//------------------------------// // 31 - Finale (1/2) // Story: Outsider's Game: Turning Wheel // by Bluecho //------------------------------// Ch. 31 - Finale (1/2) ??? Years Ago “Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot. Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot.” “No more, demon! No more! Thy holds have been seized, thy works crumbled. Thy unholy strength depleted, thy allies fled; no more shall thou truck with demons, or Pluto in Hades, or the heart of skulls, or the senseless one, nor any chthonic beings! Not even the true void will have thee!” “Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot. Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot.” “Ne'er more will thy predations fall upon pony kind, or upon the Griffins, or upon the sons of Minos, or upon any herding race! Theirs will be a lot separate from thee and thine.” “Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot. Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot.” “Thy freedom is at an end. Thy malice will have no outlet. Thy appetites no sating, thy plots no reward.” “Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot. Ohm gibbar, sie pree non sot.” “I name Uranos, angel of the sky, and Gaia, angel of the earth! By these names I revoke thine!” “OHM GIBBAR, SIE PREE NON SOT. OHM GIBBAR, SIE PREE NON SOT.” “Obey. Obey! OBEY!” A single, stray Nasturtium* blossom swayed in the cool wind. Present Day “Huh?” Painwheel blinked several times, then looked around. The three of them were just on the balcony of a high tower in the Equestrian capital. They were no longer there. The three of them were on a ledge of a high mountain, in the middle of a cluster of mountains. The chill air whipped about them, carrying gray dust with it. “...what the...?” Twilight Sparkle gasped nearby. “Sweet Celestia! Look at it!” she said, pointing. Painwheel followed the point towards the mountain wall. But instead of some sheer, featureless cliff, instead there stood a large temple entrance, carved from the very stone. Cracks ran up and down, hither and yon, across the temple's face. Vines and moss clung or bit into the base of the walls, though the moss was sparse and the vines wilting. In the center of the colossal mass was an overhang, and a great doorway, flanked by crumbling, weathered statues of great dog-like beasts with the manes of lions. The door, huge and metal and artfully adorned, was fastened shut by a rusty metal lock. “Oh...wow!” Painwheel said, staring at the structure's desolate beauty. “It's amazing,” Twilight said, though her eyes darted about, taking in every detail. She noted curious murals carved onto the wall. “Maretania...this is an ancient Maretanian temple, isn't it?” She looked over to Discord. The dranconiquus raised an eyebrow. “You're familiar with Maretania?” “I've only written the account of Starswirl the Bearded's exploration of the Mines of Maretania twelve times!” Twilight paused, then added, “uh, make that thirteen times. Spike is always reminding me.” She turned back to the temple entrance. “It's so fascinating, reading on these ancient structures. Some scholars believed them to be as old as pony habitation on this continent...not sure where this is, though. A temple this old, from the late Maretanian period? And yet...” She squinted at the door, stepping closer to examine it. “...something this old, and yet it's still locked? Or wait, how old is that lock? Metal like this would rust through over the thousand plus years. Did nopony find this?” “Oh, this old place is a little...off the beaten path,” Discord said, waving a claw towards the structure. “These days, most anypony who comes to Maretania does it to explore the eponymous Mines, or to talk to the tribal locals. No one comes out here. It's perfectly isolated. Perfectly lonely. Perfectly...boring.” “Then why are we here?” Painwheel said, looking around the rocky landscape. A few copses of trees grew here or there in the valleys, but otherwise the place was barren. “What's this 'errand' you need me to run?” “Ah, yes.” Discord cleared his throat. “As you can probably imagine, we're here for the temple. Specifically, there's a thing inside I need. A bag; satchel, to be precise. It's in there – right at the end of the chamber, on a pedestal. You can't miss it.” “A satchel?” Painwheel said. “How do you know it's even there?” Twilight asked. “If it's been there centuries, it's probably decayed to nothing by now.” “It's there,” Discord said with finality. “No doubt, it's in there. Moreover, it's magic. Twilight, my dear, you of all ponies should know how well magical artifacts stand the test of time.” He rubbed his hands together. “Hence...its value.” “Oh,” Twilight said. “I guess that does make sense.” “Then why don't you get it yourself?” Painwheel asked, pointing a thumb at the door. “Didn't you make mountains out of mole hills? What's stopping you from just poofing it out?” Discord winced uncomfortably, eying the symbols that snaked across the door frame. “Unfortunately, this thing is guarded by some strong wards. The kind that were made specifically to keep beings like me out. It's strong magic, writ by the ancient Maretanian mage-priests against all the evils of the world at the time...which included me.” “And why exactly,” Twilight asked, eyebrow raised, “would they want to keep you out?” “Well you remember the kind of person I was,” Discord said defensively. “Maybe they just wanted to keep their temples safe from me, and every other would-be conqueror. It's flattering, really.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Or maybe they did it out of spite. Who knows?” “Discord...I-” A loud crash erupted from the door, startling Twilight from her thought. Twilight and Discord looked towards the entrance. At the door, Painwheel lifted her fist from it, rusted metal clattering to the ground. She dusted off her knuckles, then kicked the metal pieces away. The field clear, she seized the hand-holds, pulling back. Her muscles strained at the weight. Finally, grudgingly, the double doors gave, screeching loudly. Painwheel winced, ducking her head reflexively, as though it would stop the noise. Powering through, she heaved the doors back, rotating roughly on rusted hinges. The parasites in her body coiled and writhed, as much for the clamor as for the exertion. Finally, Painwheel threw the doors open wide, bathing the immediate inside with sunlight. Her nose was assaulted by the scent of mildew. A wave of dust crashed against her, making Painwheel wave it away lest the particles cause her to sneeze. She looked over her shoulder. “In here?” “Yes, Painwheel,” Discord nodded. “All the way in the back.” Painwheel nodded, preparing to step inside. “Wait, Painwheel!” Twilight called, reaching out a hoof. When Painwheel paused without looking back, Twilight continued, “Are you sure you want to do this?” “It's just this one thing, and I'm done, right?” Painwheel said. “Right,” Discord said, nodding, arms folded. “Are there traps?” “Might have been, though I don't know if they're still functional,” Discord said, stroking his beard. “The years work wonders on-” “Good to know,” Painwheel said, walking forward. As she passed inside, she noted how the doorway had a clearly delineated line marking the entrance on the floor. She crossed the threshold without a second glance. She walked into the temple...and nothing happened. Painwheel continued walking, glancing around. Immediately inside, the room opened up into a hall, a central aisle running down the center with a high ceiling. To either side, pillars of various states of ruin held up the vaulted roof. Some of them were merely cracked, while others long ago broke and fell to the floor. Rocks and ceiling tiles littered such spots, where the roof had partially given way. Light poured in from the door, casting deep shadows behind pillars and in corners. A rat scuttled around, but fled as the intruder approached. A long shadow spread out ahead of Painwheel, a cross of angular blades shading the back of the room. She couldn't see properly for the shadow, but pressed on regardless. In the rough center of the hall, halfway along its length, the floor tiles sank down, a spiderweb of cracks radiating from an indent. Painwheel walked around the impact crater, giving it a wide berth; wary of the source, yet also interested in letting the light shine upon it.. Fragments of tile were broken off and littered the ground around it. Looking up to the ceiling, Painwheel could still see nothing, wondering it some trap were set there and, if one were, if it would go off again. With no sign of trouble, she walked on. Traveling slowly, eyes darting back and forth for potential traps but encountering none, Painwheel came to the foot of a small set of steps leading up. Four or five such steps led to a raised platform. Moving away from the source of the light had shrunk the shadow, until it was small enough that she could make out what lay at the end of the hall. Atop the steps was a stone altar, carved richly in much the same manner as the rest of the building; all hieroglyphs and esoteric writings, and symbols of pony skulls. Sitting on top of the altar was a simple leather satchel, covered in dust but otherwise in pristine condition. It was a brief moment before it occurred to Painwheel that the bag's leather construction would come off as deeply disturbing to Equestrian culture. Painwheel climbed the stairs carefully, methodically. When she reached the top – when she could tower over the altar and examine the bag – she stepped aside and turned around. “This one?” she called out, her voice echoing about the hall. Twilight and Discord stood at the door, just beyond the threshold. The avatar of chaos gave a thumbs up. “That's the one!” he called. He pointed to the foot of the doorway. “Bring it on over here, and your side of the bargain will be fulfilled.” Painwheel nodded, then turned back to the altar. She examined it from multiple angles, leaning down to check the bottom. She didn't see any sort of pressure plate, but that could easily be immediately underneath and out of sight. Gingerly, she ran her fingers over the surface of the stone slab. They came away covered in dust, tracks left on the surface. Painwheel drummed her knuckles against the stone, leaning her head close to the stone. It sounded solid. Wary still but exhausted of concrete ideas as to how the altar could be booby-trapped, Painwheel stood in front and reached out a hand. Her shadow fell over the bag. Her muscles tensed. Slowly...methodically... Her hand grasped hold of the handles of the satchel and pulled it away. She jumped back, feet bracing on the edge of the raised platform. Painwheel locked eyes upon that partially shadowed altar, her whole body a coiled spring. The altar was bare. Seconds passed. Nothing happened. Finally, the human exhaled, patting her chest. A rapid search around her to make sure no other threats were imminent, then she lifted the bag up to the light. Upon closer inspection, it revealed a number of scuff marks, as well as water damage along the bottom. Sheets of hide were sewn together with thick leather cords, and the handles were similarly woven from leather. An ancient, tarnished brass clasp held the bag closed. Right to the side of the clasp, a circle design was etched. Examining the circle, Painwheel tilted her head quizzically. The design in the circle was intricate; complicated. She could make neither heads nor tails of it. She shook the bag. It was surprisingly light, though not too light. She thought, is there something in here? “Come on, come on!” Discord called, jumping up and down. He looked...agitated. “We haven't got all day!” He planted his feet on the ground. “Uh, I mean...come along, dear. Sooner you bring the bag here, the sooner you get your reward.” Twilight Sparkle looked up at Discord suspiciously. Whatever, Painwheel thought, letting her arm drop. I don't care what's in the bag. It's not my problem. She walked down the steps, heading into the light. The glare discomforted her, and she shielded her eyes with her other hand. Painwheel was three paces from the altar when she sensed something behind her. She was beginning to whirl around when a great weight slammed into her. “Ugh!” she cried, tumbling back. The force knocked her off her feet and into the air. The satchel slipped from her grasp as she traveled, the room spinning around her and she flipped. With a smack, she slammed to the ground, then skid another few feet. The Buar Drive blades scrapped the floor tiles, her whole body kicking up dust as it slid to a stop. “Painwheel!” Twilight gasped, clutching her cheeks. She made to ran forward, but a lion's paw shot out and barred her way. “Wha-? Discord?” Discord merely shook his head, sadly. “This is Painwheel's quest, Twilight. You mustn't interfere.” He wagged an eagle talon at her. “...bullcrap!” Twilight spat, looking back towards the fallen human. “Painwheel! Are you alright?” “...guh...” Painwheel grunted, her body twisting on the ground. Her side hurt. The parasites didn't help. Wearily, she planted a hand beneath her and pushed herself to her hands and knees. “Muh...ack!” She began coughing, dust being hacked from her lungs. “Cough...cough...gack...” Painwheel raised her head and looked bleary-eyed towards the light. “...wh...cough...what was...” She pushed herself up, then looked over her shoulder. Painwheel choked. The shadow she cast upon the ground rolled and writhed. From within its mass, a great back arm stuck out. It twitched, fingers contracting and relaxing, into and out of a fist. Fastened to the wrist was a heavy manacle. “Wh...what?” Painwheel said. She glanced at her arm. At the iron ring stuck to her own wrist. The arm planted itself on the ground, braced against it. Another black arm, similar to the last, shot out of Painwheel's shadow and braced itself against the floor, crunching a loose tile audibly. An arched back began to appear, then its shoulders, topped with spiky protrusions. “What is that?” Twilight said. “Oh...no...” Painwheel said, sweat forming on her brow. A hunched, emaciated figure stood up, bony feet planted on the ground. “Grrrr...” it growled. It lifted its head, crowned by a skull and a set of three nails. “Mrrr!” It looked up towards Painwheel, its face covered by a featureless dark mask; its eyes glowed bright yellow. Behind its back, a metal tail whipped, hauling a slab of black steel. Motors whirred to life, and the slab unfurled into a pinwheel of sharp blades. To complete the effect, the blades spun loudly, a screeching cacophony that pierced the air. The force of the spinning blades blew dust outward in all directions. Then the blades stopped, and the figure continued to stare. Painwheel trembled. ??? Years Ago “Moro kha, matir ptah. Moro kha, vitalos matir ptah.” “In the name of the creator, Faust, I command thee...In!” It writhed and flowed, recoiling under the edict. It probed around, searching for the smallest respite. A single escape. A place to hide. Where it would not be exposed as it were. But the sun was high; directly overhead. There would be no shadows. None...save their trap. It knew it for a trap, and they knew it knew. “Moro kha, matir ptah. Moro kha, vitalos matir ptah.” “I rebuke you, stubborn demon! Rebuke you in the name of Faust in heaven, and all her angels! IN!” It tried the sides again. Perhaps it missed some hole in the circle. But no, the lines were drawn by expert hooves. Master craftwizards were employed, and they circled around chanting their litanies, writ long ago in forgotten tongues. Had to be a way out. Some small crack. Some forgotten shade. Some escape from the soul-searing words. “Moro kha, matir ptah. Moro kha, vitalos matir ptah.” “GO! IN!” It withered. It slunk. It flowed into the trap. The satchel shut as the last of it entered. “Didalos malos viros fa. Didalos malos viros fa.” “Now, demon! Foul, spiteful spirit from the abyss! On this day – Sun Day – I seal thee! By all good things – love, law, divine perfection – I decree thee stay!” “Didalos malos viros fa. Scorponat fa ballos ma.” “Shome hallach nie, shome hallach nie. I bid thee stay. For so long as this seal holds, ne'er shall thou trouble the earth. For as yet the seal remains unbroken, hide away in the darkness that holds thy fancy so! And by Faust on high, remember well this command: for so long as thy prison remain here, thou shalt be thy strictest jailer! Thy greatest warden! The prohibition against freedom shall be enforced by yourself! “Hear this decree, and obey.” Auras bore the satchel up, sliding it through the air. Beyond the threshold of the temple it traveled. Into that holy place. Into the empty darkness. “Didalos malos viros fa. Scorponat fa ballos ma.” “Obey!” It despaired. “In Faust the Creator's name, OBEY!” Present Day “What the hell is this?” Painwheel staggered to her feet, her Buar Drive whipping around to assist in balancing her weight. She rubbed her sore side, eyes never straying from the shadow. “What the fuck is your game, Discord!?” Twilight Sparkle turned to Discord, flashing an infuriated, confused expression. “Discord, I swear to Celestia...” The dranconequus waved his paws. “Now, now,” he said. “You lied to me, you bastard!” Painwheel shouted, fists clenched. “Discord, when I get over to you...” The shadow...tilted its head. To Painwheel's surprise – and trepidation – the figure leaned over to look around the human. It tilted its head even further. Discord pretended not to notice. “I assure you, my dear, I haven't lied,” he called, shaking his head. “I even told you there might be traps. My offer still stands.” He pointed to the satchel, which sat halfway between Painwheel and her doppelganger. “All you need to do is retrieve that satchel,” Discord called, “and bring it here.” He swept his hands before him at the ground, gesturing to the temple threshold. “Beyond this door, and the guardian cannot follow. Bring it to me, and this will all end. Convenient, no?” Painwheel looked back to see the dranconequus gesture so. Then she turned back to the shadow. Her eyes strayed to the satchel. The figure looked to the satchel, too, then back to Discord, and then finally to Painwheel. It stiffened its stance, hands clenching to fists. It spread it legs, hunching low to the ground. Pausing. Waiting. “Buh...wuh...guh...” Twilight sputtered. “No Discord, this is asinine! We don't know what that thing is! Or how to fight it! This is lunacy! This is-” “Alright!” Painwheel stooped, readying her own battle stance. It felt eerie, looking upon her shadow; how it mirrored her own posture, her own movements. Even before seeing her in action, it was already moving like her. That wouldn't stop her. “Discord, you son of a bitch,” Painwheel barked, fists at the ready. “I accept!” Her crimson eyes locked with the saffron eyes of her clone. “Come on!” she yelled. The two Painwheels lunged for the satchel.