Long ago, before the rise of the Alicorn Sisters and the founding of Equestria, the world of Equis was dominated by the mighty Ramulan Empire. From the fortress city of Tambelon the Ram Lords ruled with justice and courtesy, renowned for their skill and mastery in the magical arts. Their wizards lived by a creed: To uphold the natural order above all others, and never use their magic to alter nature's sacred plan.
For Five Hundred years their wisdom endured, until one young lamb, apprenticed to their greatest wizard, allowed a seed of hubris into his heart. As his skill and talent grew so did his pride and arrogance, until the day came he declared himself above the ancient creed of his people. He seized control of the Empire, using his foul dark magic to turn and twist it into an evil place. A Kingdom of Nightmares. It was for these crimes that all peoples of Equis struck his name from their histories, and he became known only as The Fallen One. Or in the ancient tongue of his people:
Grogar.
Unsatisfied by the enslavement of his own race, the Dark Lord of the Rams turned his greedy eyes on the peaceful races of Equis. Empowered by dark spells and hexes, his enslaved legions were unstoppable as they marched across the land, obliterating all before them, and hurtling the land into an age of despair and misery.
After laying waste to Equestria and installing his disciple Discord as it's ruler, Grogar learned of the portal, and set his sights on it's counterpart. But here The Ram King encountered something he had never imagined: resistance.
It came in the forms of six mighty warriors, each imbued with the power to bend the elements to their will in defense of their home. With pure hearts and courage unmatched they fought Grogar's dark legions to a standstill. His ambition thwarted, Grogar resolved to drain the hero's world of the magic that fueled their powers, and shifted the bonds between the realms to do so. But even with their power's weakening by the day, the heroes fought on until as if from beyond time itself a seventh warrior, cloaked in crystal armor appeared. With a trepid heart he learned the very power that made the six champions so fierce, and in doing so, forged a bond with one of their number stronger than all the others, and it was this power that finally tipped the balance against the Dark Lord of the Rams.
But Grogar was not easily deterred, and in one final gamble he himself lead his foul army against the hero's last stronghold at Gallopor.
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Lightning arced through the air as if on wings, it's thunder like a dragon's roar. Grogar snarled from his throat, fangs gnashing and grinding together as his blood red eyes pried apart every crack and crevice of the rocks around him. His bat like wings spread and flexed across his back, sensing the minutest shift in the air even as a damp mist fell over the battlefield. His clawed feet scrapped the bare rock beneath them as he shifted to and fro. The wind shifted, causing his breath to come in puffs before his fanged muzzle, fog seeping through his teeth like water.
Though he could not see him, he could still sense his enemies all around him. His blood lust was wet by the constant sounds of metal blade and armor clashing above him, the clamor punctuated by the furious shouting of magical spells and the resulting blasts. It was almost enough to make him fly up out of the gorge, join his generals and finish off those overpowered runts once and for all, but he dared not pass the chance tonight had offered him.
"I know where you are, Runt," he growled, armor clanking as he turned his horned head about the canyon. "Tell me, how do you intend to succeed?"
The Seventh warrior steadied his breath, daring not make a sound. He slowly reached back across his chest, the rain and motion uniting to make him miss his own armor now more than ever, but he knew it was too heavy for the stealth required when fighting Grogar. He cautiously gripped the hilt of his greatsword, the rough leather grip jolting back memories of it's forging, and the desperation his new friends had only admitted to after it was complete.
"Do you mean to kill me?" The Dark Lord Of the Rams mocked with a laugh right up from his gullet. "You know that ceased to be possible the moment I left Equestria. And what are you here? Still a Bastard wretch, playing Knight. You are nothing, Son or Amore. I am no less than a GOD to these paltry creatures, and I intend to rule them as one should!"
"How?" a sudden female voice cried out across the gorge. "With misery and death?!" Grogar roared, lunging around on his talons as a burst of magic from his horns sent two bolts of shadow magic toward the sound, obliterating a car sized boulder to dust.
"You call yourself a God," The formless voice shouted down it's nose. "But you're nothing but a butcher playing conqueror."
'Thank you Luna' The warrior sighed silently, recognizing the young woman's spirit talent even as Grogar's rage mounted.
"Witch!," The Ram King spat. "Still hiding behind tricks when you're so called friends fight in your stead. At least you're sister and her guard have the courage to face me in person. All you can do, is Run."
"Who's running Groggy?" The Dark lord flung himself around, not even aiming as he unleashed a wave of shadow magic at the male voice, only to hear it laughing a moment later.
"Wow," he laughed, "If anything you're aim's only gotten worse!"
"RAAAAAAGHH!!!" Grogar lunged again, this time his magic taking the form of a massive clawed hand that grabbed a massive boulder and flung it like a pebble across a pond. "When this is over, I'm going to flay your skin with my own talons Prism!"
"How about grilled?" A second female, much more regal voice cried out, just before a fireball crashed on Grogar's back, singeing his wings and making the proud lord howl. He finally looked up, red eyes narrowing to slits as his hatred boiled at the sight of two forms, one royal maiden, and an armored warrior flew above him on feathered wings.
"This ends now Wench!" He roared, flourishing his still smoldering wings when the Seventh Warrior made his move.
"Grogar," He called, finally stepping from his hiding place, drawing his sword and gripping it tight. "Leaving so soon?" The Ram Lord turned, and his snarl becoming a sickening smirk at the warrior's sight. His eyes seemed especially interested in his sword in the warriors hand.
"Ah, so there it is. I had heard rumors of the Crystal Ponies skill," He laughed wryly. "It seems their talent is not limited to mere trinkets. Forgive me," He said placing a clawed hand on his chest in feigned apology. "I have misjudged you." The Seventh Warrior dared not take his eyes off his enemy, but he could feel his beloved's concern seeping down from above him.
"You truly are a great craftsstallion," Grogar purred as a bewitching quality entered his speech. "You could have many destinies. Why tie yourself to one fate, when you could seize the stars themselves?" The Warrior's companions above saw him shift, his confidence wavered, and the Dark Lord smiled. “The greatness of our fate is only determined by how far we dare reach. I say again young warrior, with my guidance there would be no limit to the wonders you could achieve.”
But just then, a new steel entered the seventh warriors eyes, ones that shifted from vibrant red to a brilliant green.
"I desire but one, noble destiny," he said twirling his sword and dropping to a fighting stance. "Greater than any fate you could offer me!"
"Oh, so unwise," Grogar muttered, then with the roar of a demon he charged the warrior, horns glowing as he dragged a horde of shadow beasts behind him. The warrior ran to the fray, body low as he sprinted toward Grogar's waiting claws and maw. He swung upward, sword blade meeting a mace of pure shadow magic. They traded blow after blow, the warrior’s sword blocking and parrying the gruesome array of weapons the Dark Lord conjured from his magic. But surprise overtook Grogar’s features when he hurled a wave of shadow magic toward the warrior, only to see it blocked by a dark magic shield. Enraged that his own spells were being used against him, Grogar charged the warrior, dropping onto all fours like his true form. The warrior barely had time to react when his shield dropped and he saw the mass of blue fur and armor leap and lunge at him. He dropped to the ground and turned his whole body so that when He and the Ram King did meet.
"Glurgh!"
It was with the blade's tip through the King's heart.
The shadows Grogar had been manipulating ripped and roiled like molten metal, then crashed over them like a tidal wave, muffling any sound in a torrent of hellish wails as the horde vanished like fog at daybreak. The warrior grimaced as he forced the sword further through The Ram King's chest even as he felt the tips of Grogar’s claws sink further into the meat of his shoulder, before he forcibly pulled himself out of the bleeding embrace and staggered back out of reach. He watched as Grogar slowly raised a claw, and grabbed the still protruding sword hilt and slowly, pulled it from his body. He made to raise it above his head, but the blood made it slip from his grasp, and it clattered to the rocky ground.
"I-Impossible," He gasped, falling to one knee as six other forms descended into the canyon. "A g-God ... cannot be felled ... by a mere mortal."
"And that's what you've never understood you big meanie," a young energetic voice said as it's owner took her place on Grogar's left. On her right another winged warrior fluttered, her timidity finally replaced with conviction.
"Our strength doesn't come from spells or magic," She said as a maiden in lavish purple armor dropped behind the dying King.
"We take it from something you forsook long ago," she smiled whilst three more winged warriors entered the pit.
"You think our friends make us weak," Luna spat venomously.
"But it is our faith in each other," her sister boomed, as Prism stepped up with wings splayed, "that make us strong."
"Stronger than you will ever be Horn boy!"
"Face it Grogar," the seventh warrior said defiantly as a storm of color spread amongst the six heroes surrounding them.
"Freindship."
"Is."
"MAGIC!!"
They threw everything they had into one final spell, it's brilliant light throwing Grogar clear across the chasm, slamming him against the wall as he roared and howled like the beast he had become. But to the hero's shock, he began to walk forward, through the spell.
"Why isn't it working?!" Prism yelled in panic.
"His aura!" The younger of the regal sister's yelled. "It's still too strong!"
"He's resisting!"
"Then what now?" The older sister frantically searched her mind, until she spied their seventh number's sword still lying on the ground.
"The blade!" She cried to the seventh warrior. "Hit him! Hit him NOW!!" He dived for the blade, grabbing it with his uninjured arm as he dove under his friends furious enchantment, raising his only at the last possible moment, when he leapt high in the air, and stabbed the blade through Grogar's dark heart, impaling him on the rock. Then the other's spell climaxed in a blinding flash of light and a shockwave that knocked them all off their feet and to the ground. For a moment it seemed all had perished, until the royal siblings guardsman groaned and rolled over.
"Okay, who let Rosey bring the Party-Pult?" The bubbly maiden in question giggled softly as she helped the slighter winged woman to her feet.
"Is, Is he?" None dared answer her question, but they all saw it. Grogar lay where he fell, body seemingly lifeless as a layer of white crystal spread out from his wound, growing until it covered he and the rock around him in one solid piece. They looked at one another, face's they had known so long, finally at the moment only a few had dared to dream of. After the longest silence of their lives, it was the older royal sister who said the words.
"It is finished."
_________________The Next Day________________
"It won't be the same without you," the same girl turned woman by conflict said, royal armor traded for a worn but still regal dress. She walked beside the seventh warrior, a young man they had all only recently come to know, but who had left an unquestionably mark on all of them.
"The same is true for me," he said sadly, armor packed over his right shoulder neatly, empty scabbard swinging loosely from his hip. The other was bandaged and immobile while the wound healed, a process he knew would be quicker by the healing spells of his home. The sun shone off his coal black skin and shined his luxurious black shoulder length hair.
"We could use you you know," she said with a smile on her pale lips, barely darker than her marble like skin. "There's a lot of damage that needs to be repaired. Healing that will take time."
"I know," he sighed, looking at the ruined walls of the city around them. Gallopor had been known as the Virgin City, but almost a decade of war had turned its pearl white walls and streets black and red with char blood. It was not a sight the warrior was unfamiliar with. "But now I must look to my own people. Knowing our foe he likely installed a puppet tyrant to rule Equestria in his absence."
"I can only imagine the sort of mind he attracts."
"Truly," he agreed, as the two shared a moment in one another's eyes. "I wish I could stay, I do, but I." He stopped when she took his hands in hers, folding a golden charm in them.
"You have a duty to your people, I know," she smiled sadly, before a shock of multi-colored hair came bolting toward them.
"Aw leaving so soon big-guy?" Prism Shield the guardsman smirked accusingly. "You didn't think you could get away without saying goodbye did you?"
"I'd rather not risk another one of Rose Granite's carnivals between you and me," he said grimly, all three glancing over to where the girl in question was downing a whole barrel of her infamous pink mead.
"Well when you put it like that," He gulped, before turning serious. "Just promise you'll drop by every once in a while okay? And don't let your ‘Kingly’ duties get you down. Remember what Rosey says; the key to all happiness."
"Is being happy all the time, yes I remember," The warrior smiled shaking the guards hand. "You know, out of all the sword-slinger's here, I think I might just miss you the most Prism."
"Don't go missing me too much," he warned. "Else I'll drag you back here and we will have that carnival."
"Noted," he said flatly, before his gaze turned soft and the two embraced in a hug. "Stay out of trouble."
"Come on, it's me we're talking about here," Prism laughed as he back into the crowd, "What could possibly go wrong for someone as awesome as your's truly?" As if on cue a woman carrying lumber turned, planks knocking the guardsman forward to faceplant in the mud. "I meant to do that."
"Of course," The warrior laughed, until his focus returned to the golden amulet placed in his hands.
"Keep it," The royal sister said grasping his hands once more. "And think of us when you look on it."
"I will," He smiled, not intending to let go of her fingers until the last possible moment. He knew he could spend eternity looking into those rose-pink orbs.
"And who knows?" She smirked. "Perhaps one day Luna and I can welcome you back with a royal parade."
"Or maybe it is I who shall welcome you, Princess Celestia?" he suggested, stretching the new title and earning a laugh they had put off for far too long.
"King Sombra," she smiled back at the warrior whose title was soon to change. "It does have a certain ring to it." He did not depart that day as he knew prudence demanded, but instead spent one more night under the sky that was the namesake of his beloved's sister. They did not care for what might have lay ahead, only for the purest of companionships they had discovered on one another's embrace.
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The tales are vague as to the fates of the Seven heroes, only a handful of their names are even known.
Prism Shield, master of the wind and sky, and Captain to royal guard of the Princess of Fire and light, Celestia, and her sister Luna, Maiden of the Sea and Tides. Also mentioned is a figure called Rose Granite, and though her role is not described in any true detail, it seems she wielded power over stone. The names of the remaining two however, the champions of Ice and Nature, have been lost to time, although some believe these roles were filled by the equally mythical Princess Platinum and her crafty but reluctant handmaiden Trepidia.
Even more more mysterious is the final resting place of the Bane of Destiny, the sword used to fell and imprison Grogar, and most disconcertingly, the Dark Lord of The Rams himself. Prophecy states however, that the Ram King is fated to return, to be released of his prison, and once again reign death on those who would oppose his unending conquest.
When the siren's call fades at last,
arise shall the horde of forgotten past.
Its queen driven by lust once scorned,
to make way for the Lord of Bloodied Horns.
His darkness will spread across the land,
which shall again know the wrath of the Ram.
Silence is all that is uttered as to the return of the heroes, and the magic that granted their powers has long faded into legend alongside their bearers. But as long as legends are told, their truths will live on: That the greatest power lies not in eldritch enchantments or magical totems, but in the unity of friends, driven by their trust and love for one another.