly taken aback. The place hadn’t changed in the slightest since I had last been here... Well, minus the fact that the bar was now run by a rather pale-coated khajiit, beautiful dark stripes decorating his fur. His experienced eyes bluntly evaluated my presence; a swift nod in acknowledgement and I sat down at the bar. Pushing a few septims his way across the ancient wooden counter rewarded me with a full, frothy mug, and small talk in return. This minute exchange continued for several hours, before the door once again creaked open behind me and a grin spread across my face as I recognized the familiar presence, along with a few others, standing directly behind me. Looking up into the face of the bartender, however, quickly put an end to my joy. I turned cautiously, and peering at the newcomers I understood the bartender’s apprehensive expression. A mixture of men, in silver and black plate, the emperor's symbol engraved upon their shields, and tall slender mer clad in extensively patterned armour the colour of tarnished gold. In all honesty, I should've expected it really, but then again spending several decades within the Isles was enough to unhinge even the sanest of creatures. (and i never was quite the sanest to begin with!) I sighed wearily, before downing the rest of my ale and turning towards the chained count. “Friends of yours, I presume.” I teased with a smile, watching the count squirm in unaccustomed discomfort, the chains upon his wrists visibly digging into his flesh. “Oh, shut up and just get me out of these, I’ve had enough of politics today.” He snapped back in my direction, and rattled the chains binding him, causing the guards holding the chains to tense aggressively. I let loose a small laugh as I stood up, put my hands on my lower back and stretched, earning several satisfying pops as the bones cracked back into place. I straightened up and dropped the cloak off my shoulders, a demented grin fixed across my face, broadening as the guards visibly shrunk back towards the wall. They had realised that they were horribly outmatched by something far older and far more powerful than them. “This should only take a minute.” ------------------------------ I sat on top of the pile of recently defeated and twitching guards and looked solemnly down at my feet, not feeling much beyond a cold numbness spreading around my limbs as the truth of what I had just been told seeped through me. It couldn't be true could it? It must be some kind of a sick joke... but then again, maybe not... I had heard the rumours of the darkness in the north even from my seat in the Shivering Isles, I had seen enough of this world and a few others to know that forces of nature and probability moved with their own course, to the irk of the higher powers. It had long ago made me realise that, against all odds, it was more than possible to be your own man against whatever the princes of Aedra and Daedra would have you believe. I had seen him myself, and yet, not myself when I had paid a visit to an old friend, someone I knew dearly, yet had never known; sitting there, opposite me, the staff of madness in his hand. He had looked so innocent and pure... oh, don’t get me wrong, everyone has blood on their hands; from the simplest child whose playful teasing of a peer would eventually cause that person to murder and pillage in the name of their king, to the priests and priestesses who would try to help others, but know that all they can do is relieve the pain of their patients dying before them. I am talking about this particular soul, though, long before he took his first life in cold blood, long before he succumbed to the hideous temptations of Molag Bal and Hermaeus Mora. Yet, I now knew where he would be soon enough, and I needed to stop him. But, then again, how could I? It truly was a horrific and abhorrent world, in which someone so innocent could be corrupted so completely by those he had tried to save. That he could warp himself into darkness incarnate, selling his soul for immortality and power... still... even I did so at one point. Selling my arm to the highest bidder, for the promises of reward and adventure... ah, but look at me now, Prince of Madness! Yet not... the power of a Daedric prince at my fingers, yet just an immortal battle-mage, neither living nor dying... armies of Daedra and madness in my grasp... but... there was someone, someone that wasn’t there... A smirk flickered across my face, as I recalled my last conversation with Haskill before setting out on this misbegotten journey; maybe, just maybe, I could save him, but at what cost...? With a knowing look in the Count’s direction and that maniacal grin once again upon my features - after all, madness is the cure for everything, isn’t it!? - a click of my fingers and I was gone, with crazy plans to set forth and undefinable spells to prepare... after all, being the champion of madness didn’t give me unlimited power. ------------------------------ The throne room was just like the rest of the castle, empty and quiet, with all but a very few ponies moving around this time in the morning. Even Luna had repaired off to some other part of the kingdom for the night, to attend to the royal duties demanded of her. The bright moonlight shone through the stained glass windows; creating a flickering light show of flowing pictures upon the ground and leaving the room with a feeling of ethereal beauty only matched by the princesses themselves. A single flicker of static crackled in a spot roughly in the centre of the room, reaching directly down as if to pierce the very earth with light, barely visible to the naked eye. Seconds later, another, larger beam arched across the room, this time scorching the white marble pillars as the magic discharged through the rock, before again stopping; a third strike struck the ceiling, then a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh, each one bigger and stronger than the last, striking almost randomly around the room in single arcs before it all came to a swift stop when striking for the 17th time, punching a hole through the alabaster throne and partially melting the wall behind it, leaving a sickly red glow in its wake. Just as quickly as the last bolt had half destroyed the throne, a singular arc hammered into the ground, just where the original static hit. Several different streams of electricity seemed to physically split away from from the bolt connected to the floor, slicing cleanly through everything they touched as they advanced. Erratic forks of lightning cracked and fissured away from each of the streams, smashing chunks of plaster and marble from the ceiling, walls and floor as twenty-seven different coloured beams of light appeared, tearing long crooked lines in the floor and sending deadly fragments of quartz and molten rock flying, as each bolt managed to find its way back to earth. Just as quickly as the chaos had started, it seemed to cease, leaving most of the pillars in the room smoldering, and tell-tale splashes of cherry red betraying several streams of rapidly cooling rock oozing onto the shattered floor. The smell of ozone tainted the throne room, and distant shouts and the clatter of armoured hooves could be heard approaching the door. The thunderous booms of the discharges could have been heard for miles around, mangling the throne room with the overwhelming noise. The cacophony had understandably driven even the most stalwart of royal ponies down onto their elbows, hooves in ears, as much in fear as with a dose of sheer magical pressure disrupting the normal flow of magic in all four races alike. The first on the scene was a relatively new guard by the name of Safety Pin, a rather lean pegasus with a honey coloured coat and a soft grey mane, hidden by the enchanted armour of Luna’s Night Guard. He approached the room on hoof, trotting guardedly towards the now decimated throne room. Glancing behind him for backup and seeing none, he turned the corner and looked into the corridor with horror. Embedded in the opposing wall like bolts in a tree sat the two giant doors, previously standing as a final barrier to any destructive forces wishing the royalty harm. These doors, by order of the princesses, had been both magically and physically reinforced to withstand even the harshest of bombardments, forged in dragon fire and crafted with the strongest enchantments known to pony kind, and there they were, half melted and impaled into the solid stone wall as if it was wood. With a harsh shake of his head and a focused gaze he sped up to a fast canter, a steady mixture of dread and excitement weighing on his chest. He felt his heart pounding as he closed upon the now empty hole. With thoughts of grandeur scrolling through his mind and recollections of the stories of old; brave ponies going on grand adventures, slaying monstrosities and saving maidens in distress, he foolishly approached the scene, ignoring the training he had received in anticipation of the potential glory ahead. Confusion spread across Safety Pin’s face as he peered into the destroyed room, his enchanted armour lending him better vision and a better representation of the carnage within. The first thing that hit him through the haze of vapour and dust was the sheer amount of damage, the glowing red puddles of molten rock, the gouges cut into the floor, the ruined pillars and chunks of the beautifully painted ceiling missing, dangerous looking cracks spreading across the plaster overhead. Most disturbingly of all was the foal sized hole missing from the back of the throne, and the wall, which, seen through the hole, and from the distance of the hallway looked like what could only be described as curved glass, flowing downwards yet eerily frozen in time. Sounds of armoured hooves on stone came thundering down the hallway behind him, snapping him out of his state of shock. With another glance at the room, he saw what he had failed to notice before in his contemplation of the damage; floating innocently in the centre of the room was a tiny, dark purple and green ball the size of a walnut. His enhanced vision enabled him to see, if he focused hard enough on the thing (not daring to get any closer), several faint white strands extending out from the centre of the ball. Whipping around, he recognized his superior officer, following a large purple pony into the room. It didn't take any second glances to know who this member of royalty was. Princess Twilight Sparkle stood in the doorway, slack jawed, mouth agape. Safety Pin shuffled awkwardly. “Um, it was like this when I got here.” She didn’t react. “Princess? Er, Your Ladyship?” He coughed and glanced at the captain, “Sir?” The officer had gone a deep purple, and wore an expression that made him look... well, constipated. He looked like a pony that couldn’t quite contain the outright indignation suffusing through his entire being, against whoever had had the cheek to even attempt something like this against his beloved princesses, let alone actually succeeded in making this Celestia-awful mess I mean what if the princesses had actually been in here oh my Celestia this was all his fault he was the leader of the guard for Luna’s sake, he would not let those hoof-sucking sons-of-mules get the damned buck away with this... The captain was turning deeper and deeper purple. Safety Pin screwed up his nose. His superior almost looked like he was holding his breath...“Okay then...” he turned back to Twilight. “Your er, Majesty?” She blinked, snapping out of her stupor. “Yes, sorry... what happened here?” Safety shrugged. “All I know is that I came running when I heard all that awful noise going on, only to be met with this horrible mess upon arrival.” Twilight gulped. “Nothing... nopony... still here? nothing that might give us a clue to what caused this?” He pointed at the little orb thing with one forehoof. “Well there is that. Little sucker is just sitting there. It was right there when I got here, and if you look close, you can see these creepy little strands of white floaty stuff. I’ve got a bad feeling about it. It might have even caused this disaster...” “CAUSED IT?” The captain seemed to have jolted himself out of... whatever he was doing, and was now stomping towards the ball, eyebrows knitted together in fury. he reached the orb and held out a hoof, muttering something about guards and princesses and Celestia... “NO STOP! DON’T TOUCH IT!” Safety screamed at his captain seconds too late, he had touched the threads. Turning to look him in the eye as his hoof made contact. He had seen it! The sphere was alive! Or at least it acted like it. A slow beat like a heart leading out from the threads. The threads! The threads were beating as if it had a pulse, or a drum waiting for a signal to change the pattern, and he had touched it, whatever it was, the thing that had destroyed one of the most secure rooms in Equestria seemingly without a problem... and he had touched it! A scream filled the room, an unnatural abomination of a noise, one that should never be heard by mortal ears, one that should never have been able to come out of a pony's mouth and yet there it was... Safety Pin looked on in horror, his eyes locked with the unfortunate unicorn’s, eyes that were full of pain and fear, eyes that showed nothing but terror. It got worse, the screaming louder, until his armour shattered like glass into dust before it hit the ground, and time seemed to slow... his coat glowed a horrific shade of sanguine as if his blood was trying to escape from his very core, each cell being chased by pain in its purest form. The red was overtaken by wet lines, quickly growing thicker until his entire body was as dark as the void, leaving just those screaming, staring eyes. His black form just as quickly started burning bright white, as the unicorn’s body dissolved in what seemed like an eternity. Managing to wrench his eyes away, Safety Pin saw that the orb was pulsing vigorously, the threads getting thicker, and his princess, staring just like every other pony in horror at the sight before her, completely distracted. She hadn’t perceived the growing thread of monstrous light aimed straight at her chest, one significantly thicker than the captain had just touched. He shot forward, propelling himself to a quick gallop with his wings, still unable to fly due to the massive disturbance. He slammed as hard as he could into her side, knocking her out of the path of the deathlight and into the corner of the hall. It was almost amusing really... What seemed like an eternity ago, yet only a little over two hours, he had been sitting in the mess hall complaining about the lack of excitement around the castle! Now look at him.Then he laughed, because he had done his duty, and he was proud even if he had only lasted three and a half weeks. His family loved him, and he them... he just... he just wished that they wouldn’t be sad. He looked down, and saw his flesh flayed by the beam piercing his left flank. It came out above his right wing, severing his spine in the process. “I am sorry.” He heard the voice, but not through his ears... inside his head? “What for?” he wondered, “what are you sorry for?” He couldn’t, due to lack of a jaw, physically speak. “I am sorry because you should not be here. You got caught up in a mess you had no control over, no part in, and I cannot save you. I am so sorry.” the voice stopped. It sounded sad. “It’s fine.” he smiled inside as the rest of his body turned to ash in the hall. The last sensation he felt was a warm caress, pulling him softly in, something like his mother's embrace. Seventeen beams of energy reconnected to the original strike points and solidified between the sphere and the connections, forks of energy lashed out and created webs of connections at the terminals. The guards previously standing around had been blown back, leaving a distraught purple lump of feather and fur gazing in terror towards the growing ball in the centre. Everywhere the light touched turned to molten rock, oozing down the rubble and over the floor. The threads started to pulse faster, straining away from the sphere, pulling it outwards and ever bigger. The increasing size of the ball, coupled with the huge amounts of heat generated caused the pressure in the room to shoot up.The remaining stained glass windows couldn’t take the extra punishment and shattered, releasing the unbearable pressure. With an ear-splitting boom that shook the mountain, the orb cracked, the light tearing it like elastic ripping away pieces of eggshell. The slabs of magical energy rapidly dissipated, before they could smash into the walls and the molten rock around the room swiftly solidified. In the centre of the room, two strange bipedal creatures appeared; one in dark black robes lying on the floor, a broken blade made of some sort of weird metal as dark as night discarded to his right, the other creature in a strange glowing armour the colour of honey, standing over him. One hand clenched the hilt of a blade buried in the chest of the first. The other hand grasped a large black star against the pommel of the blade, chanting as dark crimson trickled from various places on it’s stricken body. He finished, looked around at the damage he had caused and whistled before slowly sitting down in what remained of her mentor’s throne. A smile split his face like a madman, right eye nothing but a hollow red hole, his armour scuffed and chipped and several pieces missing and melted. He looked Twilight directly in the eye from across the room, a guilty grin still on his lips and, laughing slightly, he stood up. He groaned under his breath in pain before traversing the damaged room with the ease of an acrobat. He knelt before the disturbed princess, fear still showing clearly in her expression. With a soft sigh, he offered his right hand towards her. She flinched away. He withdrew it quickly. “I’m sorry about that little guard pony, I really am... want a sweet roll? And don’t worry about your friends, they’re perfectly safe... oh, and him? He isn’t dead.” He motioned with a sad smile towards the corpse behind him. A crunch from behind him; he turned his head, but noticed too late the pair of gold-trimmed alabaster hooves flying directly towards his head.