//------------------------------//
// Hunting Grounds 
// Story: Contracted 
// by Slywolf930 
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Hunting Grounds

The light from the sun was fading. Most of the land was being covered in darkness. The only reprieve from the darkness was the moon that was rising into the sky. The clouds were also rolling in front of the moon, only adding to the darkness. The barn in front of him lost its red color to be replaced by the black of the night.
Marx was sitting on top of his hill, watching the activity below. He had gotten here not too long ago, but decided that he’d make sure the residents weren’t expecting him. They didn’t look very friendly however, as the majority of those coming and going had scars and angry faces, as well as not-so hidden weapons.
Marx stood up from his position as the moon hit the center of the sky. There was one thing he knew about this place. Whoever was in charge was trying to do something big. You can’t put a hit on the elements of harmony for just any reason. If there was any way he could get his karma in the good, stopping them would be the best bet.
Marx made his way down the hill quickly. His eyes were set on the barn, but he would check to make sure none of the guards would see him. Marx was now standing in front of the barn. The doors were closed, but he could hear voices coming from within. Marx took out one of his spring razor traps and dug a hole in the ground. After it was set up, he swung the doors wide open. There was no point in going in stealthy.
The doors creaked open, causing all conversation to stop. Marx was standing in the entrance, his crossbow out and loaded. The room was filled with ponies of all three races, as well as with weapons that lined the floors and walls covered with extra weapons. All except one wall. There was a staircase leading up to the second floor, where Marx could see paper was put up on one wall, with tough looking guards looking down at him.
“Welcome, I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again, Marx,” A voice called. Marx looked up and saw that it was his contractor up above that called him out. He was smiling, but that smile turned into a frown. “Kill him,” He finished.
The sound of metal filled the air as weapons of all varieties rose up. Marx stepped to the side of an incoming arrow and fired his crossbow blindly into the crowd. Suddenly the giant crowd charged towards him, some spinning flails and others sprinting with javelins. Marx backed up into the wide expanse of a moonlit field behind him. This was going to be a while.
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“You idiots, he’s a professional mercenary, attack in a group, not one at a time!” The leader called out to his guards. Marx had his sword out, the blade dripping blood. There were already a few bodies on the ground, and Marx wasn’t even out of breath yet.
Marx ducked an axe swing as he slashed at the legs of the attacking pony. He continued with an upward swing that grazed the pony’s hoof and caused him to drop his axe. Marx kicked off him to dodge the swing of a longsword. He landed on his hooves and blocked the next swing. Marx dropped to the ground as he heard the sound of hoof steps behind him. The pony stumbled on Marx’s body and fell forward, his flail landing on his head.
Marx rolled back up only to have to sidestep an arrow. He gave one glance at his sword before throwing it in a line at the archer. The archer was too surprised to react and was cut in the throat in an instant. Marx grabbed the flail from the fallen pony and used it to parry an approaching stab from a dagger. He swung it quickly at the assailant’s knees and caused him to drop.
Marx swung the flail faster than he should have and sent the whole weapon towards a pony coming from behind. The pony dropped a spear as he fell from the blunt blow. Marx rolled forward and dodged a halberd as he grabbed the spear and stabbed the halberdier in the back of the leg. The halberdier bent down, but he didn’t fall. Marx spun the spear to stop a throwing knife and instead of stopping his spin, he sent it towards the halberdier’s back, causing him to fall forward.
Marx pulled the scythe from off his back and immediately sent it into the pony with the longsword’s neck. Marx pulled it back out only to have to block an incoming shortsword swing. Just as he was getting ready to swing, he felt pain in his shoulder. Marx saw the red liquid as it rolled down to his hooves. Marx turned around and sent the scythe into the guilty pony’s chest, a streak of blood flying into the air and spraying on Marx.
Marx ducked a swing from the shortsword before swinging the blood stained scythe at the pony. Another cry of pain and Marx had taken down yet another foe. Before he could prepare himself, there was another sting of pain as Marx’s hoof gave out. There was a deep gash that Marx could see. Behind him, a pony was getting ready for another swing with the curved blade.
Marx disarmed him with the scythe. When he went for the finishing blow, his scythe was knocked out of his hooves by a small projectile. His hooves were in pain from the disarmament. Marx rolled to the side of a battleaxe landing next to him. His hooves were near the halberd that the other pony had. Marx stepped with a lot of force on the handle side of the halberd.
Just when the battleaxe pony was swinging forward again, Marx made contact and the halberd shot up in front of him. Marx grabbed it and quickly beheaded the battleaxe to just a pole. Marx continued his swing and managed to cut and wound a few hesitant enemies. Marx was panting from his exhaustion of the heavy weapons, but there were still a handful of guards left. These guards didn’t look as easily beaten as the others as they stepped on bodies to get to him.
“Finish him!” The leader called from inside.
The five remaining guards didn’t hesitate to charge at once. Marx dropped the dead weight of the halberd and dashed away to not get caught in the center. He raced to the barn doors and jumped in. When one of the guards pursued with his wings, Marx grinned under his racing breath. When the sound of the Wing razor didn’t register, his grin turned into a frown.
“You had one job,” Marx muttered under his breath as he looked around for a new weapon. All the weapons on the walls had been taken, and now Marx regretted dropping the halberd. As the Pegasus reached him, Marx realized the pony was holding one of the Dawn Guard’s spears.
Marx waited for the Pegasus to lunge forward. Time seemed to slow as the spear inched closer to him. Just when it looked like he was going to be hit, Marx used his hoof to knock the spear towards the ground, stopping the Pegasus’ momentum and causing him to fly forward without his spear. Marx grabbed the spear and put up a defensive stance.
Marx turned to face the approaching four guards. The one with a Shadow Guard’s Rapier stepped forward, bringing the rapier towards Marx like he’d used it all his life. When Marx tried to parry, the rapier was brought immediately back for another strike. Marx only managed to block the attacks and jump back the first moment he got. As the next barrage of strikes came, Marx noticed the complete opening.
Marx was scraped on the side of his face and backed away once again. This time, Marx switched the spear to be held dominantly on his left side instead of his right. When the Rapier came, it never reached halfway towards him. The rapier was in air as the spear stuck out of the pony’s body and came in at a forty five degree angle. The rapier dropped to the ground and the pony fell back, the spear sticking out and leaking blood everywhere.
Marx picked up the rapier as the remaining three guards regained their composure. They had silently agreed to let them duel it out. Now, Marx turned to the one in the front and was about to attack until there was a slight click sound. Marx instinctively dropped to the ground as a spear headed bolt shot above him. When he looked up, the remaining three guards were falling to the floor with bolts sticking out of them. One had two because he tried to dodge. He wasn’t very good at dodgeball growing up.
Marx picked himself off the ground, his body suddenly realizing how much stress he put on it in so short of a time. Marx looked up to where the leader was, his face in disgust as moans could be heard in the background. Marx walked up the steps slowly, his breathing quick but under control. When he reached the top, he noticed that there was somepony in the shadows. In the corner opposite him, Marx saw the glint of a blade as it left its sheath.
“Moravia, kill that son of a bitch!” The leader called out. His own blade was sheathed, and he didn’t look like he had any intention to use it. The pony in the corner, however, immediately stepped out of the shadows. Her coat was a light orange, and her mane was a bright but dirty red. She didn’t smile as her blade was held expertly in front of her.
“Get out of my way, I have no quarrels with you,” Marx said quietly. He could already feel his red aura deepening from the bloodshed he’d committed. Nothing please these gods, apparently.
“Neither have I with you,” Moravia said. She had a soft tone, but her eyes looked blurred and lifeless. When she had her blade out, it was almost like she didn’t enjoy what she was about to do.
‘Welcome to the club,’ Marx thought as she made the first move.
Marx was immediately alarmed. She didn’t look fast or strong, but he barely had time to react to the stab. Marx tried to knock the sword away, but she only clashed blades and forced him back. When Marx swung to attack, she dodged the attack like she knew it was coming. Then, something caught his eyes when she turned to dodge. There was something illuminating on her neck.
Marx backed up, curious. “What’s that on your neck?” Marx felt like an amateur, asking questions during a fight. He was really curious though. (Not to mention they do it in anime all the time).
Moravia flinched from the question before Marx heard the leader’s voice in the background. “Don’t just stand there, do as I say! Kill him!” The leader called out. Marx noticed that Moravia’s neck glowed once more as she charged forward.
Marx had to block and dodge the flurry of swings, but he noticed the whole time that Moravia’s emotion never changed. She had a blank face to go with her emotionless eyes. When Marx managed to counter her upward swing, he cut the left side of her face and caused blood to start pouring out. The blood went into her left eye and she had to close it.
“Don’t you feel pain?” Marx was mentally puzzled by her lack of emotion. She did clench her teeth, but that was about it. Then, Marx heard the reason.
“Idiot, she’ll do what I say until she dies! No matter how much you cut her, she’ll fight until either one of you falls. Even if you both die, it won’t stop my plans,” The leader said.
“This isn’t a fucking anime, stop giving me facts about the fight... Actually, is she under your control?” Marx asked. Now that Moravia had turned her head to look directly at him with her right eye, Marx could see the markings on her neck. It was a symbol that glowed brighter when she was given directions. Just then, he could see something. It was a flicker of the eyes as she looked from the leader to him.
Marx had a thought itching in the back of his head. This mare didn’t want to fight, she was being used. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he killed her, actually he would, he’s done much worse, but that’s not the point. Not that it was the wrong thing to do, but you know, karma wise that really would make him go red. Marx thought he remembered something when he was little. It was a long time ago, and he could barely remember what was said.
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“Changelings all follow one queen. She controls them all with a mark on their necks,” The voice said. It was a scholarly voice and Marx remembered having a book under his hooves as it was being said. They were being taught this when they were growing up.
“But then the changelings can’t do what they want to do,” Rogue asked.
“Precisely Rogue, although… when she doesn’t tell the changelings what to do for an extended period of time, they get their freedom until she calls on them again,”
“So it’s like having a slave from the olden times?” Marx asked, remembering what they’d learned a few weeks prior.
“I want a slave, then I can do what I want and my slave will get punished for it,” Dalen said enthusiastically.
“Slaves are no joking matter. Also, If the queen chose to, she could give a pony a special mark that lets them have their own slaves, although there is no reason why she would do that,” The teacher said.
“Still, there’s a chance,” Dalen said, not being deterred.
“If the queen lets a pony have his own slave, will the slave have to do everything the pony says?” Rogue asked.
“Of course, although ponies are only limited to one slave. They simply don’t have enough energy to control more than that,” The teacher said.
“It takes energy to control slaves?” Dalen asked, “I’m going to get a lot of energy so I can have hundreds!”
“The queen has a lot of energy so she can do that, but ponies can’t get that much unless you’re an alicorn. When you run out of energy, the slave gets their own free will until you get more, that’s why the queen lets the changelings do what they want sometimes, because otherwise she’ll run out of energy and things could get out of hand,” The teacher explained.
“I’m not going to let my slaves have any free roam, I’m going to chain them up and put them in a cage when I’m not using them, then I’ll get my energy back before letting them out,” Dalen said, an evil grin on his face.
“You’re one messed up colt, you know that?” The teacher asked Dalen. “I think things have gotten out of hand… why don’t you kids go take a break for now?” The teacher asked. A cheer erupted in the room before the kids departed for outside.
“I didn’t want a slave anyway…” Dalen said to himself as he filed out of the room. Marx could tell he was hurt by the teacher’s statement.
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Marx looked over to the leader; his face was distorted in insanity and bloodlust. Well if he wanted bloodlust, then Marx would give it to him. Since when he was a kid, he further learned what slaves were. After he learned their true uses in the olden times, he’d suppressed learning about it, but now he was glad he remembered that information. There were a few things he opposed, and this was one of them.
Marx threw the rapier at Moravia, where she quickly deflected it. Moravia rushed forward, seeing Marx was unarmed. “Yes, kill him!” The leader cried as Marx reached his hoof back up. The crossbow was already strapped on and loaded. The crossbow raised and pointed at the leader who showed fear as Marx pushed the trigger. He wouldn’t be able to react fast enough.
Marx didn’t hesitate to fire, but he could feel the pain as Moravia’s blade cut deep into his side and part of his chest in one quick swing. As Marx fell to the ground, he knew that he was going to die. Even still, he fell with a smile towards Moravia as the light on her neck pulsated.
Then just like that, the emotions in the room had shifted. Marx could feel for the first time in a long time that he was content with dying. Even if his red aura was redder than the blood pouring rapidly out of his body, he had at least saved one person in this foolish attempt. It was selfish and he secretly hated himself for only coming to get good karma. Moravia on the other hand, dropped the blade and looked towards the leader who was on the floor, unmoving. Now, she ran down the steps to a cabinet on the wall.
Inside the cabinet were bandages and other first aid equipment. She grabbed a few rolls and ran back up to Marx. After careful administration of the bandages, she checked his heart beat. There was no pulse. As she continued listening, there was a ghostly echo in the room.
Two  ghostly figures were standing above Marx and Moravia, both with frowns on their faces. When Moravia started to cry, the one with a bloody scythe stepped forward. “Wait,” The other called. She put a hoof up to stop him and waited.
“He’s dead, you know,” The reaper of death said quietly. The reaper of life beside him said nothing as she continued watching. Finally, Moravia put her hoof on Marx. Her eyes were hollow now, and the tears stopped flowing. She muttered a few words under her breath before a rush of energy visually left her and entered Marx.
“No way,” The reaper of death said. He took a step back as Moravia put her ear to Marx’s chest again. She heard a faint thump. Moravia sighed before sitting back and applying the rest of the bandages.
“Looks like Marx cheated us again,” The reaper of life said with a small smile on her face.
“Still, I can take this guy, can’t I?” The reaper of death asked, pointing to the leader’s body.
“By all means, I’ll be glad to see his soul in Tartarus. But I’m getting really interested in what’s going on in the mortal world. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen somepony like her,” Moravia was shedding tears again as Marx’s heartbeat reached normal levels. “I think I might have some fun myself…” The reaper of life said.
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Rogue looked across the forest hill towards the faded red barn below. Immediately, she gasped. The ground below was red with blood and weapons dotted the ground of bodies. She rushed forward with two others behind her. They too, were shocked at what they saw.
The three of them, Rogue, Myst, and O.L. entered the barn. They reached the stop stairs to find only one body on the ground.
“That’s him,” O.L. said to the others. “Guess he got what was coming,”
“O.L., is this what you were looking for?” Myst asked. He was looking at a wall with papers stuck to it. Beneath the wall were rolls of paper and a sheathed golden sword.
O.L. went to the rolls and studied them before looking at the wall. He scratched his chin before nodding. “It’s worse than I thought. This isn’t the only group in league with the changelings. There’s got to be at least ten more. And…” O.L. raised an eyebrow at a drawing that was on the wall.
“And what? Ten of these guys wouldn’t be so bad,” Rogue said.
“And there are two in griffin territory and one in zebra territory. This is going to be a full on war,” O.L. said slowly.
“How long until it starts?” Myst asked, surprised at the information.
“It could be months… or days…,” O.L. said.
“Then let’s get going,” Rogue said. She walked down the steps while O.L. collected the paper off the wall and put the scrolls in his bags. Rogue stopped when she saw a body on the floor with a wooden bow next to him.
Rogue stared at the body for a second. She felt something was off, even more off than the ground that was littered with bodies. It didn’t register with her instantly. It took something Myst said next to her for her to realize what it was.
“Can’t believe somebody beat us to it.” Myst said, kicking the body in front of Rogue.
Rogue squinted her eyes. “Recluse has some explaining to do,”