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// My Hangmare, the Comedian 
// Story: Mark of the Wyld 
// by DarkParable 
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	You know, before everything that happened I don't think I ever stopped to appreciate the sheer beauty of the gallows. Now, as morbid as that sounds, there is a beauty to those wooden beams and platforms. They have the grace and loveliness only granted by something built for a specific function and perfectly suited to fill that function. They have the same allure to them that a well made sword has, no adornments, no frills, nothing but unfeeling and precision engineered functionality.

This particular set of gallows was a fine example of such things. The actual crossbeam was supported on either side by thick and sturdy struts. Those in turn rested upon a platform raised a god ten feet off the flagstone courtyard in which the whole kit and caboodle sat. The whole structure was re-enforced here and there with iron, ensuring that it would stand the test of time and the weight of the condemned for as long as it should stand to bring about the final sleep.

I suppose the shocking thing about this should be that ponies even had such things, but I was far beyond being shocked by such things in all honesty. My time here had gone and shown me that despite what I had been shown by an overly idealized television show this world had no place in it for anything like myself. No place, that was, beyond a dark being to be feared and hated... And a hole six feet deep soon to be filled.

As it was, that was starting to sound like it would be nice in all honesty. They'd gone and moved my cage to sit before this example of perfected capitol punishment, leaving me with nothing to do but sit and wait for the day I'd get a tight new neck tie and learn to dance the hangman's jig. I hated to admit it, but I'd pretty much given into despair at this point. I couldn't escape. Couldn't move too much. Couldn't do a damn thing to ease the discomfort I felt in any sense of the words. Mental, physical, emotional... It all piled up and not even those dear souls who clung tightly to my back could comfort me any longer.

I was honestly surprised that they had remained with me, those ghosts who'd been the only source of warmth I'd had since Colt's Breath showed its true colors to me. Ironic considering just who's souls these were, eh? Still, even with my limited range of motion I could still stroke the half ethereal substance of my cloak. Could comfort those souls even if they could not return the favor for me at the moment. Before anyone thinks to ask, not that you would considering that you likely shouldn't be reading this, they were quite saddened by my sadness. I have no clue why that would be, but it was. Best not to question such things, just makes that bastard Murphy cream his shorts and do something to fuck up your day.

Speaking of days, as the sun came into view above the rooftops I knew the day  had dawned. My final day, less than two hours remained for me. Even though it was still fairly early in the morning the courtyard had already began to fill. Ponies packing in like sardines to see the monster swing. Young, old, didn't matter. They'd come to see something bestial die, see their world become all the safer. Sickening... Where was the love and tolerance when I'd needed it?

Ten minutes before my appointed time I was let out of my cage for the first time since I'd placed in there... And nearly burst into tears as the spirits left me, a final ghostly caress in parting was all I got before they took Pravus and vanished like mist before the dawn... Even the blasted axe was leaving me to my fate it seemed. I stood there, completely bare before my tormentors, and soon to be executioners, and for the first time since I awoke on Equis... I felt completely powerless.

I could feel the shackles around my wrists and ankles cutting tightly into my skin. Could feel the runic power restrained behind the wards placed on my bonds. Those mattered little however before the other things I felt. Soul crushing despair, deep seated fear, the finality of every shuffling step as I was herded up onto the platform. My head hung low, glowing icy blue eyes half closed and face set in what to the ponies must have been a horrid expression. To me, it was simply me trying to keep from crying.

"Citizens!" rang out the voice of the hangmare. "Today you all bear witness to justice. For the crimes of murder, with counts numbering far too high to recount in total in our allotted time. Necromancy, fifteen counts. Black magics, one hundred reported counts. Attempted regicide, one count. Formation of a necromantic cult, one count. And heinous misconduct unbecoming a lesser species, five counts, the courts have sentenced this being to hang by the neck until dead. Here, under the light of Celestia's charge, we carry out this sentence."

With that the noose was placed around my neck and tightened. I couldn't hold it back any longer, I finally broke. I stood there, staring out at the assembled ponies as icy tears rolled down my face, forming a frosted crust in their wake as the moisture froze.

"Has the accused any final words?" the hangmare asked. As I opened my mouth to respond she pulled the lever and the world seemed to slow down as I fell. "I guess not." I heard her add.

The drop, while stomach lurching, was short and the ending abrupt. The rope jerked taunt and I felt, and heard, my neck snap cleanly. A few twitches and shudders ran though my body as half formed signals were cut off abruptly with the severing of my spinal cord. I watched the ponies with slowly blurring vision, tears still streaming from my eyes, as I swung slowly. I couldn't move anything but my jaws and eyes, but that seemed unimportant as I struggled to draw some measure of breath. It was a reflexive action, and a pointless one. I didn't need air, so really this should have been bothering me... But it did. I could feel myself slipping away, vision going dark. Before everything faded away, I mouthed a single word. 

"...Why?"





They left the body there for a few days, a warning to other non-ponies in the area as to what would happen should they get uppity. Three days in total they allowed that beast to sway in the wind. Three days before, in the night, they were awoken by a baleful howling as if the dead themselves had come marching upon them. The ponies cowered in their homes, afraid to leave and face whatever had made that horrid sound until the sun shone high above them all. The found their city untouched save for two things. The gallows courtyard had been torn asunder. The cobblestones ripped up and thrown about like confetti at a Pinkie Pie party and the gallows themselves laying broken and splintered. The only other thing that gave them pause was the missing corpse of the monster they'd strung high... They instead found the mutilated corpse of Gentle Swaying, the hang mare. She'd been hacked to pieces, nearly unrecognizable. Her head however had been left in tact, propped up upon the remains of the gallows. Carved into her forehead in careful script were the words... "Any final words?"





In the depths of the small village of Colt's Breath, home of naught but death, the body of Rune was laid upon the platform under which she'd killed the first pony whom she'd thought to call friend. The only pony she'd thought to call friend. For hours nothing stirred in the dead village, the grave silence unbroken. Without preamble or warning a sickening crack broke that silence and a pair of icy eyes opened slowly.