• Published 20th Jun 2013
  • 1,607 Views, 177 Comments

Cauldron Club - Biplane



Some have quilting clubs. Some have book clubs. Twilight Sparkle decides to have a Cauldron Club. For alchemy enthusiasts. Strangely, she seems unable to grasp that this is a catastrophically bad idea.

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There Are Ninjas in This One

“Your success honors us all, Pinkie-Kage,” said Flutter-Riko. Pinkie-Kage's reply was a simple, humble bow.

"I could have done that twice as fast..." muttered Dashisamu under her breath. If master Flutter-Riko heard her, she did not acknowledge it.

"Let us not let this victory give us arrogance. The land is still full of enemies, and the Daimyo will not rest until he has seized every grain of rice from the hooves of the people. We must be more vigilant than ever."

"Master! Why don't we storm his castle? Why don't we take the fight to him! I say we end this now!"

Flutter-Riko glared back at Dashisamu, fury in her eyes. Dashisamu was silenced by the power of the master's stare. "Impetuous fool! You would have three ninja storm a fortress guarded by thousands? You would have us sever the head of the enemy force, only to leave another to take its place?! Not until we win the hearts and minds of the people is victory possible! You will respect my orders! You will learn patience! And you will learn that a killing blow must be timed! We are ninja! We strike decisively! Have you no shame, Dashisamu? Have you no common sense?!"

Completely overcome by the force of her master's harsh stare, and equally harsh reprimand, Dashisamu was cowed, "M-master, I... I'm sorry," Dashisamu said, prostrating herself in front of Flutter-Riko. "Forgive me. Know that I only wish to see this conflict come to an end. Forgive my overconfidence and my impropriety, I beg you."

Flutter-Riko's gaze softened. She placed a forehoof on Dashisamu's shoulder. "You are indeed a fool, Dashisamu. But I have never questioned your skill, nor your loyalty. Nor will I ever."

"You are kind, master," Dashisamu said, her eyes downcast, her voice tight with frustration and shame.

Pinkie-Kage laughed. She had been keeping watch while her companions had been talking, and had spotted two obvious spies of the Daimyo, clearly searching the streets for them. Amachua! Karera wa, yori meihakuna koto ga dekimasendeshita![5] thought Pinkie-Kage, smiling. "Daimyō no ējento ga chikadzuite iru! Itsumo no yō ni, karera wa kibi to finesu o kaite iru![6]" she said quietly to the others.

Flutter-Riko took a look for herself. It was true: there were two earth ponies obviously searching for something. They were looking in every alley and window, quickly making their way down the street. The Daimyo's Shinsengumi[7]. Interesting. Flutter-Riko smiled wolfishly. It would seem that Dashisamu would have a chance to let off some steam after all.

. . .

Cheerilee and Bon-Bon’s hooves pounded against the street as they ran through Ponyville, searching for Carrot Top. It was surprising how elusive a rampaging, screaming, magic fire-generating, glowing super-unicorn could be when you wanted to find one.

“I hope Lyra’s alright,” said Bon-Bon, anxiety profoundly evident in her voice.

“She’ll be fine, Bon-Bon. She gets herself into all kinds of weird situations, and she always comes out completely unscratched,” said Cheerilee reassuringly.

Bon-Bon peeked her head down an alley. No sign of Carrot Top there. “I know. Believe me, I know. She sure does stick her nose in all kinds of places. She’s like a foal.”

Cheerilee opened the door to Quills and Sofas. Nopony there. Bon-Bon continued, “I suppose that’s why everypony loves her so much.”

Cheerilee raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean,” said Bon-Bon, looking under a bridge,”You have to admit, she is a very popular pony.”

It was true, of course. A friendly, outgoing pony like Lyra, with a permanently sunny attitude, and completely unrestrained enthusiasm for everything? That was the type of pony you noticed. Moreso if that pony was always in the middle of some crazy scheme or other. Everypony knew Lyra, and everypony couldn’t help but like her.

“Sometimes,” Bon-Bon gave a little laugh, to make it sound like she was making a joke, “Sometimes I just feel like her accessory. Like Bon-Bon is just part of the Lyra package deal,” Bon-Bon laughed again, though it was a transparently fake laugh, completely failing to disguise her honesty as humor.

Cheerilee raised her eyebrows slightly. Oh. “Bon-Bon…”

“I’m not jealous, Cheerilee. I know better than anypony else does that she deserves it. She deserves all that attention and all that love. I worry about her so much, because I know, better than anypony else, how special she is. I just wish I could, you know, live up to that.”

“And you don’t think you already do? Bon-Bon, you're great! Maybe not everypony appreciates that, but the ones that matter do. You're the best at making candy. You're down-to-earth. You're humble. You're the most reliable pony I know of. You do those funny voices! It isn't about being popular, it's about who likes you. And as much as everypony likes Lyra, you are the pony that she likes best. Doesn't that mean something, Bon-Bon?"

"Yeah," said Bon-Bon, smiling thoughtfully, "I guess it does. Thanks, Cheerilee."

Cheerilee kept the thought that she had been a shoulder to cry on for a lot of ponies tonight to herself. She didn't really mind, anyway. It had been a pretty stressful night for everpony, after all, and helping ponies feel better was one of the things she'd always imagined her cutie mark of three smiling flowers was telling her.

Instead, Cheerilee said, "Besides, without you, Lyra wouldn't have anypony to keep her grounded! Believe me, we're all grateful for that!" Cheerilee laughed, and Bon-Bon laughed with her, for real this time. "I'm sure she'll be okay, Bon-Bon," Cheerilee said reassuringly, after a moment's pause.

"Yeah," said Bon-Bon, not sounding quite half-convinced.

Cheerilee wondered if she should have said that, if she should have put Bon-Bon's thoughts back to worrying. She hadn't meant to, she had just wanted to reassure her. Further introspection, however, was cut off by the appearance of the ninjas.

"Daimyō no ējento! Watashitachi wa anata ni kōfuku shimasen! Anata ga chikara de watashitachi o toru hitsuyō ga arimasu! Yūki ga arunara watashitachi o kōgeki![8]" said a ninja that was obviously Pinkie Pie.

"...What?" was the only reply Bon-Bon could think of to that.

. . .

Lyra's horn burned. Her head throbbed. Sweat stung her eyes, and the veins in her neck bulged. She grit her teeth, focusing completely on the net of ponies, levitating perilously over the train tracks, which were whipping by uncomfortably quickly below. So much weight! Lyra thought. She wanted to make a joke about how they all needed to go on diets to ease everypony's mind, but she didn't, both because she thought that might hurt some of the heavier ponies' feelings, and also (mostly) because she couldn't so much as grunt, let alone speak.

Her nostrils flared, sucking in as much oxygen as they could. She knew she'd have to do this soon. She couldn't bear the weight for another minute. But the precision required... this was going to be way, way tougher than something like, say, playing a lyre with a boulder would be.

She would have to push the net away from her at approximately the same rate as the train was moving, effectively keeping the ponies in the same position laterally. Simultaneously, she would have to drop the net at a much, much slower rate, settling them gently to the ground. Or as gently as she could, anyway. No matter how you looked at it, this was probably going to be a bumpy ride for them. She also couldn't lower them too slowly, or they would still be above the ground when they moved away from her and out of her telekinesis range, effectively dropping them all hard on the tracks.

Her body started to shake from overtensing all of her muscles. Do it, Lyra, she thought to herself. Hero time!

She started to lower the net as close as she could to the ground, first. Then, just as they were inches above the tracks, she gave a push, shoving them away and behind the train at her best guess for what the train speed was. Maintaining her grip as long as she could for as far as she could, she kept lowering and lowering, the weight pressing down, and Lyra pressing up, controlling the descent as best as she could.

Opening her mouth and letting out a strangled cry, she felt her magic let go. The net of ponies had settled gently on the ground, speeding away from her in the night. I did it! Lyra thought, collapsing, panting, on her belly.

Everything hurts, she thought. Can't do that again.

As if on cue, the train whipped past a pony mid-fall. He must have jumped off from further up on the train! Reacting without thinking in a blind instant, Lyra grabbed the plummeting pony in her golden telekinesis field, groaning from the strain of holding even a single pony aloft. His eyes widened with surprise, but he otherwise certainly looked grateful.

She opted for the least painful route of yanking the pony roughly over to the back of the train, and depositing him next to her haphazardly.

"Heh... heh...," Lyra laughed, her breath heaving, and her head swimming from exhaustion. The pony she'd rescued pulled himself unevenly to his feet from his jarring landing. "Sorry... about... that..." Lyra began, but then passed out.

Shovel Face, very relieved to not be dead, but also very mindful of the fire, now only a car ahead of them, turned to his rescuer, "Are you alright, miss? Miss?!"

. . .

The purple crab contemplated what it means to be. Thrust suddenly as he was into the harsh metaphorical light of self-awareness, there was much to process. He put a claw to his chin, pondering how it was that they had learned language, as Rarity projected concussive telekinesis blasts at his brothers.

I mean, how do I even know this thing is called a claw? he wondered. And how is it that I know that we're "crabs?" Those are words chosen by others to name us, yet it seems so natural to say and think for us, despite having never heard those words before in our lives. Rarity, meanwhile, levitated hundreds of squashed zap apples, rapid-firing them at the red crab, who held his claws over his face in a vain attempt to protect himself from the onslaught.

It seems strange to think that... well actually, it just seems strange to think. "...rude! You ruffians! You vandals!" Rarity was saying. Do we even understand the implications of the damage we've done here? Does it matter, ethically, if we didn't do it on purpose? Either way, these apple trees are ruined and the farmers will be much poorer for it. Also: how do I know what ethics, apples, trees, and farmers are, and how is it that I have even a basic grasp on the concept of monetary economics?

"Lady, you're crazy!" the blue crab yelled. Rarity dropped a boulder on him. "Ow! Hey!"

"I'll get her, dudes!" said the orange crab, moving to flank the unicorn, wielding a broken tree branch like a giant pair of nunchucks. Rarity didn't even turn to look, she simply levitated the hanging end of his branch around to hit him in the face, knocking him out. Totally bogus, man.

Applejack's mouth hung open slightly. This had been a day of flying alligators, meteoric craters, economic ruin, and yet somehow, she could still find it in her to be amazed by the sight of Rarity fighting giant crabs. Life was funny like that, sometimes.

Applejack did not need her friends to fight for her. In fact, more often than not, she preferred to fight her own battles. However, something told her that she should let Rarity have this one… perhaps it was the post maul Rarity was now waving around dangerously.

“Watch it with that thing, spork-head!” shouted the red crab angrilly.

Are you comparing me to a kitchen utensil?!” Rarity shouted back.

It was probably about time to leave, actually. “Hey, uh, Rare? Ah think Ah’m gonna take Big Mac, the Crusaders, and Granny Smith an’ go an’ look for Twi’.” Applejack said awkwardly, stepping out from behind the fence she’d been using for cover.

Rarity didn’t turn, but her tone became inexplicably casual, “Alright, Applejack, dear. Do be careful,” then transitioned smoothly back into anger as she addressed the crabs again, “I’ll show you who’s a spork-head!”

“A-alright then, see ya, Ah guess. Come on, folks, Ah think we oughta find someplace else ta be.”

“Aww! It was just getting good! Hit ‘em with the plow! Hit ‘em with the plow!” Scootaloo called out as Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle dragged her away with them.

I should build a blimp. Blimps are cool, thought the purple crab, before being knocked unconscious by a flying plow.

Author's Note:

[5]Amateurs! They could not be more obvious!

[6]Agents of the Daimyo approach! As usual, they lack subtlety and finesse!

Google Translate! I have no idea how close they are to being correct! Yay!

[7]Secret police

Okay, that one I actually knew.

[8]Agents of the Daimyo! We will not surrender to you! You will have to take us by force! Attack us if you dare!

And back to Google Translate!


Ninjas vs. Cheerilee and Bon-Bon? Lyra and Shovel Face, trapped on a burning train? We're back to the beginning of the story?! TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR THIS AND ALSO MORE.