Northern Equestrian Badlands, aka the Crystal Tundra
Snow drifted across the barren tundra, little existed here in the desolate cold expanse of icy wasteland that could be considered life. The occasional semi-dead/half-frozen tree or snow hair was the only life forms that one would see for miles in the hilly, snowy expanse of Equestrias’ most northern border.
Not that one would see much of anything most of the time. The weather here was similar to that of the Everfree Forest in that it ran on its own; thus snowstorms were both intense and common sight, reducing visibility to near zero almost every time they started blowing without warning. And during the times that you could see, the temperature regularly existed between ‘I’m freezing my buns off’ and ‘Ice Age’.
Amid the snowy wasteland were two structures that were not formed by the forces of nature: the first was a train station, which just so happened to be the last stop before the train line continued to the land known only as The Frozen North. Anyone/pony could tell you that going there was suicide since all that was up in the chilly lands beyond the Crystal Mountains was Windigos, Ice Giants, Frost Titans, Snowy Zaber Fangs, etc… Basically anything that could kill/eat you and survive in the zero degree cold lived there.
The second structure was about five miles to the east of the train platform and to the untrained eye appeared to be an oddly placed three-story tall lighthouse.
This was the Equestrian Royal Guards Northern Watch Tower, or better known as the Crystal Spire Watch Tower. The sole occupants of the watch tower were two beings; a young Pegasus private by the name of Flash Sentry, and a Pigeon named Lamarr. Out of the two, one of them was bored out of his mind.
And it wasn’t the pigeon.
Flash Sentry took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh, watching as his breath turn into a foggy little cloud in the chilling cold.
‘Great,’ he thought, ‘I’m so bored that watching my breath turn into little clouds amuses me!’
He took his gaze off his mini cloud to look North…
Nothing
He turned his head to the right to look East…
Nothing
He turned his head to the left to look West; besides the train station and tracks that lead off to the Northwest…
Nothing
He craned his neck further to the left to look over his back to the South…
A whole lot of nothing
He let his neck relax, well, truthfully there wasn’t nothing to the south but it was too far for him to see the town of Neighagra Springs, which was about seventy-five miles South-East.
He was so bored. Bored-bored-bored-BORED!
Like many young colts his age, having found his cutie mark and graduated school, he had been enticed into joining the E.U.P. (Earth, Unicorn, Pegasus) Guard, or as it was more commonly known as the Royal Guard. To him it was a no brainer; getting to wear the uniform/armor, getting combat training, and getting an impressively good mark on his resume when he was honorably discharged.
Join the Guard, See Equestria, Defend the Kingdom, get the Mares they said.
Too bad everything went to Tartarus in a hoof basket about a month after he completed his basic training…
…at last year’s Summer Sun Celebration…
…when Nightmare Moon suddenly reappeared.
‘But is it really fair to blame the guard for failing like the media made it out to be?’ Flash thought, ‘The guards that night had not been ready to take on an Alicorn-level opponent, I mean despite our training we’re still just regular ol’ Earth Ponies, Pegasi and Unicorns. No amount of training could have prepared us to confront a being that was on the same power level as Princess Celestia and had fought her in the past. Not to mention the fact that Ponyville is a small town and as such the guard detachment on hoof was small as well’
But the media was relentless in its pursuit of what it claimed was the ‘story of the century’ when six untrained young mares walked into the most dangerous forest in Equestria, retrieved the legendary Elements of Harmony, and defeated the threat of Nightmare Moon when the Guard, that taxpayers bits were paying for training, equipping and fielding, couldn’t do a darned thing.
Of course, many simply dismissed it as a onetime occurrence and went back to their lives and continued to believe in the Guard’s power to protect.
Until Discord broke out.
‘Royal Guard’ may as well been synonymous with the word ‘useless’ when the chimerical spirit of chaos broke free from his stone prison. One snap of his claws and anypony wearing armor or wielding a weapon was transmuted into either an action figure or, more embarrassingly, a fluffy plushy doll. Flash Sentry pushed his helmet down in a vain attempt to hide his blush, he was not proud to say that he made a very adorable plushy.
And once again, who saved the day? Six civilian mares, one ancient rainbow-and-happiness powered super weapon, and the spirit of chaos was once again ‘stoned’.
One would think that the old saying of ‘third time’s a charm’ would hold true and the luck of the Guard would turn around right?
Wrong, oh so wrong.
Canterlot
The city that nopony thought could be invaded, was.
And to add insult to the injury the invasion occurred during Captain Shining Armor’s wedding to the beautiful Alicorn of love: Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.
The sight of thousands of changelings banging their heads against the Captain’s shield had given the Guard time to suit up and take defensive position, but the sheer number of enemies had overwhelmed them in less than five minutes and slimed them.
And you know what made that even worse?
Queen Chrysalis, the changeling Queen, had been right under the Guards collective noses the entire time. It was a debacle of epic proportions.
The only saving grace was the fact that the ponies to save the day were not the six element bearers, but the captain and his bride (the real one this time).
But it was too late, the damage had been done and the Guards reputation was in shambles. Most newly joined troops would face a steep uphill battle for respect and promotions, both of which were in short supply.
Heaving another sigh, Flash turned to his ‘partner’.
“Ugg, at the rate we’re going, the Royal Guard is going to be the laughing stock of Equestria before I turn twenty-five Lamarr!” he shouted
“Cooo?” was Lamarr’s confused response, since he didn’t understand a single word the distraught pegasus said.
“I joined the Guard to DO stuff Lamarr, like see different places in Equestria, serve the Princesses, be a hero and SAVE ponies! Not sit here all-day every-day on my rump looking at snow waiting for some mystical city to appear out of no-where.” Flash let his head rest against the guardrail, putting his face very close to the commemorative plaque that detailed to whoever was on duty that the watch tower had been built during the ‘tumultuous days of chaos to commemorate the lost Empire of Crystal’ and that those on watch were to be on the lookout for said Empire returning.
Flash sighed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day. With the last inspection having been last week, Flash was looking towards another month of staring at snow with no break in sight…
…or did he?
‘The inspection was last week, and this watchtower is very low on the priority list, so I highly doubt there will be a surprise inspection’ he thought to himself, a very bad (but good to him) idea starting to form, ‘I mean, it’s not like I’ll be actually needed at all, and what are the chances that the ‘Empire of Crystal’ is going to appear anytime soon?’
A smile slowly started to take shape as the idea took root.
‘Yeah, that’s right, so in truth nopony will care if I decided to take a day or two to myself and relax!’ Flash smiled to himself, his previous depression vanishing like the morning mist in rays of Celestia’s golden sun, ‘So it’s decided, I’m going to take the rest of today, and all of tomorrow off for a little me-time!’
“Alright Lamarr, it’s time to turn in for the night! I think that we’ve earned a little R-and-R!” he said to his animal partner before picking the caged pigeon up and descending down the trap door to his lumpy mattress and suspicious bowl of brown gruel waiting for him. Oh, and don’t forget the good book! The good book is what made it all worth it.
Lamarr was simply happy the Pegasus remembered to bring him in from the cold, stupid feather-brained pony.
Ten minutes
Had Flash Sentry been patient, and not so eager to have some time to himself, things might have turned out differently.
As it was, because of his action, Flash Sentry missed seeing two amazing events:
A creature not of this world appearing in a flash of crimson light
And more importantly…
The return of the Crystal Empire
I awoke with a start, lying flat on my front, with a large weight pressing down on my back, and the cold air stinging the inside of my nose and throat.
With some difficulty I rolled onto my side and the weight followed me as if it were latched to my back…
‘A Backpack!’
I clawed at the straps, my fingers gliding over cold metal before finding the offending loops.
‘Metal? That’s right, I’m wearing armor!’
Divesting myself of the weighty backpack, I pushed myself to my hands and knees. My mind was racing with questions, one right after another.
‘Where am I?’
‘What happened?’
‘What’s going on?’
‘WHO am I?’
‘Why is it so F#%$ing Cold?!’
Pushing my hands off the ground so that I was kneeling, I quickly silenced my thoughts.
‘CALM DOWN! I am in control of my thoughts and emotions; they are not in control of me!’
Slowly, I began to do the breathing exercises that my minister had taught me and, there in the snow, began to meditate.
It was strange, but when I was having trouble remembering something or trying to find answers, I found that meditating would help me. It was like the calming blankness of meditation would somehow open pathways in my mind, allowing me to calmly think things through and remember what I needed.
‘Where am I? Judging from what I can see some sort of tundra, most likely Alaska if I was a betting man, or Canada. That also answers why I’m so bloody cold, anybody would be cold waking up face first in a pile of snow.’
‘What happened? Well I don’t have enough information to answer that at the moment so I will come back to that’
‘What’s going on? See above answer’
‘Who am I?..........’
That brought me up short; no matter how long I pondered the question, nothing came to me. What made it even weirder was the fact that I could remember people, like my parents and friends, saying my name but when I tried to recall it the sound of my name seemed to either be garbled or just plain gone.
Like it had been erased
But I wasn’t worried. Nope. Not one bit, because while I couldn’t remember my name…
…I remembered I had my wallet!
Reaching into the equipment pouch on my right side with a smile, I withdrew the well worn leather wallet that had served me since high school and flipped it open.
My smile promptly fell
Over half the cards, including my driver’s license, were gone. In fact anything that would even clue me into who I was (like my father’s Costco card or his business card with random phone numbers scribbled on the back) were gone as well. The only things left in my wallet were my GameStop card, $75 in cash, a few random business-card sized fact cards, and a receipt from Steak ‘n Shake.
“…bugger.”
Shoving the now useless wallet back in the pouch, I turned my attention to the two as of yet unanswered questions:
‘What happened?’
and
‘What’s going on?’
To answer those questions I would need to ‘retrace my steps’ as my mother would say and remember what I did that lead up to this point. Going through the motions once more and letting my mind clear as I fell back into my meditative trance, I recalled how I started my day.
Well the first thing that I remember was waking up to that god-awful racket that my alarm clock used to tell me it was time to start the day, that, and resisting the urge to chuck the thrice-damned thing out the window. After that it was the usual morning ritual; get out of bed, shower, get dressed to go to that job-I-hate-so-much-but-don’t-quit-because-the-manager-is-nice-and-the-hours-are-flexible type job.
Go to said horrible job while resist the urge to something incredibly immature to the boss’s car since said boss is a stuck-up spoiled b*tch that will no doubt yell at me and my fellow minimum wage workers and try to find a reason to dock our pay for no reason at all.
Gripe with fellow employees about the fact that we should be getting twice as much for the work we do.
Get yelled at by said Boss for absolutely no reason at all.
Decide to willingly embrace aforementioned immature urges when b*tch boss fires good manager and hires a poorly disguised Nazi Robot to enforce her unjust rule.
Convince fellow employee’s to aid in vandalizing her car. One fellow painted purple polka dots on the fancy car while another decided to deflate (not slash) her tires.
I peed in her gas tank
All while neither the boss nor her Nazi Robot manager/minion saw us. Vandalism complete and our revenge fulfilled we then went home them none-the-wiser.
When I got home, I quickly ditched the crappy job uniform (vowing to never return) and prepared to get ready for my real job:
That of a medieval historian/reenactor
…Yorick…
Yorick? Was that my name? No, it wasn’t, but it was the stage name that I used so for the time being it would do. As I began to focus upon my name, I found myself pulled into a memory, a memory that hopefully answered my questions…
“Hey ‘Yorick’, excellent work today man, those kids were riveted to your demonstration!” one of my fellow reenactors shouted to me as I finished packing my over sized hiking backpack with stuff (and it was one of those very large hiking backpacks you see hikers taking when hiking the Sierra Nevada’s).
I smiled as I turned to him, for the one who had spoken, who went by the stage name ‘Hadrian,’ was not only my friend but sparring partner as well.
“What can I say? If there is one thing that little boys like seeing its weapons!” he chuckled at my response. Each of us in our little troupe had a specialty that we would teach our audience (a group of middle-schoolers having a medieval festival in this case) before we would do our “Free-for-all Battle Royal”. My buddy was an expert in medieval music and instruments while the troupe leader had memorized quite a large number of facts about tapestries just to name a few.
As one could no doubt guess my specialty were the different types of medieval melee weapons ranging from simple short-swords to full length greatswords and pole arms. Nothing felt better than imparting my knowledge onto a younger generation, well, except for being able to use my knowledge against my fellow re-enactors during the free-for-all battle.
‘Hadrian’ shook his head but never stopped smiling, as boy would indeed be boys.
“Yeah sure. I just wish you would remember that we are not actually trying to kill each other during our battle. I swear, thanks to you my bruises have bruises!” he said rubbing at his arm, where I am proud to say I disabled the larger man with a rather mighty blow. I simply scoffed at his whining, if someone wanted to claim victory against me, they had to earn it.
“Oh quit your complaining, I know you’ll use those bruises as an excuse to have your girlfriend crawl all over you as she takes care of her ‘poor widdle cuddle bear.’” I said as ‘Hadrian’ glared at me. He never really liked the fact that I discovered his girlfriends’ pet name for him. He eventually shrugged, getting into a fight with me would net him more bruises than it was worth.
“I actually wanted to ask if you would be willing to put this in the van if you could, I would have made ‘Letholdus’ do it but he’s already left,” ‘Hadrian’ says hefting up a large medieval styled crossbow and a small quiver holding five bolts for said weapon. While each re-enactor usually brought his/her own material/props for our demonstrations, some items (like the padded weapons/shields used during our battle, fake instruments, etc.) were donated to the group as a whole and were kept in a van that the troupe leader drove. This made it both easier to transport and to keep track of our all our equipment.
“Sure,” I said “Isn’t the first time I had to pick up after that loon.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I said this; I would freely admit to getting a bit too into character, especially during combat, but when compared to me, ‘Letholdus the Master of Archery’ was a grade ‘A’ ham. As I strapped the crossbow to the side of my hiking backpack opposite my personal shield, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I flipped up my helmet's visor I just managed to catch the tail end of a person in a black cloak slipping down one of the school's hallways.
That was… suspicious.
It was after hours and the school where we were performing at was closed, so students weren’t supposed to be over there. The only area that the students were supposed to be and was open was the main commons/hall where the medieval festival had been set up by the teachers and parents.
Even if the janitors were out and about cleaning at this hour, I doubt that creepy black cloaks were part of the official uniform; then there was the fact that said suspicious individual had been moving silently, not a single sound like he (if it was a he) was a ghost.
Looking behind me showed that my compatriots hadn’t seen the mysterious individual, in fact they were already packed up and heading out.
‘Damn it, damn, damnable!’ I thought.
While my compatriots were perfectly fine with it ignoring such things as ‘somebody else’s problem,’ I just couldn’t let it go. What if the suspicious cloak wearer was a terrorist who had gotten a wild hair up the ass and decided to blow up a school instead of trying to do airplanes? Or, what if it was one of those school shooting psychos who wanted to shoot students and decided to hide in the school and wait for the students to arrive before opening fire? Maybe I was grasping at straws, but the feeling in my gut was that something very bad was going to happen if I let him get away.
Swinging my bag up and the straps around my shoulders, I slapped my visor down and quickly made after the cloak wearer, forgoing the waist strap and thanking whatever deity was out there that my armor didn’t have full sabatons but greaves strapped to well-worn boots. Thanks to the fact that this was my former middle school, I was able to keep up with the mysterious trespasser, if barely. While stalking him silently through the halls, three things were made clear to me; first was the fact that it was indeed a he judging by the width of his shoulders, second was that he was carrying something over his shoulder, and third…
It wasn’t his first trip. All the security cameras in the halls that I passed had been disabled. Their wires had been physically removed via brute force and cut, no doubt during our little festival. I came to the intersection between the foreign language hall, science lab hall, the social studies hall, and the math hall that I had just come from. I looked around but couldn’t see where the mysterious man had disappeared to. Then I heard the tell-tale sound of a door latch opening coming from the science hall.
BINGO! Luck was in my favor, the science hall was a dead end so there was no way he would be able to slip by me. I made my way forward with the utmost caution, taking care to ensure my armor made no noise as I snuck down the hall. As I approached the one open door in the hall I heard two voices, one male and one female. I couldn’t make out what they were saying except for a few words: “struggle” “preparation” “The Coming”
I HEARD the capitalization on the last one.
Stepping into the science lab, I noticed that aside from a pair of dim candle lights, the lab was pitch black, and a gut-clenching feeling of utter Wrongness permeated the place. I stood up to my full height and flicked on the light to confront the two trespassers.
I truly wish I hadn’t, for what I saw would stay with me for the rest of my life.
There weren’t two people in the room, there were three.
The man and the woman that were whispering…
…and the child that the man had been carrying over his shoulder.
I recognized the child as being one of the kids that was at the medieval festival. He was dead, and from what I could see, his death was neither quick nor painless. The entire floor of the lab was covered in strange looking symbols, and they were drawn in something that definitely wasn’t red paint.
The events that followed happened very fast. I yelled something, whether it was a curse or a shout I couldn’t say, and my right hand went to my sword. My shout apparently startled the man as he jumped, the ornate dagger that he had been holding went flying out of his hands. The woman, witnessing the dagger going airborne screamed “NO” and reached for the flying weapon.
She wasn’t even close to catching it. The dagger landed point down amongst a group of particularly evil looking runes that resembled something of a cross between three interlocking crescents and a Nazi swastika. The moment the dagger’s bloody tip struck the floor every symbol lit up with a hellish red light. Both of my hands immediately went to cover my eyes from the intensity of the light, as the man and the woman screamed bloody murder, as if they were being torn apart. It only took me a moment to realize that I was actually standing amongst the runes in a large circle when the light intensified and…
“I woke up here.” I finished, well that definitely answered my questions. No doubt that ‘blood ritual’ was not only what brought me here but also stripped me of my name and any ID I had on me. I pulled myself to my feet and began working out the kinks, the only downside to my ‘meditation reflection’ was the fact that I had to stay sitting in one position for a long time thus I tended to cramp up a bit. Finishing my stretches I started patting my armor whilst naming the pieces to make sure that I wasn’t missing anything else.
“Alright, so greaves? Check! Poleyn/knee guards? Check! Cuisse/thigh armor? Check! Tasset? Check! Chestplate/Plackart combo piece? Check! Backplate? Check! Pauldrons? Check! Rerebrace/bicep armor? Never had it so check! Vambracers? Check! And finally helmet…”
I gave a gentle slap to the side of my head.
“…Check.”
It took me a bit longer to check the equipment pouch on my right side, but everything was accounted for and we came to my favorite part of the check:
My sword
My left hand clamped down on my swords scabbard while my right firmly grasped the leather grip of the handle; I drew my blade with practiced ease, the familiar sound of grinding metal pleasing to my ear. Letting go, my weapons’ scabbard remained firmly held in place by the black double-wrap leather sword belt as I admired my pride and joy.
At a tad over fifty inches in length from the tip of the blade to the base of the pommel, my weapon of choice was the bastard sword (or if you wanted to be more polite, a hand-and-a-half sword).
Since my sword stood somewhat in the middle ground between the standard single-handed sword and a two-handed/long sword (hence the name) I could use the techniques from both fields with one weapon. This gave me an incredible amount of flexibility when compared to someone who just used a weapon from just one school of combat. Add in the fact that I could easily switch between one- and two-handed techniques on the fly, and you can see why my opponents had a tough time winning against me in battle.
I angled my sword so the blade could catch what little sunlight there was. My weapon was of a more antiquated design, the blade measuring almost 39” in length (meaning that it leaned more towards the two-handed side of the spectrum) and the crossguard was slightly crescent shaped instead of the usual flat guard. It was not perfectly balanced with said point of balance being about 5 inches down the blade away from the guard; despite what you may think, this was bad for my opponents since it meant that my one-handed techniques landed with much heftier blows.
The final part of my sword that I always loved to look at was the pommel. Unlike most swords mine was capped with a disk styled pommel. Upon said pommel was etched the iconic cross of the Knights Templar. It was because of this etching that I decided to do as Bilbo Baggins did and give my sword a name.
Templar
Seeing as there was nothing wrong with my sword, I sheathed the blade. As I reached down to grab my hiking bag (lamenting the fact that it would take me a long while to take out and sort everything inside) I was suddenly blinded by an intense flash of light, easily as bright and intense as a magnesium flare.
“The Hell!?” I shouted, jumping back my left arm flying up to shield my eyes while quickly drew Templar in the time it took a heart to beat and leveled it at the origin of the flash. A few moment later, after my eyes had cleared and nothing had attacked me I let my arms drop. My jaw promptly fell as well at what appeared before me.
What had once been nothing more than flat, open, barren tundra was now occupied by huge sparkling city! It was like the Emerald city mated with a geode and gave birth to a psychedelic glitter child, every building and street displaying bright colors in hues of pink, blue and purple. The shiny, glittery buildings were offset by the gentle green of trees interspaced at strategic locations to prevent one for getting blinded by the sheer shininess. At the very center of the city was a palace that looked like a cross between the Emerald city’s main castle, Cinderella’s castle, and the Eiffel tower made of shimmering blues and white glass like crystal. The whole building shimmered in the sun like that ice palace the elder sister made in the Disney movie Frozen.
I stood there working my jaw as I tried to wrap my head around what just happened. Eventually my mind just figuratively threw it hands in the air and shoved a famous movie quote at me.
“Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore”
The satanic blood ritual transporting me into the arctic I could handle as a one-off thing.
Said ritual stripping me of my identity? A coincidence
Giant Crystal City appearing out of thin air? Screw Kansas Toto, we ain’t even on the same planet no more!
Clenching my jaw, I took a deep breath before holding it in for a second and then finally letting it out.
‘Alright Yorick, enough is enough. All standing around gawking is going to do is let me get frostbite and hypothermia, besides that city is the only settlement that I can see. It’s either go to that city or risk dying out here due to exposure looking for another place to crash.’
Sheathing Templar, I grabbed my hiking bag and swung it up onto my shoulders, this time making sure to buckle the waist belt. One last check around ensured that everything was in its place and I made ready to go.
“Well, Yorick, what else is there to say, Tally Ho!” and with that made off towards the shining city at a decent jog.
Unbeknownst to Yorick, he was not the only being making his way to the city.
A creature, a wraith, composed of pure shadow and hate zipped towards the city, feeling a rare moment of joy.
King Sombra, the Tyrant King of the Crystal Empire, had emerged from his icy tomb as was now speeding along as fast as a bird could fly, dead set on reclaiming his empire. Once he did, not even the celestial sisters would be able to rout him.
His Crystal Empire awaited him, as did his crystal slaves.
Yorick and Sombra
Light and Shadow
A being with a good heart and a being with a heart as black as sin
Neither knew, but they were on a collision course that would not only determine the destiny of the Crystal Empire, but the destiny of the world itself.