//------------------------------// // Apocalypse Neigh (for the Deer Hunter) // Story: Yaerfaerda // by Imploding Colon //------------------------------// “All stop!” a goblin shouted to the windy air. “All stop!” “Alllllll stop!” Roarke gripped to the hull of the vessel as she felt the entire battleship lurching to a hovering stand-still. She scurried up the port side of the large six-propeller hovercraft and peered up onto the top deck. Along the bow, several imps congregated. A tall goblin in particular stared through a spyglass, then pointed down at a looming plateau. Roarke tilted her head, staring down in the direction the imp had pointed. She saw a camp with several tents, along with banners that bore the Val Roan insignia. A cluster of wagons and catapults had been arranged in a solid line, but it was easily no match for the goblin armaments. “We can burn them so easily, boss!” one goblin rasped. “Melt them to puss and carry them back in jars to Haman!” “Silence!” the leader snarled over the sound of steaming motors. “We will do no such thing! Remember, this is part of Haman's plan! Besides, they're giving us a way in.” “Nnnnrghhh... I don't like all of this beating-around-the-bush business!” “You don't have to like it. You just have to mind your steam and shut up!” The lead imp marched towards the stern. “We're meeting with our contact! Prepare the skiff!” “Aye, sir!” Roarke gritted her teeth beneath her helmet. On flurrying limbs, she climbed across the bow and slid into a porthole of the ship halfway down the port side. Keeping to the shadows, she struggled to make her way to the central hangar compartment before the ship's captain could. On the third floor to the High Council building was the mail office. Several deer and ponies marched back and forth from desk to desk, hoofing through envelopes and notes before slipping them into appropriate satchels. Servants lined up, dressed in blue uniforms, prepared to take their packages and go about their normal rounds throughout the large complex. The entire office was bustling with noise, murmuring voices, and the shuffling of papers. Outside one of the windows, a blue figure loomed. Rainbow Dash shrank out of view almost as immediately as she appeared. Seconds later, she peeked inside, ruby eyes blinking. She saw several clerks with their backs to her. Quietly, she pressed her hooves to the glass panes, feeling around, testing. She discovered that each of the wide-paneled windows pulled up and out. So, cautiously, she started pulling on the one in the center. She had it open about twenty percent of the way when she paused, fidgeting. The pegasus chewed on her lips, gazing directly inside the bustling office. No matter how busy it was inside, she knew that with so many servants working inside it would simply be impossible to slip in unnoticed. She needed a distraction. The mare tapped her chin, hovering in place. After a blink, she turned and glanced at her flapping wings. “... ... ...” She smiled. One after another, Rainbow Dash opened all of the windows, being very slow and gentle about it. She opened them only about halfway, until five whole windows were spread ajar to the outside world along the third story office. Then holding her breath, she flapped her wings and zipped out of view. Inside, one of the servants paused in shuffling through envelopes. She looked up, shivering slightly. “Say...” She turned to the deer next to her. “Is it just me, or did it get really chilly in here?” FWOOOOOOOOOOOSH! A blue pegasus streaked past the window at the speed of sound. P-POW! A clap of thunder issued right outside, and a tumultuous concussion of air billowed in through the windows. Suddenly, the entire mailroom was swarming with loose sheets of paper. A veritable blizzard of envelopes, notes, and scrolls fluttered across the compartment from wall to wall. Servants shrieked and scrambled every which way, fumbling to catch everything and sort it out before the disaster went even further south. Deer and ponies alike shouted at one another in their attempt to avert the sudden, inexplicable crisis. None of them had the wherewithawal to see a nimble blue pegasus slip through one of the windblow windows and gallop up to a wall where a large directory had been hung. Rainbow Dash's eyes scanned and re-scanned the illustrated layout of the High Council and each of its floors. “Come on... come on...” She murmured to herself as sheets collapsed and rustled all around her. “Fishberry... Fishberry...” She gnashed her teeth. “...what's the storyyyyyyyy Fishberry?!” Her gaze swam all over the large, confusing illustration, until it fell upon a room that had been highlighted in gold. She leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “... ... ... 'Chancellor's Office,'” Rainbow Dash read aloud. “'Room 1025. Tenth Floor. West side!' Awesome!” She spun around—only to bump heads with a doe. She looked up. The doe looked up. “Aaaaack!” the servant fell back amidst a sack of papers. Gritting her teeth, Rainbow Dash dove through the flurry of sheets and disappeared out the window beyond. “What is it?!” Another deer ran up. “What's the matter!” “Blue squirrel!” The doe stammered as she was helped up. “I-I swear! I saw a fuzzy blue squirrel just now!” “Pffft... you've been in middle-management for too long. You're imagining things.” Roarke gritted her teeth, sweating profusely. The only spot on board the steam-powered goblin skiff that she could hide herself was right between two of the transport's main thrusters. As a result, her suit's temperature heated up by nearly thirty degrees. Nevertheless, she remained still and inconspicuous, riding the craft as it made its speedy descent to the plateau below the battleship. Soon, the transport touched down, and six goblins walked out onto a platform located at the tiny thing's bow. At the same time, several deer and elk marched forward, coming to a stop on the arid earth. “Hold it!” The lead goblin raised his hand while his compatriots cocked and aimed their rifles. “That's as close as you get, grazers.” “Do not pretend to intimidate us, ingrates,” spook a deep, booming voice. “One false move and our catapults will render that float of yours to dust.” “And then our battleship will turn your camp into a smoking crater!” “And then you'll be blown out of the sky by our soul sentries,” the voice continued. “Which I command and which has allowed you to come here by my choice alone.” “Rrrrgh... let's just get this over with,” the goblin grumbled. “Your desert mountains smell like ass.” “Which makes one wonder why you are so keen on conquering it.” “Enough of that! Do you have the silver?!” At this point, Roarke had climbed down from the skiff. On creeping limbs, she shuffled along the west facing of the dirigible, hiding from both the eyes of the goblin battleship above and whoever might be camped just a hundred feet to the north. She craned her neck, looking around the front of the bow. She saw several reindeer standing and facing the goblins, their antlers glowing with bright green energy. In the middle stood a remarkably tall elk with a stone gray coat. His left eye was cold blue, and the other a sickly gray. From the way the elk glared, it was obvious he favored the blue eye. What was most striking about him was his antlers, or more specifically the lack of them along his left side. Several of the branches had been snapped off, replaced by cold steel prosthetic that glistened with pent-up mana. “We have the silver,” the buck said in an authoritative tone. “And we are prepared to deliver them.” “I swear,” the goblin grumbled. “If a 'but' is coming...” “There's been a development,” the buck said. “Ponies are onto us. Ponies from the west.” “Hey! You don't say!” The goblin snarled. “I don't suppose they have anything to do with the Noble Jury!” Roarke jolted. The buck's gray brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?” “The assholes who've been trolling us for the last two months?!” The imp barked, “Our boss Haman's been begging and begging for you punks to give us a hoof! It's making it impossible for us to grab the resources we need for the trade with those damn lizards!” “Is that a fact...?” “Yes! So you'd better have that silver or else!” “You will get the silver,” the elk said. “But there's been a change of plans.” “Rrrrrgh... what kind of change?” “We need you to keep the battleship here.” “Keep it here?!” The other goblins gasped and growled in frustration. “What in the Hell for?! How will we even make the trip back with the silver?!” “Use this skiff. My soul sentries will ensure a safe passage to the Cartel's land.” “Are you crazy?! We need that silver for the skystone! You can't expect us just to power up two stinkin' ships!” “If we're dealing with an incursion from the West, then we need whatever air support we can muster and we need it now.” “It has its armaments, but it can't turn or bank worth a damn! Unless you're gonna be flocking your targets into us, we can't shoot anything without skystone engines to properly adjust—” “Let me worry about the fine details. Everything has been planned for by our—” He paused suddenly. “Hold on.” He suddenly turned towards the side, his head bowed slightly. Roarke blinked at the elk, sweating beneath her helmet. “... ... ...” The elk stood absolutely still, blinking. His ears twitched. “Indeed,” he muttered at random in a neutral tone. “Absolutely,” he muttered. “Then if she proceeds, then so will I.” The goblin grumbled, “What in shit's name is he talking about?” “Silence your tongue, monster,” one of the reindeer guards spat. “Do not question the General!” Roarke clenched her teeth, observing patiently. “Yes,” Chancellor Fishberry murmured, staring off into space. Her ears twitched. “Indeed.” Her nostrils flared. “Then I shall proceed.” Her eyes blinked. Breathing normally, she turned and looked at her clerks. The clerks glanced back, fidgeting slightly. Clearing her throat, the Chancellor trotted to the doorframe to her balcony, met eyes with Nilla, and nodded. Nilla smiled, then turned towards Kera and Arcanista. “You may come and have a seat...”