//------------------------------// // THE OVERGOAT REIGNS SURPREME... Just Ask Him. // Story: ALL GLORY TO THE OVERGOAT!!! // by Bucking Nonsense //------------------------------// "Sister, did you feel that?" Celestia loved her sister dearly, but she honestly wondered if Luna forgot sometimes that both of them were alicorns, meaning that they both shared a nearly identical set of skills and abilities... including the ability to instantly sense certain magical phenomenon. In fact, Celestia's ability to sense those events was even stronger than Luna's. Working on the scrying globe in front of her, seated in her personal study, Princess Celestia bit back a sarcastic answer, and instead began, gently, "Luna..." Abruptly, two projections, one of Twilight Sparkle, and the other of Cadance, appeared in the room, both of them asking in excited tones, "Princess Celestia, did you feel that?" "Of course I did," Celestia answered promptly. "I imagine that little Flurry Heart felt it herself." A distant foal's cry from Cadance's projection confirmed this assertion. "Right now, I'm trying to figure out where that alicorn awakening came from." It was an incredibly rare thing, for an alicorn to spontaneously awaken. Technically, Twilight Sparkle didn't count, given that Celestia had spent years guiding and nurturing her towards that path. Cadance's was not quite spontaneous, but Celestia had not had anything to do with it, it had just happened. Such awakenings almost never occurred, given what it actually took for such an event to take place. This time, though, it was completely unexpected, and seemed to be outside of Equestria's borders, something even more unlikely. But where was this new alicorn? And what would her sphere of influence be? "This is unbelievable," Twilight Sparkle began, becoming anxious. "Another alicorn? And so soon after Flurry Heart was born? It's unprecedented for three alicorns to appear, all within the same year!" "Indeed," agreed Luna, nodding sagely. "Still, we must quickly find this alicorn, and determine if they intend their powers for good or ill." "We'll have an answer shortly," Celestia stated, flatly. The last thing she wanted to consider was the possibility of an evil alicorn. Given that just one could potentially cause untold devastation before being defeated, it was right up there with Grogar's return in terms of nightmare scenarios. Finally, the crystal globe in front of Celestia began to glow, and an image appeared before her... "No. Impossible..." "What?" asked the three other alicorns in unison. "This new alicorn is in... a place I dare not name," Celestia answered, after a brief pause. Luna's horrified expression confirmed that she understood her sister's meaning, even if the other two were confused. Clearing her throat, Celestia stated, "Twilight Sparkle, Cadance, I need you both to come here as soon as possible. Twilight, bring your friends. Cadance, bring your husband. I have something that I will need to discuss with all of you, once you arrive." "What?" the two younger princesses asked. "How to best prepare for the potential return of the greatest threat that Equestria has ever known," Celestia answered bluntly. She hoped that she was wrong, and that Grogar had not awakened when he had sensed an alicorn awakening in his own kingdom, but she needed to prepare, both herself and her allies, in case that was exactly what had happened. But how could an alicorn have awakened in Tambelon? Celestia and Luna were certain that there would hardly be any ponies remaining in that dreaded kingdom, given a thousand years of mistreatment by the Trogs. In fact, Celestia had suspected that there had not been a single pony remaining in Tambelon, but there must be at least one. Still, there could not be too many, a couple hundred at most. A number easily reintroduced into Equestria society, should the combined forces of the alicorns be sufficient to stop Grogar. ------------------------ "Eight hundred THOUSAND!?!" You know, when I had heard that Trog-Gob was planning on torturing to death three hundred ponies, I had been surprised: I had suffered under the impression that there could not be that many ponies, if A-Holes like this guy were being that brutal to them. A few thousand, at most. But this? "Tambelon once existed partly within Equestria, and partly within the realm of shadows. When Tambelon had been banished to the realm of shadows," Bray explained, now that we were alone in the throne room, the mares having taken Honey Butter out to get some air, "the princesses had locked us out of Equestria, preventing the Trogs from returning there. However, the realm of shadows is a nexus point, bordering thousands of worlds, and you had already used a spell to pull one such world fully into the realm of shadows, one without any intelligent, sapient, or sentient life upon it. You used that world as the anchor point for your domain's location within the realm of shadows.. An entire world with no one else to lay claim to it, with sufficient natural resources to fuel your ambitions of world domination. You had created an artificial sun and moon, and set seasons into motion, so that this world would be able to run without your constant supervision, and with this planet at our disposal, it granted us an endless supply of wood, metals, and food, along with sundry other materials. When you were defeated, and Tambelon was locked away, the Trogs simply decided to colonize the world they were now trapped on. But to build a civilization, they needed workers. So, the captured prisoners from Equestria, already numbering in the thousands, were... encouraged to multiply." With a sick feeling in my stomach, I asked, "Breeding camps?" Two words that should never go together. Bray nodded, the expression on his face indicating clearly that he had not agreed with the idea. He'd started out as a citizen of Equestria, after all. "Yes, master. As wretched as such places were, they succeeded in producing huge numbers of ponies, sufficient to begin building walls, roads, cities... civilization. Within three centuries, the camps were considered obsolete, and the last census that was performed at that time indicated that the number of ponies exceeded eight hundred thousand." And in the seven hundred years since, it was almost certain to have grown larger, in spite of the way the ponies were being treated. The average pony likely had no idea of their origins, their history. After all, the purpose of a breeding camp is just to produce large numbers, not educate them. I suspected that most ponies didn't even know how to read... "We're getting a bit far afield," I admitted. "Back to the original subject: This 'Festival' is going on right now?" Bray nodded, "Yes, master. If you will follow me to the Long Jump chamber, we can begin making arrangements to depart immediately." --------------------------------------- Whatever else you might say about the old goat, Grogar did tend to think ahead when it came to most things not involving his death. You have an entire world at your disposal, but you want to maintain dominion over that realm and feared that distant territories might one day rebel? Then you build teleportation chambers that will transport you, and an army, instantly from one point to another. Hence, the Long Jump (It also worked as a Long Pull, but Long Jump sounded cooler). Grogar had two chambers in his palace, one for small groups (Himself and his entourage), and one for massive armies. And when I say massive, I mean massive: An army one hundred thousand strong could fit inside of the chamber in the basement, according to Bray, and the fact that this chamber could teleport armies between locations had been one of the reasons why Grogar's invasion of Equestria had been so successful. It made a certain amount of sense: Armies usually take a lot of time to move from place to place, and refugees fleeing from conquered cities could often outrun those armies, reach the nearest town, and warn the residents well before the army came within sight. With the Long Jump, it meant that an army could strike multiple locations within the same day, often many miles apart. If the army had been more concerned with completely wiping out Equestrians, rather than capturing them and taking them as slaves, then Grogar might have finished his domination of the country within a couple of days, before anyone had a clue as to what was happening. Hell, my father had been a logistics officer in the army, and a student of military history besides, and he'd have told you that something like this would be the wet dream of every nation that had ever went to war: Armies need a lot of resources on the move, and Sun Tzu wrote in The Art Of War about how expensive that could be. Hell, he'd even written about how expensive they were when they were doing jack shit. Most of that cost was based on the amount of time that armies weren't fighting: As they marched, as they rested, things like that. Soldiers need to be fed, housed, and paid, even when they weren't in the field, but when they marched, it became even more expensive. To quote Napoleon: An Army Marches On Its Stomach. An army that can't be fed, can't be expected to fight, and they couldn't move much faster than their supply chain can. With this, the cost of maintaining an army was diminished drastically. Hell, you didn't even need a supply train: A chamber like this could summon freight (Food, wood, raw materials, etc), and then send it to another location as needed. No more vulnerable supply chains, no pay wagons that would make for an enticing target to enemy forces, hell, there were no marching armies that you could lay a trap for, ambush as they traveled through your territory. The existence of this chamber meant that Grogar's armies had no vulnerabilities: They could just appear, wreck your shit, then vanish, leaving only ruins to mark that they'd even been there. For the first time, I felt a small amount of respect for Grogar: He might not have planned for his own death, but he'd definitely planned ahead when it came to conquest... The chamber itself, the one that was intended for small scale teleportation, was not dusty at all, but instead was so clean that it practically gleamed. Bray had told me that this was because of an enchantment that I (Grogar) had put into place, keeping out any and all dust: A single dust particle being in the air at the wrong time could result in some rather unpleasant side effects... including brain damage. This room did see a lot of use, though: Bray had used it to keep tabs on what was going on all around Tambelon, and used it to collect what meager tribute was given to him/me. There were complex runes lining the floor, walls, and ceiling, all of which were smooth, otherwise faultless stone. A massive crystal ball, easily twice my size, hung in the middle of the room, a scrying device that let me see where I'd be teleporting to: It was always a good idea to see where you might be teleporting to, otherwise you might end up teleporting yourself inside of a stone wall... or a monster's stomach. Bray began working on the orb, and in a few seconds, he brought up an image of a mansion. It was... surprisingly pleasant looking, for a place that was presently a house of horrors. I was also surprised to find that it was quite bright and sunny today. A day like this should really have been overcast, dark and gloomy. Instead, it was almost sickeningly picturesque... or it would be, if not for the bloody sacks that someone had left on the walkway outside of the porch. A hoof stuck out of the top of one such sack, announcing clearly what was contained within... "There we go, master," Bray said, pointing, "we can appear directly upon Trog-Gob's doorstep." He was prevented from saying more by the image showing a quartet of guards exiting. You know, I had expected the Trogs to look like a combination of trolls, orcs, and/or goblins, and I was not disappointed. These four were stripped to the waist, wearing boots and pants of a material I could not immediately identify. They had skin of a grayish-green coloration, were fairly tall, with fat, bloated bellies, but also had thick, muscular legs, and arms to match. Their faces were brutish and ugly looking, but they didn't look stupid. I know that's a typical assumption with creatures like this, but they didn't walk around like brain dead troglodytes, but with purpose and direction implying at least average intelligence. The fact that they were putting ponies in sacks at least indicated that they were smart enough to know that it was easier carrying the dead in clusters, rather than one at a time. Each guard was carrying a dead pony... or what might be a dead pony, but was hard to tell, given how terrible their condition was. After depositing their burdens into sacks, one of them, looking to be the leader, said something to the others, who then gathered sacks, and began walking off. "Follow them," I commanded Bray. I suspected I knew where they were going, and it gave me a few ideas. It took a few minutes for them to reach their destination: A pit. To be more precise, a corpse pit. And the corpses within were far too great in number to be just the ones who died today. Trog-Gob didn't bury his dead, or cremate them: He just left them for the crows, far enough away that the stench didn't bother him. "There," I stated, flatly. "Send us there, after the guards leave." Bray looked over at me, and then at the corpse pile, then said, "Your will, master." As the guards went about emptying their sacks into the pit, I looked into Grogar's memories again. I was seriously considering going zombie apocalypse on Trog-Gob's ass... --------------------------------- Zombies, Grogar decided, after examining the shambling thing that was moronically flailing against a simple barricade on the proving grounds, simply were not worth the effort. Yes, they were terrifying to the uninitiated, but they were easily distracted, trapped, evaded, or destroyed. True, that was regarding the most basic of zombies, but creating zombies capable of more required more time, and more energy, than he was willing to commit to the invasion of Equestria. With a year's time, and a supply of corpses, Grogar could create an army of extremely powerful, extremely capable undead soldiers. However, he didn't want to spend a year doing such a thing, when it was easier to train and outfit living soldiers, ones that would not require his constant supervision to do their jobs. A pity that Equestria was so peaceful, he thought as he cut the zombie's unlife short with a simple spell. Grogar knew a dozen spells that could create far greater undead, ones capable of ravaging cities. However, they required very specific circumstances to create, and it would require Princesses Celestia and Luna to commit major atrocities against their own subjects for such an undead to be willing to work on Grogar's behalf, something he knew the princesses would never do on their own. A sad thing, that. Grogar would have greatly enjoyed watching an Eidolon of the Grave in action... ------------------------------- Spell acquired, I thought to myself with a feral grin. "Master, where are you going?" I turned to see Honey Butter standing outside of the chamber, the other mares behind her, staring at the image in the crystal ball with wide eyes. I said, simply, "I'm going to put an end to Trog-Gob. Want to watch?" After a moment's hesitation, Honey nodded. "Alright," I said, cheerfully. I turned to my assistant and asked, "Bray, would you mind setting this thing up to track us, once we get to our destination?" "Of course, master," Bray replied promptly. "Good," I said, then turned back to Honey Butter and the others. "Now, I'm only going to ask one thing of you ladies while we are away: I need a clean bed to sleep on tonight. I don't mind if it isn't in my official bedchambers, as I understand that my bedroom is likely as dusty as most of the castle. I just want a good, clean bed to sleep on, in a room with some privacy. If you will set that up for me, and then prepare a dinner, you'll be allowed the rest of the day to yourselves. Understand?" The mares nodded, seeming to be a bit surprised at the idea of not being worked non-stop all day, but not willing to question it. "Capital," I stated, then turned back to Bray. "Whenever you're ready." -------------------------------- You know, as methods for discovering that you're not in a dream go, being swamped by the funk given off by hundreds of rotting corpses is the absolute worst. I'm sorry to say it, but nothing you can imagine can match that horrific smell, combined with the awful buzzing of all those insects feeding at once. Suddenly dropping into that stench was like being punched in the face by the god of stank himself. I almost upchucked my pancakes. But discovering this was real only hardened my resolve to do what I was about to do. I could worry about how's or why's later. Right now, I had business to take care of. Grogar had senses that let him peer into the veil beyond death, and souls that die in agony tend to hang around their bodies for a good, long while. They floated in midair, expressions of horror on their faces, and mouths open, shrieking. The sound of all those tortured souls in one place was almost deafening, a ceaseless wailing of lamentation fit to wake the dead, were they not already. I stopped the sound with a single statement. "Children of the grave." Instantly, they all turned towards me, staring at me in surprise. I suppose they didn't expect for anyone flesh and blood to know they were there, let alone address them. "Show of hooves," I began, a smile beginning to form on my face. "Who wants to see Trog-Gob and his cronies get what's coming to them?" Without exception, they all raised a hoof, and many of them raised two. "Capital," I said, with a grin that would put a shark to shame. "Let's get started..." ------------------------------ Trog-Gob finished with the stallion he'd been working on, and began cleaning his knives. He'd been quite thorough with the creature, and was certainly that he'd wrung every drop of blood from it... So imagine in surprise when it sat up, ripping off the restraints that bound it, and stared at him. "You will cry out in despair in pants filled with your own urine and feces before you die," the corpse proclaimed, in a voice that managed to convey both the coldness of the grave, yet also the fire of absolute fury. "That is a prophecy, one that I have been asked to relay to you. Death is coming, but it will be slower in reaching you than it was for me. I hope you enjoy it... you festering sack of maggot shite." With that, the corpse suddenly burst into green flames, and with a sickening sound, two 'arms' burst from its back, tipped with scythe-like claws, and the flesh on its face peeled away, revealing a horrific skull-like visage. The creature turned to the audience, and shouted, "HAPPY FESTIVAL, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!" It then sprang upon the spectators, its new limbs mowing down Trogs like wheat before the scythe. Screaming, blood-filled wheat... Trog-Gob ran, terrified, as the mansion suddenly began to fill with the sounds of screams. As he passed rooms, he saw Trogs being ripped apart by ponies. Some were... modified like the one that he'd just seen. Others were sickening, twisted things that broke Trog limbs and brutally beat them to death. Some seemed as spectral things, who would suddenly fly through their victims, and seem to emerge, dragging something out behind them. But all of them seemed to ignore the few intact ponies in the mansion, and were specifically targeting just the Trogs. And for now, they seemed to be ignoring Trog-Gob. Finally, after what was surely only a few minutes, but felt more like a thousand years, he reached the exit. Throwing the door open, he rushed out, stumbling and falling flat on his face. As he raised his head, he saw Bray, that idiotic ass who thought that, just because he'd served Grogar back when the former ruler was alive... The thought stopped in its tracks as Trog-Gob saw the blue goat standing next to Bray. He'd seen depictions of him in history books, on murals, on tapestries, and at the time, had thought the appearance of the former lord of Tambelon to be underwhelming. But here, in the flesh... Trog-Gob understood why so many had feared Grogar. "Ah, and you must be Trog-Gob," Grogar said, his voice distressingly cheerful. "We were just talking about you." That was when a massive shadow fell over the mansion, and Trog-Gob looked up... and up... and up... to see a massive thing, formed of bones, darkness, and green witchfire. "Trog-Gob," Grogar began, that damnably cheerful grin on his face, "meet the Eidolon of the Grave, aka every pony that you've killed since you took over. They'll be the ones seeing you off this mortal coil. Not too quickly, though." Turning towards the massive thing, the goat asked, "Tell me, one lash for each pony that he and his friends have killed, how many would that be?" "ONE THOUSAND, THREE HUNDRED, TWENTY-SEVEN," the massive thing replied, in a voice fit to shake the mountains. "I think that should be enough," Grogar said with a nod. "Don't you?" The Eidolon of the Grave held a massive hand up, and in it formed a black whip, long, wickedly barbed, bathed in green fire... and as thick around as a tree. "AGREED." Turning back towards Trog-Gob, Grogar stated, "After you have felt the full extent of your punishment, all of your cronies and fellow monsters slain for their misdeeds, and the still-living ponies have had a chance to come see your tormented form, and have been given the opportunity to spit and/or piss on your face, then you will have my permission to die." As Trog-Gob let out a wail of despair, Grogar smelled the air, and then proclaimed, triumphantly, "AND THE PROPHECY HATH BEEN FULFILLED!!!"