Log 6

Log 6

We found the foals.

Madame Daubentone finally joined us and what she saw was horrific.

She understood why they were crying.

Though she wouldn’t say.

We opened the door. This one was a simple thing. Opening it from the inside would have been impossible but from outside...

I suppose if anyone could get through the other doors.

And there we found them.

Ninety-one foals.

But they were in a very different state to the corpses outside.

They were all lying on beds, flat out, motionless. Their bodies had withered with age but there were no wounds on them.

They were all wearing masks.

Masks that resembled the snarling statues outside. There were twelve effigies outside and seven masks of each effigy.

Seventy-eight of them wore the same mask. The remaining thirteen wore a tightly-wrapped shroud.

All masks and shrouds were impossible to prize off.

It seems as if the foals either asphyxiated or starved to death but either way, they seem to have gone out calmly.

There are no signs that they or anypony else tried to force the door open.

They went completely willingly.

Daubentone was shaking as she approached each one. As she faced the thirteen shrouded foals, her eyes glazed over and she went into some sort of trance. I’ve seen this happen before. Mediums conduct the spirits of the dead where they died, the closer proximity to their resting place the better. It must have been as easy as switching on a light.

She began talking in an unknown language but her voice was high-pitched and mumbling, like that of a foal, and soon began crying.

But it didn’t look like any cry of pain or despair or fear.

It looked more like a foal being berated by their parents, sitting in the corner, shamefaced and quietly weeping.

Slowly, her language began to change. A loose Equestrian, heavily-accented, rustic but noticeable.

A bizarre mismatch of words and utterances but something stood out.

“We had to do it. To save the one. To make the thirteen”

It quickly cut off as there came a rumbling across the tomb.

The whole place seemed to churn slightly. At first, I thought the sea was rising back again but that’s not due for another couple of weeks.

We elected to book it but Daubentone insisted on closing the door behind us. Or rather she insisted the foals insisted.

Once we’d done so, the shaking seemed to subside. Not wanting anyone trapped within, I did a head-count at the steps, content that all six of us were here.

Then I remembered that only five of us had gone in.

Right behind us, something was standing before the closed door, slowly turning round to face us.

It was shaped like a pony but pale, horribly pale. Its mane was all over the place, chalk-white and wispy. Its tail had been docked and its hooves were cracked. Then, as it turned, I got to see its face.

I have never seen anything looking so dementedly angry.

Then I remembered I had.

The statues.

The masks.

We backed away slowly, our eyes never leaving it as it just watched us, standing in front the foal’s tomb, a sickly, sallow mist seeping under the door, enveloping it until all but the face was hidden from view.

Daubentone was raging at it hysterically, calling it a murderer, a deceiver, a prophet of pain and despair.

It just watched us.

I took a glance towards the way out.

I saw the statues.

Their heads had turned, all of them able to stare into us on the way up.

They were grinning.

It was following us, gliding along the ground, its face unchanging.

Still we edged back, right up to the first statue.

The statue with the foal was gone.

Vanished, completely.

Then it screamed.

We booked it, rushing out the Deeprisen entrance, Ember helping us out as we scrambled back onto the surface.

It rose, screaming at the sky, its head writhing and twitching like the product of some surreal hallucinogenic fit.

Then the door slammed back down, burying it all.

I’m done here. My friends and I will take to Ember’s camp on the Draconian shore.

Guarded by dragons, I might feel somewhat safe.

Ardentine Casterly, the fool, wants to go back in.

Retrieve the statues and bodies and display them.

I’ve tried convincing him otherwise but he’s not listening.

Eton recommended I write to Princess Celestia but by then it’ll be too late.

The things I’ve seen.

It may descend upon all of Equestria.

There’s still so much I don’t know and I’m not sure I want to know.

Rainbow Dash...

I hope you and your friends are prepared.

[Note: Okay, more bad news. Eton Mess examined the body of Fortissimo. He didn’t asphyxiate. He was strangled.
Casterly ordered a full hoof-print examination of the entire camp. Nothing. Then we examined the body’s infected hoof again. No doubt about it.
The hoof that throttled Fortissimo was his own.
What is wrong with this bucking place?

Sounds scary. Whatever happened here can't be good

6071985
Thanks.
I thought I'd up the cryptic-ness, makes it a bit more subtle.

6071988
Indeed it does

Very suspenseful, I take back what I said in the previous chapter.

6080816
Glad to hear you were impressed.
What's your theory?

6089996

Can't really say Purple, but if I were to guess, nothing supernatural is happening. It's all a zany scheme, to either protect something of inherent value or just plain greed. Sorry Indiana Jones and Scooby Doo is flowing in my imagination right now, also a bit of M. Night Shamalamasama.

Look, I know there's a plot twist, guessing what, where or when it bends is the fun part.

6071980
I think I'm failing to maths, that or missing something obvious, but:
91 foals
13 in shrouds with no masks
91-13=78
78 wearing “the same” masks, OK.
BUT
12 effigies and 7 masks of each (reading "the same" as meaning "the same style", not "identical")
12×7=84≠78
Are there two separate groups (reading "the same" as "identical"? But
84(Effigy Masks)+78(Identical masks)+13(No Masks)>91
Or even taking the 78 as a subset of the 84,
84+13>91
I’m confused.

6106755
Well let me put it this way.
You take number of the foals wearing the masks and you divide it by thirteen.
Does that number hold any...significance?

6106888
78÷13=6. Six Elements.

I'm still confused where the seven masks of each of the 12 effigies come in.

6106919
Well think about it.
Six for each Element plus one.
Twelve effigies, seemingly two for each element, plus one.

“We had to do it. To save the one. To make the thirteen”

6106925

I've got it now. Thanks for putting up with my idiocy.

6106928
It's fine. I felt the wish to make it as cryptic as possible. With the gorn of the previous sacrificial victims, I thought I'd leave it a lot more subtle.
So what's your theory? (Put in Spoilers)

6106932
Using the innocents to bind the Element's energy and remove it from the seventh thirteenth, empowering those remaining masks with the inverse, giving those wearing them the berserk fury (without kindness or generosity to give mercy...) and great strength. Does seem the kind of thing that could backfire though, (no loyalty either). It might also/instead give them some resistance to the power of the Elements or their bearers, a useful trait if you're attacking Equestria, or expecting to be attacked by Equestria, and if you're up to this kind of stuff, it wouldn't surprise me if the Bearers were coming to kick down your door.

Either way, this was done to manipulate the Elements' power somehow, and not in a good way.

6106950
You're on the right lines but veering off a bit.
It's not so much to 'manipulate' the power of the Elements as to 'counter' it.
All will be revealed in time.
Also, go back and look at the Log Numbers.
Do you notice something?

6106962
Perils of being a physicist, you say 'check the log numbers' and I start thinking logarithms
But still, got there in the end. Two log 6s.

6106976
Exactly.
What does that tell you, do you think?

6106979
Someone else is writing in Daring's book, and she's not aware of it, but they're retaining her basic procedure. I suspect possession or channelling of some sort. Very short-lived and Daring doesn't remember it.
Maybe something like the following:

Daring had to get this down. Opening up her journal, she scribbled "Log 6", and then looked up, trying to work out how to describe the scene before her. Someone else was writing, she could hear it, but she blocked out the noise.
"Daring? You OK?"
She shook her head at the intrusion. MacAwe was giving her an odd look.
"Yeah, just spaced out for a second"
She turned the page on her journal and looked at the blank page. What number was she on? Oh right. She scrawled "Log 6" at the head of the page, and looked over to where Madam Daubentone was approaching the mummified foals. Daring tensed, ready to record the medium's findings. Whoever else was writing had stopped, probably also frozen in anticipation.

Very good summary, makes me wish I'd put this in an actual narrative.
Is this going on the Nightmare Fuel Page?