//------------------------------// // ch3: the players gather // Story: Odds and Ends. // by Redstargazer //------------------------------// “Come on girl, hold it together,” the pilot muttered under her breath, “just be good for mama a little bit longer.” She grimaced as groaning noises came from the frame in reply. Even with the sudden shorts in the radio, neither the pilot nor her navigator had expected to encounter any problems getting to the island. Near the end of their flight, however, a freak storm had hit sending them into a fight for their lives. While their custom-job aircraft was built for rugged, long-term trips it wasn’t meant to take the beating it was receiving from these raging winds, lightning strikes and baseball sized hail. “Damn it, Fred! I’m flying blind here!” pilot yelled as the craft tipped and dropped a few meters as she fought against the storm winds. “Get that junker running and a comm. line to the flight tower, now!” “The radio is working fine!” the frustrated navigator called from his station at the radio. “The problem is there’s nothing there! There aren’t any signals to pick up.” “Bull! We should already be at the island. Our instruments say it, your flight calculations say it!” the pilot yelled angrily. “Even if we’re going to try for a crash landing in the shallows near the beach, we’re going to need tower guidance to talk us down safely with all of this,”-she waved at the surrounding storm-“obstruction to my line of sight!!Get. That. Radio. Working!!” “I told you already it is!” Fred yelled back heatedly, “it’s the storm! Has to be-” A massive peal of thunder and flash of light interrupted their argument. A grinding screech and flash of orange to their right signaled the right engine’s demise. Everything shook as the plane went into a nose dive despite the pilot’s best efforts. “FUCK!! We’ve been hit! Guidance or not we’re going down. Fred, brace for impact! Fred!? Fred, answer me-!” the pilot stopped as she noticed the smell of burned flesh. She turned in her seat to see that, as well as killing their engine, that last strike had lanced through the hull into the radio operator’s station. Fred was already gone. “Damn it, Fred. I’m sorry,” the pilot said softly as she relaxed back into her chair. Her voice had gone flat, lacking any trace of fight or energy. Along with the surrounding storm, a loud humming sound built around the plane as it careened toward the surface. Is this it then? I work all my life for this big adventure and it ends like this!?! came a bitter thought. The pilot sighed as she braced for the inevitable. “I’m sorry, Pidge,” she spoke softly, “guess you won’t be getting that first edition of my book after all.” **** “Gaahh!?” Daring Do jerked awake in a cold sweat. She had to take several calming breaths before the feeling of impending doom faded away. She looked down at herself to see that she was sitting on a small, patchwork cushion. Self-examination revealed that a bandage had been wrapped around her middle in such a way that her injured wing was bound to her side while leaving the other free movement. Daring turned her gaze to her surroundings as she worked on calming her breaths. She seemed to be in the living room area of some sort of hut. ‘Seemed to be’ as the room seemed to be designed for the purpose but didn’t have furnishings that were associated with the civilized concept of a living room. Most of the items present were tools from various crafting disciplines, ingredient containers, etc. A book shelf was carved into the wall beneath a set of stairs leading two the second floor. From the looks of it, it was stocked with reference material. If somepony asked Daring what she would compare the place to? The best she could guess would be a dumping ground or storage shed for a trade school. Her gaze drifted to the center of the floor and her eyes widened. In the center of the room, sitting with his legs folded under him and his hands lying on his knees, sat the creature. Well, the human sat there. His eyes were closed and his breathing seemed to indicate sleep. But was he human? Gruff looks aide, he seemed to match one for appearance but, based on what she remembered, he shouldn’t have been capable of half the things he did when he rescued her and the Princess. Daring’s ears stiffened and her eyes shrunk to pinpricks. The Princess!! How could she have forgotten? Daring looked around from her position and couldn’t see any trace of the princess in the ground floor. As quietly as she could, the wounded explorer rose from her padding and inched toward and up the stairs. When she made it to the top she sighed in relief at what she saw. The Princess lay on a cushion of her own wrapped in bandages and treated much as Daring was. Inching closer, Daring looked over the wounds. As well as bandages, Daring recognized the scent of several healing salves that she learned of during her travels. Whoever or whatever this guy was, at least he seemed to know his field curatives. “Princess. We need to get out of here,” Daring said softly as she nudged the sleeping ruler gently. No answer came. “Seriously, Highness, this is not the time to be getting your royal beauty sleep. The entire kingdom is likely freaking out by now. Get up!” Luna still showed no response. “Perfect,” Daring muttered. “Looks like the choice is carrying sleeping beauty through a deadly forest or ask Mr. McSlashy for help while hoping he’s not a psychotic.” Daring hesitated a moment before shrugging and making her way back to the mumbling, “McSlashy, I choose you.” No longer feeling any urgency, she took her time observing the structure of the tree itself as she made her way down. The construction material reminded her of the library in Ponyville, meaning that this building was likely made by wood shaping. The problem with that explanation is that the only craftponies with that skill still around today are found in Canterlot and had no reason to come to the Everfree. Maybe their host did this? Again, that shouldn’t be possible if he really is a human. Coming to the bottom of the stairs, Daring looked over to the center of the room where she last saw the human. He sat exactly as he was when she snuck off. She decided to take this chance to get a closer look at their mystery man. Aside from some loose fitting clothing around his legs, the rest of his clothing was tossed to the side near the bookshelf leaving his feet and upper body bare. Well, however long he has been here, she thought, he has certainly been put through the ringer. A set of claw marks, manticore Daring guessed, extended from his right shoulder across his right pectoral. That one had been a lucky dodge as a direct hit would have shredded through muscle, organ, and bone altogether instead of leaving a simple scar. Light, winding scars webbed along his middle indicated a brush with garotte vines. Based on the nicks and scars Daring could see, this guy should have been killed a dozen times over. Yet, perhaps through his apparent field medic skills or sheer luck, his body seemed to be in pretty good shape. While he demonstrated a fair amount of brute strength earlier, his muscles were lean and corded indicating a focus on flexibility and speed. Despite the webbing of scars, his abdominals were rock hard and rippled with each deep breath. It glistened in a thin sheen of sweat and…! Daring’s eyes widened in shock and she slammed a hoof into her face in an attempt to derail that train of thought before it could go further. NO! Bad Daring Do. Bad BAD! You are on a mission. You are not in heat. You are not some damsel to jump at the first would be knight to help out, she thought to herself in annoyance, and you are most especially NOT in one of those corny, outer species romance novels you see your hack competition throw onto the shelves each week. She took a deep breath and let it out. Make first contact now, consider therapy later. She walked toward him and cleared her throat. Time to get this show on the road. “Excuse me? My name’s Daring. Daring Do. Professional explorer and adventurer. I was hoping we could…introduce ourselves?” The figure did not so much as twitch. Daring grunted and tried a little bit louder. “Listen, I appreciate you sav-er-aiding me and my friend back there. The thing is, it’s important that we get out of here because a lot of ponies are going to be looking for us soon. Maybe…if you could..?” she voice faded out as she realized she still wasn’t reaching him. This was getting ridiculous! Adventuring may have been a solitary kind of job that keeps you in the middle of nowhere from civilization, but that doesn’t mean Daring was one to tolerate being ignored. Tartarus, if that were the case, then she wouldn’t spend so much time writing about herself after each trip! “Hey, hairless! I’m talking to you!” she barked and waved her hoof in front of his face. She still received no reaction for her troubles. The irate explorer frowned for a moment before a smirk came to her face. “And…thecrazymonkeyhermitsayswhat?” she blurted. “…….” “Hmph. Fine! Be that way.” Daring glared at the kneeling figure a moment before her smirk returned. “If I have to wait on you to wake up then I guess I should do something to keep myself entertained.” She glanced around until her eyes landed on the bookcase she saw earlier. She started for the shelf before noticing their host’s weapon leaned against the wall nearby and headed for a closer look. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the fan shaped blade at the top. Daring wondered at how a blade with such an immaculate edge could have been made with so many chips and holes in the center. Closer inspection revealed scorch marks around these holes, some of them filled with a burnt jelly substance. “Well, that explains the fire show earlier,” Daring whispered thoughtfully to herself, “but how did he make-?” her eyes widened as her gaze drifted to the manticore coat folded nearby and a few possibilities came to mind. She swallowed. “Actually, I really don’t need to know.” Abandoning that train of thought, Daring walked back to the bookcase to see what kind of subjects tall, dark, and stabby studied. She was surprised by the wide range of titles she saw: The Equestria Bestiary Guide, Commander Hurricane’s Code of Warfare, Smith Craft for Simpletons, and Wild Herbs and You. Daring even spotted a few titles she wrote in the collection. She covered her mouth with a hoof to keep from giggling. Never would have expected to find a fan here, she thought dryly as she lifted one of her books to idly glance through. All expression drained from her face as she found nothing but blank pages. She placed the book back and pulled another out only to find it blank as well. She tried another. And another. She tried it with familiar titles and some exotic titles that sounded like they had never been published in Equestria. Over and over, every book she pulled out was filled with blank pages. What is the point of a bookshelf filled with covers without the pages!? She thought as she looked back at her host with a concerned frown. What could be going through that guy’s head? **** “‘Crazy monkey hermit?’ Okay. You might be one of my favorite ponies but you are so going to pay for that one.” James currently lounged in an office chair with his feet propped on a mahogany desk. The only items on the desk were ingoing and outgoing baskets. The wall behind him sported a viewing mirror with a radio sitting on the sill and the wall to his left had a bookcase with books that periodically shifted in and out of existence. His own appearance differed from the waking world in that his red hair was trimmed, a small goatee and stash framed his mouth, and he wore a cassock. The clothes tended to shift on his mood, but the cassock tended to be his standard; he couldn’t decide just what got him into the habit as he wasn’t actually Catholic but figured what appealed to him was a combination of the style and his own twisted, sarcastic humor. As far a mental constructs go, it wasn’t the most sophisticated he had designed so far, but it served its purpose. On the first day of his little adventure, after he finished with his nervous breakdown of course, James walked into hut to take inventory of what he had to work with. There had indeed been cake, topped with the line ‘welcome to a new world and here’s hoping you like the new digs’ in icing, as well as a varied collection of tools that varied from wilderness survival to crafting materials. While the tools looked like they would be useful, James was more than a little overwhelmed at the fact that he would have to figure them out on his own while trying to survive an environment filled with flesh-eating monstrosities. It was on the verge of a second freak out that he remembered the vial of liquid in his hand. Simon’s note said it could be used in combination with his ‘magical internet,’ the enchanted collection of books beside the staircase, to quickly learn skills he might need to survive. The note also said to study a set of instructions in the hut before using it. James generally believed in reading the instruction manual, but due to the dubiousness of the source, and possibly some lingering anger over the MP3 trolling, he decided his best bet was to experiment on his own. His first test was to memorize something familiar; his old family bible. When no side effects kicked in, he decided that Simon was pulling his leg and moved on to two or three reference books from the shelf. He learned two things an hour later. 1) Simon wasn’t pulling his leg. 2) Whether or not you think the author is a scumbag, you always ALWAYS check the manual first. In the middle of reading his third vocational book, he collapsed onto the floor as searing pain shot behind his fore head. Every bit of information he memorized in the past hour fought to the surface of his consciousness along with every memory embedded in his mind. Every. Single. One. Each experience, idea, and thought that his mind recorded fought for dominance. Every piece of information parading through his mind brought the sensation of a heated blade tearing through his skull and his sense of awareness drifted as memories and images blended together. Was he sitting alone at a table at the nursery? Was he being beat up at the schoolyard? Was he working at a fast food diner? Did he ever have drinks with President Truman? In an effort to regain control, he locked onto the most familiar image his mind could summon; the church he grew up in. First, he pictured a long hallway lined with Sunday school rooms. He then imagined it divided into three wings: the east wing where it connected to the main sanctuary, the center had a conference room for dinners, and the west wing that had the access stairs leading to the gym in the lower levels. After establishing visuals, he began focusing on the little details to give it strength: the feeling of safety he felt in the sanctuary, the texture of the carpet under his childhood hands, the sound of the organ playing simple hymns. When the image became more solid, he then imagined frantically shoving the excess information and locking them into various rooms. As the chaos diminished, he allowed the building’s image to fade from his mind. James’ eyes opened to find he was lying on the hut floor. His throat was parched and his body was covered in bruises from an apparent session of seizures. After quenching his thirst at the sink, James took a look around to try and gauge what happened. Based on his observations, such as the staleness of the cake and the weakness from his level of dehydration, James estimated that his little experiment had left him twitching on the floor for two or three days. He offered a silent prayer in thanks that he didn’t just die of thirst or break his neck for his stupidity as he cleaned himself in the small bathroom. Afterward, he decided to use the rest of the day for recovery and flopped into the small cot upstairs. The moment his eyes closed, James was pleasantly surprised for the first time since he woke up in front of the hut. Instead of drifting into slumber, he found himself standing in the halls of the church he mentally reconstructed. Curious, he started exploring the hallways and found that he could open doors to access the information in an orderly fashion. Whether someone upstairs and a world away was still watching out for him or he experienced a case of serendipity, his struggle with the juice had formed into a memory palace. In literature and shows the memory palace, sometimes called a mind attic or mind palace, was a visualization technique that allowed for better memorization that was said to have originated from Method of Loci dating back to ancient Rome. James came to call it the Chapel of Reflections. The name may have been a bit pompous, yes, but he figured he had the right to be as pompous as he wanted to be in his own head. He discovered there were a few differences in his creation, however, as he toyed with it over the following two weeks. For one thing, he could use it during the waking hours or use it as a sort of meditation trance in place of normal sleep. For another, his version allowed him to access memories and control cognitive functions with a level of control on par with most computers. Fight training? Just open a door to his days at the neighborhood dojo. Survival skills? Take the door to his good old days of outdoor training with the Eagle Scouts. Unfortunately, these memories were only able to take him so far. Wilderness survival training didn’t help much in a wilderness with plants and wildlife that were unrecognizable. Martial arts training didn’t help much either when he didn’t manage to complete it in the first place after moving from that town. James had to find a way to supplement what he had, but he was understandably reluctant to turn back to the potion again. After some experimenting, the meditation kind not the randomly chugging dangerous magic concoctions kind, he came up with what he affectionately called ‘the office.’ As well as having some access to auditory information played through the imagined radio, which was how he heard the ‘monkey hermit’ comment, the bookshelf represented his slight modification with short term memory. Basically, he would give a cursory glance through books in the waking world, imprinting the text into his short-term memory before meditating later to access that information via the bookshelf in the construct. With a little tweaking to his time perception, he could go over the information in his mind in greater detail before placing useful knowledge in the ingoing basket to be sorted into other rooms while the rest went to outgoing to be forgotten. With practice, James perfected this technique to the point that weeks of study could be compressed into hours. It wasn’t as efficient as the juice, but it was still faster than mundane means and much safer. For the following months, James spent his days training and his nights in study and meditation. He also went on regular patrols further and further out of the Glade to build up his magic immunity as suggested by Simon’s note. His study and meditation sharpened his mind and his physical training left him in shape that might have left professional martial artists green with envy. What’s more, between his sharpened senses and faster reflexes, James was even beginning to suspect that his ‘magic immunity exercises’ were altering his physical traits on some deeper level. James was actually surprised at how much he was able to accomplish without having to worry about other people’s opinions. Of course, even with the strides he made, there were a few remaining issues. One of the more annoying was the residual effects from the misuse of the juice. While his knowledge was mostly sorted with the Chapel of Reflections, there were times when images and sounds might bleed into his mind to form odd hallucinations during waking hours. This wasn’t always an issue, but the timing could be pretty inconveniencing. Example? The last thing someone needs while evading a manticore is getting distracted by the image of President Taft. Who is guzzling martinis. While dancing in a go-go cage. For a long time after the incident, James would wonder what bothered him more: the scarring he received from the predator or having that image burned into his mind. Most recently, James rediscovered a problem he suffered from on Earth: socializing. During his college years, he focused so hard on his studies that his social skills took a nose dive. Little secret? Turns out staying on the Dean’s List for years doesn’t count for much if you can’t maintain conversation without sounding like a babbling idiot. Now, after months of exile, what happens on first contact with the outside? How does he make his first impression after months of honing himself into some sort of survivalist, spiritual guru? He greets them by saying “fedora” as they pass out from exhaustion. Honestly, what had been going through his head at the time?! Unbidden, the sound of static fills the air as the radio behind him replays his earlier thoughts, ‘Oh my gosh! Not only am I meeting Princess ‘ruler of dreams and awkward social moments’ Luna, but Daring Do, too! She’s, like, my childhood hero Indiana Jones packed into a heartwarming MLP character!!! Huh. I wonder what she would look like in a fedora?’ The last had been unconsciously spoken aloud as he stupidly stared at two of his favorite characters in the show. “Oh, yeah,” James muttered bitterly, “I was mentally squealing like a groupie.” His mental image stood up from the chair and stretched. “Oh, well. There’ll be plenty of opportunity to make a better impression when I’m out of my trance. For the moment though, I think I’ll kill some time in one of my Florida vacation memories.” He started to focus on finding said memory when his efforts were interrupted. “Hello! Is anypony there!? We require assistance!” James frowned in confusion. For all of the weird hallucinations he’s seen in the past two months, he was pretty sure that didn’t come from inside his head. James closed his eyes and felt the surroundings shift as he focused on the source of the voice. When James opened his eyes, his mouth twisted into a smirk as the west wing leading to the gym appeared around him. There was an unwelcome guest. During the early development of the Chapel of Reflections, James had used the gym as a dumping ground for data that took up valuable space: youtube videos, memes, sitcoms, etcetera. One night, however, James made an unpleasant discovery. Not all of the worst monsters were prowling the woods in the waking world. In hindsight, he probably should have expected that when Simon’s note warned him about being near the gates of Tartarus. He was just glad to be lucky enough that the intruder wasn’t used to dealing with humans. The creature’s confusion gave James just enough advantage to shove it out again. Afterward, James took steps to prepare for any more mental break-ins. Since he didn’t have enough intel on how to keep these things out, he decided the best way to deal with the threat was by riddling their entrance with as many nasty surprises as possible. To that end, he converted the gym into the ‘Gauntlet.’ He wired his mindscape in such a way that any attempts to enter his mind would be redirected through the Gauntlet where the would-be intruder would face a horde of weaponized jiffs and memes. Think the Fraidy Cat kitten is cute and cuddly when it wraps its paws around someone’s hand? Try saying that after adding four hundred pounds of mass and razor-sharp claws. Instead of heading for the stairway to the Gauntlet, James opted to face the hallway wall to his left that housed a window giving him a bird’s eye view of the chamber below. He chuckled darkly wondering what kind of internet horrors his intruder would face before he looked through the window. His laughter died in his throat and his face blanched, however, as he caught sight of the hapless figure below. “Oh, fudge my monkey,” he muttered softly. **** “Hello! Is anypony there!? We require assistance!” Silence answered Luna’s plea and she scowled at her surroundings once again. It was a large chamber with concrete block walls. The floors were smooth wood covered in odd black strips forming circles and boxes. The high ceiling held a number of bell-shaped devices, one of which formed a shaft of light around her. It was the only light shining in the cold, dark space around her. Luna felt shivers down her spine as she tried to identify her location. At first, she had assumed she slipped into the dreamscape; partially because of the blank in her memories between the freefall and her arrival and partially because of the fact that the room had no doors. That theory fell flat, however, when she started looking closer at her surroundings. The dreamscape was a constantly shifting whirl of dreams, fantasies, and images flowing from countless minds. No matter what she did, the location retained its same form indicating that it came from one source. The implications of that last fact did not bode well. In her service as the ruler of dreams, Luna had long since learned that strength was not merely measured in physical or magical prowess. The strongest warrior or the most spell savvy unicorn could be reduced to simpering foals within the endless expanse of the dreamscape. Stone crushing hooves and potent magic meant nothing in a realm where the rules were constantly fluctuating. Force of will is what shaped and ruled these planes. The choice weapons were imagination, intelligence and cunning. For all his terrible power and madness during the Chaos Wars, even Discord learned to respect her talents here. During her thousands of years of existence, no creature had matched her in this realm. Apparently, that was no longer the case. No matter how she focused, the surroundings maintained their solid form. Even details as minute as the echoes of her hooffalls on the wooden floor and the smell of cleaners in the air, sensations that even the most experienced practitioners of dreaming arts would have struggled to maintain, held firm against her mental prods. Whether this was a trap laid in the dreamscape or an active part of some creature’s mind it required a driven will and keen intellect to form and hold such a construct together. Had that not been enough to rattle Luna, there was also the sheer alien quality in the thoughts that molded this place. Luna took a deep, calming breath as she fought to maintain her composure. Whatever form of being that kept her here, they would not get the satisfaction of seeing her unnerved. “Whoever rules this realm, we command thee show thyself!” she commanded as she stood with as much majesty as she could muster. “We are the Princess of the Moon and ruler of dreams. We offer one chance to step forward before wrath is delivered upon thee and thine.” Her threats were interrupted as a thrumming filled the chamber only to give way to a buzz. It was the first sound Luna heard when her own light source activated in this dark place. Something else was here. The Princess held her regal pose despite the stinging chill that worked its way down her spine. Something lay in wait behind her. It wasn’t that she could hear, smell, or otherwise detect anything with her base senses. Rather, it was a deep primal fear that yelled in her mind of incoming doom and demanded she flee; instincts old as equinekind dating back to the days when dragons and other predators hunted her little ponies for sport. Luna tried to turn but her body remained frozen. It was as if some irrational fear stopped her in the hopes that refusing to acknowledge the presence behind her would prevent the horrific fate it had in store for her. She drew a rattled breath before forcing herself to turn. Eternity seemed to pass as she slowly turned to face the second shaft of light emitted by one of those bell-shaped devices. The source of her primal fears stood nearly three meters away at the center of that shaft. It was…It… It was a blob. Luna blinked and the tension left her body as fear gave way to confusion. The creature sitting within its shaft of light stared at her with blank eyes. It held no other discernable features aside from a thick, red line across the lower diameter of its body. The Princess shook her head as she tried to regain her composure. “You there. Creature. Is this your dwelling?” The creature answered with a vacant stare. Luna fidgeted in discomfort as the stare seemed to unnerve her despite her best efforts. “If another rules this place then bring forth your master that we may have words.” Once again, the creature only stared. Luna grinded her teeth in frustration. In all of her centuries of being, nothing seemed to get under her royal skin quite like being ignored. It even led to her banishment. Apparently, a thousand years on the moon did little to curb that peeve. “See here creature, We are Luna, Princess of the Moon! We rule the night and guard over this land of dreamers. We shall not be disrespected by the likes of-” “IMMA FIRIN MAH LASA!!” Luna’s mouth opened and closed in shock. She couldn’t tell what shocked her more: the squeaky voice, the bizarre message, or the fact that the red line she saw was a mouth that nearly took up the entire front of the creature’s body when it yelled. “I…beg your pardon?” she asked hesitantly. “What do you mean-AHHHHH!” She screamed in pain as the creature opened its mouth and spewed a beam of blue light that struck her to the ground. She felt as if the flesh was melting off her bones and fire flowed through her veins. Luna couldn’t begin to guess at how long she writhed in agony before the blue light receded. The smell of singed hair filled the air and her ears rang from the blasting sound of the creature’s attack. She struggled to rise but only managed enough energy to lift her eyelids. The blob dragon had advanced and now stood a mere meter away staring her down with its lifeless eyes. “IMMA FIRIN MAH LASA!!” Is this it then? She thought sadly. After surviving Nightmare Moon and returning from millennia-long exile? This is how it all ends? Death by blob dragon!? The creature opened its mouth and the air once again filled with thunder and blue light. Luna closed her eyes and braced for the end. It didn’t come. Luna opened her eyes cautiously. Blue light danced around her, but a shadow fell on her as something stood between her and the blob. When the light faded, she saw that her defender was some bipedal figure in dark clothing. It had its back to her and held its arms crossed in front of its face in a defensive gesture. Despite wisps of smoke wafting about its clothing, the figure stood steady between Luna and the creature. It squatted down, reached backward, and placed its palm on Luna’s side. Her fatigue seemed to fade at the touch and she shakily stood. “There is a door to our left,” Luna’s savior said quietly, its gaze never leaving the blob, “make a run for it. Don’t look back or ask questions. Just run.” Luna looked to her left to find that a door did, indeed, appear on one of the formerly blank walls. She looked back at the figure with distrust. “How do We know you are-” “IMMA FIRIN MAH LASA!!” “RUN!” Needing no more persuasion, Luna bolted to the door along with her rescuer as they both narrowly dodged another blast. “We won’t make it!” Luna panted. “We will!” “IMMA FIRIN MAH LASA!!” Both the alicorn and the biped dove through the door as it shut behind them. A muted boom could be heard as the door rattled but held strong. Luna wheezed as she fought to concentrate her will in order to dispel the remaining weariness imposed by the surrounding illusions and heard her new companion doing the same. She took this moment to look around at the new room. It was a small, rectangular space that seemed equipped as a kitchen area. A counter sat in the center with various mixers, utensils, and ingredients. Luna started when she noticed another biped standing at the opposite end of the counter wearing semi-formal clothing with an apron tied a crossed his front as he sharpened a cooking knife. He seemed older than the one beside her, what with the thinning, grey hair on his scalp and wrinkled skin. The creature in question looked up from his knife sharpening and gently smiled at the newly arrived pair. Luna might have thought the smile fatherly in most cases but something about this one seemed…off somehow. “Ah, good evening, James. Are we having another guest for dinner?” “No, Anthony. We are most certainly not,” the one beside her, now known as James, said coldly. “We are going to talk and then she leaves. Nothing more.” Anthony briefly frowned in disappointment, but his smile picked up again. “Ah, well. I had been hoping to try out my new recipes with horse. Radish. Horseradish. Do forgive me,” he said with a polite nod to Luna, “I have a slight speech impediment. Sometimes it’s best to simply ignore me.” Luna returned a polite nod but watched the old one warily as he went back to sharpening his knife. He seemed pleasant enough, but something about him bothered her. She might have simply dismissed the feeling as a false alarm brought on by the alien surroundings if it weren’t for the fact that that line of thinking put her at the mercies of a vacant-eyed blob. A door opposite their entry opened causing Luna to jump. “Don’t’ mind Anthony. He is just a secondary defense. He won’t try anything while I am here,” James said, waving a dismissive hand as he strode to the side of the door and motioned for her to follow. “Now, considering your less than pleasant entrance, I move we take our discussion somewhere comfortable.” “Nay, dark one,” Luna said curtly as she looked at him in distrust, “not until you tell us who you are and your reasons for holding us here.” James’ expression stayed neutral aside from a raised eyebrow. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair to give introductions first.” He bowed forward slightly, almost mockingly, while maintaining eye contact. “You may call me James. I am a human and the humble owner of this twisted little mind you are currently traipsing around and you are none other than Princess Luna, ruler of dreams.” “And how would you know that?” Luna asked suspiciously. She vaguely remembered myths speaking of creatures called humans but, assuming anything he said was true, he surely would have no way of recognizing her. After all, Equestria had never seen the likes of… “I heard you yelling it out as I made my way to help you. Honestly, I would be surprised if that yell didn’t reach someone in the outside world. I can still feel a ringing in my head from it,” He said dryly, seeming to note the embarrassed grimace that crossed Luna’s face. “As for why you are here? I was actually planning to ask you that myself. That room outside,” he motioned to the deathtrap they just escaped, “doesn’t actively pull others in. It only locks in those that try to make their way into my mind.” Luna’s guide leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. “Maybe, instead of looking to accuse the guy who just saved you, you should consider thinking back on what you remember leading to your arrival?” Luna stared at James with distrust before reluctantly giving in to his reasoning and closing her eyes as she focused on remembering. What had happened? First there was the hazy flight. Then there was the magic strike. Then her last moments of consciousness before she fell when she tried… “A mist beacon,” Luna sighed tiredly. She looked up in time to notice James’ confused look and elaborated, “A mist beacon is a form of distress call that I can send to my sister. Essentially, on the odd chance my body is taxed to its limit, I enter a form of torpor that sends my spirit along the dreamscape until it touches a suitable mind.” “So what?” James asked doubtfully, “You just float around in dreamland until you find a sleeping mind to jump in? Doesn’t that sound a little risky? What’s to stop you from landing in a dozing dragon or toddler’s daydream or something?” “We said a suitable mind,” Luna snapped back, “the spell specifically searches for a mind based on preset stipulations. Notably, those most matching with our sister: Princess Celestia.” “Okay, hang on a sec,” James said with a barked laugh and placed one hand on his chest, “are you saying I match with your sister?! Either your spell backfired or you have a seriously dysfunctional family.” “Our spell worked flawlessly and our family is perfectly respectable!” Luna said in an indignant huff. Well, mostly respectable, she thought self-consciously as her banishment came to mind. And the Chaos Wars. And the fight against Sombra. She glared at the surrounding construct before continuing, “While my sister does not mold the dreamscape as I do, she possesses a level of lucidity and control in her unconscious mind that no living being we knew of possessed,” Luna frowned as she took in James’ raised eyebrow, “none that we knew of until now, at least. Some of the greatest scholars of equinekind tried and failed to form their mind in as complex a structure as yours. “And on the subject of mental structures,” Luna said in an accusatory tone, “you claim that yon trap was not intended for us, yet what else would you expect to enter your mind?” “A succubus,” James replied easily. He took in Luna’s wide eyes with a smirk before he went on, “I had a nasty run in some time ago and survived through sheer luck that she was confused after having only dealt with stallions before running into one of my kind. Afterward, I prepared that defense in case she, or anything else for that matter, made another attempt. She tried later but found a few little surprises that left her screaming before she fled. Not,” James’ glared at Luna’s shocked expression, “not remotely what I meant.” The Princess covered her muzzle with a hoof as she coughed, trying to hide the faint blush that came to her cheeks. “If that is the case, then we apologize for the intrusion and ask that you release us. Our sister will be worried and-” “Yeah. About that?” James said hesitantly. He rubbed the back of his neck in what Luna could only guess was a gesture of embarrassment before he spoke again, “We may both be stuck here for a while.” “Stuck,” Luna said slowly as if trying to be sure she heard correctly, “in your own mind?” “Now, hang on a sec,” James said quickly, raising his hands in a placating manner as he stood straight, “there is a good reason. Back in the waking world there was a…scuffle. I found a pegasus dragging your unconscious body as she was surrounded by Timberwolves. I was able to help the two of you get away and to safety, but it took a lot out of me. I had to use a forced trance of my own to recover my strength. During these types of trances, I can’t even leave on my own so the only thing we can do is wait for it to take its course. Afterward, I’ll gladly do what I can help the two of you get out of these woods.” “I do not know of this pegasus you speak of,” Luna spoke thoughtfully, “but I can find no reason to doubt your word. Even so,” she looked at James uncertainly, “what do we do until your trance wanes?” James motioned for her to follow and turned to enter the room he tried to get her into earlier. Still unsure of what to think of James, but lacking any real reason to argue, she followed. The room they entered seemed to be a lounge of some sort. The floor was lined with blue carpet and the walls were made of white painted, concrete blocks. An overhead light source lit the area, revealing a coffee table with two chairs on either side. As James took a seat he waved at the chair opposite his and it stretched and morphed to fit Luna’s build. “Since we have time to kill? Why not spend it talking and getting to know each other a bit better?” With another wave of his hands, teacups appeared in front of both chairs and an herbal smell filled the air. Once again, Luna hesitated as she tried to consider any possible traps. Unable to find any, she shrugged uncomfortably and took the seat set for her. She lifted her cup, glancing at her host over its edge, and gestured toward him in a sort of toast. Well, she thought dryly, here is to being diplomatic.