Stick War: Equestrian Shores

by SwimmingDalek98

Chapter 2: The Lonely Mountain

The waves crashed against the Inamortan ships, yet they did little to deter the strong vehicles, nor injure their owner's courage. The lost empire was now able to see the bright and beautiful night sky for the first time in months. The full moon glowed in the sky, and on the decks, the many citizens on the ships were now on deck. They sat next to fires, the firewood contained in iron bowls lifted on metal legs. The ingenious inventions were actually a Spearton soldier's idea, still to Orpheus' surprise. He had seen his many civilizations, and saw the Speartons as soldiers, not thinkers. Orpheus sat down next to a small group of children and a pale Cleric.

We... are the Clerics! We seal our brothers' wounds, so that they may claim victory!

She read from a book, speaking of ancient legends from all the civilizations. Orpheus' grin was diminished when he saw that book. 'I wrote that thing myself. Took me seven goddamn weeks to collect those stories. Hope they enjoy it.

"Oh, Emperor Orpheus! I did not see you there!" The Cleric gasped, grabbing her chest to contain her heartbeat.

He smiled softly and sat down, "No need to get all jumpy. So, what mystic tales are you telling the children of Order?"

A single girl called out, "The Tale of the Lonely Mountain!" Orpheus looked up, amused by her answer. That particular tale, he himself had enjoyed reading greatly.

"Is that so? This shall be quite a show." Orpheus halted upon hearing the voice sounding off behind himself. He turned, and saw a short, scarred Inamortan with a lengthy beard.

He gave a smug grin, "Ah, Ragnar. We all were wondering when you'd get over your seasickness." Orpheus' mind recalled this man's identity, 'Ragnar Lothbrok, former King Under the Mountain. Leader of the Hammertons. The Hammertons, according to Orpheus' very precise memory, were a race of short, bearded miners who lived in a single mountain in the northern section of Inamorta, west of Karrosa, north of the Misty Mountains. The mountain was, appropriately named, the Lonely Mountain, for it was a single feature that stood out against the long fields of snow. He recalled the meeting held when they were discussing the Hammerton people when they discovered them.

Speartons stood with their backs to the wall, guarding a door. Behind it was the feared and well-known group of Order Empire leaders, otherwise known as Yggdrasil. The Swordwrath Council, the now-former Prime Minister of the Archidon, Cesilio, King Leonidas, Lord Daiki, and Elder Alberic were all looking at a less-scarred Ragnar as he explained his offer of peace. "My people are much faster miners than your own, you won't have to risk civilian lives. We also are strong fighters, and we have great weapons, far superior to your own. I mean not to offend your forging skills. We can help in fighting Chaos." Yggdrasil was filled with chatter as the many leaders of Order discussed what to do with the situation.

Cesilio rose, "Why should we trust YOU to make our weapons, mine our gold, and fight in our battles? Why should we think of you as an ally, when we are surrounded by enemies?" Ragnar grew nervous, and looked up. before he could speak, he was cut off by Elder Alberic.

"Well, why does he wish to aid us in our endeavors in the first place? We should allow him to speak of why the Hammertons would go out of their way to find help from others, correct?" Ragnar did not take notice, but Orpheus carefully watched the gleam in Alberic's eye. The emperor smugly grinned at his old companion's attitude, and turned to face the dwarf.

"Indeed, why DOES the Hammerton people want to help the Order Empire? Unless, of course, you are afraid of the Chaos Empire harming your people, and you wish to protect yourselves?" Ragnar looked down, catching Orpheus, "Ah... unless there's MORE to it? Maybe... they've already hurt you?" Ragnar trembled, and Orpheus knew he had found out the Hammerton's secret.

Ragnar swung his head up, and reached for the hammer on his hip, "My people have been driven out of the Lonely Mountain! Cast aside, like rocks in a mine, from the home we have lived in for generations! I intend to strike them down and regain our lost homeland! We could care less of why you battle that witch, but Medusa has taken OUR home! She's taken our mines, our forges, and our unity! We are scared, scattered, and homeless." Orpheus raised an eyebrow at Ragnar's next action. The High King bent his knee, to Yggdrasil.

Orpheus hopped off of his throne, "Well, that settles it! C'mon, then! What're you all sitting around, gawking for? We've got a mountain to retake." He walked past Ragnar and pat the Hammerton High King on the shoulder, "I trust our friend is to give us a little guidance into the mountain, correct? We can't just waltz in the front door, right?"

Ragnar stared, his look of awe slowly growing to a tear-filled smile, "I thought I could never trust outsiders..." He tightly hugged the taller man, "Never have I been so wrong." Orpheus smiled and turned, walking out the doors, with his new ally at his side.

The memory slides out of Orpheus' mind as he looks at his friend, "Care to elaborate on this story? This was a story of song, if I'm right, and everyone knows the Hammertons make up our choir."

Lothbrok glared before turning back to the children, "Yes, they should know." Several other soldiers, who overheard the conversation, lean in closer to hear Hammerton song. Other Hammerton warriors stepped near their High King, who stared into the fire, letting the words sung years ago be brought back to his mind.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To seek our pale enchanted gold.

The lords of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For Spearton king and bowman lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The demon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves,
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the heights,
The wind was moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale,
And men looked up with faces pale.
The demons' ire, more fierce than fire,
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon.
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim,
To dungeons deep and caverns dim,
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

The wind was on the withered heath,
But in the forest stirred no leaf:
There shadows lay be night or day,
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,
And like a tide it roared and rolled.
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,
And leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;
All movement in the forest ceased.
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,
Its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
The reeds were rattling—on it went.
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,
Where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare,
And swept above the giants' lair:
There black and dark lay boulders stark,
And flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
Over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sale upon the gale,
And stars were fanned to leaping light.

Under the Mountain dark and tall,
The King has come unto his hall!
His foes are dead, the Beasts of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall!

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong.
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

The lords of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The demon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.

The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need.

Now call we over the mountains cold,
'Come back unto the caverns old!'
Here at the gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.

The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Beasts of Dread are slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall.

To Quiverdell, where bowmen dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell.
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.

We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!

The Hammertons looked up from the many fires on the decks, towards their Order brethren. The first thing they heard was Orpheus, smiling, and clapping. The others join in, applauding the dwarves on their musical talent. The Hammerton High King slowly smiles, he and his brothers taking a bow. As Ragnar turns to rest, Orpheus swings a hand in front of the short warrior, "Not so fast. How about an encore, miner-king?" Ragnar stared at his old friend, shook his hand off, and went below deck. Orpheus carefully heard his response, "Maybe when we're on dry land." The emperor grinned, stood up, stretched his back, and walked back into his cabin to rest.

In Ponyville library, the purple alicorn Twilight twisted in her bed, visions of many dark things echoing around her. Images of angry creatures, snarling and clawing at each other. Swarms of small, rabid animals hunched over carcasses, ripping them apart and eating their flesh. creatures made of only bone roar, and the earth shatters, striking at those around them. A being clad in black armor slams a shield against a soldier's face, and then he turns, his eyes locking onto hers. He roars, and charges forwards, aiming his axe at her throat.

"AGH!" Twilight is sitting upright, in her bed. There are no slender creatures that wage war on each other. The lavender alicorn sighs, "It was just a dream." She stands up, and stretches her limbs before climbing off the bed to begin the new day. As she exits the house, she detects a sudden force with her magic. She looks towards its general direction, and sees that it's coming from Mare Angeles. The same place that she detected a strange magic from a few days ago. Her wings flap open, and she dashes off, flying straight forwards with no intention of slowing down. 'A storm is coming. And it's up to me to find out why.'