//------------------------------// // Issue 6-Making a Mark [Part 1] // Story: I Am Not a Charlatan! I Am Mysterio, Master of the Arcane Arts! // by The Quidam //------------------------------// In Equestria, one of the most cherished aspects of the world was the sunshine. The brightness and the temperature seem to always be glorious and uplifting to all who dwelled in the realm. It felt motherly and tender as well as invigorating due to its intensity. In fact, there was a myth that the sun was so powerful that the Pegasus race was made to create stormy weather in order for the inhabitants to maintain their appreciation for it as well as the land to continue to grow and prosper. Yet while so many gave reasons to appreciate the sun, there was one individually cursing its brightness and heat. However, to be fair, she had been cursing a lot of other things lately as well. In the past, she would have been recognized as the shapely unicorn in a magician’s outfit. Now, she would hardly be recognized in the dirty and rumpled flannel shirt and overalls she was forced to wear. By Tartarus, she hardly recognized herself nowadays! ‘Stupid sun! Stupid dirt! Stupid workload!’ Thought Trixie before muttering. “I was a graduate of Illusion Magic and on my way to fame and renown. How did I end up here moving around garbage?” “Because we founds it in our hearts to give you some grub, clothes, and a place to sleep!” Said a voice behind her. She was an intimidating figure. Her shape was wide and broad and emphasized by the tight strains that were apparent on her shirt and overalls. Yes she was plush, and plump, but she had a great deal more muscular aspect about her despite her curvy face suggesting otherwise. That, and her chest played a prominent aspect in further emphasizing her bulky stature with each letter of the alphabet it must of bypassed. Her tail stuck out from her wide backside and was a ruffled appendage that looked like it could give quite the smack if one wasn’t careful. All in all, she was the very model of what one could imagine a junkyard dog to be. For that was what she was. A Diamond Dog to be certain, but one who ran a junkyard. She seemed to be a Border Collie type based on the way her fur was patterned to focus more brown fur around her eyes and streamed down her neck like a long mane of hair. It was quite the contrast to her grayish coat and golden eyes. Normally, they were the type of Diamond Dog that were renown for being built lean for running and one of the considerably more sensuous appearing types of the species. Despite the alteration in size, girth and demeanor, there was still a sense of that majesty in the gaze of this Diamond Dog. That and the way her outer fang was curled up suggested a sense of sassiness that took little to no nonsense when work needed to be done. “Yeah! So keep working! It takes lots of works to keep scrappy yard nice and perty!” Said a more chipper and youthful voice of somedoggie sitting on her shoulder. This one seemed to be a petite type of doggie, but was also clearly a puppy. You could tell with how she dressed in a blue shirt that depicted a pink bunny as well as a faded pink skirt over a pair of pants that were as orange as her short kept hair. It had a black ribbon with a bow near her right ear. She had a grayish coat collar as well but around her right eye was a black mark like a bullseye. She stifled a giggle with a large forepaw with three clawed digits and thumb while her big toes curled in mirth. This pair was Bo (the collie) and Norah (the puppy). Here they were in a desert that lied between the border of the evergreen trees and whatever dry and hot spot that those ponies claimed would make a good frontier town in what was known as Clutter Coulee. It was a junkyard filled with the leftover scrap and broken down remnants of times gone by that was currently being worked over by the place’s newest guest. Her job was simple: sort out the good scrap from the large piles of refuse. It was simple work, but certainly not easy! “This could go so much faster if you’d just let me use my magic” Trixie began to light her horn, before she was startled into stopping by Bo literally putting her foot down. A resounding boom echoed out as she gave a low growl at the attempt to cheat at the work that needed to be done. “None of that! It’s enough that we lets you use it to makes the more yucky stuff get gone. Besides,” Bo crossed her arms, unintentionally further emphasizing her endowments, and raised a fanged lip to show more teeth as she snarled, “the last thing we needs is you getting any ideas of cheating yourself out of work by makings it invisible, tiny, or whatever you ponies think up!” “Yeah! So don’t worry about it, pretty pony. Just keep working and you’ll be done in time for supper!” Norah giggled from her perch as Bo turned to head for other parts of the junkyard she had to work on. ‘Pretty! Pretty her plot!’ Trixie thought as she recalled the true reason for why she toiled so hard and why the little pup was watching her so discreetly over Bo’s shoulder as the two Diamond Dogs walked away. Her hand unconsciously reached for her newest accessory to her outfit: a collar with a bulb as its centerpiece. It was junky looking, but the story behind it was not so worn in her memory. [}0{] “Get this thing off of me!” Trixie yelled. She woke up one morning to find a new accessory around her neck. The decorative style was too childish to be Bo, so she knew the culprit had to be the pup, Norah. “Trixie is not some canine you can collar like she needs to be walked! She is her own mare!” The unicorn tugged with all her might, and even tried her magic, but the collar would not come off no matter what trick she tried to attempt. For something probably scrapped together it was surprisingly resilient. “No! I don’t like it when No-good-dirty-ungrateful-charity-stealers take advantage of my Big Sis and run off before Paying up what they owe!” Norah pouted with her arms firmly crossed before she pointed at the mare that was nearly twice her size. “So you are gonna work hard until you pay back EVERY Little thing you owe for us saving your puff-up plot!” “My plot is not puffed-up!” She rubbed her backside subconsciously as she defended it. It was the natural size it was meant to be for her curves; No magic alterations whatsoever! “Besides, even if I decided to go off on my merry way, what would a pup like you even do if I say no?” It was at that question the little pup gave out a wide smile like she just heard the punchline to a very inside joke. “Well, let’s look at another guest I gave one of my pretty collars too.” She pulled out from her skirt pocket what looked like a soup can connected to a string. “Come in Mr. FluffyStuffy! This is to supper sexy puppy gal, Norah! Do you copy?” Trixie noticed that as she followed the string, it went a long ways away from them. It ended with another can on top of a box in which a faded yellow bear with a red shirt was sitting. He too was wearing a similar collar, but due to his size, it was used as a belt instead of being worn on its neck. “What’s that MR. FluffyStuffy? The work is too much? You would rather lie around and do nothing?” She then pulled out a box with a big switch inside and flicked it. “Well TOO BAD! LOOks like YOUR TIME is UPPPP!!!” The bulb on the collar blinked green, then yellow, until it ended in a red glow. The moment it did, the bear exploded into a miniature snowstorm of stuffing and felt. Norah burst into tears and sobbed as she felt the bits of cotton land near her bottom paws despite the distance. “You see that bear! I liked THAT BEAR! I even LIKE-LIKED him! I slept with him ENOUGH TIMES to consider debating if I should become a ONE-STUFFED-ANIMAL pup!” She then stared down the now shaking unicorn with tear stricken fury as she declared, “I don’t even know you!” She just ran off crying, leaving a near catatonic Trixie, who realized just how her life fell into the hands of a lunatic. [}0{] Trixie shook her mane furiously as she struggled to lift bigger and heaver heaps of scrap to their proper piles. “I was the ‘Great and Powerful Trixie’! There is a record of her graduation from a prestigious academy! Trixie is NOT…huff!... a collered…errgh!... beast of burden…ugh!..for a couple of..arr!...damned dogs!” With that, she tossed the contents she was holding onto the larger pile and began to catch her breath. As she did so, he furry began to die out and be filled with a heavy sorrow. “How could have Trixie…how could have I fallen so far?” She sighed as she continued her job. For despite how much she hated it, she could do nothing else to change her situation. And so Trixie found herself continuing to work hard. For she always felt eyes on her at some point of the day. It didn’t help that Norah seemed to find a way to always show up and check on her progress at the most inopportune times. But what could she do? She wished someone would come and help her get her life back on track, but who was out there that would even be capable of getting her out of this dump? What could they offer to make her situation less bleak. [}0{] “I will give you half the world!” “I’m sure you will, Shubby. I’m sure you will.” Ethan muttered as he continued to push the buttons on his Vita. So far his Factory Desco named Shubby was wiping out all contenders of this level in the item world of Disgaea 3. Yet despite the carnage-simulated or not-he still found himself down in the dumps. He turned off the device as he sighed out to look at his current surroundings. Like for instance, the fact that all he had to do was reach down next to his hip and already in his hand was a ruby as big as his palm. “Here I am doing what most of my kind would kill for to be able to do: lying in a pile of treasure that stretches as far as the eye can see! The wealth that would make any man live a life of comfort and perhaps a dozen lifetimes more if invested properly.” He then sadly tossed the gemstone back into the pile. “And all of it is going to someday end up in your stomach!” He turned to face the other occupant of the treasure chamber who was currently trying to figure out how that strange device her master called an ‘eye-foene’ had made the voices and pictures that moved. Seeing his attention was on her, she handed it back to him carefully using her tail to do so. “My apologies, Master Mysterio, but were I but another type of dragoness I would probably grant it all to you without hesitation.” She stated as she took a handful of treasure to eat as if it were cereal. If there was anyone that Ethan could say was reaping the full benefit of their newfound wealth, it was Tsavorite. She was in much better shape than when she first came crawling to the front door of the castle. No longer was she the skin and bones reptile who appeared to be ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. In fact, she even appeared to be developing curves that further proved to possess a feminine figure as the slight tightness of her wrap and flowing sarong seemed to suggest. Her height had to have gone through a boost as well because Ethan swore he was not that short compared to her and she now seemed to be more comfortable with using her tail like an extra appendage. It startled him to find that one morning at breakfast, he was only tall enough to reach her gaze if he tilted his head up. It was almost intimidating and again he was grateful for his expressionless helmet. Still, Tsavorite seemed loyal to her new master despite a size gap developing between them. Albeit, Ethan still felt as if he needed to prove himself as one that was worth serving. Call it intuition or paranoia, but he felt that if he were to keep a dragon in his employ, he must make certain he kept her well-fed or else something terrible would come to pass. At least, that was one of the things his now apparent benefactor told him to be weary of. [}0{] “Who are you?” Ethan asked. He was concerned with a number of things: Where was he? How did he get here? Why was he here? Yet the most prevalent question in his mind seemed to be this: Who was this figure that was talking to him despite not even having a head, let alone a mouth with which to speak? He wore a large coat of blended colors and looked as if he stepped out of a painting. He sat across from him at a grand and round table in which an opulent tea set, snack dishes, and other baubles were elaborately set between them. The headless entity replied in that oddly mellow tone of voice. “Arrangement?” He began to ask before he recalled something about this character. “Wait a minute-!” The tea set shook as his fist slammed down onto the table. This was that stranger he met that day at the convention! “YOU ARE THE REASON I’M HERE, AREN’T YOU?!” Ethan roared out in fury. The Quidam calmly stated as he took a teacup and started to gather sugar cubes to drop in it. “You call taking me from my home-MY LIFE!-a dispute?!” The young man leapt from his seat and began a hurried rush to reach the other occupant of the table. “I show you a dispute!” As he was barely a few feet from reaching his hands towards the being’s nonexistent neck, Ethan found he could not move a muscle, let alone take another step forward or backward. He couldn’t even blink! All he could do is be still there in midair. The Quidam continued to drop cube after cube of sugar into its/his tea, and giving no indication as to why his guest was frozen in such a state. Ethan gave no response, for what response could he give? He was frozen! Still, The Quidam took his silence as agreeableness and in a split moment, the young man found himself sitting in the chair as if nothing uncouth just occurred. The table was set up neatly again and the host just kept placing sugar cubes in his/its tea as if nothing out of the ordinary was taking place. So Ethan just sat there, now able to move, but not finding the reason to do so. The Quidam explained as he swirled his teacup with a spoon. There was no recollection of where he got it as he continued. “Façade?” Ethan said, finally having the will to ask a question among many. Ethan thought hard about this. That statement alone possessed so many implications he could hardly consider where to begin. “So I have this power? And it’s just beginning?” The Quidam nodded, or at least gave as much of a nod as he could due to lacking a head. “Why me?” Ethan immediately asked. The Quidam preparedly answered. “Don’t give me that…”The young man stopped himself from getting angry again. It wouldn’t help, and apparently this…The Quidam wouldn’t appreciate it to say the least. “I mean why am I ‘Displaced’? Why am I the one here out of every guy that was on that convention floor that day? I wasn’t the only one there. I certainly wasn’t even the only Mysterio Cosplayer that day. So why me?” For a long while, the headless one was silent. The only sound he gave came from the swirling of his spoon. He took the teacup and tilted it backward. Instead of spilling down the jacket collar, the liquid seemed to slowly disappear with every supposed sip. When the cup was emptied entirely, the odd stranger continued. The Quidam poured himself another cup of tea, before waving farewell to his fellow guest in this apparent realm of dreams. And thus Ethan would wake up to the sounds of a worried dragoness, feeling more tired and confounded than he ever felt in a long time. [}0{] ‘Displaced.’ The word itself was two syllables, but it felt like it had a weight of two tons. “Master?” Ah, he had more pressing concerns to care for such as his more prominent issue of his financial/food resource. The concerns of The Quidam could wait. He mentally slapped himself into focus as he threw on his helmet and got back into his ‘Façade’. “Worry not, Tsavorite. This is but a mere hurtle we must overcome for my plans to be realized. While I admit having a dragon’s hoard at my reservation to use would be quite the boon for my scheme to come to fruition, it being yours stresses certain needs to consider. ” He leapt from the pile and slid down, thankful to the special gimmicks Mysterio placed in his boots. “On one hand, we need it to help pay for further resources for our cause. On the other, it is not just our treasury, but your nourishment and provisions. Thus finding another source of this income and sustenance is imperative because you too take priority; for as it is said in my land, ‘If you take food from the servant, eventually the master will starve.’ Besides, I find it that without the assurance of equipment and other workers, we won’t be able to get by in this world we have yet to be introduced to.” He finished as he stood with his cloak wrapped about him. His draconic ally was impressed by his quick show of acrobatics, but still brought up another issue. “But you already introduced yourself to quite a few ponies.” Ah, now that was something he wanted to avoid discussing once more. It was an argument brewing and yet neither wanted to bring up to a squall. So Mysterio tried to blow it away quickly. “Yes, but what are they, but mere citizens who have just an inkling of my power.” He diverted the trail of conversation. “Besides Zecora, they are only under the impression that I have a great deal of power backing me up were you are but a subordinate.” “I thought I was.” Tsavorite remarked with a clawed digit scratching her chin. Mysterio quickly rebutted that. With a determined finger pointing up he corrected her assumption. “You are currently my chief subordinate since coming here! As such, it is my job to ensure that you have underlings of your own who you can lead, who are ultimately underlings of me. Only then can you alleviate your stance of serving me by ensuring that others serve me well and as well!” The dragoness had to contemplate that phrasing for a bit. “...I suppose that makes sense. All is for my Master after all.” Mysterio nodded his head, seeing that she took to that form of cajolery well. “Good!” He started to head to the stairs out of the treasure chamber. He raised his hand to indicate that the dragoness should follow him. “Now we must get to our agenda! First order of business: we must conduct the interviews!” Up the stairs they walked and into a series of hallways until they reached another hidden staircase that was barricaded by a shelf. As it slide aside, the two found themselves in the main location of Mysterio’s research: the library. As they reached a table, Mysterio pulled out a chair for which Tsavorite could sit upon. As she sat as best as she could due to her tail and wing set, Mysterio took all the books he could find on the subject in question and whatever spare parchment he could gather and with a ballpoint pen he found in his bag, prepared to take notes. Thus the first interview would begin with his ‘chief subordinate’. “I need you to tell me everything you can about yourself.” He began as he sat at the head of the table. “Master?” Tsavorite was taken aback a bit that she was the first subject of these interviews. Mysterio continued. “As a Master of the Arcane, it is no secret that we have to deal with subjects such as familiars, magically conjured creations, and contractually enforced compatriots. However, this realm is based on magical laws and regulations I have yet to fully study and commit to memory. I don’t want to do something that will offend you, harm you, or worse…kill you.” She nodded her head at this reasoning with a smile. “You are most considerate.” “I hope so. Now, shall we begin?” Thus the interview began with Mysterio taking note on what qualities made up the female dragon. While his curiosity wanted to burst out at times with this opportunity of draconic cross-examination, he tried to keep the questions from delving into too personal subjects. Still, he asked for her to give a basic answer for things that would be considered basic knowledge. Dragons came in all shapes, colors, and sizes, albeit that they tended to be large, scale-coated, and fearsome flyers. Most breathed fire, but as she once stated before, the color, temperature, and element they breathed could also change depending on the type. They ate gems, as well as meat albeit in these last few centuries they didn’t feast on anything with sentience (usually). They were born from eggs, and a dragoness carried them in her body for a few months before laying them in a secure location. Depending on the dragon, it could just be in a secret nest in their lair, or a breeding location that occurred near the time of Great Migration. They were long-lived creatures that were able to count their lifespans in centuries, yet their maturity rates and growth depended on their cornerstone attribute of greed. This placed the importance on a dragon’s horde as not only a resource for food and power, but a sign of their social standing among others of their kind. It was at this point that the term ‘Slítere’, was brought up and well, this was where things got a little personal. Tsavorite paused as she contemplated answering what the term meant. With a bit of a heavy breath she replied, “It is a label that implies gluttony.” “I see.” Ethan, for he had his helmet off at this point, nodded quickly. He placed his writing hand down to try to ease her hesitance. “We can speak more on this matter later, Tsavorite, for I can tell it is not one you feel like dwelling on. I only ask that you tell me anything pertaining to it that can affect your status as one of my subordinates.” Tsavorite did a surprisingly human thing and bit her lip in a tentative manner. It would have been comical for Ethan to see another time, but it the fact that it unintentionally revealed some of her sharpened teeth made him nervous. After a long moment, she seemed to gather the confidence to confide a bit more of her personal complication with him. “I’m different than the other dragons in a number of ways. Dragons emphasize the aspect of greed. It is our most innate branch of sin. Except for me, my chief aspect is gluttony. Unlike dragons whose growth is based in the size of their hoards and their desire for more, mine is based more on…ingestion. Everything I do is dependent on the calories I store up, from my breath to my strength. So you don’t have to worry about a growth spurt of a few feet to my height every time I get a new gem to my hoard.” She then sheepishly turned her head as she embarrassingly gave a visual aide of spreading her claws out to her arm’s length as she stammered out, “Only that I may get too wide to roam the halls with all the gems I’ll probably gorge on due to my hunger. I’ll certainly grow larger than any dragon based on greed (especially side-to-side), but I’ll have to keep my appetite in check if I am to survive.” Ethan could only blink at that admittance. His pen was long forgotten as he thought of all the complications that would arise with that. “That would be a problem. It wouldn’t due to have you reach a size were you wouldn’t be able to even fit in a doorway, let alone a hallway.” He then looked as he immediately recalled that they were currently in a library that had books written by those who saw magic as an everyday circumstance. “Perhaps we can find a solution to that.” [}0{] They searched the shelves for books that would suggest anything from health and fitness to cosmetic changes. “Are you certain something like that would exist, Master?” “Tsavorite, if there is one thing about magic I know it’s the main four incentives of spell work: Fame, Fortune, Fun, and…Intercourse.” The ‘Four F’s of Business Incentive’ seemed to work well on contemplating things back home, so it stood to reason that they would still work here in Equestria even if these tomes were written centuries ago. “What about to benefit others for the good of all?” She asked as she took a tome labeled ‘Advanced Alchemy for Artistic Academics’. “I’m sure there are those that still pursue that interest. But the real go-getters who create the more intensive spells want one if not all of those things no matter what type of magic they pursue.” No, he didn’t find anything close in this copy of “Fortune Folly’s Fantastic Spells for Frequent Use’. Tsavorite was still adamant that the drive to create magic was able to be simplified to just four basic lines of reasoning. “What about longevity and vitality?” She continued as she gazed into ‘Helping Heart’s Home Remedies for Harmonic Home Living’. “That would still fall under fortune. Someone invents a spell to heal, extend life, youth, or push back death; he does it to earn what the people would pay him to do it.” Nothing in this copy of ‘Count R. Clockwise’s Creative Charades and Countermeasures“, but he was going to save this one for more reading later. “Even those that heal for good still hope for some form of recompense in return. They don’t have to be selfish, just practical.” “So then beauty-” “Would probably fall under the first, although more than likely the fourth. How many stories are there in which a sir or a dame wish to be made beautiful for a magical price after all?” Tsavorite had no point to argue against that. Even dragons has such fairytales, albeit they were usually the ones who took such pretty dames and sirs for their own possessions. “This must be it!” Mysterio, found something in a tome entitled ‘A Multitude of Malleable Magic for Models and Magicals’. He quickly perused the contents until he found something that looked like it could work. “Here! According to this page, this is a basic series of glyphs for magical storage.” It basically came down to ensuring that these glyphs stored magic. The caster would set them onto the subject and their fat would essentially be converted into magical energy to make room for more caloric energy. The energy would be stored in the subject’s body in a way that allowed it to be used at their own discretion. Any weight they would put on would be compressed and possibly well hidden away. Already it sounded like a winning situation. “So what is the catch?” She may be a dragon, but even she heard enough stories to know that when magic was involved there was always a cost to pay for what you desired. “Well, it says here that you are still required to use the magical and caloric energy you store up, otherwise the repercussions will be… disconcerting.”Mysterio lightly summed up as he read the next few pages. “How so?” “Well, it goes on to describe an incident in which a songstress named Crème Brule used it to keep an ‘inviting and pleasant form’ while singing at the tavern she worked at. She’d forgotten about the glyphs, and assumed they were tattoos she faintly recalled getting in her youth. One day, after years of becoming the new matron and being happily married with three children, she found herself waking up on the floor below her bedroom and finding herself immobilized by years of stored flesh and adipose. Apparently her storage seal finally ceased working from years of storage without release and her fat was thick enough to not only cushion her fall as she rolled out of bed, but not jostle her awake as she fell through the floor. She only woke up due to her husband and some other workers breaking a wall and struggling to get her on a cart to the nearest healer.” He tried to not chuckle at the picture of a team of anthropomorphic stallions trying to devise a pulley system to lift the poor engorged mare into a cart but the idea was like an old Merry Melodies cartoon. “Quite the embarrassment for her when all her neighbors came to see the commotion.” “So if I were to use this method, I would be thin so long as I used my power?” “Well, no actually, this is more of a compressor. You’ll still put on the weight and appear heavy, but your appearance will only be a fraction of you ‘true size’. You’ll lose the weight the more energy you use, but don’t forget that you’ll only appear smaller than you actually are.” So it wasn’t perfect, but it seemed to be the best bet they had. “I’ll take it.” Tsavorite agreed after much thought on the matter. “Ok then. I’ll just need to organize the glyphs.” Mysterio said, while also thinking, ‘And figure out just how in the world I am going to perform actual magic.’ He quickly walked to the desk he set up as his main place of study, while also perusing the book for any helpful footnotes. Hopefully there was something that could indicate a way to use magic without a unicorn horn. [}0{] A couple of hours later, Tsavorite decided to check up on her master’s progress. So there she walked to his study section and found him continuously creating archaic symbols on parchment. While some were crossed out and smudged attempts, as they went on they became more standardized and formal. What were more interesting were the glyphs that were written in a reddish ink. Those ones seemed to glow with an uncertain light to them. “How goes the research, my lord?” Mysterio was startled a bit out of his intensive study session, but was quick to regain his composure when he saw who it was. “The glyphs themselves are simple, just repetitive. Each one is set to convert a certain amount and store a certain percent and vice versa.” He noted as he gave the final touch to the latest line he worked on. “Now they have to be used to shape themselves into a crest or an insignia. So do you have anything in mind, Tsavorite?” The dragoness seemed sad for a moment as she contemplated what she could use, but brightened as she thought of something. “What about your mark?” “Huh?” He was certainly not expecting that! “Your mark. You do have one, right? Master?” “…Of Course I have one! As a castle lord, how could I not?” He quickly composed himself as he hastened to draw up something that could suffice. Fortunately he had something he used as a kind of crest when he did commission work. In a few quick strokes, he hurriedly drew up what would be his seal. “In the language of the Japanese-a people who live in a mysterious land that I know of-this would be the kanji, or symbol, for sorcerer. However, with my alterations, it will recognizable as my insignia.” He dramatically explained as he gave it the final touches under the impressed eye of his subordinate. The truth was the symbol was in fact a visual pun. It was indeed based on the Kanji for sorcerer. However, Ethan wrote it with all the strokes connected, which made it appear like the letter ‘M’ was in a large letter ‘I’. This made it also a reference to his last name, McIntyre. Thus he found it to be quite the logo to hide into the works he was commissioned to make whether threaded or etched. By placing it in an eye, he was certainly giving it the final touch needed to make it a worthy emblem for the Master of Illusions, Mysterio. “So now the question remains: Where should I place this mark?” Mysterio asked. Tsavorite tilted her head as she thought about it. “Is there anywhere the spell is dictated to be placed?” “Well, according to the spell, since this is more of a ‘cosmetic’ type of storage, it is recommended to hide the fact it is in use. It suggested that a good way would be to trace the glyphs to blend into the ‘cutie marks’” He gave her a quick look over, being sure to not let his eyes linger long enough to be considered improper. “But you seem to lack these ‘cutie marks.” “Yes, we dragons do not develop special tattoos on our thighs like the ponies do.” She gazed at her legs as she made certain no such mark did exist. “However, I am not quite sure if I would feel comfortable wearing a marker there.” He was glad that he could hide his blush well. The very thought of placing a tattoo on such of surface was well…improper to say the least. “Then perhaps the back would be the best option. You want it to be somewhere easier to conceal if the worst came to pass.” “Like what?” “Like it being overloaded or canceled. While the text here says it should be fine to store the energy and release it at the wearer’s discretion, I wouldn’t put it past anyone with the knowledge of what it does to not take advantage of it. That and I do not think having it go straight to your thighs would be the best thing in a stressful situation.” “I suppose not!” Tsavorite stuttered with a smirk. As bothersome as that would be, she still found humor in the idea. “So, shall we do this?” ‘So soon?’ He thought before voicing it, “Are you certain you want this right now? There are still other options to consider than this one.” “There may be. But for now, this is the best option we have. I do not wish to become a burden upon the one I wish to serve. Besides, all this seems to indicate is that I am given the opportunity to bear my master’s mark like a true subordinate!” Mysterio had nothing he could say to such a declaration. Tsavorite was just too determined for him to deter in any way. After a long drawn out sigh, he spoke at last. “One day you are going to tell me why I can’t convince you to stop thinking like that.” A hiss of smoke let out as he took off his helmet and became Ethan once more. “But for now, lie on your belly, extend your wings to a comfortable position, and pray I don’t screw this up. This will take time, so be prepared to wait.” So after Ethan took off the suit and changed into something more comfortable, he came back to begin his task. Tsavorite lay on the ground, hunched like a feline at rest. She had removed the wrap from her torso to leave her back bare and ready for his work. So with a ballpoint pen in hand and a well of ink prepared, he crouched near her and started recreating the glyphs into a “Mark of Mysterio”. “I hope you can forgive me for any discomfort you have. This is my first time doing something like this.” Tsavorite raised an eye ridge at that. “Surely you have experience in seal work?” Ethan just shrugged as he etched in more symbols. The faintest of ink were sticking to the scales, but the glyphs were still recognizable. “Well back in my high school-err, academy days I was…an apprenticing metal worker and tailor.” Now that was unexpected to hear! “Really? Then how did you become a master of the arcane?” “Well, that came about through my…main sources of study. The crafting techniques were to provide income for my expenses.” That sounded like an acceptable substitute to ‘I sold cosplays and commission work for money alongside my aspirations to act and perform’. “The point is, I may not be an expert tattooist, but I certainly know how to etch and sketch on armor. And you my dear are practically covered in the finest quality of it in all of human fantasy.” “…Really?” She certainly perked up at that. A bit of draconic pride glimmered in her eyes. “Oh yes! Many tales have been told of ‘dragon scale mail’. How it could withstand heat, weather, magic, and time.” “How do humans acquire it?” Tsavorite was curious. How was it that humans even acquired dragon mail, indeed? Now that was something Ethan hesitated to explain. “…Depends on the story. Sometimes it’s given to them by a fantastical merchant, sometimes they go on a quest to find it in some treasure trove, or they could…you know…kill a dragon for it.” “…Kill a dragon for it?” She snarled a bit. A greenish smoke seemed to seep out between her teeth. It was obvious that the thought of humans killing dragons to get their scales was angering her, so Ethan began doing his best to soothe her. He started with a slight massage of her scale as he did his best to continue etching the glyphs. His words were hasty, but he hoped they would do the job of calming her down. “Well now, I don’t mean just any dragon! They aren’t beasts you kill on a whim! I mean the greedy smokepots who would take another’s treasure and set others ablaze for the heck of it. You know…” He whispered in her ear, or where it should have been if she were human. “…like that red drake.” The smoke died down as she considered that train of thought. “I suppose I wouldn’t shed a tear of he were skinned and worn like some…person’s garments.” “Well you’re thinking that humans would wear it like a fur coat or scarf that was freshly killed. I’m pretty sure that they would just take a layer’s worth you would shed and use it to craft a tunic. It’s not like we can parade the fact that the dragon was killed to get it and everyone accepts it as truth. A lot of the time, no one believes a person when they claim to have slain a dragon. Usually because that person is telling their story in a bar, and has had plenty of drinks so what do they know?” “Oh.” Tsavorite was a bit silent before she spoke up again to apologize. “Forgive me, master, for I thought that you were implying something more troubling than some tales told around a watering hole.” “No worries, Tsavorite. Just don’t try to set me ablaze the next time I mention something about my culture.” He hid his nervousness with a smirk as he whispered conspiratorially. “It ended pretty poorly for the last dragon that tried to do that.” ‘Now for the moment of truth.’ He bit hard into his thumb, and got it to start bleeding. He rubbed the bleeding digit upon his palm as he readied himself for the main event. Tsavorite’s nostrils flared as she recognized the metallic smell of a certain crimson liquid. “Master? What are you…?” “Before, you were a skin and bones reptile starving for food and attention. No longer will you ever live in fear of experiencing such a thing again. From now on, you will thus be known as Tsavorite, The Gem Gourmet.” He slammed his palm into the mark on her back. “Now rise, and be welcome as my vassal.” Tsavorite gave a hiss as she felt the glyphs gave off a searing sensation into her scales. Yet, it didn’t feel hot, but rather cold and chilling. In a few ways, it was thrilling, but it passed quickly. When it ceased, she couldn’t help but to let out an enthusiastic cry out as she got up with her arms and wings spread wide. Unfortunately the action also knocked back Ethan. Embarrassed, she muttered a quick apology as she helped the human to his feet. “Sorry, master. I should have been more composed.” Ethan quickly bandaged up his hand with a clean enough ripped piece of drapery as he swayed a bit back and forth. “It’s fine.” He waved away with his bandaged hand. “So it worked right?” “I think so.” She turned to show off her bare back. Upon her green hued scales and between her wings was the proud eye mark of Mysterio. “I certainly feel as if a new responsibility has been placed upon my shoulders.” “Good. Because I would rather we didn’t try that again.” He woozily nodded his head. Yet even when he stopped, the room still seemed to move about. “Now do me a favor…” “Yes, master?” “Put a top on. Because it’s cold in here…” Ethan barely uttered his thought before passing out. As he fell forward, he got a closer look at the torso of his draconic subordinate before his consciousness faded out. Tsavorite caught him, but in doing so drove his face further into her bosom. She still had yet to realize her social faux pas she was committing. [}0{] “Huh?” Ethan found himself once again seated at the table in the green room. Hosting the pleasantries was that headless being who called himself/itself The Quidam. He began as he started to gather sugar cubes into a tea cup. The enthusiasm in that tone was something akin to an eager child in adults clothing. For Ethan, he saw it as an opportunity to maybe get some answers from this supposedly powerful being. “I will tell you, if you can tell me a few things. And no suddenly making everything go away like a faded dream!” Ethan adamantly added the last bit. He didn’t want to go through that again. <…I suppose, but I am only able to tell you so much. You have to solve your own mysteries.> He took a spoon, swirled the teacup, and chugged it like a shot glass before he said, “What happened to me?” <…I already explained this, you are Displaced...> “I got that! But what happened to get me here as Mysterio?” He looked at his hands as he emphasized his inquiry as to what was changing about him. “Why was I able to do the things I did? To figure out how to survive? To use my tools as if I crafted them myself?” “What is that supposed to mean?” Ethan asked, but The Quidam refused to acknowledge the question. So he tried another one. “Why this world?” The Quidam immediately raised a hand to stop Ethan’s angry rebuttal at the vagueness of that statement. “That’s…comforting…” Ethan said, although he wasn’t sure it was true. The Quidam poured another cup of tea, only this was meant for Ethan. Ethan took the cup and sipped. It tasted like his favorite brand of soda after taking a bite from one of his dad’s burgers on a bright summer day! “The footnotes kept saying that magic is in all things: from the smallest pebble to the biggest tree in the forest. That as long as you have the purest of intentions, you’ll have the strongest of results. I also remembered that Fluttershy seemed to take my promise to not hurt her friends most seriously.” He took another sip of the tea as he finished his thought. “So I reasoned that if intention is the key, then maybe the ambient magic in this realm would fill in the rest if I gave something crude, like my own blood, as a sign of the deepest level of a promise I can give to another.” The Quidam prepared another cup for himself/itself. “What?” Ethan was ignored as The Quidam was more concerned with the tea. There was that word again. Ethan would definitely have to see what more there was to it than what Tsavorite was willing to be forthcoming with one of these days. The Quidam certainly wasn’t giving more insight as he/it just shrugged shoulders and seemed to sigh out. “And just what does that mean?” The Quidam recited. The young man’s thoughts turned toward the gem he also purchased that fateful day. “Yes.” Almost as if it was always there, he found the box in his hands, wanting to be opened. Before he could do so, The Quidam reached over to keep the lid closed. The being’s hands gently let go as the box opened wide. Ethan looked into the brilliant light of the glowing blue bauble. It was beautiful, wonderful, and enlightening in more ways than he could count. The Quidam said to the entranced Ethan. [}0{] Tsavorite tried her hardest to keep calm, but she still felt the sense of worry gripping tightly to her chest. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, it had been hours since her master had slipped into unconsciousness. His vitals seemed ok for he still breathed, but she knew very little of what considered as normal to his species. She deliberated on going out to find Zecora to maybe help him, but the fact she would have to leave him alone to search for the zebra herbalist was not ideal. So she waited, seated and curled up against the chair he slept in as she waited for him to awaken. The moment he gave his first twitches as he stirred up, she was alert and at attention. “Master!” She exclaimed as she drew his attention. Ethan stared into space for a moment or two as he regained his bearings. When he was back into focus, he looked toward the dragoness and asked, “Can you fly, Lady Tsavorite?” “Of course!” Tsavorite practically preened. Such a question meant that there was something she could do and excel in. “Good! Because I now know where we must go and I’ll need you to get there.” Ethan said as he stood up and headed to his suit placed reverently on a nearby table. He began donning it piece by piece as he explained his request. “I had entered a state of…intense meditation after giving you my mark. While doing so, I had a vison of a place where we can acquire supplies that are necessary to further my goals. Thus we have our heading.” The final piece was in place as he put on his helmet, once again becoming the full persona of Mysterio. “We must take to the skies and seize what they call ‘Clutter Coulee’ for ourselves!” [TO BE CONTINUED...]