• Published 3rd Sep 2013
  • 1,351 Views, 35 Comments

The Time Has Come - Commissar Rarity

[Humanized] Trixie discovers her family's secret past as demon hunters, and finds herself travelling the same path, heading to the distant lands of Prussia, to save a castle besieged by demons. But who is this mysterious girl following Trixie?

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Red Sun

Trixie slid down the treasure pile, enjoying the feel of coins on her bum and back. Within a few seconds, her feet struck the hard marble floor. She pitched forward, but regained her balance.

Taking a quick glance around, Trixie found the exit to the Forest of Hesitation. She hesitated for a second, looking back at the corpse of Ardent. She couldn’t help but think about the lamia’s last words. What if she could have been an ally?

With a shake of her head, Trixie continued towards the exit. Ardent had wanted to plant seeds of doubt in her mind. That had to be the only answer. Trixie kicked open the door, seeing only darkness ahead. She took a short step inside, and her head spun.

Stumbling to the side, Trixie ran into a giant tree. Blinking, she looked around, a surprised look crossing her face. Behind her sat a door that led into the mountain. All around here was a misty forest. Massive trees stretched to the grey sky, their green leaves blotting most of it out. Moss grew on the trunks of the trees, and great roots broke the ground, running down the mountainside.

Faint birdcalls tickled Trixie’s ear, as well as a strange whale-like moaning in the distance. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as the noise continued.

She took a tentative step forward, foot squishing in the mud. When nothing immediately leapt out at her, she began to walk at a fair pace, trying to avoid tripping over the many roots. So far she was doing a good job at that.

Compared to the castle, the forest was a pleasant experience. There was nothing leaping out at her, trying to drink her blood. There was no-one appearing out of nowhere wanting to kill her for being in the way or having different beliefs.

There was just the forest, full of–

Full of monsters.

Trixie ducked behind a tree, peeking out to ensure none of them had seen her. There were about two dozen creatures. All but one of them were ents, a few clipping futilely at a root with broken shears. A scissorhand floated above them. It looked bulkier and more threatening than the one that had come out of the painting earlier.

There was doubtless going to be a fight. Trixie didn’t think she could make her way through the clearing stealthily. Even as that thought flitted through her head, the scissorhand’s head snapped towards her, and it let out a keening wail.

Trixie leapt out from behind the tree and saw a whirlwind of carnage. A red blur cut its way through the ents, heading for the scissorhand. The scissorhand spun, snapping its shears at the blur. For a brief moment, there was a pause in the action, and Trixie realised that the blur was Sunset Shimmer. Her mind spun as she considered this.

She had killed Sunset Shimmer, hadn’t she? The memory of being impaled on her own blade by the griffon Griselda came flooding back to her. It was possible that somehow Sunset had survived impalement as well.

Sunset’s body hitting the ground snapped Trixie out of her reverie. The scissorhand had struck her with the blunt end of its shear. Trixie ran towards it, getting ready to land the final blow.

The scissorhand dashed at the last minute, making her slash uselessly at nothing. Trixie grunted and spun to face the scissorhand.

To her surprise, it had somehow combined both shears into one gargantuan shear. It snipped the shear shut a few times and descended, ready to cut Trixie in two. Trixie froze in fear, her heart racing.

Before the shears could reach her neck, the scissorhand stiffened, and the point and shaft of a spear stuck through its body. As the corpse vanished, Trixie could see Sunset hovering behind it, head of the spear extended on a chain. The spear head snapped back onto the shaft as she lowered herself to the ground.

“Not bad, huh?” Sunset twirled the spear until it disappeared. “Shame you had to freeze. You’re pretty good,” she added with a hand gesture. “You have to be to get past the snake slut. Makes me think twice about trying to kill you.”

“Does- does it?” Trixie asked, shakily putting her sword away. “Well, I wouldn’t think twice about not killing the great and powerful Trixie. I just wouldn’t consi- consider it at all.”

The other girl shook her head. “You’ve got a weird way of looking at things. I was thinking, how about a little deal?”

“A deal?” echoed Trixie.

“Sure. There’s no way you can take on Tartarus yourself or even find the portal to the part of Tartarus you need to travel to. As it happens, I know where the portal is. What I lack is the ability to reach it. You, on the other hand can.”

Trixie frowned. It felt like Sunset was deliberately withholding information from her. “Yeah? And where is it?”

Sunset wagged a finger. “First things first! I need a certain something from the demon lord. Do you promise to leave it intact for me?”

“How is Trixie supposed to know what you want?” she snapped, irritated at both her failure to fight and the overall annoyingness of Sunset.

With a sigh, Sunset replied, “I want Alastor, Lord Hastur’s scythe. Let’s just say I want to… purify it. Yeah, that’s a good word for what I want.”

Trixie sincerely doubted this, but she only nodded. She could always get rid of Sunset if the need arose. A flicker of surprise ran through her – had she really just thought that? “Alright. We have a deal. Show me how to get to Tartarus, and I bring you the scythe.”

Sunset clapped her hands together and smiled a great, big, false smile. “Oh good! I know the waaaay!” With that, she skipped off into the distance. Trixie sighed, and trudged on after her.


Sunset led her on a merry romp through the forest. They would pause occasionally to let ent gardeners attempt to tend to the oversized roots. Other times they would just go around the ents, letting them peck uselessly at the roots.

After several hours of walking – or at least, that’s what it felt to Trixie – they came to a strange sight.

A giant dome sat in the middle of the forest. Inside was what appeared to be a rainforest. The trees of the Forest of Hesitation had tried wrap their overgrowth over the dome, but had thus far been unsuccessful.

Trixie ran a hand on the glass surface of the dome. “What is it?”

“Griffons have weird taste in stuff,” Sunset said, kicking the dome. “The guy who built Fortnight was obsessed with the rainforest. So he had a dome built nearby so he could have his own rainforest in the mountains. There are magical runes carved by the greatest magical boys and girls of the age that cause the temperature and condensation to remain at their ideal points.

“Up there, at the top of the dome is the portal. It’s on the outside.”

“How do I get through it then?” Trixie asked with an exasperated sigh. Nothing about this job was easy. First there was all the killing, and now she had to climb a dome?

“Don’t worry, there’s a magic elevator in the centre of the rainforest that leads straight to the top. It’ll be easy. Nothing lives in there. Not even demons.”

“You sure?” Trixie peeked at the door to the dome, which was currently stuck underneath a tangle of massive roots.

“They don’t like water, for whatever reason. Now get your ass in gear and get me my scythe before I decide to fight you again.”

Trixie had no desire to fight another human again, so she began to hack at the roots with her sword. So far it was proving ineffective. The sword simply bounced off the roots. Tiny splinters of wood would fly off every time, but not enough to put a dent in the roots.

“Oh for the love of– Here, let me!”

Sunset stepped over and snapped her fingers. A finger of flame flickered into existence, and jumped to the roots. Trixie stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding the fiery holocaust being born before her eyes. The fire quickly ate through the roots, and began to spread through the rest of the forest, transforming the serene woods into hell.

“You idiot! What are you doing?”

Sunset smiled. “I’m getting ready for the sunset.” She snapped her fingers and the door to the dome swung open. While Trixie was distracted by the fires, she kicked the other magical girl into the dome, and shut the door. “Get me my scythe, Trixie! I’ll be waiting where you killed Ardent.”


Angrily, Trixie trod through the rainforest, her stomps kicking up mud everywhere. Sunset had just set fire to a beautiful forest, all to get what she wanted. It was so infuriating, Trixie wanted to scream.

She did, but not because of anger, but because something had just grabbed her. Kicking her legs futilely, she looked up at her assailant. It was a strange hybrid of man and vulture, clad in a suit that would be at home in Appleloosa.

Within moments, they reached the top of the dome. The vulture passed through a hole, and they were soon outside the dome, on top of it, in fact. He dropped her on the metal grating that covered the top of the dome, and she hit the floor hard.

“What in Tartarus?” Trixie asked, trying to get up.

“Exactly,” the vulture said. “They sent me to kill you. I’m partial to not, but orders are orders.” He flew down, and stepping around her, pulled a revolver out of a holster. “Revolvers are a thing of beauty… No gun has come close to being as pure an art form as they are. Six bullets. Anything more is pointless. The feeling of firing that last bullet is like nothing else.”

“You really like guns, don’t you?” Trixie stood up, stance wavering in the harsh winds. “I’m not really into that fetish, sorry.”

With a “Hmph”, the vulture twirled his gun, wings curling up behind him. “I see you prefer semi-automatics. Such soulless contraptions, designed for killing as efficiently as possible. Such a device could only have come from the griffons.”

“Aren’t all guns griffon inventions? All Trixie needs is a wand and a tight outfit.”

He laughed. “And I have no doubt you would look good in a tight outfit. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vautor, lieutenant to the Grandmaster. And my special talent is an unerring eye… and an itchy trigger finger.”

“I don’t suppose we could talk this out?”

Vautor did not answer, instead turning to the sunset. “The red sun sets! Feel the wind. A sundowner. The forest burns.” He holstered his gun. “There will be no talks. I must kill you. It is only… fair.”

“How about a duel?” Trixie asked.

“A… duel?” The vulture occultist perked up at that, spinning to face her. “Guns at ten paces?”

Trixie shrugged, stepping to the side a bit. “Whatever floats your boat. I don’t know much about duels.”

“Very well. May the best man win.”

They counted out ten paces, backs facing each other. They spun to face each other, hands darting to their guns. Trixie flexed her fingers, preparing to unholster her pistol.

A freakishly long, purple tongue snaked out of Vautor’s beak, licking it.

Trixie’s muscles tightened as she stared Vautor straight in the eyes. Neither one dared to blink.

The wind blew, making their coats flap. A lone dove, fleeing from the firestorm, flew between them.

They drew their guns, arms snapping like vipers.

Pumping her gun as full of magical energy as she dared, Trixie pulled the trigger. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, and she stumbled backwards.

Vautor staggered, a smoking hole where his heart should have been. He collapsed, slumping against the guardrail.

Trixie clutched her shoulder, hand coming away painted with blood. She felt a little dizzy, but had no doubt that soon power would be coursing through her, accelerating the healing process. Taking unsteady steps, she walked over to Vautor, who by some miracle still breathed.

“I never knew a semi-automatic could have such art. I would morn my own death were it not so… artistically done. Magic, instead of bullets.” He coughed, globs of blood spitting from his mouth. “I never wanted to kill you, you know. Such beauty, going to waste.

“What we’ve done,” he continued, voice raspy, “is unthinkable. Such power in one man should never be. You must kill the Grandmaster before he leeches more power from Hastur. The portal is in the centre of the catwalks.”

He made a gargling noise, and slumped even more. Trixie didn’t need to feel his pulse to know he was dead.

Standing up, she turned to the centre of the catwalks. There was a subtle ripple in the air. Trixie guessed that had to be the portal to Tartarus.

It wasn’t the first time and it likely wouldn’t be the last, but Trixie stopped to wonder why she was doing this. She had no reason to be fighting for the griffons. She had no reason to be fighting for Sunset, who had tried to kill her only a few hours ago. Then what was she fighting for?

“My future,” she muttered to herself.

Still clutching her shoulder – Celestia, why had that not healed yet? – and the sun’s dimming heat on her back, she began to walk to the portal.

Reaching it, she paused again. All she knew was the word of a dying not-man and a murderous woman. How did she know this would lead to Tartarus and not high up in the sky, sending her to a horrifying doom?

“Only one way to find out.”

She closed her eyes and stepped into the shimmering air.

Being hit by an oppressive heat, she opened them. She had exited into a desert. It stretched as far as the eye could see. Shielding her eyes, she saw the sun in a noon position, perfectly positioned to shine on everything possible.

“What in Tartarus?”

“Exactly,” came a sickeningly-sweet voice.

Trixie spun to come face-to-face with the skull of a goat. The skull was connected to broad shoulders, which was in turn part of a very large, grey-skinned man. He wore only a few straps and a loincloth.

“Welcome to Tartarus, Trixie Lulamoon! I am Hastur!”

At the sound of the name, Trixie unsheathed her sword and swung it at Hastur. It passed harmlessly through him, serving only to make him waver slightly. Hastur cackled.

“Only an illusion! Shouldn’t you be used to them? Welcome to your new home, Trixie Lulamoon. You’ll be here for a long, long time. Don’t worry, you’ll have company.”

He snapped his fingers, and behind him rose a great sight that made Trixie’s heart drop. An ursa major.

“Lots, and lots of company.” Hastur’s image vanished, his laugh remaining long after he disappeared like the Cheshire cat’s grin.