//------------------------------//
// Part 13: The Board is Set 
// Story: Constantine and the Eternal Night 
// by Jaysteeny 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 13: The Board is Set

Rarity was in the basement of her boutique, trying to make tactical clothing that still looked nice. She had tried dyeing Kevlar and shaping it like a dress, but they were uncomfortable, didn’t quite flow right, and stuck out like a pine tree in a shrubbery. So it was that she decided to make skin-tight body armour made from overlapping plates of Kevlar, with a soft lining underneath and a very convincing layer of fabric made and coloured to emulate the wearer’s coat, cutie mark and all.
It really didn’t help that she had a nagging feeling at the base of her horn that fate itself had decided to try and stop her from working. Suddenly, there came a new sensation in her skull. A tone then played as her horn vibrated loudly.
“Oh, I have a new message,” Said Rarity, crossing her eyes to look at her horn. “Hmm, feels like Twilight’s magical radiation signature. I wonder what it is…” Before she could check however, a small purple dragon with numerous green ridges down its back entered the room, carrying a recently heated crucible of an unknown material.
“Which mould would you like me to pour this into, Rarity?” Spike asked, walking over to where they stood. “Any royal armour orders, or do you feel like trying your hoof at weapons again?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, just more plates thankyou Spike,” She said, as her horn began to glow “What? ‘Come to the library, bring your sword.’? What in Celestia’s good name does that mean?” She said, frowning at the cryptic message, before seeing there was more. She repeated it aloud so spike could hear, “It says ‘This is a call to arms for the last remnants of Celestial citizenry. Come immediately to the books and branches Ponyville public library with whatever armament you can muster. It is likely we go to our death, the last rays of the sun. Praise Celestia! Love from, Twilight sparkle. *Kiss*’…Well Spike, time to test my body armour in the field. I think you should also wear yours, if I need to be bringing weapons and armour, and with all of us being mustered…Well, to not go to battle is a moot point. Come along, we haven’t much time, for ‘the prey does not wait for the ambush to be set’*”
“Sweet! Remember how when you gave up on that sword you gave it to me? Well, I tried my claws at it and, well, the evidence speaks for itself,” He went over to a cabinet, and from behind it he pulled a beautiful piece of metalwork. The blade was four feet in length, covered in draconic shapes; with a vein of gold along the centre, emblazoned with runes fashioned after the language of the dragons. It gave off a pale golden glow from within itself, as if it were reflecting a soft light shone upon it. The hilt of it was carved ornately, in the form of a pair of dragons facing outwards, with startling detail and chips of jade for eyes. The handle had a serpentine dragon, curling around it with shards of rubies upon its back. It ended with a draconic head, a sizeable diamond clutched in its mouth. It was truly a work of art, if nothing else.
“Spike…Surely that isn’t…Is that the same lump of metal I gave you to discard?” Rarity’s eyes went wide with wonder at this glorious blade, and she then realised the implications of the blade’s creation. “Spike, you forged this in your flames. A dragon’s fire has incredible magical power, which it can impart upon weapons and armour that survive its flames.”
Spikes eyes widened as he realised what this meant, and he saw the blade in light anew. “I’ll, uh, be right back!” He said, placing the sword in a bejewelled scabbard, which Rarity had not seen while marvelling at the sword. He laid it carefully at her feet and ran back up the stairs. He returned a few minutes later carrying a small chest, full of weapons Rarity had told him to discard. He opened it, revealing a veritable treasure-trove of knives, swords, axes, shields, armour and helmets.
“Spike! How did you find the time?” Rarity asked, mouth agape. Spike’s answer was succinct.
“I’m allowed to have a hobby,” he said, shrugging.
*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*
Applejack was in the fields bucking trees, while her brother Big Macintosh was hard at work ploughing Earth. The trees had grown faster since the coming of Nightmare Moon, as the moons were changed to release similar types and amounts of radiation so that plants didn’t die. But as far as this family could see, that was the only good thing about her rule. So it was only natural that they received a magical signal whenever a certain unicorn needed help or supplies.
They felt a strange calmness overcome them as the signal intertwined itself with their Earth pony magic to form words from grass that was not previously there. The grass finished growing and the two ponies, after sharing a quick glance, stepped back to view this message. It read: ‘This is a call to arms for the last remnants of Celestial citizenry. Come immediately to the books and branches Ponyville public library with whatever armament you can muster. It is likely we go to our death, the last rays of the sun. Praise Celestia! Love from, Twilight sparkle. *Kiss*’
“Y’all readin’ this the same, Big Macintosh? Ah think it’s time we broke out the ol’ battle saddles,” She said, channelling her magic to add and remove some lines and curves of grass, making it look like a random patch of weird grass, where a young Earth pony was practicing Earth magic. She then galloped off as her brother did the same.
“Eeyup,” was the only response Big Macintosh gave, as he followed her up to the barn.
*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*
Twilight barrelled from the communications room, sword in tow. She paused at the door to catch her breath before lowering her head and using her magic to open it. She trotted calmly across the room before stopping and changing her mind. She took a water bottle from the fridge, and took a bendy straw from a compartment in the floor. She got a glass out of the cabinet and poured a drink. She placed it next to the captive stallion’s head, with the straw within reach of his muzzle.
“Here you are, Anonymous Pegasus #3. Have a drink of water while I prevent your friends from resisting capture,” She smiled at him and trotted away from the table, sword levitating behind. Deciding she would need a little more than that, she went to the armoury and selected a Thomson sub-machine gun, with three additional drum magazines of ammunition. She trotted to the stairs, and was gone from sight.
The stallion in shackles was thirsty. Very thirsty. But he couldn’t trust this mare, not if she was taking firearms to an ambush intended to capture enemies. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore and moved his lips to the drink.
He was quite understandably upset when a creature strangely resembling Constantine rolled from beneath a table, stood up and took it from him. He ignored the straw and downed it in one, giving a satisfied sigh as he put the glass back down.
“Ahhh…I needed that,” he said as his vision and mind cleared, looking at the tied up Pegasus for the first time. “S***. Jay f***ing did this, didn’t he,” he said, groaning as he lifted his hands to his face, checking to make sure they weren’t hooves. He had heard all the previous conversation, and seen colourful blurs moving about. He had somehow been able to see that the armoury area was completely full of weapons, and found himself drawn to the swords. He didn’t have much time to look at them before he heard footsteps, so he grabbed a scimitar and dived under a table to hide.
“Say, are you friends with a human called ‘George Arthur Constantine’ by any chance? It’s just that I’ve heard him talk about his home and his friends sometimes, and the name ‘Jay’ was familiar,” Asked the stallion, ignoring for the moment his stolen drink and taking the newcomer in.
He was dressed simply, just a black t-shirt, a jacket, a pair of pants and some slightly worn running shoes. He had blue eyes, dark blonde hair and slight stubble on his chin. He had slung the sword’s strap across his chest, with the handle appearing above his right shoulder. He stood at about 5.75 feet tall and had a seriously peeved expression on his face.
“So who are you supposed to be?” He asked bluntly. Evidently he thought this to be merely one his friend’s more successful attempts at making him more tolerant towards ponies.
“I’m anonymous Pegasus #3, and I have no clue who you are. Anyway, I’d really appreciate it if you helped me out here. They’re planning an ambush and I have to stop them,” he said, staring pleadingly at the fridge.
“Well, if George is here, then that explains why he disappeared a little over a year back. I’m Sam, by the way,” He said while releasing the sore horse from the bench. “Did George ever mention me?” He asked, turning his attention to the fridge.
“Well, as a matter of fact, yes. But, well…We’ll just not worry about what he said right now. Mostly because I don’t know if he spoke of you for good or ill. I believe he called you a ‘top bloke’,” He said, joining Sam at the fridge. “Hey, can you please pass me that bottle of cider? I always like a little something stronger than water before a fight,” The liquid was poured into the glass and the straw put back in. Sam opted instead to drink the water straight from the bottle.
“No worries about what he said, man. It’s all good,” he said, replacing the cap before putting the water away. He refilled Anonymous Pegasus #3’s glass and took a sniff of it before putting it away. He grimaced, and then took his sword out for closer inspection.
“Hey, uh, Sam? Can you please help me put my armour back on? And while we’re at it, why not grab me a gun,” he said, as Sam nodded approvingly and sheathed his scimitar.
“Yep, sure. A friend of George is a friend of mine,” he said, walking over and picking up the piece of metal built for the torso and midsection. “So it just goes ‘round your chest, right? Soz, but I don’t know anything about My Little Pony. You know, aside from what I heard Jay say about it before I forbade him from doing so. All I know are the names of a couple of main characters, to tell the truth,” He said, strapping it firmly to his withers.
“Now this layer-y one goes down my neck and connects to it, and the other end attaches to my helmet. Then that one there connects to my midsection armour and protects my haunches,” He instructed, standing like a mannequin to make it easier. When they were done, he spoke again. “Right, now let’s get me some firepower,” he said, walking over to a pair of modified Bren guns.
“Right, so I just hook this into a saddle and drop it on you?” He asked, suspicious of the simplicity.
“Yeah, just make sure I got ammo and don’t have feed issues, okay? I hate to have a fiasco like last time…”He trailed off, leaving Sam wondering what happened. He drew the sword that came with the uniform, giving a few practice swings. Finally he put it away, and turned back to Sam, smiling. “Let’s fight some ultra-powerful unicorns!” He cried, charging up the stairs. Sam shook his head, grabbed a grease gun and followed.
*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*
“Hmm…Well, if Goldie is having an M1 carbine, RD’s grabbing an mg34, and I‘m grabbing a knife, a luger and a pair if 1911s as backup…I guess I’ll take these two PPSHs. My mate Jay was a WW2 buff, and was always talking about how in this game he played they were the best SMG you could get in terms of ammo. Give me a couple extra drums too.” He looked down the sights, and as he had ten drums of ammo, he decided he could afford to practice a little. After emptying a drum from each one, he slung them on his back, got a sword belt on, checked his pistols to make sure he had some more ammo prepared for them, and climbed onto Rainbow’s back, drums in his modified saddlebag. “Let’s play a little chess, shall we? White has already made the first move, so it’s time for Black to counter it. Auto-bots, let’s ROLL OUT!” He cried, squeezing his legs to signal it was time to fly. Rainbow Dash grinned and took off, awaiting the signal flare from Golden Shield. She had her gun and was itching to use it; all she needed was a situation and a target.

*This was probably not said. It is one of my philosophy attacks which I thought suited the situation.


(Authors notes) Well, at first I used what George knew to write the bits with Sam, but on Monday got him to verify information and events. So there is less swearing than I would have thought. He claims he didn't use all of those Australianisms, but people might freak out if he randomly breaks out into 95% Australianisms later on when talking to George. The reason for the WW2 weapons is because they currently lack the technology for modern firearms, and they are the only designs they could find from Earth. Any further questions, leave 'em in the comments, until next time, GOODBYE, PEOPLES!