//------------------------------// // Chapter 11: A Deal with the Draconequus // Story: The Survival Of The Species // by Borderline Valley //------------------------------// James Mender I am afraid. In my fear, I turn my back on the god, opening the eyes of my spirit to the crowd before me. Reaching out, I latch on to the spirits of those near me, sinking little shards of my own into theirs. As I walk the crowd, I continue to spread little shards of myself, and slowly I can feel myself being stretched thin. This is a large crowd, so I start to pull energy through the shards. Nothing more than a drop, but it’s there. Drawing from so many sources, it’s more than enough to keep me going, spreading more and more shards into the people whose bones I have set, and whose wounds I have closed. Many of these men and women I have watched grow from children. The rush of energy invigorates me; I feel fresh and ready to tackle any problem, despite my lack of sleep. It’s empowering! With the influx of power, my reach and my sight extends. Soon the whole crowd carries a shard of mine, though the guards I have purposely avoided. The Captain already has control of his guards, their weapons no longer pointed toward the god, but now sheathed, using their shields to keep the crowd at bay. I can feel all of their spirits connected to my own, I can touch their anger, their rage. I draw a measure of power from them with surgical precision, no more than I need, and then turn that power back upon them, crushing the fury from their minds. In the space of moments, the crowd loses its fuel, suddenly unsure of themselves. I feel a deeply seated sense of satisfaction. It worked perfectly; these blind ones don’t even realize how easy it was. I force a new emotion on them as I hear the captain speaking: awe and wonderment. It mixes beautifully with the fear that they already possessed, creating something deliciously potent. In droves, the fools fall to their knees, some outright prostrating themselves before… the god. I shake my head, as I glimpse that shining beacon with my second eyes again. The pain of glimpsing its magnitude reminds me of why I had gone to such lengths. My work done, I swiftly withdraw my shards, causing both me and the crowd some small measure of discomfort. With luck they would attribute it to the god before them and not their peaceful healer. I am shaking as I bow my head in deference to the god. I do not shake out of fear of the god, though I do fear its immeasurable power. I shake, because I can no longer feel the rush of power and the feeling of invincibility. I shake, because I came close to losing myself. I raise my head, and find myself looking into the eyes of the god. It wears an expression of surprise hidden behind a mask of mischievousness, and as meets my gaze directly. Those eyes oppress me; I can feel them piercing through my body and reading my spirit like a book. I dare not open the eyes of my spirit to return that gaze; I know it would destroy me. The god seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for, and his gaze moved elsewhere, dismissing him as unimportant. It… saw what I did… and doesn’t care? Samuel Weathers “Silence you fools!” I demand of the crowd. To my surprise, they actually calm down at the sound of my voice, “Can you not see that it is a god that stands before you? Your foolishness has endangered us all!” At the revelation, expressions turn from righteous anger to a mixture of shame and fear. A physically present god is no laughing matter, after all. We should have been offering up sacrifices by now. The implications that a god has chosen to grace us with a physical body seems to sink in, and many of the people fall to their knees in awe. “I will admit, I did not expect this reaction,” the god speaks. His voice is light, yet it pervades the air around me, as if his words came from whatever direction he chose. I turn to face the god, keeping my eyes glued to the ground beneath his ‘feet’, and dropping to one knee in recognition of his power. “On behalf of the guard, I apologize for the actions of my men. We have yet to meet or learn of the gods in this land, yet that does not excuse their behavior. We will accept whatever punishment you see fit.” Through my peripherals, I can see the god wave dismissively at me. “Oh don’t worry about that, it was refreshing actually; my mere presence invoked such wonderful response! Allow me to introduce myself, I am Discord, recently reformed Spirit of Chaos!” With his announcement, a flurry of fireworks erupts from behind him, causing an assault upon my eardrums. Despite the discomfort, I remain still in my position of submission. It would not do to place my own comfort above the respect due to a god. And why is there a god of chaos visiting us? Actually, does a god of chaos need a reason? The god looked around at the crowd, which was now very still and very quiet. “Alright then,” the god sighed, “down to business I suppose. I want to chat with your leaders, I’ll take the loud one,” he is pointing at me, “the sneaky one,” he points over my head at someone in the crowd, “the Governor, and the fun one with the fire.” With that, the god snaps his fingers, and the building behind him, which happens to be the governors house, is replaced into a giant orange and yellow pavilion. “I expect you four in twenty minutes. Be on time!” he demands, before shrugging, “Or not.” With a laugh the god phases through the walls of his own pavilion, not bothering to use the entrance. I finally straighten, and start issuing orders. “I want a perimeter on the pavilion, no civilian gets within a dozen feet of it. Lock down the bridge, nobody leaves the village until this is resolved.” Sergeant Vern is nearby, and he gladly begins making my will a reality. The Governor is soon at my side, his face is white as a sheet, and he’s mumbling something about “gods… they were gods…” It is good that he is here, but now I need to figure out what the god meant by ‘the sneaky one’, and ‘the fun one with the fire’. Thankfully Mender shows up, perhaps he can help me figure it out. Before I get a chance to ask, he looks at me with weary eyes and tells me, “I’m here; though getting Rodin conscious enough to meet with a god isn't going to happen today without sacrifices.” I spend a moment pondering how the last one could never have been anybody but Rodin. Perhaps his daughter, if she had more of an outlet for it… I shudder to think of two Rodins running around. “Even so, if he can be moved, get him inside the pavilion; I don’t want to piss this guy off.” In short order this was so: the four of us entered the pavilion, with three of us carrying Rodin on his bed. The inside of the pavilion is something remarkable. The walls of the pavilion are lined with a fluffy pink substance that reminds me of clouds, while the air is filled with a silent whirlwind of objects flying in all directions. Even as we make our way to the center of it, none of the flying objects strike us, though a pie does come rather close to nailing me in the face, enough so that I can smell the apples in it. Smells like good pie, oddly enough. In the center of the pavilion, the god sits on a throne. It’s a wooden and stone seat, with two antlers affixed to its top, but otherwise minimalist decoration. He lounges on it, seemingly bored as he observes us enter. In front of him sits a small table, with four wooden chairs awaiting us. We set Rodin’s bed down next to the table and each take a seat. “Well this is cozy. I take it this is the mage?” The god teleports next to Rodin, eyeing his myriad of bandages. “Well he’s not much fun like this.” “If I had more sacrifices I could heal him,” Mender offers. His expression having since recovered to one of clinical disinterest. “Sacrifices?” The god asks, one eyebrow raised in question. “Uninjured animals, preferably.” He clarifies. The god considers this, amused. With a snap of his fingers, several dozen tiny little balls with wings appear on the table in a cage. They sport large eyes that take up most of their boy and little insect wings. They chirp in a way that would be endearing, if they weren't all about to die. Mender looks intrigued, and begins to work his magic. The god in particular is watching him in interest. As Mender concentrates, the balls of fuzz shrink in size, one by one, before disintegrating entirely. I've seen Mender work his magic so often it’s no longer a novelty to me, yet to this god it seems to be rocking his world. “Oh wow. Now that… that has potential right there,” he says as he watches, “Imagine, if I had thought of this four thousand years ago…” His musing is cut short by Rodin himself as he wakes up. “What in the hells!” Rodin demands, bolting upright to a sitting position, and looking around, “What kind of bizarre afterlife is this?” I laugh, this strange pavilion of randomness would give that impression, now that I think about it. “You aren't dead. A god of chaos is paying us a visit.” I gesture to the god, who is once more resting on his throne. The god’s hands form a steeple, and his eyes are narrowed in focus. The objects flying every which way speed up, soon we are surrounded by a whirlwind of odd colors, though still it makes no noise. “Now that you've had your beauty sleep, mage, let’s get down to why we are here, humans.” Alexander Birchwood I think I’m getting used to the feeling of raw vulnerability. The two horses, Luna and Celestia, I’d bet anything they were just as much gods as this Discord thing that has taken such an interest in us. “First things first, you have all technically broken a few laws of the land, by taking up residence in this place,” the god begins, his tone is not one of condemnation, but resignation, despite his commanding expression. “of course, those laws only apply to a certain subset of individuals, of which most of you are not part of.” I almost sigh in relief, but there’s more. “Except for you,” he says, pointing at Rodin, “Rodin, right? You stand charged of destruction of public property, violation of zoning laws, murder, and the use of forbidden magic. Congratulations. I couldn't care less,” the god shifts in his throne, now resting his head on one paw, his facade of seriousness gone. His boredom and irritation are apparent. Rodin, for his part, looks resigned to whatever his fate is, though he is intrigued by this change in atmosphere. “Celestia and Luna still like this old palace of theirs, and didn't like learning what you've done with it. I managed to convince them they were being childish about the whole thing. You’re welcome.” I bow my head, “Thank you, Discord, how can we repay you?” “Oh, I’ll think of something.” He replies, with a glint of mischievousness. “Anyway, that just takes care of the first two. I’m mostly interested in why and how you killed Timber.” The captain clears his throat, but Rodin interrupts him. “I can answer this. We set out to destroy whatever was creating the wooden wolves that were attacking us. When I discovered that our target, Timber, was an Immortal, I decided to use overwhelming force. I had an item known as a fire crystal, which I have been storing excess magic in since I first received it as a young man. In unleashing all of that power, I believe that I destroyed Timber’s physical body, leaving only some kind of glass sphere in which his soul resided. Thinking that he would return from such a state and destroy us, and not possessing any other method of killing him, I used the rune of Destruction to remove him from existence entirely.” He tells his tale with restrained professionalism, sort of like a soldier, I muse. Discord laughs long and hard, wiping a stray tear from one eye. “Oh perfection! The old bastard got his butt handed to him by humans, twice!” I’m not so sure if Rodin’s tale counts as two separate events, but I keep my mouth shut. “Anyway. Outright destruction is strictly forbidden in this world. You’re going to have to be punished for that.” Before anyone can object, he snaps his fingers, and Rodin is enveloped in a bright white light. The light dissipates, and Rodin is still sitting there, a confused look on his face. “Rodin? ” I ask carefully, “What did he do?” His brow furrows in concentration, and a look of surprise dawns on his face. “He… took the runes of Creation and Destruction from me. I don’t know what they look like anymore.” “Not only that,” Discord states, “Even if you or your daughter manage to learn them again, they will no longer work. I must say, your magic is quite the masterpiece. Whoever made it is quite the artiste,” the god says, drawing out the pronunciation of that last word in a strange way. “Regardless. Now that the unpleasantries are out of the way, allow me to be the third to welcome you to Equestria!” Discord exclaims, and a faint musical tune begins playing in the background. The whirlwind slows and objects begin bobbing in time to the gyrating notes. The god lifts some sort of black, plastic, half-mask onto his face, so that it only covers his eyes as he rests against the back of his throne. “So tell me about yourselves. Where are you from?” This is probably a question I should be answering, so I speak up, “We hail from another world, where our village was part of the Kingdom of Wisdom. Our world ended. The last we heard, the Kingdom of Might had fallen, and our own armies were marching out to do battle with the evil ones. We must have lost, because not a day later the demons were spotted on the horizon. It was at that moment that our gods must have intervened, and we were sent to this land. Had they not, we would all be very much dead.” Discord looked at me, an emotion I couldn't see past the mask, on his face. “Well that’s depressing. And you landed in the most dangerous place in Equestira too: the Everfree forest. Good job surviving here, by the way. Tell me more about these gods of yours.” “Our world contains… contained, hundreds of gods; they had organized themselves into three pantheons. The first, the pantheon of Good, were our creators, and they nurtured and cared for us from on high. The second, the pantheon of Evil, sought to unmake us and the world, and in the end they succeeded. The third’s name, I do not know, though some believe them to represent the forces of Balance. It is rare for a god to be physically present on the material plane such as yourself,” I finish with another bow from my seat. Discord spends a long moment simply thinking about what I have just said. Slowly, he starts to chuckle, “Ohohoho! This is too good to pass up!” His eyes light up, as if he just had a brilliant idea, turning to face his audience of four. He then utters the one phrase all men instinctively fear when spoken by a god. “I’d like to propose a deal.” I fight down a sudden surge of panic, and turn to my friends and co-workers. The good captain looks uneasy, but as stoic as ever. The good healer seems to be measuring discord with his eyes, suspicion plainly evident. Rodin seems intrigued, as if he’s calculating exactly what he might be able to get out of such a deal. What do I feel? I feel like a god with the power to reduce me to a stain on the floor is asking if I want to co-operate or not. “W-Well then, let’s hear it,” I force out. “I’ll be honest with you, the other gods of this world will want to change you. You are a violent species, and violence hasn't been prevalent for thousands of years here. It simply doesn't factor in to daily life anymore. This forest is the exception.” He gestures around the pavilion, while taking a sip from a glass of some brown liquid that wasn't there a second ago. “They will want to change your very nature to fit in with their Harmony. But I like your nature, and I’m convinced that you can fit in, in spite of, or perhaps because of, your more… chaotic tendencies.” “What I propose is the following. I will make sure that you and your descendants retain your ‘humanity’ and your free will. I’ll also make sure the afterlife here doesn't reject your souls. I will even do everything in my power to keep your race from going extinct. And on top of that, I’ll do my best to make sure you integrate successfully with society here, while retaining your own culture.” “And in return?” I ask, waiting for the other boot to drop. “Well, I’d expect you to at least consider my words when I have something to say,” his voice drips with sarcasm, perhaps he is not usually trusted? “and naturally, I’d expect you not to make deals with other gods without my approval. The occasional personal favor would be nice too. I would also get to show you how to induce chaos in ‘a socially acceptable manner’, and having more chaos running around is always a bonus for me.” I frown. “How much of this proposal are you being required to do by Celestia and Luna, anyway?” I say, half afraid that he would be caught off guard by this. He didn't seem fazed at all by my question. “None of it, really. If you don’t want my help, making sure you all stay in the Everfree and therefore never getting the opportunity to imbalance the Harmony within Equestira, would satisfy my obligations. Of course, I don’t think they expected me to actually champion your race, so they might not be so wonderfully pleased when they find out. Oh I can’t wait to see their faces!” He devolves into anticipatory laughter, and snaps his fingers. A sheet of paper appears on the table, next to a quill and inkwell. Looking at it, I can see our conversation transcribed on it. I turn to the others. “What are your thoughts? Do you think we should we call a council for this?” I inquire, passing them the paper and quill. Captain Weathers shakes his head. “In this they would trust your judgment. After all, the god is not asking the council to decide. I would vote yes; having a god on our side is preferable to having one against us.” Mender nods, “All gods are dangerous beyond measure, but I doubt this one wishes us harm. Even if he did, we could not stop him. I vote yes.” Rodin is grinning. “Well come on, how much fun would it be to say no? I mean, a physically present god wants to show us the ropes and watch our backs because he likes us! How can anyone say no to that? I say yes!” I’m still not sure whether this is going to bite us in the ass later. “Then it’s decided, on behalf of humanity, we agree.” Each of us in turn signs the document. Discord gives us a toothy smile and snaps his fingers.