We WERE going to use this chapter to talk about the dragons of Equestria.
But ohhhh no. Oh no! Because you see, while we were travelling to Hearthstone, we got kidnapped by an Ophidian raiding party. And Twilight and Spike wanted to have a chapter talking about how utterly insane our experience was. I, dear reader, will detail every little thing we went through in order to get you to comprehend just how unusual a species the Ophidians are.
And it started out on a bright day, as the sunlight softly filtered in through a forest path. Twilight and Spike had agreed to join me for interviewing the draconic leaders of Hearthstone, and I couldn't be happier. She had a pack of supplies slung over her shoulder, Spike had a little adorable blue backpack with him, and I, being the living galaxy I was, didn't need anything.
Naturally this led to Twilight finally doing what every single person who realizes exactly what I am does: she stuck her hoof into me and watched in awe as it came out the other side. Then she stuck it in and it came out of my forehead. Then her hoof came out my stomach, then my arm, then my hand...
Eventually she stopped when it went right out my left butt cheek, making Spike start laughing so hard he couldn't stop. I chalk this up to how the Ophidians found us, because precisely four minutes later, we were all launched through the air by a sudden explosion, dropped into magical nets that throbbed with a faint humming sound. We struggled uselessly, trying to get free, but the nets were drenched in some kind of disruption magic designed to naturally hinder all inherent special abilities. I was highly impressed that a "hick" type of planet like this could have any kind of species that has developed what we now call "vortex disruption" techniques, but Twilight naturally was even more fascinated. She didn't bat an eye when the Ophidians glared at her, she just asked them how the net worked.
They were surprised by her earnestness, the largest one of them, the obvious leader, deciding "Why the hell not" as he talked with her about the net's special spellbinding and how magic spells were woven into the very cords of the rope that had us wrapped up. The only way to break free was to burn them, but making fire just magically appear wasn't an option for Twilight, so this meant I had to try and cough up some kind of lighter or matches, and after about an hour of concentration, focusing, and coughing up a few bottles of Illithid wine, pogs and, inexplicably, a falafel, the sun finally beginning to set, I succeeded.
But even then they didn't recommend I try anything. It wasn't because they'd kill us and that would mean not getting to enjoy a live meal. It was because they were on the outskirts of a bit of a warzone. You see, they and the dragons and a few other races are not on the best of terms near Hearthstone. This meant they had to keep a low profile and not let anybody see them, and the night was beginning to fall, meaning any attempt to light any matches would get the dragons to launch their special cannons from Hearthstone at us.
"Don't be silly! They're not gonna see me strike a match!' I insisted, striking a match as I snorted and rolled my eyes.
SHUKKA-BOOOM!
The next thing I remember, everybody was covered in soot, Twilight coughing slightly as one of the Ophidians nonchalantly reached through the net and extinguished the tiny flame that was atop her hair, the ground around us scorched, though the rope net still intact.
Luckily Twilight had a plan. She whispered for Spike to reach into her back and get out some candles she'd imported from Hearthstone, which famously burned a passionate reddish/black color. They wouldn't fire at their own matches!
SHUKKA-THROOM!
"Damn. The bucking griffons." Twilight groaned, everyone giving her a dark glare, one Ophidian having been blown into a nearby tree hollow, vainly trying to get himself unstuck on his own merit.
The Ophidians have varying degrees of muscular structure on their upper bodies when it comes to the arms and the chests. On average, they're well built, and slightly shorter than I am, though a good two feet taller than a pony. Their heads are entirely serpentine, though some have crests similar to dragons, others having hair or feathers that reveals pony or griffon interbreeding, and all have long, powerful lower bodies ending in tails with razor-sharp claws, tape covering their hands with Ophidian lettering written on the top, deadly fangs, and armor built, as the stories all said, out of the bones and flesh of their enemies. They are, however, exceedingly polite.
“Hello!” The apparent cook who was going to prepare us inquired, the brown-scaled, thick-armed Ophidian holding onto a cook book as it adjusted the cap atop its head. It gave us a cheery bow as we sat in the net by the immense pyramid-esque structure in the center of the Ophidian city “Good to see you fellows. Nice to meet you! I’m D'hja. I wanted to find out how you’d like to be prepared for after my friends tranquilize you.” He asked of us as he pulled open the pages of the cookbook, pointing inside. “Now, we were inclined to serve you as a roast with a hint of orange mint, but there’s always stew!” He remarked cheerily, looking back up at us.
“What a bunch of...of...ANIMALS!!!” Twilight screamed, burying her head in the ground and moaning.
“Oh, roast, then?” The cook said, shutting the book and walking off.
"I don't suppose there's an option to NOT be eaten?" Spike asked politely, the hunter Twilight had talked to before walking back over, his eyes golden, yet oddly soft as he folded his arms over his chest.
"If you really want that, you'll have to acquire permit 138. It's a one-year pass you can apply for. Once filed out, it will be given to all Ophidian hunting parties, and your faces will be marked as "off limits" for a year." He admitted with a nod of his face-painted, silvery head as I blinked in surprise. Really?
I suppose the rumors were true. Ophidians really are incredibly, freakishly into rules. "So, er...where might we find permit 138, Mister...?" Twilight inquired politely.
"J'rmand. Look, I'll take you to the Permit and Documentation building we have right after I put these on you." He said, holding up several collars that hummed with disruption powers. "You'll have twenty four hours. After that, these will knock you out and I'll come collect you from within, since we're going to have to eat you. Sorry." He remarked with a shrug, reaching through the net and slipping the collars onto us, one after another as we glanced at each other. He let us loose from the net, escorting us along with a platoon of guards past the immense pyramid as Twilight took the time to examine the architecture.
The Ophidians really enjoy pyramids and ornate building designs. They have fascinating textures and living history etched into the walls of every building, from their library to normal homes, and all made of pearly white stone. The roads were well-paved, the market had a fascinating array of brightly-colored flags lining up and down the path to mark where various types of foods were for any who was interested, and there was a wide variety of wind instrument players in the streets. The Ophidians have crafted some of the best classical music I've heard on this planet, and one of their biggest musicians, J'zee, has done excellent cooperative work with the famous Draconian musician, Justin Timberdrake.
The Permit and Documentation building wasn't any exception. It had long, sweeping walls and large hallways with a wide variety of Ophidian history carved into it. But above all, it had so many Ophidians talking to each other. Over and over! You couldn't walk ten feet without hearing an Ophidian complaining at another one. And that was when we began to realize the problem with the place.
For you see, we started off simply. The Information Booth in the first main hall. The good news was that it wasn't hard to identify who worked in the building and who didn't: all Ophidians have bindings of tape around their hands with lettering that will often give you a clue as to where they work in, what their family name is, and in the case of official Ophidian government buildings, they have solid colors for their tape bindings. Their equivalent of police have blue, their merchants have green, their hospital workers have white, and the Permit and Documentation workers had a lovely, bright shade of scarlet. So despite there being a large amount of Ophidians slithering around the place, we could easily tell who was and wasn't a part of the staff.
But the staff was maddeningly unhelpful.
"Hi. We need Permit 138."
"I'm sorry, what? You'll have to speak up, I'm a little deaf in this side." The woman at the Information Booth asked.
"Permit 138!"
"What?"
"PERMIT 138?"
"Oh! Oh, that. You have to get Permit A-29 to acquire that first. Second floor, first door on your right, just head up the stairs." She insisted, waving a ringed hand in the air as Twilight shrugged, Spike nervously looking around. We'd had to wait in line for half an hour just to get to talk to this woman, stuck behind a very fat Ophidian with a breathing problem. How much longer would this take?
Things didn't improve on the second floor. Because a sign on the first door to the right told us the office had been moved to the first floor, in the west wing. Then once we actually got there, we had to sneak past a leopard that was prowling around in the hall to finally get into the office, an Ophidian readying a large spear. "Damn leopards keep sneaking into the building. The turnover rate's almost as high as Canterlot's." He muttered darkly. "They're like rats, but more bitey and bigger."
"I don't suppose you can give us Permit A-29 so we can get Permit 138?"
"You're going to have to talk to my manger on the second floor in the East Wing. Now, if you'll excuse me!" He remarked, putting on a headband around his head before rushing out into the hall, the sounds of combat filling our ears as he began whacking the leopard over the head again and again.
His manager was even more deaf than the woman in the information booth. "The port is by the seaside, I can't sell you any fish! Did you try Cutts, the Butcher?"
"NO! We need PERMIT. ONE. THREE. EIGHT." Twilight insisted, a small twang now in her hair, her face becoming increasingly pained as Spike began to nervously twitch. It had been three hours since we'd entered the building and we were beginning to seriously lose it.
"What?"
"PERMIT ONE THREE EIGHT"!
"Oh! Oh, just go to Room 301, it's on the third floor, second door on your right!"
That woman was a bucking liar. It was the fourth door on our left. And we know this because we literally tried every single other door. All of them except for the first door on the right and the fourth door on the left was locked. And the first door on the right had an Ophidian who was evidently trying to kill a lobster. Well, I SAY he was trying to kill a lobster. I can think of no other reason why he and his two friends were painting the thing so much. It looked like an art project. The poor thing was probably suffocating. And not even the person in the fourth door on the third floor was very helpful because she insisted we go get Permit 9-A B, and fill out Subsection 2, Paragraph 4. And guess where we'd find it? That information desk from before.
We thought we'd get some more help from the next stop, because we had two very cheerful Ophidian men who were chatting it up with each other about how awful their day was. "I'm telling you, I'm bored out of my skull working here."
"I know what you mean. It's all the same thing, over and over. Again and again."
"Yeah, just blah wallpaper, blah floors, blah paint job on the bathrooms, blah customers."
"Just hours upon hours of blah after another."
"I know, right? Just blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!"
"It says a lot about me that this is actually the first time I've ever seen this happen." I admitted to Twilight before she whistled to get their attention. Unfortunately, they then sent us to the almost utterly-deaf woman...
"I TOLD you! The port's by the seaside!"
Then to the second floor...
"I can't help you until you fill out Form 23-I, it's on the third-"
Then the first floor again, after being told about an erroneous door!
"Section 9, Paragraph 2. You DO have it with you, right?"
Then back to that bucking idiot from before who was still fighting with the fucking leopard who had now taken over his desk and wouldn't get out of the chair-
"GAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" Spike screamed, rolling on the floor, spittle flying from his mouth like a machine gun as Twilight banged her head against the nearby wall over and over, her hair an unkempt mess that looked more like a mop that had been thrown into a chipper than real hair. I was little better. I was curled up in a fetal position, rocking back and forth, biting onto my hand so hard I almost drew blood. "We're gonna be trapped here forever!" Spike shrieked.
"We could always break a window. With my head." I whimpered.
Twilight then stopped. And she thought about it. Really seemed to think about it. "Wait. Wait! We've been going about this the wrong way. We need to use our head and think." She whispered, her tone becoming hushed and conspiratorial as she glanced about, ushering us to come in close. "Listen, here's the plan..."
And it was a positively brilliant one. We went to every single floor, every single room we could, and we began talking about the "Blue Form A-113 Requisition Order for Overtime Pay". Immediately everyone in the entire building began to talk about it and was on the lookout for this nonexistent order. Their shouting was practically a cacophony as Twilight, Spike and I nonchalantly headed down the steps, all of them scurrying back and forth, trying to find this nonexistent paper. Twilight then walked up to a particularly large ophidian who had golden eyes and long crests hanging down his head who was looking over several stacks of forms. "I am quite busy. What is it that you want?"
"If you don't mind...do you have Permit 138 in there?" Twilight politely asked, pointing at the stack of papers with a hoof and giving him a pleasant but slightly pleading smile. The ophidian sighed, pulling out a pink form from the pile, handing it to Twilight.
"There. Now if you don't mind, I've got to track down this Requisition Order. Our system is so very out of date. I wish there was some way to modernize how we store this information." He remarked with a sigh. "Maybe a magical data collection service?" He mused aloud as we exited the building.
I wonder when Equestria will fully invent computers and the like to do such things. Needless to say, our captor was true to his word. He let us leave and even gave us a fruit basket to show there were no hard feelings. He said he felt a little bit sad he wouldn't get to eat us, because he had a nice wine recipe he was sure would go great with my thighs.
I asked if I could hit him. He told me that was fair.
Suffice to say...it will be a looooong time before I'm comfortable talking to an Ophidian again. I'll bet they have to fill out five different forms just to have consensual sex. Who needs THAT many laws? I'm surprised there weren't more people in their jails. Or do they just put outsiders through this nonsense? If they did, I wouldn't be surprised.
But a word of warning to all of you. Do not get captured by an Ophidian hunting party. And if you do, ask about Permit 138. And try to find the Ophidian on the first floor who's got the largest amount of paper forms in his office. Immediately. After all. You don't want to become an Ophidian's Dinner Special.
The good news is that next chapter, we'll get to really talk about the dragons of Equestria. And I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised by what we uncovered. They're honestly not as bad as I thought they'd be. And not a single one of them asked to eat us.
That didn't use to be something I had to ask, you know. "Will you try to eat us". I didn't think I'd have to keep asking that of people. Ah, the complicated life of being an alien on a strange planet!