The mad pony in a trench coat

by Dragonhoof91

The mad pony in a trench coat

Chapter 1.

The autumn was here. And while ponies celebrated, worked and played in the amazing display of colours, there was still shorter time in the daylight. Ponies needed something to do with their increased evenings, and that something was often stories told and listened too.
Old pony Oakjuice, a former farmer if you asked him, was happy to oblige. Spending his elder days with a pen in his hoof and a freshly printed, blank book in his lap, the old coot did little but write stories of tales unknown and adventures unheard.

"Gather around now, wee ones. I got a fresh book that needs ears to approve!" He smiled as the many children of the school gathered. It was still an hour left before their parents were to come pick them up, and both the teacher and he himself preferred it when they were calmly listening instead of playing wildly indoors.

"Today you shall hear the tale of Alonso Alons-y... the last of the Templars!"

Our story begins in a time not too long ago from our own. But a time more simple by far. Books were still an expensive thing, technology had just begun to blossom with electricity in both tools and machinery, and magic was restricted to be taught in the halls of Canterlot.
Though the history begins in an era so long past that nopony remembers it, this specific tale does not...

Crisp Scope, an unicorn with greater promise for his studies of the stars and their alignments, than for magic and strong spells, was up late one night as usual. It came with the job after all, his life was the burning globes in the sky and the lines of cosmic dust that drifted past. Due to his working hours, he was not known for being very social.

Living alone, well paid and fed for his work, but without many who knew him deeper than the dark-blue coat and snowy mane. On his hind there was the mark of an old star-measuring tool, used by sailors and travellers alike in the old days to locate themselves via the stars. A tool who's name this old pony has forgotten, but it matters little.

Crisp had excellent eyes, and was told to be able of spotting a housefly on Celestia's walls all the way from what we know as Manehattan today. But he could not live there himself, as the magically lit town made it hard for him to see his stars at night. Thus, he had since long moved to a very small village where he worked undisturbed.

Alas... my dear fillies, what story would be grand and adventurous if we spoke only of ponies who's life was but work?
Therefor we shall focus on the day things started to go wrong... A red flash that seemed to originate from a specific constellation. Crisp saw it, for he usually had an eye aimed for those very stars. He had seen it before, several times in his young adult life. It always seemed to flash at a specific time of the year, and he had no explanation for this anomaly.

Was it solar flares? Was it some kind of cosmic energy unknown? Was it magic slipped from Celestia's spell on their own sun that got reflected? His theories were many, and all without solid evidence. It was not his job to observe these events, as much as to just map out the stars at all times of year to report changes in their locations and effect on magic, but he could not resist the unknown of these red flashes...

Tonight was such a night, that specific time of year. He had been sitting in his comfortable chair and waited for it. A plate of plain sandwiches, a cup of tea and four different clocks was prepared on a plate next to him. He was going to catch the time of the flashes this year as well, to see if there was an exact pattern compared to the last.
He waited, listening to the synchronized tic's of the clocks, in his mind counting down the seconds.
And, of course, on the second as the last year, the red flashes appeared! It looked as if the flashes connected the stars, made them form a new pattern compared to the natural.
He quickly duel-wielded simple magic, stopping all the clocks and burning a mental image of the pattern that flashed for a brief moment on his floor.

He could repair the floor later, it had taken many a punishing notations during the years, it had become a poor habit of his.
Upon inspecting the pattern, now that he had it more clearly, he felt that he recognized it from his studies at Canterlot...

An hour, two, three, four and nearly five of searching through his books, he finally found it.
It was a book about ancient, primitive magic. Used by ponies in desperate times, long before the sisters appeared and created order. It was a symbol used for something that the book would not speak of, but there was images of it, and he was told they came from caves and ancient papyrus...

That. Is when he felt his spine shiver. Why was this in the sky? Was it just an anomaly that had always happened, but no-one in modern days had cared about? Why would they not, if it was an cosmic event bound to ancient magic?
The questions began to swirl, and he felt uneasy. He did not like the thought, but could not help it.
He cursed loudly his own curiosity. "Damned be my own wit and will for the unknown!"

There was a silence after that. A silence that sent cold shivers through his entire body. It was usually silent at this time of night. But this silence was... strange. It felt like if the air had grown thicker. Harder to breathe in, heavier to move in, and too dense to let any vibrations of vocals or sound through it.. and there was a strange smell.

Worried that his burning mark in the wooden floor had set a spark that first now had managed to grow, he rushed back to his telescope and chair. The mark was not burning... but did he imagine things or... had it grown?
Touching it with a hoof, he felt a sting of magic from it. Reaching out with his own magic to scan it, he found his horn not responding. Something like that had never happened before, why could he not use his magic?

He tried again. And again. A third, fourth and fifth time in his panic! But not even a spark. That is when he saw the eyes.
In the middle of the mark on his floor, there were four crystal clear eyes glaring at him. They actually looked very beautiful.
Inviting, in a way. Charming... alluring... calling for him... His bright mind snapped him out of it, as he found himself nearly kissing the burned mark on the floor, realizing how close the eyes had brought him without being aware!

He stumbled back, and watched in horror as the eyes rose from the mark, the black, coal-like lines that formed the pattern he had made followed them. Like a silky cloth laid upon a pony that arose. They swayed at first, like a summer dress or a loose cape, before snapping around the invisible body like a tight suit! The markings, now twisted and bent, made long lines for the four legs, circles beneath the hooves, three dots representing stars across the spine, and several others making the swaying tail and female head, on which the four eyes rested.

The astral pony, built up by magical marks as an exoskeleton, began to fill up with fire-like energies. Not flames of heat, but red, pulsing swirls of built up power. The creature generated an aura of dominance as it walked closer to the frightened star-reader. Who helplessly could only crawl backwards in the lack of his magic.

Trapped, between the corner of bookshelves with maps and astronomy books, and the magical creature that looked at him with tempting eyes and now a devilish grin made out of the black marks! Crisp was certain that whatever happened, it was his end. He had gone beyond the fear-levels to fuel his escape, and into the fear of acceptance of his fate.

He closed his eyes, feeling the aura of the creature grow more intense, the temptation to loose himself into those eyes nearly too great. If it breathed, he would have felt it's breath. But all he did was feel it's presence, sensed it's glare and approach, heard the soft taps of it's near weightless hooves on his old floor, and the angels singing to welcome him..

They sounded so beautiful, it was comforting. An chorus of angelic voices in perfect harmony, speaking in the ancient language of promised lands and the glory of the princesses. The victory of loyalty over those that seeks domination.
The chorus grew higher, and he felt himself at ease. Relaxing, and welcoming his untimely death.

His relaxation prevented him to notice that the creature was backing away. And it was not until Crisp heard something strange in the chorus that he opened his eyes to see it. Not only was the astral, multi-eyed creature backing away with a snarl, but there were rapid hoof-steps in the psalm... And both the steps and the music grew louder!

The door to his study was shattered, turned in an instant to splinters and sawdust, as a giant pony shouldered through it as if it was but magical glass! Crisp could see little of the pony, as what he could only assume was a male, carried a long, brown and ragged trench coat. An equally ragged hat in matching fashion, and several belts across his chest and torso beneath it, carrying a bunch of military pockets and small items!

Around his neck, the giant had one of those modern music-players, an electric device that allowed one to play music while on the go! And it was the source of the angelic chorus! The giant pony kicked his front legs and staggered, but remained standing on his hinds, aiming one of his front hooves to the creature while screaming at it in an strange language.

The creature now seemed to burst into flames on it's own choice, hissing and spitting small sparks as it tried to intimidate this new foe, who did not back down. If anything, he confidently walked closer to the creature, reaching whatever was in his hoof towards it and screaming more words in the gibberish language...

Crisp had only vague memories of what happened afterwards, but he explained it as if the creature turned into a stream of magical energies, burst through his window and towards the night sky... He had than collapsed into unconsciousness...

The giant was standing like a firm statue in the doorway to Crisp's bedroom when he woke up. He needed several minutes to understand and remember it all, and he realized that his body felt like it had been ran over by a stampede of cows.
"Good morning, mister Scope. Sorry for the intrusion last night, but considering the alternative, I think we both gained from it." The giant smiled, walking closer to the resting blue pony.

The large pony introduced himself as Alonso, and from his accent and built, not to mention the very hairy hooves, it was clear that he was from the far, mountain-littered north. A old people called 'norse-horse' for their large size, though still ponies by breed.

"What happened..?" asked the sky-reader in his poor state. Alonso smiled and removed his hat. He had a walnut brown coat with a chestnut brown mane and tail, both tied up in braids with traces of lighter colours here and there.
He was muscular, but not as bulky as he looked with the trench coat. He sat down on his plot and began to explain.

Alonso presented himself as an Dark-Hunter. An ancient order of ponies from mostly the north who tracks down and prevents the summoning of demonys. A demony being an evil soul of a dead pony, corrupted and thirsty for magical energies, any energies, so it can manifest in our world to gather more and cause mischief.

And every year for the past five, he had been tracking a cult rumoured to summon them. He explained that it was the reason to the red flashes in the sky, as that constellation was bound to the summoning ritual. He had been on his way to a nearby forest when he felt the presence. Clearly, the demony must had picked Crisp's house for it's summon when he burned in the pattern to allow the passage, as normally a lone pony would cause less attention then an entire mob of summoners.

"What... what was it you played? And what did you threaten it with?" Alonso grinned, pulling out a necklace from his thick coat that hid it. It was a small, delicate cross in front of a sun, carved from some kind of black material..
"Brimstone. Works twice as effective. Demonys can't stand the symbol, Angelus's can't stand the material. Protection from both in one trinket." he explained proudly.

He then showed the small music-device. It was square and made from some light-weight material, and could hold one music-gem at the time. Music was recorded magically, but the electric waves in the machine made the crystal vibrate to resonate the recorded message, more then so Alonso could not explain, at least not in details.

He showed two crystals that he always carried. "See, demonys really can't stand holy music, makes them sick to the core! Angelus's? Now that is a different story. They are lovers of all music, since music is harmony. It took me a while, but I managed to cook something up! Bethoofen's forth symphony played only with didgeridoo's, electric guitar, pan flutes, cowbells and improvised lyrics by Maponna!"

Poor Crisp felt his guts cringe at the very thought. He was no lover of music, but he could imagine the horror of listening to such an perversion of musical perfection... He than asked why this strange, mad pony would need to arm himself against the holy pegasi of the afterlife. Why would he need protection against angelus?

To this, the hunter only grinned with old, weathered eyes. "No coin has only two sides... ain't all black and white."
And with that, having explained what he did, and just barely why he did it, the strange pony took a singe bit-coin and placed it standing on the desk by Crisp's bed, before leaving the building.

Crisp himself thought long of what he had meant. Not only had Alonso introduced him to that fictional creatures like demony's and angelus's were real, but he had then gone and confused him by saying that no coin has only two sides.
The blue pony thought of this for several days, while his window was being repaired and his floor remade.
And it was not until he realized that a coin, flat as it may be with it's two large sides, can still stand on the third given care and precision. A third side between both the large ones, connecting them.

Did Alonso consider himself that side? Was that what he meant? Was it just ramblings from a mad pony?
Was it just gibberish, or was it wisdom as the norse pony did seem to know what he spoke of...?

"Well, my children... I may just let you know in the next chapter... if you want me to write it that is?"
The old pony smiled to the crowd of fillies, and while several started to point out small flaws and stuff they did not understand, being whiny children tired from the long day of school, many still seemed to have enjoyed it.

And with that appreciation, the author returned to his knackered home to start writing a second chapter...