//------------------------------// // XVIII - Fear of the Dark // Story: Snickersnatch // by SpiralWriter //------------------------------// [Snickersnatch] By: Quisky Chapter Eighteen: Fear of the Dark "Ohhh . . . " Goldguard moaned, stretching his neck from the soreness in it and the throbbing pain spreading its tendrils through his head, starting from the base of his neck. Cheap shot, hit on the back of the head into unconsciousness. He slowly opened his eyes, only to trade one darkness for another. Looks like they were someplace completely without lights. It was cold, and smelled rather dusty, but what was the difference between this and the inn? He felt lighter, much lighter before, and the comforting cold feel of his metal armor was gone, making him shiver a bit. Looks like he was without his armor . . . again. Goldguard sighed, knowing he'd get chewed out by Captain Armor for such a travesty. And he had kept it so shiny and dent-free. He tried to stand up, but found himself immobile, ropes cutting up against him, bound to a chair no doubt. The solar guard sighed, having to be content with being tied up by unknown assailants and shoved into a dark room for now. His ears perked up at a scuffling sound coming from somewhere behind him, followed by some choice words echoing quite angrily. "Bucking . . . flying feathered . . . no good sons of . . . " A voice growled from the dark. "Agatha?" He asked tentatively. "What is it?! Can't you see I'm busy?!" The griffin roared back, sending a shake through the room, dust and dirt falling from the ceiling around them. Goldguard had to spit some out of his mouth before he spoke. "You're shouting angrily at nothing . . . " "No! At whatever knocked us out and tied us up!" "Oh, you're tied up too?" ". . ." ". . . That was a stupid question, wasn't it?" He asked sadly, already knowing the answer to his own question. "Glad you figured it out on your own. "Agatha sighed in exasperation, her grunts ringing along with the sound of her struggling against her own bindings. "Can't get out either?" ". . . No, I'm just sitting here shuffling the chair around for my own amusement." "You're a very rude griffin." "Have you even met a griffin before?! We're all rude!" She growled, more scuffling from her side of the room. "I'm sure there are some nice ones out there." Goldguard replied encouragingly, moving side to side, trying to loosen up his own tight ropes around him. All he really did was give himself bad rope burn across the shoulder of his forelegs and over his stomach. "Just gotta . . ." Agatha mumbled to herself, followed by the sound of the chair hopping up and down. Even with the noises, the guard could not tell what was going on behind him. "Agatha . . . what are you doing?" He asked as the motion only persisted. The griffin, despite how dark it was, could manage to find where the ropes were on her just fine. With a great lurching motion, she reared her head up then jabbed her beak downwards, the sharp point making contact with the rope, splintering it. She repeated it over and over, feeling the fabric of the rope fray more and more after ever attempt, until finally, with a roar and a push of her forelimbs, she tore the rope right off of her. "Ha!" She exclaimed triumphantly, standing up and knocking her chair aside. After stumbling about in the dark for a brief moment, her forehand came over a door latch. With a light tug, she opened it, revealing an eery lantern's yellow glow to fill to the room. Her silhouette was briefly illuminated for Goldguard to see in the doorframe. ". . . Agatha?" He asked, eyes blinking to get used to the light. With a smirk and a chuckle, she stepped out, closing the door shut and enveloping Goldguard once again in darkness, now alone in the room. He sighed, knowing all too well she'd leave him. At least he could do what he needed to do to escape now. His horn flashed briefly as he casted a spell. Pawpads silently waded through a small puddle of water that had gathered on the cavern floor, most likely from the eternal drip from a leaky crack above, forever to drop ancient water time and time again. Legion was tense, every voice buzzing as they took in their familiar surroundings. "We're trapped . . . again!" "I smell the weird scent." "Can't be stuck again . . . can't be . . ." "Would all of you just shut up?!" Fenrir growled, quieting most of the other voices instantly. Even after centuries, most still respected his word. "All we need to do is find some even ground to dig, then we can head upwards." He said mentally, words echoing through the vast corners of his mind to the rest of the pack, who all listened intently. "Something seems different about this tunnel though . . ." Another voice called out, Siria. She made the body of the Legion pause and feel the dirt and rock neath their paws, sniffing with a bit more vigor to really take in the scents around them. The grain of the ancient ground beneath them felt rugged, freshly dug, and carved out from something other than pony digging tools or diamond dog claws. Legion's nose went into the air, then back to the ground, and even sniffed along a nearby wall. The ancient scent of Tartarus was everywhere, but upon further inspection, only the heaviest layer of scent, not the oldest. It was new, introduced to this tunnel recently. Underneath the layer of the hellish pit, the Legion found a new scent. Cold. Scratchy. Insect. "The changing bugs are here." "Me thinks they're called changelings." "Why would they build tunnel here? There is no hive around." "It really makes no sense." Siria mused. "The only thing around here for miles is the Shades and swampland." "Which reminds me that we have to leave. Get back to the surface. I hate this place." Fenrir growled, sounding a bit nervous, something one such as him rarely was. A diamond dog made its living underground, and felt no more natural than in the dirt and under the earth, but something about Tartarus just changed the dog's mentality. Centuries of walking the undermines gave a innate fear of the dark and rocky, whatever echoed in those tunnels could've been anything from your own breathing to a hungry beast just around the corner. "We can't leave. Not yet." Siria shook her head as much as a disembodied voice could shake one's own head. "Alpha Oddjob told us to investigate the scent. We found this tunnel, but need to find out why it has Tartarus smell all over it." This sent the thousand souls into a frenzy of discussion and argument. Some sided with Fenrir, wishing to leave the tunnel they found themselves in as quickly a possible, not wanting to stay a second longer than they needed to, while others did want to stay with Siria and do as their Alpha commanded. Some really were just shouting and babbling random nonsense to be heard. Being just a soul shoved into a frail mind does tend to fracture one's psyche after some time. Eventually, the shouting match came to a close as the voices died down to allow the two most prominent ones to duke it out verbally. It almost always came down to Siria and Fenrir making the big decisions like always, each one opposite and a radically different choice for the pack. Fenrir more irrational and relying on emotion and instinct, Siria loyally and logically following commands and facts. They were still somewhat mated in the eyes of the pack, so it was like watching two parents squabbling to them. "Staying is death!" "Oh please, we've survived much worse than a silly tunnel." "Tartarus is here!" "No it's not, just the scent is. This tunnel isn't actually part of the pit." "Still we must go. Not safe." "Not safe up there either. Noticed many more sinkholes. Plus, strange feeling from Hollow Shades, makes my fur crawl." " . . . " A small silence fell over the clan as Fenrir mulled over his mate's words, scratching his own chin slowly. " . . . Fine. We stay. Alpha Oddjob would want it." "Good. Glad you agree." Siria smiled coyly. The body of the Legion let out a sigh as it continued to trek through this unknown tunnel, gathering as much information it could find on the varying scents available. The changeling scent was almost as fresh as the newly-introduced Tartarus stench, but the changeling seemed . . . different as well. Chitinous, cold, but much colder than usual, almost carrying the reek of dead matter. Very unsettling. As the white-furred diamond dog slowly trotted trodded through the darkened cavern, examining whatever odd whiff or feeling underneath their paws, a sound in distance forced his ears up to take it in. Steps. Slightly heavy. Bird, eagle? Cat, lion. The griffin, Agatha. What was she doing here? "Aren't you cold?" Came the digitized voice of Penny, dinging out amongst the pitter-patter of raindrops falling on various surfaces. "Naw, got a fire going on inside." I replied, puffing out a few sparks from twixt my fangs, only for them to die out as they were slain by the hailfire of falling water droplets. "Fires normally mean electrical problems. You should see a technician about that." She sounded very serious in her reply. I turned to look at the robotic mare and blinked a couple times. " . . . Thanks, I'll, uh, look into that." "Good! I have a few I can recommend." Penny beamed with a broad smile, trotting through the rain unaffected by the elements that would normally have her circuits fried in a second. The coat would be soaking wet later on, but for now the thick material it was made of seemed to be keeping her and Barry the fruit bat quite dry for now. I could see his little red form peeking out of the inner pocket, gazing around as Penny and I made our way closer to the figures we had spotted earlier. They seemed to be ponies running the marketplace stands we had noticed yesternight. Their motions seemed slow and apathetic, as if running a nine-to-five job and trying to sell your wares for a living in pouring rain and cold conditions sucked the energy and life outta you. Just a helpful tip from experience: it does. A small patch of land just outside of the ominously looming town hall held a dozen stands and a dozen ponies, one at each, all mumbling to one another and halfheartedly trying to convince one another to purchase their selection of soggy fruit, hoof-made crafts, or itchy-looking clothing. As we approached, I noticed something a little . . . off about each one of them. Now normally the ponies of Equestria were a brightly colored bunch, every shade and hue of the rainbow visible. But these ponies here . . . they were as colorful as the splotchy gray sky above. They just oozed an aura of tiredness, a field of soul-sucking boredom around them, their eyes glazed over and mouths slightly open as they stared into the abyss. "I wanna buy a hat." Penny smiled as she approached the first stand nearest to us. The merchant pony of gray noted us with barely the slightest of nods. "Oddjob, give me bits." She turned to me, extending her hoof just enough from out of underneath the coat to accept the money that I did not have. I shrugged and shook my head. "Sorry, no cash on me. I've been kinda jobless for the past decade." She frowned, followed by a downtrodden deepened beep that relayed her mood. I sighed and gave her a light tap with my hand. "Hey, maybe later. If I'm getting paid for this investigation, you'll be getting a hat soon." "Yay!" She clapped her metal hooves. "I want a bonnet." With another nod, I turned from her to the pony running the stand. Speaking of the investigation. "Umm, excuse me." I coughed at her, eyes glancing up at me with no spark of interest whatsoever. Her eyes seemed almost dead, very similar to a little mutt I knew. "Yes, err, hello. I'm here from orders of the Princess," I lifted up the sleeve of my jacket so that the sigil of the royals was visible. "And I'm conducting an investigation. Word traveled that there were changeling sightings around this area. We were wondering if you knew anything about that." Slowly did she raise her head to look up at me. No emotion, no sign that even the lights were on upstairs. Her mouth pantomimed a voice that seemed straight out of an old film, scratchy and hard to understand. "No. Swamp's been quiet. Always has been, always will." I honestly didn't believe her. Every last one of us had a strange feeling about this place the moment we stepped foot in it. "Well, evidence goes against that. We came from Manehattan, some eye witnesses declaring that some changelings had been seen on the way. Are you sure nothing out of the ordinary has happened?" "The only out of ordinary thing here is you, stranger, and your friends. You're not welcome here, the swamp does not like you." ". . . What?" "The swamp does not like you. We do not like you." "Well that's rude. Hmmph!" Penny beeped, stopping her mud splashing to interject into the conversation. "The dear is right, that is rude." A voice from behind muttered out. I turned slightly, noting Ms. Creaks hobbling over towards up, the rain pattering against her body and soaking it. She didn't seem to mind enough however. Maybe she was used to it? "Why don't you let the jabberwocky know what's going on?" "Yeah! Why don't you let the jabberwocky-" I paused. I mean, it was obvious I was one, but I don't actually recall telling her that. My mind worked out the fact that I had somewhat become a famous figure, but the story might've died down over the ten years I was petrified. Echoes of Goldguard's voice went through my head. In over twenty years, no reports had come from this little town, and probably nothing had gone in. Nobody ever visited, nobody knew anything. Creaks and the stand-owner shared a glance, the air crackling with tension, my scales and feathers standing on end, aware of the danger before it even happened. I ducked out of the way just before something long and spiked slashed in the direction of where my neck had been seconds before, intentions of decapitation most likely. I reared back up in a fighting stance, but what I expected to see was not there. With wide eyes, I cringed. The pony morphed in front of me in a slur of body parts and visceral mass. From fur to blackened chitin it became, jittering and twitching with insectous, dead eyes, mouth slightly parted to reveal fangs and foam. The foreleg spastically shifted from what had appeared to be a literal fucking blade back to a hoof filled with holes. A changeling, much unlike what I had seen on the show, hissed at me, crawling over the stand in an attempt to attack. "They're all yours. Let the Scourge know I did my part." Ms. Creak's chuckled with an old, hollow laugh, heading back to her inn just as the storm began to pick up, the rain pouring down even heavier than before, as if a wall of wet was falling continuously, thunder booming overhead with flashes of lightning illuminating the area. My eyes darted back and forth as I backed away from the encroaching overgrown insect, sounds of hissing and chittering rising over the splashing and roar of rain. There was more of them. From the swamp they came, rising out of the muck, literally coming out of the woodworks in droves, dozens of changelings, all bearing that odd twitching motion, looking slow and lumbering like so many undead in a zombie flick. Goldguard was right. We were in a horror movie. E ND O F A C T T H R E E