Chapter Seven
“Hidden Delights”
Many of the streets and avenues that eventually wound their way round the peak of Mount Avalon to the Royal District were blocked, mostly with mounds of fallen rubble. As the morning progressed following its delayed dawn, Luna and Nar had increasingly heard the whip crack sounds of thaumic discharge mix with the raucous symphony. Those few passageways that remained traversable turned into bottlenecks of bloody carnage and mayhem and, in one incident that the Nottlynga and the Princess had witnessed, forced magical transformation into a water buffalo.
For reasons that Nar couldn't quite figure out, the Princess was restraining her magic. Since applying a somniferous cantrip to the ponies around the fountain, she'd left it up to Nar to find a way back to the Castle, merely following with her graceful, clipped gait and lurking in the shadows when danger presented itself. This wasn't particularly often. Something about the sight of a Princess drawn up to her full height dissuaded all but the bravest souls from making themselves known.
They'd made good progress though, only stopping to retrieve an unfortunate and terrified looking stallion. By some malady he had become paralyzed, standing rigid in the middle of the street. In the current climate this had not gone well, and they'd found him modeling many items of scandalous and gender inappropriate underclothes. To add insult to injury, somepony had covered him in paint, and what seemed to be several gallons of strawberry conserve. Luna had then seemed to make him disappear, explaining that she'd deal with him later. She'd mentioned something about 'bolded space-rhymes' that Nar didn't really understand, but she'd long learned not to question the activities of the Princesses, so only nodded politely and suggested they move on.
So now they were carefully picking their way through the maze of abandoned buildings and shop fronts, heading as best they could uphill. Nar longed to take to the wing and get above the mess, but the Princess was having none of it. “I must walk amongst my ponies, so that I may look them in the eyes,” she'd said, mysteriously, then brooked no further line of questioning.
“I trust you did not take that helmet from the cadet's armory, Zo Nar,” the Princess said, as they entered the back room of a toy shop, looking for its rear access to the next street.
“Why would you think that, Mother?” Nar said, trotting over piles of smashed wood and broken clockwork mechanisms.
“Is it not the tradition of the Nottlygna mares to make marks on their helmets equal to the number of times they have foaled?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then why is it that your helmet is so bare? Is something wrong?”
“No, Mother--”
“Do you prefer other mares?” Luna said, smiling wryly. “Even so, my little pony, you have a responsibility to the herd.”
“It's not that, Mother.”
“Then why is it that a mare of nineteen years is yet to set a hoof inside the foaling stall?”
“I just haven't found the right stallion yet, Mother.”
“Oh!” Luna laughed mightily. “What in the skies above has that got to do with it?”
Nar made a noncommittal noise and self-consciously fiddled with her helmet straps.
“You have partaken of the bounties of my night, haven't you?”
“Not really, Mother.”
“Nay!” Luna grinned, barely able to contain herself. “My contumacious little pony! Prithee tell me that you have at least once felt a lover’s weight?”
“Mother!” Nar blushed and shot Luna a shocked glance.
“A prude! Thou art a prude, I knew it!” Luna pointed a silver-shod hoof “Never would I have thought it of my Nottlygna, to find a maid dwelled therein amongst past estrus' first mighty touch.”
“P-Please, Mother...”
“So you are to tell me, Zo Nar, that you have never made merry at midnight? For most of your time alive I was detained at Selene's pleasure,” Luna said, picking up a wooden foal doll from the counter with her magic and rotating it in the air. “It is the way of your kin to play in the light of the moon when I am gone, to drink the barrel dry, to rut 'til sister mine reveals the dawn. Yet not once, since you were made a mare by dint of May, have you taken a stallion into yourself? Not once drunk 'til vision doubled?”
Nar whinnied desperately and busied herself at the back door, pushing her head into the side of a cabinet which had fallen and blocked their way. The thing was almost a safe, with heavy iron locks, and barely shifted even with her full force behind it.
“If you're asking what I think you're asking, the answer is still no, Mother,” Nar said, sighing deeply and turning to her. “You'd be surprised how easy it is to swap shifts with colts who've a spear too many, or fillies who want to relieve them of that burden. I've never been to one of those parties.”
“Too many spears indeed! You are allowed to talk about it you know, my little Nottlygna.”
“Talk about what, Mother?”
“Procreation!” she said, placing the foal doll on Nar's hind quarters with a gentle clink of wood on metal. “Fornicating. Rutting. The good old fashioned in-and-out game. Sex. Whatever the young ponies call it.” Luna licked her lips and her horn flashed, causing several more of the little foal dolls to float upward whereupon they began to orbit Nar's flanks. “There's no need to couch it in euphemisms. When all this is over, I shall dispatch to you a guard of honor, and they shall take thee to mine pleasure grounds. The Hidden Delight you shall yet haunt, I decree it, thus it is so.”
*
After several more awkward minutes of Luna assaulting her with the most lurid and nigh-on incomprehensible descriptions of exactly what lurked in the Hidden Delight, Nar somehow found the strength to shift the obstacle, and she spilled out onto the back street with no small measure of haste. The Princess followed, a naughty grin on her face, a collection of dolls meant for adolescent ponies floating alongside.
“Technically, Mother, that's looting,” Nar said, glancing both ways down the alley.
“I cannot steal things which I own already,” said Luna, nodding her head at the lintel above the door.
Nar followed her direction. Carved into the wood were a pair of crescent moons, decorated in a subtle way for this part of Canterlot, which meant only the slightest application of silver and gold.
“I don't understand, Mother.”
“Is that not my seal affixed there?”
“I think that's intended as ornamentation only, Mother, not an invitation for the Crown to take as they like.”
“Perhaps I shall assign the big ponies to your guard of honor.” Luna smirked. “Do you know which of your colleagues is descended from Ennis himself? I do.”
“Ennis was a real pony?” Nar blurted, even as she felt herself blushing again.
“That he was, and let me tell you, only part of that song is true.”
“Oh.”
“Ennis was actually very good with the mares, and not one night did he want for bedmates. All that claptrap about him being only useful for his unusually gargantuan endowment is exactly that; claptrap.”
“Ye Gods!”
“Gargantuan,” Luna savored the word as if it were a fine wine. “That's a lovely term, don't you think? Here are some more for you; mammoth, titanic, biologically unlike--”
“Fine! Okay! Take what you wish!”
Luna made a strange gurgling noise, which Nar realized must be what served as the Princesses' dirty laugh.
Suddenly, the street filled with shadows. They were dark and oily, as though they were demons from another realm merely acting out their part in a masquerade. Nar felt an awful chill run down her spine, the embarrassment from moments before fading away in the face of this new, unseen threat. Instinctively, the Nottlynga mare looked upward, trying to find the source of the shade. Floating through the sky, violating the precious morning air with their very presence, were a dozen large shapes. The first was that of an alicorn, belly swollen with an alien pregnancy. The one behind it was less identifiable; a bulbous yellow and black striped body capped with a pair of horrid wings, see-through but with veins, and hideous little green eyes that caught the dawn light and glimmered. It had a vicious protrusion at its rear, a thing that could only be described as a stinger. Following that, a creature with a jointed abdomen and eight spindly legs hanging loosely at its side came hovering into view.
“Oh, what fun!” Luna cried. “The Foal's Day parade floats I requested! But who has loosed them from their housing?”
“Parade floats?” Nar echoed, haunted by the hideousness. “For foals?”
“Yes, aren't they lovely?” She sighed deeply. “But they'll be ruined in all the mess. More casualties of this incident.”
“They fill me with dread,” Nar said, bluntly. “I look at them, and it is as though something unimaginably grim might happen.”
“Really?” Luna looked deflated. “But after the Ponyville Nightmare Night fiasco, sister and I hired a whole team of expert ponies to help design them. Surely they can't be all that offensive to your eyes?”
Nar blinked away some of the sun's brilliant haze, and saw how gaily decorated they were. The second creature's face was a warm smile, and the alicorn beamed just as brightly. All the ghastly thoughts and images vanished from her mind, as fast as they had entered.
“Everything works out in the cold light of day,” Nar mumbled. “I think I'm just tired, Mother.”
“Yes, well, a little more exertion and you can rest, Nottlynga,” Luna said, firmly. “Come, there's much to do, and scarcely time in which to do it.”
*
Infra Base was the last member of the Night Guard within the bounds of Canterlot Castle still on her hooves. Dawn had come and gone, after a long night keeping the mad crowd out of the exquisitely maintained grounds of the fortress within a fortress. Patrols had been sallying out for the past twelve hours, and all had returned with squad members missing, as well as with countless wounds and injuries. The Night Guard were normally a small force, and couldn't stand that rate of attrition for long. Now the new day began to drag onwards, and still the baying horde did not pause for rest. It seemed as though whatever force was impelling them to their acts of wanton vandalism and debauchery was also keeping them awake.
“Show us yer fangs, love!”
Base glanced down through the murder hole into the courtyard outside the gate that served as a turning circle and visitor assembly space. Various attempts throughout the small hours of the morning to bash down the sturdy wooden gates had failed, the crowds being too disorganized and prone to distraction for much serious mischief, but their efforts had left a great deal of splintered and smashed rubbish piled against the gate and strewn out around the courtyard.
Before she quite knew what she was doing, Base hissed at the stallion who'd shouted at her. This elicited a randy cheer from the crowd, and the mare retreated out of sight immediately, a blush coming to her cheeks. Though they had been cut off for hours, the Castle was remarkably well stocked, and none wanted for anything, especially in terms of vittles, wine and armaments. Pausing only to take a long swig from a bottle of Chateau Le Pferde, which was by this point unpleasantly warm, Base grabbed a long black rod from a pile beside the murder hole, hooking her hooves into the o-rings for extra leverage. Then, she poked the tip of the rod out of the hole, aimed it at the assembled masses in general, and tugged on the short blue activation cord with her mouth.
There was a sharp crack, immediately followed by a whooshing noise as the gunpowder charges went off. Dozens of compartmentalized glass ampules were ejected from the end of the rod into the paved courtyard below. Where they struck the stone slabs the thinner internal walls shattered, allowing their chemical payloads to mix. The philosopher's wool, salts of alum and hexachloroethane together began to emit thick white smoke. For four or five seconds the ampules merely bounced around, which was just enough time for the rioters to realize what was going on and begin laughing about it. Then, the pressure inside the glass warheads reached a breaking point, and they exploded.
Panic, terrified whinnying and thick, billowing clouds of grey smoke was Base's reward. She grinned and dropped the spent rod out of the murder hole, and finished off the wine. In the confusion, she heard at least two ponies collide with each other and collapse in whirling heaps of distressed equinity. Those with any sense began to flee back toward the town, their eyes stinging. The effects of the Black Rod's smoke were only temporary, but could be lethal if anypony hung around. Base sighed deeply and went looking for her rope and battle helmet; those poor fools that were now lying comatose in the smoke would need her attention.
Suddenly, Base heard somepony bellowing in the distance, beyond the courtyard. The astute hearing that her biology granted allowed her to hear every single word as though it were being spoken directly. Her mind reeled for a moment. Even though she could not understand the language, it was clear that whoever was using it was swearing in the most unpleasant way possible. Profane utterances and lewd metaphors swept into her mind, a tidal wave of filth. Old High Equuish. That can only mean--
“Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo!” the Selenite Princess screamed, unseen. “Pathici et Cinaedi, and your dams too! Away with you!”
Base squeezed herself through the murder hole in a hurry, dropping out of it and taking to the wing. The air was fouled and acrid-tasting, and she held her breath as much as possible in spite of the increased need for oxygen now that she was flying. Bright magical flashes illuminated the smoke, casting hard shadows even through the screen, and she headed toward them. Everypony knew that unique colour, the silvery-tinged sky blue of the Princess, and with the sheer volume of swearing, Base knew she was quite possibly in need of protection. Or perhaps, the public are in need of protection from her.
Across the courtyard was a grand plaza of fountains and statues, which were the centrepoint to a small garden that overlooked the city from the top of a cliff. Access to the palace by hoof traffic was through this space, and it contained the innumerable marble and granite gifts the Princesses had been given over the years. It was quite possible to chart a diplomatic history of the nation by their quality and appropriateness. Many depicted the Princesses themselves, in all manner of dominant and submissive positions. By far the most infamous of these was The Moon at Rest with a Gryphon, a thirty foot tall polished basalt monolith crowned with a bronze image of the Nightmare herself, drenched in blood and asleep on a dead gryphon.
The statue of The Moon at Rest wasn't just infamous because of the reactions it tended to garner from gryphon visitors to the city. It wasn't just infamous because it was a tribute to ponykind's greatest monster. Nor was it infamous just because rumour held that the artist went mad during its creation and subsequently included his own body parts in the bronze mould prior to casting. It was infamous because the helmet, that refined, restrained example of ancient era metalworking, was removable. Naturally, this had lead to a great many shenanigans down the years, as graduating classes of Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns devised cunning schemes to steal it and place it somewhere amusing. It had also lead to many stories of evil curses, placed on the helmet by Nightmare Moon, or otherwise the acolytes of her dread Lunar cults, which of course still existed...
At the base of the monolith sat a bedraggled looking Nottlygna, who was wearing an expression of fear and awe that mirrored Base's own emotions. Thanks be to the Thirty Stars, it's Zo Nar! Altering her course with a twist of her tail and wings, she vectored in toward one of the pegasi. If the situation wasn't rapidly defused, it was entirely likely that the poor buggers would end up as ash on the wind, or perhaps join the ranks of the garden of statues, petrified by an angry Goddess' magic.
Base rolled her armoured head to the left just before she struck, allowing her withers and chest to take the brunt of the impact. As the target flashed into view, she wrapped her hooves around him, stilling the fluttering of his mauve wings. Flinging back her own to afford her some braking, they quickly descended, slamming into the neatly manicured lawn. The helmet came with them, landing with a dull thud. The mare didn't stop for a moment, and shortly thereafter the pegasus was trussed with a length of cord. He reacted only by laughing wildly, as though it were the greatest game in the world. His friends scattered almost immediately, hooting and hollering just as madly.
Infra Base stood up and wobbled slightly, then turned to see Nar trotting toward her, a bright smile on her beaten features. They embraced wordlessly, necks curling together and holding there.
“It's so good to see you again, Sister,” Base said, sighing. “We thought you dead in all this.”
“And I, the same of you,” Nar said, glancing up toward the Princess. “But we've Mother's business, and mustn't dally.”
“So I saw, it's why I broke cover.”
The bronze helmet jumped off the grass, wrapped in an aura of blue magic, and began to sail toward the top of the monolith.
“Do you know why any of this is happening?” Base sat down on her haunches. “We've fought to the last mare here, which is me.”
“No, but Mother does, and I'm sure she'll explain it when she's ready,” Nar said, her tone assured. “Are you truly the last?”
“Our Sisters are not dead, but cannot fight. We hold the line, but barely; I fear they'll soon return with numbers greater than my hooves alone can quash.”
“Fear not, Mother has a plan for us.”
Princess Luna alighted daintly on the grass, far too daintly for somepony who had, only moments ago, been swearing so viciously. She spread, then folded, her wings, and examined Base with a warm, but critical eye.
“Apologies, 'tis my favourite statue,” she said. “Those jackanapes were trying to place these...” she paused to levitate a catastrophically pink pair of frilly lace panties into view. “On it, and so demean it for their own amusement.”
“Gracious, Mother, do mares really wear those sorts of things?” Base exclaimed.
“Apparently, though p'raps they are a prank, the stuff of foalish jokes,” Luna examined them, then tossed them away. “I have always thought the naked form is best for all occasions, and that wrapping it in such things is but to soil the art, and nothing more.” She sighed and glanced toward the castle. “To each his own, however offensive it may be to me. Forsworn I'd be of truth, if I were to deny I've not far pinker things in my boudoir.” She grinned, ever so slightly. “Tell me, how are my Nottlygna?”
“Few, but we are yet firm,” Base said, proudly. “What are your orders, Mother?”
“Inside, we must gather who we can.”
Flying in formation with the Princess was almost like a dream to Base and, even though it was a mere short hop back through the courtyard and over the wall, she felt privileged indeed. The Princess was a hooves-off manager. Very rarely did she take control, or do more than visit on Feast Days and drop into the foaling stalls of new dams to give a blessing or a word of thanks. Base recalled her last meeting with the Princess well; she, a bloodied, exhausted thing, barely able to stand and inexpertly nursing a foal, and her, a towering, smiling figure that cooed over the newborn and whispered calmness into its ears. Strange then, to see her chasing after vandals. It is as though she is more than one pony, and what we see in any single moment is but a single facet of a greater jewel. Base wrinkled up her muzzle in thought. A cracked jewel, then.
Zo Nar seemed barely able to keep up. Her flapping was irregular and strained and, as they landed in the gravel of the assembly square on the Castle side of the gates, she stumbled, armour clanking and clattering, spraying stones about the place. The Princess neatly helped her to her hooves without saying a word, even though Nar looked bitterly embarrassed by the whole thing.
Beyond the assembly square, which was a large and intimidating space designed to be used when royalty wished to address the public, the Welcome Hall awaited. Its big oak doors were propped open, with a gentle trickle of castle staff trotting through them. To a one they were Nottlygna, though of the auxiliary type; those too old or too young to be part of the fighting classes. The usual ornate furniture of the Welcome Hall, the only truly neutral part of the Castle, through which one had to pass in order to reach either of the Royal Courts, had been pushed to the sides, and wooden camp beds or merely rolls of blankets and pillows now replaced them.
Regardless of how injured they were, Luna's entrance turned, or in most cases, raised, heads. A wave of relieved gasps, oaths and other whispers followed her down the cavernous hall. Everypony stopped what they were doing, be it changing bandages or cleaning blood from the floor, and watched. After a few moments, they would inevitably begin to smile and cheer, and from a single spark of ebullience the entire building lit up. Base watched the regent as she adopted a loving expression, one obviously well practiced. Nottlygna teenagers and foals fluttered and danced through the air, and the adults hugged each other, necks intertwining and hooves wrapped around hooves.
None came too close, though. The joy of the Nottlygna at the return of their Mother in the middle of a terrible crisis was tempered by respect. Even Base kept a reasonable distance, and did so until they'd cleared the hall and were well on their way toward the Selenite Court. The change in artistic style was very clear. Marble and granite gave way to knobbly, organic-looking obsidian, which gradually replaced the neat squareness of the Welcome Hall's annex, until it was as though they were descending through the tunnels of a great worm, who's hot passage through the earth had been so furious as to melt the rock, leaving a tube in its wake.
Base had visited the Selenite Court on only a few previous occasions, though all but for the conception of her first foal had been on guard duty. Despite the crisis, the air in the Court hung as it always did, thick with the smoke of dozens of water pipes and heavy with the enticing smells of strong, exotic liquors and incense. Absent were any ponies, besides a few Nottlygna, who were sleeping spread out on the many pouffes and pillows, taking a moment to attempt to recover their strength. As Luna approached her own embroidered seat at the centre of the comfortable sea something groaned, and there was a low rumbling sound, like tectonic plates moving together.
What appeared at first to be merely another snoozing Nottlygna, perched on a pad far too big for it, began to move. Base realized then that it was made of stone, though stone which had somehow been made motile. Dust jumped into the air, and a glass that had been placed on its flanks fell off. The stone thing's eyes opened, and began to track Luna, who merely cantered gracefully up to it and waited. Base saw that the features of the Nottlygna represented there in rock were over exaggerated, like a caricature, with fangs the size of big carrots and folded wings that would have given it a flying span of twenty foot. Then, what began as a yawn turned into a gaping maw, which the creature held open.
“New messages for you, M'lady,” it said, with a voice that spoke of deep, dark pits full of festering bones, and chains dragged in the night, and howling dogs. “It seems your sister is putting on a play...”
“Thank you, Maurice.”
Luna pulled something out of its mouth with her magic, which turned out to be a long, neatly coiled scroll sealed with gold wax. She hopped into the air, and curled up on the futon that served as her throne to read the missive. Base saw the Regis Rota through the parchment, heavily embossed. The Princess growled in frustration, and several jet black bottles wound their way up from beside the futon. “Oh fie on that meddling, prattling demagogue!” She finished both in a quick succession of deep draughts. “She's up to something!”
“Who is, Mother?” Nar said, sitting patiently beside Base.
“Not a concern for you,” said Luna, furrowing her brow in thought. “What is a concern for you is the safety of this city. We've seen already that their fight cannot be stemmed by normal means. What has happened here, has happened before, and long I've worried might happen here again.” She bit her lip, as if fighting with something internally. “Tell me, what know you of my Nectars, numbered ninety-nine?”
“Some rumours, Mother; idle gossip is a soldier's lot.”
“I've heard a little more than that,” Base said. “I read some law books once, they made mention of these Nectars, but in vague ways. I got the feeling they were not a good thing.”
“Good and bad are merely words, all things are arbitrary,” Luna said, as if she were repeating some oft-spoken mantra. “But for our intents, the Nectars are the worst. This effect you see around you now, the rioting and wantonness, are the results of somepony attempting the brewing of my Nectars. They are the drinks that Gods drink to forget, and are so powerful as to strange the passing of moments, retroactively. The universe itself is loathsome of it, and reacts.”
“Just the attempt alone's enough to produce this?” Nar said, incredulous. “I wouldn't want to think on what would happen if you were to drink it, or what might happen afterwards.”
“I have lost much memory of that time, but know this. The last time the Nectars were brewed, the Nightmare took control, and her attempted coup laid waste to most of the land. Millions died, and it was only by my sister's mercy that she did not end me utterly. So hear me when I say, the brewing must not come to pass.”
“Why isn't it affecting us, Mother?” Base said. “I've not yet seen a Nottlygna downed by anything less than a blow to the head.”
“When I made you, I made you resistant to the worst of it, so you might join me in my drunkenness.”
“Tartarus take us, what are we sitting around here for?” Nar said, stamping a hoof on the obsidian floor. “If there's somepony to be stopped, let us stop them now!”
“If it were so simple, I'd have remedied it myself,” Luna said, looking Nar in the eye. “The brewer cannot be any less than a God, or else the universe would not take notice. The process itself is dangerous, and requires much magic.”
“Is this... is this your sister's doing then?” Base said, her voice suddenly tremulous. “Are we to see a Nightmare of the sun?”
“Ultimately, it is her fault, but her hooves are merely missing, not to blame,” Luna said. “I fear our latest Princess, Twilight Sparkle, is behind the brewing itself.”
“A divine,” Nar grumbled, stressing the word like an obscenity. “She's no more Princess than I.”
“Hush, Zo Nar, lest I feed you your insolence,” Luna said, half-seriously. “She is Princess enough for this purpose.”
“Then what are we to do?” Base said. “We've only a few able to fight. We'll perhaps have ten soldiers by this evening, if they're strong enough and able, and their wounds don't get infected.”
“How fair the others of the city?” Luna said, adjusting herself on her seat, and somehow managing to look regal despite the outwardly casual settings.
“I sent a messenger colt to the zebra ambassador early this morning,” Base said, glancing upwards and away in the vague direction of the foreigner's quarters. “He returned badly beaten, and informed me that the embassy was deserted, except for local staff and a few of the ambassador's retinue.” The mare took off her helmet carefully, allowing stands of her cropped, sweat-slicked copper mane to flop free. “I do not know if the zebras are affected like us, but that is only because I haven't yet run into any. Certainly they do not roam the streets, making riots.”
“They have probably gone underground, they are so fond of their warrens and tunnels,” Luna said, idly stroking her neck with a silver shod hoof. “And the gryphons?”
“Holed up in that ghastly quarter of theirs, as small as it is. They've had no issue barring access,” Base said, massaging her temple. “I've not had thought to spare on thinking of what's happened to any of our race stuck in there with them, but at least they seem, for now, keen to police their own. We've issue enough keeping down hooved foes, let alone mad carnivores.”
“This effect will only spread,” Luna said, seeming to decide on something. “It will roll out across the land from the capital and claim all, in the end. We must evacuate.”
“Evacuate, Mother?” Nar said, dazed. “Just give up the capital?”
“Those not affected must be allowed to flee on hoof, and head away. We'll take our number to the aeroport, our young and old, and retreat to better ground. Our goal now is the protection of the remaining civilians.”
“Aye, seems fair.” Base nodded reluctantly. “If we've more than Canterlot to consider...”
“It's a matter of nation, now,” Luna said, standing up. “Before we can take other actions--”
Luna paused as she noticed more nottlygna start to appear in her court. They stumbled in through the cavernous entrance, limping, with pained expressions on their muzzles that still managed to radiate a certain hopefulness. Even in the low light, Base could see that their fur was caked in blood where it was not covered in bandage, or held straight against muscle and bone with splints. At the front of them was a muscular bull of a pony, recently missing an eyeball, now wearing a pink eyepatch with love hearts on it. He was panting heavily, and it was clear every movement was a desperate trial for him. His armour was bashed in around the haunches, punctured at the withers with a ragged line of spear-holes, yet he wore it proudly still.
“First Lieutenant Hendi Adys, your Majesty, 52nd Adroit Lancers, at your bally service,” he coughed, coming to a halt near where the density of pouffes and pillows reached an impassable level for an injured pony.
“Adroit Lancers?” Luna said, examining him and the twenty or so other nottlygna that were with him. “Isn't that one of my sister's regiments?”
“That it is, we were on temporary secondment to them.”
“What happened to you, then?”
“We were patrolling the underways with a mixed unit, half nottlygna, half not, when something took hold of the pegasi and unicorns with us,” he explained, between deep breaths. “One of them conjured a triskelion, right out of nowhere. He wanted to play fetch with it. The thing ate him in one go, then started on the rest. All but the nottlygna were laughing, laughing like schoolcolts when they went to their graves.”
“You've been through Hades, and worse,” Luna said, standing up from her regnal pouffe and trotting over to them. “Should you not be resting now?”
“We thought the city lost, when neither you nor your sister were here to guide us,” Adys said, looking up at her with his one good eye. “But seeing you again, we had to come. Whatever happens next, we're yours, Mother.” He licked his lips. “Ye Gods, it feels good to say that again. We're ready, aren't we boys?”
An approving cheer and a stomping of hooves went up from the rest of the unit, who were all as injured as the lieutenant, if not more so. Base saw that most of them had wounds that those in the guard would have considered career-ending; severe damage to the webbing of wings, complex fractures of the bones in the hoof. Around half were missing eyes, too. Base shuddered as she recalled lessons on triskelions, and how they would devour the eyes of their enemies as a way of instilling fear and breaking moral. She was glad to see it hadn't worked.
Well, Canterlot's good as destroyed now, the populace dying of madness and infighting.
And Celestia's perfectly fine with this.
Hope Twilight's parents got out okay, or at least holed up in their house and barricaded the entrances before going nuts.
edit: I'm starting to get Dwarf Fortress vibes here, with the blatant disregard for the subjects' wellbeing. Also, that bit about the statue. =P
Enni, Selena nostra, Selena illa,
illa Selena, quam Catullus unam
plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes,
nunc in quadriviis et angiportis
clamitat contra mannulos Solae.
Clearly Catullus was rattled by the Royal Canterlot Voice, as his scansion suffered and he called Luna not by her Old High Equuish name but by her epithet from the other side of the Haydriatic. Did the poet truly share a thousand kisses, or was his lonely heart jealous as the object of his desire played with a sparrow in her telekinesis?
3904495
Hah! How ribald! I see the origins of Luna's poetic swearing weren't lost on you.
Firstly, thank you for exposing me to the word "contumacious." I think I've heard it before, but this time I intend to commit it to memory.
Also, while I love Luna's numerous euphemisms for the horizontal mambo, I'm rather surprised that the foaling stall is still in use, given the advances of pony medicine.
Hmm...
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My first thought was this, but I suspect it wasn't what you had in mind. Robots tend not to eat eyes.
An excellent chapter overall. Eagerly looking forward to more. Especially Twilight's reaction once she sees what her efforts have wrought.
3904495
Catullus? Surely you mean Caballus!
3905814
Excellent, I've so happy you're still enjoying it.
My pre-reader/editor actually pointed out the triskelion thing from MTG too - I didn't intend the reference. It's actually a sort of horrid lion-themed creature, with three-fold symmetry and a pun in the name.
The concept of a foaling stall is still the best way for a horse shaped creature to give birth, though naturally it would be far more comfortable and personal than what you'd expect of a real world stall. One might also think that the nottlygna medical practices, and Luna herself, all harken back to an older age. I also wanted to make them seem quite equine in general, and not too human. It is only we apes that give birth on our backs.
Twilight's reaction will be suitably... explosive.
And he did really mean Catullus - he was a Roman poet who wrote the poem that I borrowed the rather splending Latin swearing for Luna from.
3906004
Ohhhh. A triske-lion. I've been pronouncing it try-SKELL-yun, so I missed the pun.
I hear "stall" and my mind can't seem to reconcile it with a sterile environment. Maybe it's just me.
And I was just going for a horse pun.
Thanks for the swift reply.
3906149
No worries, I think if people take the time to read what I write, and to reply to it, they deserve my prompt attention.
3906004
Only because I type everything I don't recognise into Google. I imagined a kind of manticore, with three barbed tentacles instead of wings -- but I was even more surprised to discover it wasn't some obscure Olmec deity or similar, given the way you write...
...which brings up to an interesting question. Anything that deliberately blinds it's enemy to break morale and spread fear is obviously not just an animal, but something with sapience. Which means that a unicorn just created intelligent life, something normally reserved for gods.
3914102
You're right - I would usually have employed some obscure monster of myth, but the puns got the better of me this time.
It's more like a kind of robot. It's not a properly functional biological entity, and absolutely not sentient in any sort of way, in the same way that an autonomous aerial vehicle of the type used to
terrorize foreignersfight the war on terror is not sentient, nor doing anything other than following commands given to it by an appropriate authority. Certainly, it can make its own judgements and so on, within a limited and pre-programmed scope, but it is a far cry from creating a living, talking, shagging race.To give a little background, triskelions as combat entities were first designed in pony antiquity in order to fight gryphons, as for gryphons especially losing ones eyesight is extraordinarily demoralising. They're part illusion, part telekinesis, and function independantly of their caster within a complex thaumic ruleset installed as part of the spell. They draw energy from the magical background, and are composed entirely of energy. Living creatures see it as a giant, thundering, three-legged creature as a result of the illusion. When it needs to actually interact with the world, it uses telekinetic fields of various strengths and sharpnesses to achieve the desired effect.
tl;dr version: It's a robot, not a lifeform.
3914551
So it's a terror weapon, one designed to maim rather than kill, much like a toe-popper antipersonnel mine (a wounded soldier requires three others to pull him/her back from the front). I suppose the question I have would be 'why'? If the thing is that efficient at causing injury, why not just have it kill? Also, what defence does a victim have? A good set of tactical goggles? If you are not a magic user, I'd guess you have no method of 'killing' it.
...and the description is a little confusing, based on what you just said. It implies something more than an illusion (it 'ate' the Royal Guard and 'devoured' many eyes) -- or does it just mangle the flesh?
3915708
It is indeed a terror weapon, and it will kill, though it was designed at a time in history when it would have been employed in neccessarily small numbers against a much larger OPFOR alongside regular troops. You've read the story bible - that was a time in history when ponies were getting farmed and eaten. Those sorts of periods in history bring out the absolute worst in sapient species. The triskelion would stalk enemy patrols and haunt forward operating bases. A horribly wounded enemy soldier is worth more to you than a simply dead soldier, who will not require medical treatment, evacuation, etc. You maim one soldier - and two more are taken off the battlefield in caring for him. You know how that works.
So naturally it became iconic of the struggle, and was kept in the regularly taught magical arsenal in order to keep the peace. Strength through arms. I imagine that it remains a hot button issue at diplomatic talks, with 'triskelion reduction' being the carrot, and 'redeployment' being the stick.
It's not impossible to kill without magic - all you need to do is hit it enough, and the magical function collapses. They describe it as having 'eaten' them, because that's what it looks like. All it does is create a telekinetic field that works like a set of jaws - it then leaves the mashed ichor behind it, merely adding to the general horror that this magical construct causes. They're a bit like landmines though - if they don't run into an enemy for more than a few hours they'll become minimally active, and will persist as a danger to the enemy/passersby/civilians for years.
3916239
Fair enough -- although that leads on to the next questions...
1)If it's easy to make (one drunk unicorn!), why would you only deploy it in small numbers? Under those circumstances, if I had a weapon like that I'd be deploying it en masse within any gryphon population hub (hell, even one in a city would really make the population nervous -- think about the effect that one sniper team had in the US a few years back).
2)Why make it look like anything at all? I imagine a drone weapon that's only visible by the TK it uses to attack with would be even better (a true 'land mine', in that sense).
3)How controllable is the thing? Since it was built for gryphons, wouldn't they design it with the ability to discriminate the right target?
...actually, that's another question: can the thing fly (it's intended prey can!)?
3918964
During its inception, there were very few unicorns skilled enough to perform the magic required to bring it into life. It was a completely new way of wielding magic for military purposes. Up until that point, they had used their magic almost entirely defensively, either to shield or to deceive. They could only be deployed in small numbers because they had a production bottleneck. Think nuclear weapons - even with a significant portion of the entire American war effort behind it, actual weapon numbers were very small at the start.
Even after a thousand years of refinement and adaptation, it still takes six years of specialist training to both learn how to cast such a spell, and to be given access to it. The spell is found in the Biblio Thauma Terriblis, amongst others, and is a state secret as much as the Strong Force Bomb is - the chap who accidentally managed to cast part of that spell happened upon it entirely by accident. Had he written down what he'd done, it would be considered a born secret.
So the unfortunate member of the Adroit Lancers who managed to cast the triskelion spell was a seriously professional soldier, with at least six years plus experience under his belt. I'm taken to understanding that by that point, complex tasks are in the muscle memory. You could do them reasonably well even if you were drunk, 'reasonably well' being the key operator here. He set the triskelion to berserker mode, at which point there was little that could be done to prevent it from attacking everything. That mode is a fail-deadly mechanism.
The threat of deployment against civilians is precisely what makes the triskelion so effective. They're part of the defensive triad - the other two aspects of that being the Strong Force Bomb and the diarchs themselves.
As for the appearance, that's a good point. Perhaps it would have a more complex logic - if it wanted to hide, it would only appear as minimally as possible, a collection of force fields and magic. When it wanted to berserk, to terrify someone directly, it could appear as an horrific monster.
Friend/foe settings are determined during the original casting, and cannot be rectified afterwards to prevent tampering. I imagine three modes of operation - one in which it can receive verbal commands, to allow it to be run as a squad mate, one in which it carries out a single command given to it by the caster, then defaults to basic operating, and the third aforementioned berseker mode, in which it attacks and destroys all living creatures until prevented from doing so. That last mode, I feel, would be an important part of the fear aspect, and would prevent gryphons simply capturing the mages responsible and forcing them to deactivate the triskelions, if capture was a current threat.
The triskelion levitates by default, and since it is composed of extremely low friction surfaces, and powered by local magical fields, it would be a highly capable flyer. In fact, I think its speed would only be limited by its ability to withstand the heat and concussive effects of the atmosphere at high velocities - any 'damage' to the telekinetic fields is, by the inherent properties of magic, fed back through the construct and will lead to its destruction. It would also be forced to slow down, or even find itself out of power entirely, if it came close to any chemical elements that curtail magic, or landscapes that incorporated them.
This would also serve as something of a passive defense - particular elements slow or even halt completely the expression of magic into the world, and therefore the mechanism for powering the triskelion and indeed all forms of magic would no longer work.
3919689
Fair enough... although the analogy with nuke production doesn't seem to be that relevant; these things have a long lifespan and can be cast quickly by a single unicorn with the skill and knowledge. As such, they could be produced behind the lines by a cadre of skilled mages, shipped forward to the front lines (unless the process is very stressful?).
Muscle memory generally requires several hundred repetitions (that's a lot of terror weapons!) -- would you consider spell casting to actually be in that category? That said, any complex task can become second nature, so I can see how it could be done.
As it is a magical locus, you might only be limited by the speed of magic (whatever that is), but I'd suggest not making it too quick, as there are control issues when the rest of the squad is limited by speed of hoof or wing. The main reason I asked about flight, is that you said 'lion themed', so I was wondering about wings (I know it doesn't need them, but it would have to be part of the illusion).
3920617
The nuclear weapons production analogy only works at the very inception - there would only have been one mage who could do it, the inventor, and he'd have to teach others to do it before production could be ramped up. I think you're right though - it needs limitation on it to balance things out. Therefore, it would be a very stressful process, mentally draining.
I think spellcasting would certainly be something that could be acted upon by a muscle-memory like process, in that spells used in every day life would need to become second nature - telekinesis, for example, would just become another appendage with which to manipulate the world, and you'd no more think about it than you really think about shaving, or tying one's shoelaces.
In my very brief, rather amateurish explanation of the physics behind magic, I wrote that magic is a force like gravity, and has force carriers. Since it operates alongside the other, more properly established principles, if it could somehow move faster than light, I think that causality would break down. So the 'speed of magic' would be light speed. However, since it requires transmission, reception, processing and retransmission for every stage of the control, it would work quite a bit slower.
In a vacuum, I imagine that the triskelion would have no problem reaching a significant fraction of the speed of light. Without the nullifying effects of various elements playing into the general, overall weakening of the magical energy potential, greater energies are available and therefore more powerful magic is performable. If these ponies manage to get their house in order, eschatologically speaking, they have a very bright future ahead of them indeed when it comes to practical space flight.
As for if it would have wings - I think so. Far more terrifying is the thing that looks like you, but is also grotesquely disfigured. I think it would have at least one beak, too, and dozens of little eyes that moved independantly, perhaps mimicing the eyes of those looking at it for an added scare factor.
Poor Nar. Poor, poor Nar.
Woah, Luna sure is... frisky? Let's go with frisky.
Ya know, not that I am really complaining or anything, but this is getting surprisingly dark for a fic without a Dark tag. There's been an awful lot of mortal bloodshed and death.
3931785
Luna is a Goddess of things-which-happen-at-night in general. Passion, pleasure. She's the 'soul' of Equestria to Celestia's 'body'. So naturally a little friskyness is only part and parcel of her whole reason for being.
The plot has incorporated some darker elements, but they're not graphic. They're always implied, or have happened 'off camera', or are couched in euphemism and complex vocabulary like the sex stuff. It's not intended to be a dark fic though, and it won't even segue fully into 'orrible, grim things. It's an adventure comedy. Some bumps and bruises along the way to the funnies are to be expected.
Although there is a sequence coming up where a character gets brained by a large golden penis. I'm not sure where that might fit in to the whole ratings scheme.
3934350 That last bit sounds like Comedy for sure.
3934350 - I know this post is a bit dated... sorry... just found the fic. But still. I think your statement that the story won't run dark is false. Absolutely, completely, undeniably false. Yes most of the dark has been off-camera, but it's clear that BAD things have happened.
Summoning of eldritch horrors that consumed ponies hole, mass rioting, bombs being detonated and more... it seems to me that quite a few have died directly, and unless this entire thing is some sort of semi-divine cosmic reset button... disturbing. Celestia seems to not only ignore the more negative elements, but welcome them and Luna also seems largely unconcerned that ponies are dying, effectively giving up Canterlot as a lost cause.
Nevermind the lovely description of Rocs dressing down their sentient meals and Fluttershy simply watching them at peace.
Damn, this story is friggin amazing! I might have only read up to the Hidden Delights chapter but i already can't wait to have more free time so I can sit down and read the rest. The crude humor is great, the plot is over the top hilarious (Twilight plunging the country in a complete state of anarchy and chaos by looking to get drunk, while Celestia seems to be plotting to use the chance to scratch a millenia old royal itch, among other things) and simply the existence of a booze powerful enough to bring down countries and drive gods wild is a stroke of mad and depraved genius!
And best of all, this isn't just some random mindless comedy - the characters (especially Luna, Twilight and celestia) feel very much in-character (i lold at Twilight prowling the moon with a specimen jar, ha!) and are well defined, the world building is amazing and the whole new ecosystem up on the moon is simply epic. People should take notes here how to flesh out a setting!
Though I must say i am sort-of glad the moon arc is coming to and end (and I am looking towards Whom in Equestria, I bet that's even more chaos to be had along with some interesting stuff with Luna) - Mainly because I want to see Twilight's reactions when she comes home and realizes the pandemonum the country is in, ha! (and it sort of did fee like she should have been able to handle the squid no problem straight away, either with her stupidly strong telekinesis that should have been easily up to the job or just her lazor beams).
Man, is she ever going to freak, but I have a feeling the quest can't be stopped now for some reason. I bet that before this is all over, she's going to wish she had simply opted for getting laid (she's got to have a whole gaggle of stallions mooning after the latest princess!), not brewing the booze from hell
A hilarious and shameless story with epic worldbuilding, i'll read more as soon as i have the time!