5: The Ponies Here Are All Crazy
5
THE PONIES HERE ARE ALL CRAZY
It was at Ponyville’s town hall that the gun-pony met his most terrible adversaries thus far.
The hall was three storeys tall, with protruding balconies surrounding the upper two, and a spire-like tip mounted on the elegantly curved, red tile roof. It was constructed from clay brick, not wood like the majority of the structures in the town, and painted white, with large windows and exposed Tudor studding all around. A sign redirected all enquiries to a side door, as the ground floor was being renovated in anticipation of the upcoming festival, and when Twilight Sparkle, Spike, Jack-a-Nape and Peacemaker approached, they could hear plenty of activity from within.
“Welp, this is it,” said Jackie. “Ponyville’s nerve centre, I guess you could call it. The decorators should be right inside. Just, y’know, hold onto your rumps.”
None of them were sure what he meant by that statement at first, but they found out when they got inside. The vital decoration was already well underway, with various colourful banners hanging from the inner balconies, and a huge statue covered by a tarpaulin smack dab in the middle of the floor. Worktables had been set up, and two mares were zipping between them at remarkable speed. Were it not for the fact one was a unicorn and the other a pegasus, you could almost say they were sisters, for they were very similar. They both wore their luxuriously long manes and tails in sophisticated styles which would have taken hours to perfect, like those models you saw on the covers of big city magazines. Peacemaker wondered why anypony would spend so much time on their appearance, but then he had never possessed an eye for fashion.
The unicorn was pristinely white from horn to hoof, with silver dappling, a mane of deep purple and three big diamonds on her flank. The pegasus was a kind of emerald shade, with a burgundy mane tipped delicately with white, and the gems of her mark were hexagonal and arranged in a V formation. Even their horn and wings glimmered respectively like crystals.
“That’s Rarity,” said Jack-a-Nape, indicating the unicorn. “She runs Carousal Boutique. Kind of our local fashion queen, you could say. Drama queen, too, but you didn’t hear that from me, dig?”
Spike was miles away, all in a world of his own. He was following the white unicorn with a misty-eyed expression on his face. Jack-a-Nape waved a hoof in front of the baby dragon’s face and got no reaction whatsoever.
“Yowza,” said Jackie. “T.S.? I don’t wanna worry you or nothin’, but I think your dragon’s broke.”
Twilight Sparkle sighed and put her hoof to her temple. She could already feel a headache coming on. “He’ll be fine,” she said. “Who’s that other pony?”
“Bow Sansy. Jeweller. Same address, actually,” said Jack-a-Nape. “Showed up in Ponyville just after I did. Rarity took her under her wing.” He chuckled at the irony. “They’ve been like daisies an’ daffodils ever since.”
“Excuse me, ladies,” Twilight Sparkle called out to them.
“One moment please,” the unicorn Rarity replied, as she inspected a length of fabric coiled snake-like around a brass pillar, “we are rather in the zone right at this moment. Now, I do believe there’s something missing here. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Sparkles, Rarity,” said Bow Sansy. “It needs more sparkles.”
“With you it’s always the sparkles, Bow Sansy,” said Rarity, “but you’re quite right. They are perfect for this piece.” Her horn glowed with teal energy, and the length of fabric was suddenly twinkling with hundreds of little motes of light.
“A triumph,” said Rarity and Bow Sansy together.
“Now, dear, what was it you wanted to…?” Rarity began, and then she and Bow Sansy froze with looks of abject horror on their faces. They stopped their work immediately and trotted across the room, except it was not towards Twilight despite her deliberate attempt to gain their attention, but to Peacemaker instead.
“Oh! You poor thing!” exclaimed Rarity. “How ever did you get yourself in such a dreadful state? You’re filthy! And tracking dirt!”
“Well, I—” the gun-pony began.
“Now, now, don’t argue with us, honeychild,” said Bow Sansy, matching Rarity’s frantic pace with her own. She tugged on the lip of his hide vest. “My stars, you’re a disaster! Rarity, we shall have to fix this immediately!”
“Oh! Without a doubt, Bow!” Rarity agreed. Peacemaker was dragged away behind a large folding screen before he could raise any further argument, though this is not to say he did not attempt to do so all the same.
“Excuse me?” Twilight Sparkle chimed in.
“One moment please, this is a very delicate operation!” said Rarity.
“It’s no good, Rarity,” said Bow Sansy. “We shall just have to take him back to the boutique for a full makeover.”
“I couldn’t agree more, my dear.”
“Don’t I get a say in this!?” Peacemaker griped loudly. Evidently, the answer was no.
Their transposition from the town hall to the boutique was almost instantaneous, and nopony knew for certain it was actually happening until it was over. Least of all did Peacemaker, who was whisked away so fast that his hooves never touched the ground. No beast or desert demon could ever have been so quick and efficient at absconding with its prey as these fillies.
Ponyville’s Commercial Road was one of the main streets. It crossed the square on two sides and was lined with myriad shops, kiosks and stalls, which also ringed the square, so that trade flowed along it like liquid in a classroom chemistry set. It went in through one tube and pooled in a beaker before going out through another tube. The steady stream of ponies travelling it in both directions only furthered this comparison. Carousel Boutique was situated at the heart of all this, between the furniture emporium and the coffee house, and directly opposite Harneleys, the big toy shop. It was a big, eye-catching building shaped to resemble the ride for which it had been named.
Twilight Sparkle, Spike and Peacemaker were all taken inside, while Jack-a-Nape was able to slip beneath the radar. He had absolutely no intention of letting Rarity or Bow Sansy get their hooves on him, not unless there was something to be gotten in return, for he was a practical sort of pony. Twilight had to admit that Rarity and her protégé-slash-partner were well chosen for their duty. The interior of the shop clearly evidenced style and taste in equally generous portions. The floor was divided directly down the middle by a black line which glittered with pink, red and gold flecks, and she saw folding screens and mannequins draped with outfits at various stages of completion to her right, while on the left the most significant difference was that the displays held jewellery instead of clothes. Scraps, shards and tools were scattered across the two counters in a manner she could only describe as controlled chaos.
The gun-pony was forced behind one of the aforementioned screens, where Rarity proceeded to undress him with uncanny speed. His vest went flying over the top of the screen, followed by his bandanna, and then his gun-belt, which toppled to the floor with a loud noise due to the weight of the guns. Bow Sansy, in the meantime, walked back over to Twilight Sparkle and guided her to stand by a mirror beside her counter.
“Sorry about that,” the pegasus said in a silky voice, “but you must understand, it was an emergency.” She grinned. “Doctor Rarity has the patient well in hoof now, though. So, you wanted to talk to one of us?”
“That’s right,” said Twilight after she found her ability to speak again, “I wanted to check in on how the decorations for the Summer Sun Celebration were proceeding. You two were given that job, right?”
“Among other things, honey,” said Bow Sansy, and she draped a sapphire necklace around Twilight’s neck, then decided it was too gaudy and took it back. “Ugh! I could’ve sworn I had a ruby pendant here somewhere.”
Twilight Sparkle glanced sidelong at Spike, who grinned sheepishly and wiped some bright red flakes away from the area around his mouth.
“Let me go!” Peacemaker growled.
“Oh, do stop putting up such a fuss, you silly boy,” Rarity was heard to reply. “No, no, definitely no, none of these will do at all. Let me try something else.”
“Are they going to be all right?” Twilight asked. She raised a hoof to stop Bow from attaching a diamond-encrusted ring to her horn. “Thank you, but none of us can really afford this.”
The pegasus snorted. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. Rarity and I can’t really help ourselves at times like these. We get this overwhelming compulsion to give aid to anypony in need of it.”
“Oh. I see—”
“Glamour should be a right, not a privilege, after all. At least, that’s what Rarity’s always told me. So consider this an act of goodwill, courtesy of Carousel Boutique.”
Twilight was about to ask her if she always took Rarity’s words so literally, and Spike was about to ask her what Rarity was really like, but then Peacemaker loosed an inarticulate bellow, derailing both of their respective trains of thought. Piles of thrown away clothes were building up around the perimeter of the folding screen, and all the while they could hear Rarity’s rapid-fire commentary.
“Yes, you’re quite right. That’s too green…too yellow…too poofy…not poofy enough…oh, goodness no, whoever heard of cordovan with sinopia? Dreadful! Let me see…too frilly, too…shiny!”
“Give me back my belt, blast you!” the gun-pony growled.
“There’s no call for that sort of language…oh! Yes! Ah-ha! I think I’ve found the perfect ensemble! You look much smarter than you did before, and nowhere near as dirty. I dare say if there’s a special somepony out there, she’s going to find you positively rugged!”
A silent pause, and then, in his familiar monotone, “Do you say so?”
Twilight Sparkle felt the corner of one eye twitch.
“Ooh!” Bow Sansy started towards the screen. “Well, don’t hog him all to yourself, Rarity, let us see!” Rarity emerged from behind it with a flourish, and after a moment of hesitation, Peacemaker followed after. She had replaced his old vest with a new, chocolate-coloured one with silver buttons, over a black shirt and a silver-clasped bolo tie. His mane and tail were combed, and the outfit was finished off by a brown hat with a tan band. He was having trouble meeting anypony’s gaze with his own, and he was so different from the hardened colt that Twilight Sparkle had become used to, that she actually felt a bit sorry for him. She magickally willed his gun-belt to him, and it reattached itself about his middle.
“Splendid work, Rarity,” said Bow Sansy, “one of your best, I’m sure, but I still think it’s not quite ready to be unveiled.”
“I don’t think sparkles will quite compliment, uh…” Rarity stopped, and turned to Peacemaker, “where did you say you came from, dearie?”
“I did not,” said Peacemaker, “but I was born in Gallowad.”
“Le chic de Gallowad,” said Rarity. “Too rustic for sparkles.”
“No, no! I wasn’t thinking that!” the pegasus laughed, and ran behind her counter. She returned with a small, turquoise stone cut in a way that looked almost like a flowering rose. Rarity levitated it from her with a gentle swish of her head, and the stone was set into the bolo tie’s clasp.
“Flawless,” the two fillies agreed. Peacemaker scraped one forehoof against the floor uncertainly. So, Twilight thought, he was not quite as invincible as she had been starting to believe. Of course, the gun-ponies her brother had talked about had surely been full grown, used to years in the field. Her bodyguard, in spite of his skill, courage, and the faith Princess Celestia had placed in him, was still learning.
“If you’re quite finished with my bodyguard,” the unicorn said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction, “I wanted to talk about the decorations.”
“Yes, I was about to ask you about that,” Bow Sansy cut in. “If you’re the one in charge, you would have been sent by Princess Celestia, right? So, are you from Canterlot?”
Twilight Sparkle nodded. She was frowning a bit, seeing there really was no way to salvage her authority as the officially appointed overseer.
“Canterlot!” Rarity squealed. “The glamour! The sophistication! I’ve always dreamed of living there!” She fainted, and Bow darted over to her, holding a pot of smelling salts.
“Sorry again, honey,” she said to Twilight as she applied the salts. “You can keep the clothes and the jewels, but I think you’d best be on your way.”
“Right, before she tries to dye my coat a different colour,” Peacemaker growled. The two ponies walked towards the door, then had to go back for Spike, who mumbled something that might have been a remark about how Rarity even fell like an angel. They decided it was better to just ignore anything else he said until the euphoria was all out of his system.
“See you around,” the pegasus called, waving after them as they left. “Don’t be strangers!”
“It’s undeniable,” mumbled Twilight Sparkle, “the ponies here are all crazy.”
“You say true, sai Twilight,” the gun-pony agreed.
XXX
The Everfree Forest was vast, dark, and unknowable. It was fraught with danger, and the canopy was so thick that the radiance of Celestia’s sun had never been able to enter it, even now in the midst of summer. Only one path led through the foothills from Ponyville to the forest’s entrance, marked by a curving trail of randomly thinned grass and a steadily shrinking number of houses. Within the last few wheels, only the border-dwellers who found comfort in isolation from ponykind could be depended upon to make their homes there. Sheriff Ramrod stood atop one of the last of the foothills, looking at the trees contemplatively. Here, the Everfree looked peaceful and quiet, but he knew it was only a ruse. The true peril awaited just a little way inside. The entrance was like the mouth of a cave, which would close upon foolish explorers, revealing its true nature as the mouth of a gargantuan demon, like in the old story his mother once told him.
He concluded that the band of outlaws who made the forest their home were nothing short of insane, for even bravery had its limits. His contact was their leader, Gone Far South, who would usually know when he wanted to be seen – Ramrod always assumed he had acquired the services of a unicorn with the power of magickal sight – and meet him before the entrance to the forest. That suited the sheriff fine. He knew that many ponies had gone inside, few had returned, and none with the same soul they went in with. He had heard horror stories of ponies who returned wanting for their limbs, ponies turned a ghastly shade of alabaster, pegasi too afraid to ever fly again, unicorns whose spells could only bring disaster regardless of their intentions, and ponies driven to sleeplessness, paranoia and finally madness. Those, to their even greater misfortune, were considered the lucky ones.
Far South was absent, and in his place was a scrawny, piebald unicorn mare. She wore a frayed and faded cloak that obscured her mark from view, and the base of her curved horn bore a gold ring with two attached chains that dangled over the backs of her ears. There was a blood red eye engraved into the ring.
“Hile to thee, O Sheriff,” the unicorn said.
“Hile yourself,” Ramrod replied. “Where is Far South?”
“Where else? He’s gone far south,” the unicorn tittered.
“Save me your stupid jokes, witch, an’ answer me,” Ramrod snapped.
The unicorn sighed. “Thou art so serious,” she said. “He has been called to attend to business elsewhere, but his band remains at their camp and under my command. I am Bindle Punk, his consulting sorceress.”
This had to be the seer he had been thinking of, but that did not mean he trusted her. “How am I to know that you speak the truth?” he asked her. “How can you prove Far South put you in charge and you haven’t simply done away with him and taken his place?”
“I think he would take offence to thine ugly assumption, O Sheriff,” said Bindle Punk, “for we both know that his willpower is strong enough to resist even the greatest magicks, do we not?” She indicated the eye on her horn ring. “Plus I wear his sigul, therefore I am loyal to his cause, and whether I am his proxy or simply his messenger, thy words are certain to reach him.”
Ramrod would have argued, but to do so would only waste both their time. He had taken an instant disliking to her, but he knew she spoke truly.
“Very well,” he said, and told her what Tongs had reported to him in the back room at the Last Roundup. “Is it true?” he asked afterwards. “Is there a gunslinger alive in Ponyville?”
The unicorn’s eyelids fluttered once, and she grinned at him. “Be thou afraid?” she asked.
“I fear no pony, witch! Be they alive or dead!” Ramrod spat. “Never forget that!”
“I shall not,” said Bindle Punk, bowing her head, “and thou art correct by ‘dead,’ for the dead are all who rightly remain of that order. More’s the pity that ‘rightly’ and ‘true’ be not the same. A gun-pony does survive in the hamlet of which thou art sworn-in protector. Far South received visions of this, and he was deeply disturbed thereby. Such a one as this may interfere with his eventual march upon Canterlot.”
Her horn glowed, and a circle of light appeared in the air between them. Ramrod peered into it, and when the image within grew clear, he took a step back in amazement.
“Tongs was right,” he fumed, “he is just a foal! Why, those shootin’ irons are bigger than he is!”
“Clearly he has an interesting story to tell,” said Bindle Punk. “Look closer, O Sheriff. See very well the yellow grips, the branded muzzles, and know the enemy you must destroy.”
“I know him,” said Ramrod lowly, and indeed he did.
“Have thee thine own guns still?” asked Bindle Punk. “The plated ones which mark the shameful manner by which you survived the destruction of that civilisation?”
Ramrod grunted. He did.
“Then let them be not thine shame, but salvation, Ramrod,” said the unicorn. “Take up arms once again, destroy this fledgling gun-pony, and earn from his end the right to carry the steel of the true gun-pony.”
“Don’t give me orders.”
“I give no order. Please, forgive me for leading thee to think it. I merely believe this to be thine intent, and encourage it. Although thou never passed the test by which a gun-pony is forged, the death of this one shall leave only thee alone to decide thyself worthy of the title, or the title worthy of thyself.”
Ramrod found the idea attractive, but there remained one factor which made her claims hard to accept. “He is too young to have been one a’ them durin’ the fall,” he pointed out, “so there must surely be one more besides. A teacher.”
“Thou art correct yet again,” said the unicorn. “But I see no master to this squire. If a teacher there was, I say was be all they are. We can safely assume they have long since reached their clearing. This foal is the last.”
Ramrod’s own grin reached above his handlebar. “Tell Far South he shouldn’t worry,” he said, “when I’m through with him, there won’t be no gun-ponies left.”
“This news shall bring him joy which cannot be spoken of in words,” said Bindle Punk, and dismissed the image. “Wouldst thou speak with me of other business in relation, O Sheriff?”
“That I would, witch,” replied the sheriff. “That I would.”
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I'm trying to picture Roland getting himself subjected to a high-velocity makeover.
That burst of far-off laughter you just heard was me.
3603440 Funny thing is, I genuinely did hear laughter from somewhere. I thought it was my mum watching the Royal Variety Performance on telly, but you've put me to rights.
FIRST AND FOREMOST
Thank you. Finally, someone who uses this correctly. Too often do I see storys, or stories, or some other variant. A house level is not generally something that is read for its potentially interesting content.
...I just had an idea for a great story. Holy sisters.
To quote Rainbow Dash in EqG:
Did not mean?
Anyway, this gets more compelling with every chapter. Please sir, continue.
3612115 Thanks for catching those two for me. I've fixed them now. Doesn't matter how many times your stuff is checked over, there's always the chance one or two little beggars slip past, eh?
As for the discrepancy of storeys and stories, I think it's just another one of those things British English and American English will always do differently, like football and soccer, or basil and bay-sil, or how integral the letter Z (that's zed not zee for anyone wanting to know how I'm actually pronouncing it) is to the language as a whole.
Aye, when I heard mention in Daring Don't of a "Dark Tower", I had that same feeling, d'ya kennit? I went off to message my friends, "OMG, Dark Tower!" and then freaked out with joy because it was so cool. Meant noting, aye, but was cool nevertheless.
Also in this chapter, I'm starting to rather appreciate how you've blended the stuff from Wizard and Glass with the timeframe of The Gunslinger. Truly, this blending on in-universe events and time makes this story more interesting, as, like with Fallout Equestria, I might have a general idea of how it ends, but I have no idea how it would possibly get there, for the world has moved on from the source material of both elements.
Hm. Took me a moment to equate Far South with Farson. And
Rhea of the CöosBindle Punk here seems interesting. At once, again, you blend elements from all over Roland's past into this one now, and I love that. I only have a few complaint herein.Should be "thy". In every other case, you used it right, but for the record I'll state it here. "Thine" (and mine) is to be used before words being in with vowels. Thy for words with consonants at the start. EG, "Thine eyes see that thy woeful countenance burn mine empty soul."
Should be "thereby".
Take it from me, sai. In my corner of the American South, we still speak somewhat like this. Not the "thees" and "thous", mind you, but the other stuff. "preposition + it" becomes "therepreposition". Ditto for "preposition + which". A typically sentence from me sounds like, "If it ain't gon' be a problem f' y'all, would y'all take the barrel thereto, over yonder, wherefor I'm set up a little dropoff place?" That honesty how I speak, hand to God. I still sometimes (without thinking thereabout) use "wherefor" for "why". I've been told it sounds lovingly formal, and boy do I get peeved when folken ask if I'm British therebecause. "They speak not in such a way as I," I say, "and for that matter, I pronounce my R's."
Point being, when
RheaBindle Punk fails to do with arcane but still-used-whence-I-come speaking thing, I thought it was weird.And that's my Southern rant of the day.
Oh, an have you ever heard of a band called Blind Guardian? Well, if not, then this is for you: Somewhere Far Beyond, a song about the first two books of The Dark Tower. The other song they have about these books in one about Jake's eulogy, and then the singer of Blind Guardian had a side project band, "Demons and Wizards", who had three songs about The Dark Tower: which were The Gunslinger, Terror Train (because Blaine is a pain, and that is the truth), & "Crimson King", all three whereof come from the album "Touched by the Crimson King"
In fact, by God, now I really wanna see your take on Blaine the Mono. Loved Blaine, so I did. Jack-a-Nape, save the day by being Ka-Mai!
Wait, the dark tower was mentioned in Daring Don't? Huh. That's... That's cool, never noticed that. Though I watched the episode before I read the Dark Tower books...
Interesting. I wonder how many universes the Tower manifests in...
-GM, master of posts.