Chapter 2 - Machina Ex Deus
He always did like dogs.
Snarling fangs, black fur, an explosion of pain.
He got on well with them. Indeed, animals generally had always liked him. And he didn’t hate them.
Lights flashing in his eyes, crashing against something solid and cold, a foot upon his neck.
After all, most of them generally tasted good. He had, however, balked at the idea of raising his hand against his pup whenever it had done something wrong, and it had been suggested to him to enforce discipline.
Clatter of hoofs, cries of pain, comedic yells of surprise as rounded teeth bit down on tails.
He did it anyway, of course, but he had thought about it first.
Head throbbing, a dull roar of sensation as the nerves in his leg cried out for salvation, the leering grin of feral triumph looming over him amidst the wreckage of a wooden table.
Sometimes it was the only way to show a bad dog who his master really was after all.
The red mist descending across his vision, looking up at the upstart canine, his thoughts turning to darker places.
And Rex had been a very bad dog.
--=--
“Feh! Who needs hands?” Joachim said, sitting uncomfortably rigid in the driving seat of the contraption. It was a… slapdash affair. The carriage was an amalgamation of wood, stone, iron bars, and what looked like a dead shrub. The seat was piled high on what looked like moving, steaming pistons welded together that were emitting an alarming amount of steam and leaky boiling water.
Joachim looked over the tip of the seat, which itself seemed hurriedly patched together from leftover sofas, iron barding, and rusty bolts. The pedals, of which there were nine and a half, were placed upon ridiculously long and spidery extensions of metal. And yes, nine and a half—you read that right. One of the pedals didn’t even reach high enough to where even the diamond dog with the longest of legs could reach down and press upon it without slipping off the seat.
Joachim looked up. His aquiline face was met with a field of vision that was five percent cave wall directly ahead of him, twenty percent drilling paw, which was the best description Joachim could come up with to describe the actual digging mechanism the dogs had designed that was perched upon the front of the vehicle, and a seventy-five percent maddening array of levers, pulleys, switches, and wheels.
The entire set up, as infuriatingly incomprehensible as it was, what with the driver’s seat being a good five feet high from where the axle met the wheel and another foot to include the additional distance to the ground, was designed with a diamond dog’s physique in mind; one that would sit back and utilise the limited articulation in its rear limbs, without the interference of a long tail to work around, while simultaneously reaching up and utilising the levers and switches and wheels that required at least a modicum of flexibility with their digits that their paws allowed for.
Joachim, however, was a griffon. He looked down at his haunches and peered at his right claw. He turned back to the challenge before him.
“Hmmm…” he let out ponderously, flexing his good wing in agitation. “Yeah…” He gripped one of the levers, the monstrosity of the machine rumbling gently beneath him, his other claw on a pulley that would hopefully help in whatever it was he was meant to be doing to operate this thing. They had heard rumblings echo through the caverns at night when their shifts were over, but no one knew what the source was. “I can do this…” he said, as much to himself as that same nobody in particular everyone seemed to talk to when they spoke to the air. He took one last look over the edge of the seat, calculating the bodily logistics this was going to demand from him.
“I hope.”
--=--
Rex stumbled back, howling in rage and pain. He tripped over a fallen pony and fell upon another table, which groaned in protest of his weight and snapped, causing him to crash hard to the ground.
The dust cleared as the last remaining fighters struggled amongst each other, the remainder of the ponies having been subdued by and large by their diamond dog jailers. This left quite a large audience to stop and stare at the big dog who was now howling and snarling in rage and pain while clutching his poor, bleeding foot.
Handy, down on one knee with a murderous glint in his eyes, gripped the dirty piece of iron tighter in his right fist. He was a mess by now, the beating by Warm Night, the miscellaneous blows in the ensuing chaos of the canteen riot, and the thrashing he was only previously receiving taking its toll. Blood dripping from his mouth from where he bit his own tongue, he could no longer open his right eye, but he was too far beyond caring whether it was merely bruised shut or reduced to blindness. His mind was too far gone, adrift somewhere between rage and void. His left leg was now useless. Whatever reason he currently possessed evidently had enough sway to at least keep him off of the bad leg. The upside was that he no longer felt anything below the knee, so in a cold calculating move, he had decided he no longer needed to worry about his left foot stepping on something sharp.
Now he slipped out one of the metal slivers he had been using to protect the sole of his foot, now reduced to a rusting, grimy, and dirty piece of iron that he savagely jabbed into the leg of his attacker with the mad fury of a wild beast. Granted, it wasn’t exactly sharp, but enough determination could break the skin of anyone.
Rex struggled back to his feet, growling and barking something before he was immediately cut off by Handy.
“Sit.”
Rex stopped, giving a confused look at the human before him. He was on his knee, wounded, hurting from the claw mark on his shoulder and the bite on his side. And this creature, this slave, dared tell Rex what to do? It was laughable! And laugh Rex did.
“Ho—”
“Sit down or I will put you down, dog.”
The dog blinked. The ape sounded almost calm, but the look he was giving him from his one, beady eye… that fixing, absolute stare.
“Down, boy.”
Rex’s ear flicked. He was uncertain; his jaw clenched, his eyes looking at the human’s face as if searching for something. His dogs were looking up at him, ears perked up. The ponies struggled in their grips, most of them confused, not understanding what was going on.
To be fair, no one in that room understood what was going on, and pretty much none of them ever would, as unfortunate as that was, for it was in the quiet provided by the subdued riot and the standoff between Rex and the human that they suddenly noticed that the ground was shaking. There was a rather disturbing, steadily increasing noise of grinding stone, rock fall, and the strain of metal under intense pressure. Almost as if…
“GANGWAY!” a voice screeched, barely audible over the cacophony of nightmarish sounds. The wall of the canteen crumbled as a gargantuan, clawed paw of pig iron and steel crushed the rock beneath its irresistible might. The ferrous paw broken and dented in places, it destroyed the wall nonetheless. “I HAVE NO PLUCKING IDEA WHAT I AM DOING!” Joachim roared, which was, to say the least, an interesting sound to hear coming from avian vocal cords.
The destruction of the wall proved to be something of a straw and camel’s back situation. See, when the mine was originally built, its founders were rather new to their craft and weren’t exactly thinking too intensely about structural integrity when they built the dome-like structure of the room. Granted, such a design was generally a good idea, but it was poorly executed. Succeeding generations of miners had, however, improved its safety somewhat. The diamond dogs, however, thought those shiny metal supports and bolts could be put to better use elsewhere. Why go through tunnel CA to get to section Delta? Why not simply just dig a shortcut through that sidewall over there? Integrity? Pah! We’re diamond dogs, we know what we’re doing. Hmm, you know, this place would look good with a skylight. We’ll get to work on that after dinner.
One might think diamond dogs would know a thing or two about digging underground structures and that none of them would be too stupid to make such rookie mistakes. But please, dear reader, remember that Rex and his small pack of dogs thought it was a good idea to usurp a pony mine famous for its metal deposits to look for gemstones. So, you know…
‘Joachim?’ Handy blinked in confusion, the mist fading from his mind. He eyed the flailing griffon, its wing flaring and feathers moulting off and cascading amidst the billowing clouds of steam, smoke, and dust that were choking him and stinging his eyes. His eye widened as sanity took sudden, lamentable grip of his mind with the white knuckled fury of a drowning man to a lifeline as he gave witness to several tonnes of barely restrained metallic death bearing down upon him as his companion struggled desperately to enforce some force of reason upon the madness.
The ceiling groaned, and with a thunderous crash, a fault cracked into existence as dust spilled down. The spell was broken. The ponies and dogs alike stumbled over each other in a blind panic. One of the tunnels collapsed with a sudden crash, cutting off the straightest avenue of escape to the mine exit. The group panicked and ran to the three remaining tunnels leading as far away from the digging machine. Handy struggled to get up but collapsed, hitting the ground hard, mind reeling to try to understand what was wrong. He saw his useless leg, and his head snapped back around to the machine as sections of rock fell from the ceiling and smashed into the ground around him.
Joachim gave an avian cry of defiance and flailed at the controls desperately to try to avoid killing someone. His claws were a blur over the controls, pulling at the various sticks and gear shifts willy-nilly. The digger roared monstrously in protest, and the levers now moved on their own as Joachim’s mad attempts at control evidently broke the gearbox so far below him, causing them to shift in accordance with their own weight and momentum on the jostling machine. The vehicle veered dangerously to the left, and for a moment Handy wondered if it was going to tip over and crush him before it veered just soon enough to avoid reducing him to paste with its frontal claw. Joachim dived from the control seat as the vehicle continued on its path and crashed into the edges of the southernmost tunnel, cracking it wider open and crushing its supports aside as it continued on its relentless path of destruction.
“HANDY!” Joachim cried, hitting the ground roughly, briefly forgetting he didn’t have use of both of his wings.
“OVER HERE, YOU MAD FEATHERY BASTARD!” Handy screamed in terror, his mind focusing on anything to not think about the absurdly dangerous situation he was in: broken, bleeding, and in a collapsing mine. “WHAT THE BLUE BLITHERING SHITE WAS THAT, YE GIBBERING MOTHERFUCKI—”
“SWEARING LATER, FLEEING NOW!” Joachim reared, grabbed Handy’s midsection, and not with a little effort, threw him over his shoulder. His legs almost buckled. “Shit! You’re heavier than you lo—”
“NOT A WORD, PIGEON SHIT, YOU OWE ME!”
“FINE, HOLD ON THEN!”
And slower than either of them would’ve like, on all fours, Joachim ran out of the collapsing canteen as the roof finally gave way and collapsed behind them in a storm of stone and thunderous noise.
--=--
It was absolute chaos.
“HAPPY!” he cried, rushing through the tunnels. The walls were shaking, torches fell from their sconces and crashed to the floor, bathing the tunnels in half darkness, and the flicker of dying flames threw terrifying shadows all around the walls as hulking dogs and screams of ponies from the darkness reverberated through what threatened to become their stony tomb.
“SUNDANCE! SEA GREEN! ANYONE!?” Warm Night shouted himself hoarse. He turned a corner and ran into the leg of a diamond dog who scrambled over him, yelping and rushing down the darkened corridors before diving into a corner and digging into the ground with his paws, quickly disappearing beneath the churned earth. Warm’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did you even need us for?’
He got back on his hooves and struggled on. A tunnel somewhere off to the right of him collapsed, and the echoing monstrous noise of the drilling machine could be heard echoing through the walls, terrible and as inevitable as the promise that night followed day. Picking up the pace, he found another pony, Heart Fire, who waved him over. “Come on!” he shouted. “Happy Hour found the gate!” Warm Night didn't respond, merely running after his friend. He saw light up ahead, finding the entire herd of prisoner ponies crushed up against the iron bars the dogs had installed to prevent escape. The gates didn’t even have locks or hinges. Instead, it was closed by a mechanism that hid behind rock. The gates would rise into the ceiling to let passage through. Warm Night’s mind raced. The unicorns of the group were trying to force the gate to lift as the earth ponies bucked and thrashed against its unyielding steel. Pegasi pawed at the ceiling desperately, trying to break the rock to get at the mechanism that would free them.
Figured that the one thing the dogs got right would be what would kill them.
“Where’s Rex? The rest of the dogs!” Warm Night demanded.
“I don’t know! The dogs never came this way!” one of the ponies answered. Several of them had collapsed, hooves overhead, whimpering in terror. The tunnel was rumbling with more intensity now. Warm Night’s mind whirled frantically. His ear twitched and his head snapped around, hearing something. His eyes narrowed and his teeth grounded together.
“Night?” a gentle voice called out from behind him. His ear twitched and turned, but his face didn’t.
He knew if it did, he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.
“I’m sorry,” he said before galloping back into the darkness of the tunnel.
A voice screamed behind him, voices shouting, and he heard sounds of a struggle, the others trying to hold a pony back from doing something stupid.
Other than Warm Night of course.
--=--
Joachim turned a corner and skidded. His left claw buckled and sent Handy sprawling.
“Ah claw it!” he swore, gathering himself back up. Handy grabbed onto the wall to help him get to his one good foot.
“What now, genius!? I thought your plan was to steal the keys and then escape when the dogs were mostly asleep!”
“It was!” Joachim protested. “But when I saw the machine, I knew that if I could get it working, we could simply rush our way through and force the dogs to leave the cave!” Joachim’s jaw locked, staring hard at the ground. “I was so confident I could get it to work…”
“Never mind,” Handy said, rubbing his eye. “Where are we now?” Joachim took out the map he had stolen and looked up at his surroundings. He clicked his beak.
“In a circle, that’s the foreman’s office to your left there. Unfortunately, we need to get to the control room that controls the gate…” Handy raised an eyebrow and looked at Joachim.
“Unfortunately?” He asked. Joachim patted his rear paw on the ground and looked away in embarrassment.
“Remember when I nearly killed you with the big metal paw thingy?”
“…Yes?”
“And remember I had to swerve to avoid you?”
“Yeeeesssss?”
“… And remember the machine veered off and collapsed a tunnel behind itself as it went?”
“Oh fuck off.”
“Hey! It was either turn or kill you!”
“Congratulations, you’ll manage to do both before the day is out. Look… just, whatever. Help me search the foreman’s office. There’s bound to be something we can use to get out,” Handy said in disgust, limping over to the foreman’s office and pushing the door open to be greeted with the sight of a dog’s behind staring them in the face.
Rex shot back up, several sapphires in his mouth, pockets of his grey shirt stuffed full of gems as he was halfway through shoving another pawful of precious minerals into a giant patchwork bag. Joachim stared at the dog in surprise, and the dog’s mind seemed to freeze as he turned to greet his trespassers.
Handy had no such compunction. He lunged forward and swung his fist into the dog’s jaw. Rex reeled and fell back over his bag of gems, spilling hundreds of thousands of bits worth of shiny rocks across the floor. Handy snarled and grabbed a bag of gems by the mouth and prepared to swing it like a club, leaning against the table to balance his bad leg
“W-Wait!” Rex cried, his eyes wide with alarm and fear. Joachim jumped up on the desk, wing flared, claws splayed and raised threateningly. Rex backpedalled, uncaring of his precious hoard. “D-Don’t hurt me!”
“Ohhoho, but I want to!” Handy said, staring into the dog’s eyes. Turned out that when push came to shove, the dog was a coward.
That didn’t explain why he had such a manic fear of Handy in his eyes. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
“The gate, Rex! How do we open the gate!?” Joachim demanded. Handy blinked. Right, the gate. Weren't they supposed to be trying to leave this place? He glanced down at the bag in his hands and shook it for emphasis. Rex swallowed.
“The gate!?” Rex said, blinking, “Right! Right, the gate, yes! Rex open, Rex open! Go control room now, open gate for ponies!” he whimpered.
“The control room is destroyed! The digging machine went down that tunnel!” Handy shouted above the noise of the mine collapsing around them and the deafening roar of the machine rumbling in the depths.
“Another way! Another switch!” Rex bargained desperately. “Here, in office.”
“YOU!” a voice shouted behind them, and they turned. Warm Night was standing in the doorway, horn glowing and a burning torch in the air. “YOU TRIED TO KILL US!”
“Me!?” Joachim shouted incredulously, pointing a claw at himself.
“Night, listen—” Handy began.
“AND YOU! I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER! YOU WERE USING THAT MACHINE!” he shouted at Joachim. “YOU KNOW HOW THE DOG’S MACHINES WORK! OPEN THE GATES!” Night accused. Joachim’s beak opened and closed in surprise.
“Did I LOOK like I knew what I was doing back there!?” Joachim shouted defensively.
“This is all beside the point—”
“I DIDN’T SEE ANYPONY ELSE PILOTING THAT THING!”
“Rex, where is the other lever?”
“I was barely keeping myself on top of that thing, let alone controlling it. I almost killed the human here!”
“Behind the cabinets,” the dog answered.
“Right, now you tw—”
The ground suddenly shook with violence. The group was so caught up in the heat of the moment that they didn’t notice the deafening roar of the digging machine coming closer until the wall of the tunnel outside burst forth, and they had enough time to turn around to see the metal claw block their only exit. Rex was already away, having dug into the comparatively thin ground into the tunnel that ran beneath the office, leaving the three to their fate.
“MOVE!” someone shouted, but it was too late. The monster was upon them, and the wall before them broke down, gems spilled, cabinets crumpled, the walls closed in, and dust filled the room. They were blinded, their only source of light serving only to silhouette the monstrous bulk in stark blackness against the grainy grey and brown of obliterated earth that obscured the world from all but what was terrible in it.
As the claw rose and punched into the wall above their heads, coming down with the inevitability of eternity upon their craniums, the ground gave way. With a sudden, calamitous tremor, the ground collapsed, sending the monstrosity falling into the tunnel below, claw dragging down the wall and turning as the beast fell, roaring its mechanical fury as the machine strained against the destruction it had wrought. The tunnel outside the room gave way, collapsing entirely as the beast thundered into the ground of the floor below, cracking it and falling through it in turn.
Handy was sent sprawling, clasping at the falling wall behind him as the floor gave way beneath his very feet. He couldn’t find anything in time and let out a final desperate cry of horror as he felt weightlessness as he began to fall.
It was a funny thing, shaking hands with a bird of prey. Who knew you could ever be so grateful to feel your hand clasped by scythes?
“I GOT YOU!” Joachim shouted. His claws clasped around Handy’s right forearm, digging into flesh in desperation. Handy yelped in pain. The griffon’s two wings were flapping with all their strength, his right one evidently struggling, and he could see the strain in Joachim’s face. But it was enough. Joachim was hovering there as the world collapsed around them. The wall fell, and Handy felt rocks pelting his shoulders and head as the wall crumbled away. He spun in the air as Joachim whirled in the tiny space afforded them to avoid being hit himself, but the manoeuvre cost them both dearly, and he lost control, veering to slam into the destroyed wall that had once made the back wall of the room and collapsing onto the ground of a cave that lay behind it.
Handy landed bodily on the lip of the cave and scrambled his arms to hold his balance to keep from falling. He grabbed at the ground and succeeding in digging his fingers around solid rock to keep him from falling. His lungs burned with effort. He glanced over; the unicorn had survived, his hooves struggling to pull himself up, his lower half threatening to pull him to his death. “WARM!” Handy shouted desperately. The unicorn turned, just pulling himself up. “THE LEVER! OVER THERE!” Handy shouted, nodding his head vigorously in the direction of the lever.
The room that had once been the office of the mine foreman was essentially no more. The tunnel that ran along the outside of it had collapsed, forming a wall of fallen rubble and trapping them. Its back wall had been punched clean through, revealing a cave that had lay just behind the room. But the floor, the floor was gone, taking most of the room with it apart from a few bags of gems and detritus sent flying into the cave by the calamity. The lever, however, happened to be built into the wall and remained untouched by the destruction. The unicorn looked over at it before turning back to Handy.
“IS THAT IT?” he shouted, the noise of the collapsing mine still deafening. Handy was keenly aware that there was little else but God’s grace holding up the trembling ceiling above their heads.
“YES, YES! YOUR MAGIC! USE YOUR MAGIC!” Handy shouted, his voice hoarse as he coughed on the dust. There was another terrible tremor, and something exploded far below them. The darkness beneath him lit up temporarily as orange and yellow flames rushed up part of the pit before retreating. The monster had breathed its last. At least they were safe from its fury.
Oh wait, never mind, they were now in an enclosed space filling up with smoke rising from below them. Swell.
Warm Night glanced over at the lever. It was a good distance away over empty space. Warm was exhausted and strained. His body was aching from the fight and the flight from the collapse, he had a throbbing headache, and carrying that torch earlier proved to have been challenging in spite of the comparative ease such magic would naturally be to a unicorn. He focused on the handle, and a blue glow enveloped the handle. It refused to budge. His vision doubling under the strain, it turned out that one kick to the head he had gotten in the riot knocked more out of him than he thought.
Warm stopped. This was Handy telling him to do this. He glared over at the human.
“How do I know I can trust you on this!? You and that bucking griffon almost got us all killed!” Handy roared in frustration.
“YOU STUPID BLOODY PONY!” Handy shouted. “It was a plan! I start a fight to distract the dogs, the griffon gets the keys, and we all get out of here in the night!” Handy retorted. “The digging machine was not part of the plan! Now open the bloody gate or none of us are getting out!” Handy groaned and struggled as he pulled himself back up onto the cave, the flickering life of the torch still blazing on the floor.
Warm Night turned back and focused his magic again on the rusted handle of the lever. The stubborn thing refused to budge, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the weakness of his own magic or the lever itself. He looked down at the darkness far below, the dark fire raging around the metal wreckage as the smoke obscured its rage. He looked between it and the lever as Handy pushed himself up on the cave. He turned to look at the unicorn. “What are you waiting for!? If you don’t pull the lever, we’re not getting out even if we don’t suffocate!” Handy said.
Warm ignored him and glared at the lever. His magic was not working. He could feel his head throb as his vision doubled. “I promised her she’d see the sky again,” Warm Night said, taking a few steps back.
“What are yo—?”
‘I promised them all they’d get out of here,’ he thought as he ran at a gallop.
“Hey!”
The pony leapt from the lip of the cave and reached forward with his forelegs to grasp at the handle.
With a creak of protesting metal, the lever dropped.
And Warm dropped with it.
--=--
The gate shuddered and rumbled. The ponies, tired, dirty, and despairing, looked up as the gate lifted, not daring to believe, not daring to hope. The cavernous darkness behind them rumbled with greater intensity as something shook violently within the depths of the mine, and the tunnel eventually gave in. The roof collapsed behind them as the ponies galloped madly up towards the wooden exit to the mine.
Wood posts and splinters exploded outwards as earth pony bucks knocked down the entrance like so much ply board as the herd stumbled hurriedly out into the mud and the rain. A voluminous burst of dust and loose stones exploded behind them, throwing the hindmost ponies clear of the collapsed mine entrance.
The sound of rock grinding against rock settled, and all that could be heard was the driving rain and the panting of exhausted equines. One pony looked around herself and found the object of her concern conspicuously absent.
“Night…?”
--=--
Handy sat there for a while, the prone form of Joachim lying on the floor of the cave a foot away from him. The griffon had been hit as he was holding both of them up, which ultimately caused them both to crash. Thankfully, Handy noticed his body rise and fall, so at least he was still breathing, even if it was only shallow.
He wasn’t entirely sure if Warm Night was, however.
He was a tired wreck. He had been since he had woken up in that thrice damned forest over a week ago. The most nourishing meal he had had been that one catch of salmon Tuesday morning, Welcome Sight’s delicious biscuits to go with warm tea notwithstanding of course. So factor in the bodily shock of a sudden, inexplicable change to diet in terms of both volume, regularity, and nature—Handy was not entirely convinced the gruel he had been eating all week was not, in fact, mostly dirt—as well as the various bruises, bangs, and back-breaking labour, and Handy found it very tempting to just lay where he was and wait for the world to literally swallow him up. And that was not even going into the recent violence he was forced to endure.
It never did. The rumbling eventually ceased, and a sepulchral silence fell upon the dark cave that would be his tomb. ‘Fitting.’ He looked over the lip of the cave into the blackness below. The fire from the digging machine had nearly tuckered itself out, and an irrational part of Handy’s mind reasoned that at least that meant Warm would probably not burn to death. He shook that thought from his mind as he realised just how far down that drop was. If Warm was alive, he’d have heard something by now.
A darker part of his mind mused that this was more like it. If this really was a catatonic dream state he was in, such crushing darkness and despair really would fit how trapped his mind really was. He waved the notion off, sickened, though he could not tell why. He looked down on the sputtering flames of the fallen torch, still clinging to life, defiant against the darkness, its light glinting off of the many small gems strewn across the floor. It was then that he noticed shadows playing against a wall further down the cave.
Grunting with effort, Handy got back to his feet, leaning against the wall for support and panting with the exertion. He weighed his options and slid back down the wall, using his good foot to roll the torch over to him, careful not to burn his leg. Grabbing it in one hand, he stumbled back up, letting out a small yelp of pain as his bad leg exploded in pain. He snarled and hissed as he shuffled over to the back wall, the torch dripping flaming sparks as he went. The back wall became more and more illuminated.
There was a long, jagged tear in the rock face from ceiling to floor, some ancient movement of the earth shearing the stone asunder. If he squeezed himself through, emphasis on squeeze, he could probably push through it while walking sideways. To be fair, he’d be grateful of the additional support — no way was he staying on his two legs right now. He took a deep breath. Looking back in the darkness, he could barely make out the white of Joachim’s head. He shuddered — there was a chill coming from the fissure.
‘Good,’ he reasoned. ‘Wind means a way out. I only need to follow it.’ He thought about the fact that this would be leaving Joachim dazed and alone in the blackness of the cave behind him, possibly with a concussion. Briefly, he considered the scenario.
Then he took one step in front of another as he squeezed into the fissure.
--=--
He must have been struggling for nearly an hour before the fissure finally opened up and gave him some breathing room. It had gotten uncomfortably tight in some places, but he had made it. Now all that was left was to follow the wind. Thanking whatever saint had granted him the enviable favour of the wind direction following the rock wall he was now leaning against as he limped, he struggled on. Whatever cave or tunnel he had entered into was… unnaturally straight. The floor was smooth, and more than once he had to navigate around some insultingly tall stalactite.
It took him a while to realise they were columns and placed at regular intervals.
He had wandered into a corridor of some sort that was carved into the earth. The walls and floor were smooth, though not without imperfections, and slowly his hope rose for a way out. It was quickly dashed as the wind led him to the end of the corridor and a wall of collapsed rock that prevented further progress. The wind was coming from somewhere behind the wall of rubble, but Handy could not see a source of light, which meant that whatever nooks and crannies the chill was coming from was too small for him to crawl through, and he certainly did not have the strength to start digging his way out. He screamed in frustration and beat his fist against the rock which was unyielding against his impotent fury. There was nought but chill, fire, darkness, and the sound of his own ragged breathing.
And the drop of water unto a cool pool.
The sound echoed down the corridor behind him. Turning reluctantly, Handy suddenly realised how dry his throat was and how great a drink of water would be. Even if it was dirty, dank, cave water, he wasn’t going to complain. Shambling back down the half-visible corridor like a drunk desperate to get to the off license before his abused body gave out on him in the cold of winter, Handy eventually reached a room and felt his right foot splash into freezing cold water. The unexpected chill shot up his leg and startled him, causing him to fall backwards.
He scrambled back to the edge of the water, his torch almost forgotten by the waterside, and splashed the cooling liquid onto his face. The sensation was almost a religious experience. Handy took a lot of things for granted in his life, clean water being among them, and at no time did he appreciate it more than now. He threw his head into the water and drank greedily. ‘If nothing else, I’ll guide Joachim back here,’ he thought. ’God knows he needs this as bad as I do. Griffons stink.’
He opened his eyes under the water, surprised that the water was clean enough that it did not sting him. It was right around then that he noticed the innumerable glinting lights beneath the water. Splashing, he suddenly raised his head from the pool, shaking, his hair sending droplets of water flying. He gazed into the pool. The lights were still there but were glinting as if reflecting light. Handy reached for his torch and held it aloft just over the water’s surface and saw more lights glint into existence. The pool of water rested upon a bedrock of uncountable precious stones.
Handy gawked at the sight for a moment, tentatively putting both his legs into the startlingly cold water and carefully wading out into the knee-high water. The story was the same wherever he cast the torch’s light. This room was large and its entire floor was practically made of diamonds and sapphires, the light of the torch dancing gloriously in their perfectly cut faces, the clarity of the water only magnifying the brilliance of the tiny stars beneath his feet. Handy let out a laugh. He had intended for it to be rueful sound, laughing at the irony that Rex’s prize lay right behind his very back this entire time from the foreman’s office. Surely there were enough gems here to sate any dog’s lust.
The flame on his torch was dying. Handy panicked as he noticed the light starting to fade from the burning brand in his hand, only to slowly turn and gaze in fascination as another source of light grew in brilliance across the room. Turning, he saw ethereal wisps of air whisk away from the flames of his torch, flying through the air towards a plinth in the centre of the room. The flame died as its essence was absorbed by a pulsating blue orb that shone like a beacon, cutting daggers into the surrounding darkness. He had been looking at the thing for mere seconds before he heard the whispers.
‘Brrrrreeeeaaaaakkkk iiiiiiitttt.’
Handy blinked – the voice was inside of his head. He clasped the side of his forehead as a dull pain throbbed.
‘Brrrrrrreeeeeaaaaakkkk thhhheeee stoooooonnnnneeeee.’
Handy winced as he fell into the water.
“W-Who…What…”
‘Yoooouuuu aaaaarrrreeee liiiiiivvvvviiiinnnngggg, weeeee deeesssssiiiirrrrreeeee… Brrreeeeaaaakkkk thhhheeee stoooooonnnnnneeeee.’
‘Iiiiiittt’ssss beeeeeeennnn sooooo loooonnnngggg siiiiinnnncceeee… feeelllt waaaarrrrmmmthhhh.’
‘Deeeeesssssiiiiirrrrreeee.’
‘Wwwaaaaaannnnnt.’
‘Giiiivvvvveeeeeee…. Brrrrrreeeeeaaaaaaaak.’
“G-Get… Get out of my… m-my…”
‘Giiiivvvvvveeee whhhhhaaaaatttt… Deeeessssiiiirrreeee.’
‘Giiivvvveeee yooouuuuu deeeesssiiiirrreee.’
‘Giiiiivveeeee… taaaaaaaakkkeeee…. Waaaaaannnnnt.’
‘Fooooorrrr yoooouuuu aaaaaarrreeeee liiiivvvvviiiiinnnggg.’
‘Yyyyoooouuuu aaaarrrreeee liiiivvviiiinnnnggggg, giiiiivvvveeee wwwwhhhaaaat Iiiiiiiii deeessssiiiirrreee… Iiiiii’lll giiivvveeee yyyyooouuuu yyooouuuurrrr deeessssirrre, Iiiiii haaaavvveee thhhaaaat poooweeerrrrrrr…’
‘Geeeennneeeerrrooouuussss… Giiiiivvvvveee tooooo usssssssss…’
“Y-You…. You can…” Handy was on his hands and knees in the cold water, his vision blurring as his eyes cast down upon the rippling water, distorting the dancing gem lights beneath him. He gripped his head, his hands over his eyes as his teeth gnashed. The pressure on his head was incredible – he could barely describe it, and images flowed through his mind: wealth, power, prestige. Everything he had always sought after and wanted. “You can… let me g-go home?”
‘Yyyyeeeeessssss…’
‘Iiiiii haaaavvveee thhhaaaat poooweeerrrrrrr…’
‘Hhhhooooommmmmeeeeee.’
‘Giiiivvvveee tooooo usssssss.’
‘Mmmeeeeeeeee…’
‘Geeeennnneeerrrooouuussss…’
‘Aaaaa trrrraaaaadeeee.’
‘Aaaaacccoooorrrrrd…’
‘Brreeeaaaak thhhheeee sssstoooonnneee!’
Handy gasped. His breath became shorter and he could barely think.
‘Peeeerrrrhhhhaaaapppsss Iiiiii caaaaan swwwweeeeteeeen thhhheeee deeeeaaaaalll.’
“AAAAAUGH!” Handy spasmed in pain as his left leg suddenly shot out, bones grinding and snapping back into place in terrible violence. Handy thrashed in the water as he rode out the unrelenting wave of pain. Handy’s thought cleared only for the briefest of moments, and he grinned. ‘Finally…’ he thought to himself in triumph, ‘finally a way out, away from this mad land of talking animals and mythical nonsense, away from the dirt and the filth and the…’ His thoughts trailed to his companion. The griffon had nearly killed him… But had saved his life twice: from exposure and then from falling to his death. He thought of the unicorn who, in foolish bravery, dived to his death to save others. He thought of the warmth of a kind old man with more trust than sense… “A-Anything I… desire?”
‘Yyyyeeeeesssssssss….’
‘Mmmiiiiinnnneeeeeee.’
“A-A pony…. In the caves… H-He… Is he alive?”
‘Hhheeeeee isssss aaaat thhhheeee doooorrrrr.’
‘Thhhheeeee rrrrreeeeaaapeeerrrr iiiiissss beeeeiiiinnng rooouuusssseeeed.’
“Can you… can… s-save him?” Handy asked, the effort causing his head to throb uncontrollably.
‘Iiiiiiitttttssss… Wwwwiiiiiithhhhiiiiinnnnn mmmyyyyyy poooowweeeerrrr.’
His face turned into a snarl, and he pulled himself forward, the pressure on his head lessening as he neared the stone.
’Yyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssss!’
“I-I… want you…” Handy pulled himself up until he was level with the blue stone plinth, its surface covered in white veins reminiscent of marble. He grabbed the stone in one hand as he fell back into the water. “I… I want you to…” He forced himself back up, the pressure lessening further, his thoughts becoming his own once more.
He raised his arm back and swung it down upon the hard rock at the base of the corner of the plinth. “S-Save us damn you!” The stone cracked with an echoing sound as it hit the corner of the plinth. With a moment’s hesitation, Handy swung it back and forth once more, and again and again, the cracks became more prominent as vile turquoise light spilled forth from within the stone.
‘Wwwweeeeee hhhhhaaaaavvvveeeee aaaaccccoooooooorrrrrrrdd.’
The stone hit the plinth one final time, and Handy’s vision was blinded by a sudden flash of light.
--=--
His eyes opened to the dying rain falling upon his face, the sensation strange and alien after so long in the cave.
Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he surveyed his surroundings. He was outside again. He looked down over rolling hills, sparse forests, and far off farmsteads as small trees obscured his location: the mouth of a collapsed cave. He saw Joachim comically sprawled over a boulder as a certain blue pony lay several feet away down the trail to the road below, the marks on the ground indicating he had collapsed and his body simply rolled down.
But he was breathing.
Handy tried to get up before quickly deciding fuck that noise and sat right back down on his arse. His body simply refused to be commanded right now. He lay there for a while, deciding that Joachim and Night had the right idea. Sleeping right now would be a very welcome thing indeed, the rain be damned. Still, he struggled and maintained his consciousness. The rational part of his mind was ringing alarm bells for some reason, something about keeping the story straight. He wasn’t sure, for his eyelids were heavy.
He mumbled to himself, thinking about what had just occurred. Did any of that actually happen? His body ached. If it didn’t, then clearly that meant someone had stopped by on a whim before he and his buddies had kicked the shit out of him for a lark, and Handy just imagined a week’s worth of indentured servitude and a collapsing mine shaft to rationalize the brutalization of his body. He rubbed his eyes. Who in the hell was he kidding? That was real; it was all real, as real as anything else in this mad land he was in. He was in a land where he was head and shoulders above weirdly proportioned, colourful ponies when they were standing on their hind legs who spoke English, used magic, and fucking flew. Also griffons. He supposed if he did find a horribly evil artefact in a cave in a mountain overlooking a town by the sea, it would probably be the only thing here that made sense.
Handy shuddered. He was suddenly glad he had never had a dream since waking up in Equestria. At least it would spare him from any nightmares.
Joachim stirred, letting out a groan. He rolled over on the boulder so that he was lying on his back, wings splayed and his head upside down in a shrub behind the boulder. His body stiffened. Handy reasoned he had woken up to a face full of bush. He flailed and yelled and fell off the boulder heavily, his eyes wide and head snapping back and forth.
“What? Where? Who? How? Why?”
Handy chuckled. Well, if he got the story straight with Joachim, he’d let himself get some sleep. His mind raced to consider the implications of what he had actually done back there in the cave. His eyes glanced down at the unconscious unicorn and his thoughts churned. He looked over at the confused griffon.
‘Yeah, I think I can sell this...’
--=--
First off, town councils were evil bastards.
Payment for services rendered aside, not only did they not pay for what medical support Joachim and Handy needed after their glorious escapades beneath the earth resulted in doing exactly as the job description required, that of evicting the diamond dogs from the mine, they would’ve charged them for the gross economic loss of the mine itself. Or they would have if the angry families of the rescued miners didn’t threatened less than friendly action had they tried something like that. I mean, if you hired random adventurers to evict a dangerous gang of brigands from your mine, and you’re surprised that said mine became irrevocably destroyed, you only have yourself to blame really.
Honestly, some ponies.
Secondly, Joachim was a sneaky bastard.
Handy had explained to him in short what had happened from Handy’s perspective. Handy was on the verge of falling to his death after Joachim got knocked out as Warm Night pulled himself up. The two had an argument, and as far as Handy saw, as he had been busy pulling himself up from certain doom, Warm Night launched himself off the lip of the cave and hit the lever that opened the gate for the ponies. Which was true enough. The lies started when Handy said he had collapsed from exhaustion and shock, having seen the pony effectively kill himself. He had come to partially, to see a pony-like figure dragging the two of them behind it towards a white light that looked like the exit, and all he could recall was the world shaking around him before he slipped back unconscious.
Joachim was incredulous, but Handy’s dramatic coughing, vague words, and strained expressions convinced them that, while it might not be exactly as it appeared, that it was at least how Handy saw it. But what really sold it was Handy’s body finally caving in as he slumped over, asleep. Joachim had woken up Warm Night and recounted the story between explanations of his and Handy’s plan, the reason for the fight as a distraction, some ludicrous justification for Joachim’s use of the digging claw, and Handy’s account of what happened after the floor collapsed.
Somehow, Warm Night’s addled mind found these reasonable. Well, at least after a few hours of probing questions and Joachim’s last minute rationalizations, as it was noticeably darker by the time Handy woke up. The two had managed to convince themselves that Warm Night, somehow, had struggled back up and got the three of them out. It was fortunate that all of them were exhausted and battered, otherwise they would have thought about the sequence of events with entirely too much sobriety for Handy’s comfort. This was not the case, however, and by the time they had made it back to the edge of town, Joachim and Warm had already thoroughly convinced themselves of the version of events that left Handy with very little actual explaining to do. Joachim certainly was going to rock the boat, weaving his own fabrication to the tale. Warm was convinced the theft of the digging device was an integral part of the plan that had simply gone awry, and several panicked glances back at Handy whenever he questioned Joachim’s explanation told him that he should back up whatever the bird brain was saying. Handy found it very hard to maintain a poker face at times.
Thirdly, God damn was salamander salve some shit, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
The day they had arrived back, Warm was assaulted by his friends from the mine and assailed with questions. The ponies regarded the human and the griffon, shall we say, somewhat coolly. Well, that was before Warm Night vouched for the both of them by recounting their legitimate and not in any way fabricated version of events. After that, they were all hands… well, hooves.
“What is this?! Is this an attack? Are we under attack!?” Handy shouted desperately, trying to keep his balance as his upper body was assailed by colourful balls of fluff and d’aww flying through the air and latching on to him in gratitude for helping save this or that parent.
“This is just how ponies express themselves,” Joachim said, pushing a rather huggy mare away and cringing as a foal decided to pull on one of his primaries.
“I don’t like it.”
“Nopony likes it,” Joachim said, prying another grateful pony away. “Well, okay, ponies like it.”
Joachim and Handy had elected to slip away in the burgeoning crowd that was gathering around the rescued miners, whose fur and manes were noticeably duller and ill-kept, but that was to be expected after being stuck in a mine for two weeks. The last they saw of Warm Night before their delightful meeting with the town council and the mayor, Town Crier, or cry baby as Handy had taken to publically referring was when he had been hugging his father outside of the inn, tears in the old pony’s eyes. They were, however, entirely comfortable with the tears in the foppish, jumped-up mayoral pony, who scarpered when Handy snarled in anger, revealing his canines.
Neither of them wanted to be witness to such touching feels that early in the day when there was pay to be had. Unfortunately, there was no pay to be had, so they went to the local hospital instead, and Handy boggled at the bizarre contradiction of high and low technology. Ponies had not invented radio, yet they had heart monitors? Joachim made an offhand comment concerning crystals and unicorns, and Handy, begrudgingly, let it slide. That only opened up worse problems as the doctors had insisted on giving everypony from the mines a full physical. Handy, having issues with personal space and never liking hospital much anyway, objected to their attempts to take care of him, culminating in a showdown with him backed into a corner, waving a crutch to keep several nurses and the head doctor away.
“Sir, please calm down.”
“Back! Back I say!”
“We’re only trying to help!”
“You ponies have no idea how to help me! I even heard you say it!”
“Which is why we need to do a full physical. You look underfed, and I am pretty sure I saw you limping badly.”
“Just give me a splint and it’ll heal! I can take care of it! And painkillers! Lots of them!”
“Sir, we cannot give prescriptions without—”
“Like bollocks you can’t! You gave Joachim a whole lot of shit without one word!”
“Well, we’ve handled griffons before, and it was off the shelf medication…”
“How ya holding up in there, slugger?” Joachim’s mocking tone wafting in from the room across the hall. “Me? I’m doing grrrrreeeeeaaaat~”
“FUCK A DUCK, YOU GODDAMN BIRD!” Handy shouted.
Reluctantly, and not without the convincing of a couple of earth pony orderlies, Handy eventually relented. It was an uncomfortable experience and not one he would be fond of remembering. It was not often doctors got to study an entirely new physiology, but as soon as the bare minimum was achieved, Handy gathered up his belongings—ghetto belt, ghetto shoe, regular shoe, tattered shirt, hoodie and jeans, his wallet which he forgot existed, and his phone which he was amazed was still a shiny expensive brick that turned on—and made to get out of there, but not before they had drained a pint of his blood for future reference and testing. ‘Like they know what human baseline is anyway,’ Handy thought bitterly. It was not that he hated needles—he just made it a rule in life to never let sharp metal objects come near his person unless he was personally using them himself. Comprehension dawned on him. ’Fuck, as far as these ponies know, I am human baseline. I wonder what they’ll think of the high iron content.’
--=--
“There’s enough in here to knock out a manticore!”
“Oh hush, it’s not that much.”
“IT’S LIKE HE ABSORBED AN ANVIL INTO HIS BLOODSTREAM!”
--=--
Yep, even his human doctors figured he should’ve died years ago. He hoped the ponies had fun.
Now with a nice shiny splint, the doctors were exasperated and finally let him go. Science or no science, they weren’t being paid either by him or the local government for his care, so they really didn’t have to put up with his protests if they didn’t have to. Handy hobbled back to the Shady Bough with a rather relaxed-looking Joachim.
“You’re still riding high?”
“Nah, just pleasantly buzzed. Nothing hurts anymore. It’s great. You should try it.”
“Not allowed painkillers until they’re done with my blood.” Handy grimaced. The town was alive with chatter, news about the daring escape from the mine spreading as fast as you’d think exciting news spreads in a sleeping seaside harbour town like Spurbay. What was alarming were the embellishments. Pony grapevine was some wild shit. After they passed the third stall with a collection of fillies gushing over this or that mine worker, twice removed, cousin in law who stared down a golem, two diamond dogs, and a dragon as the mountain threatened to erupt into a volcano, Handy decided to pick up the pace. The townsfolk were now shouting over to the two of them to try to get them involved, and he was getting uncomfortable with the looks he was gaining and the adoration in the eyes of school foals.
“Your loss,” Joachim said, shrugging with his wings. “Want some salve when we get back?”
“That really knits bones?” Handy asked. Joachim nodded.
“Yeah, healed my wing right quickly when I broke it a few months ago. Most amazing thing I ever bought. If I ever find the ponies who sold me the bottles again, I am buying them in bulk.”
“Who did you buy it from?” Handy asked. Joachim smiled sheepishly.
“Bought it from a couple of lanky-looking ponies, cream-coloured guys. Flick and Flack I think? Wore these obnoxious striped shirts, had red manes and corny hats. I think one of them had a moustache. Traveling salesponies, never stay down in one place,” Joachim said, screwing his face up, trying to remember the odd pair.
“Well, if I ever come across them, I’ll certainly be perusing their services… but only if this works.”
“Relax, a week of rest and that salve and your bones should knit. The doctors said your leg’s damage was not that bad, you big cry baby. What was that horse dollop back in the mine about you not being able to walk on that leg and having me carry you for? Stallion up.”
Handy grimaced before nodding.
No need to tell Joachim about the ‘help’ he received regarding his leg from other, less than reputable sources.
--=--
Welcome Sight was a goddamn menace and he must be stopped.
Ever since his son had been returned to him and they had reconciled, he had been alive with new energy and simply insisted the entire fucking town came over to celebrate the rescue of the miners, the disappearance of the diamond dogs, and their long weeks of worry and suffering being over and now seemingly forgotten. It was preposterous. Welcome Sight was a good guy and all, but honestly, the inn he ran was a two bit affair. Literally, two bits a night. It was old, creaky, in disrepair, understaffed, understocked, and on the edge of town, so if you were going, you were going to need to leave the house early. Besides, the ponies had their families to attend to, having not seen them in such a long time and, you know, nearly dying in the process. It was simply an unreasonable thing to expect.
So of course the entire goddamned town arrived that night as Welcome Sight single-handedly—no, not even going there with the hoof jokes—kick-started the Saltwater festival two weeks early.
‘There will be beatings,’ Handy swore, turning over in the cot set up in the shed out back from the inn itself. ‘Savage, savage beatings.’ The ponies had taken the place by storm and there was hardly a goddamn blade of grass that didn’t have dancing hooves upon it. The cider and beer ran like water. Handy had initially wondered how in the hellWelcome was able to service them all—he had some bartending experience, not that he was going to let any of the ponies know about that in case he got roped in. That was until Joachim burst open the door to let him know the gospel of yeast. ‘Handy! Handy, you’re missing it! The other pony innkeepers are coming over with wagons of stuff! Bars, bars everywhere!’ Handy groaned, having thrown a trowel at Joachim to get him to leave.
He had applied salamander salve all over his broken left leg, and foot, and other leg, and arm, and shoulder, and head, and fingers, and pretty much everywhere. His body felt as if his skin was trying to hug him like a drunken teddy bear, and everything was tingly and ticklish and soothingly comfortable. He was really tired and had he slept then, dreams or not, it would have been the best damn sleep he’d ever had in his life.
Except, you know, for the raging götterdämmerung outside. Handy groaned yet again.
‘Such beatings. They will please the war gods, such will be my fury, oh yes my little ponies, such terrible, terrible beatings. Right after I get some red, ruddy sleep.’ There was a knock on the door. ‘Clearly someone wishes to die this night.’ The knocking continued. ‘Why else would thee tempt mine wroth. Doeseth not holy scripture say, waken not the Handy for mighty will be his anger if he doesn’t get his holy winks o’ forty?’ Knock knock. ‘Knock again. Knock again, motherfucker, see what happens. I dare you motherfucker, I double dare you! Knock again!’ Knock knock knock.
“What is it?!” Handy shouted, throwing open the shed door.
“Sup,” Warm Night said, a happy smile plastered on his face, his brown eyes partially glazed over while he wobbled.
“Well aren’t we quite drunk,” Handy said as he deadpanned before sighing. “What is it, Warm?” Handy asked, walking back into the shed and throwing himself atop the cot.
“Joachum shaid you’d be here.”
“In the shed?”
“Itsh what he shaid.”
“Right, but what do you want?”
“I uh…” Warm shook his head. “Just wanted to make amends,” he said, his voice noticeably more steady. Handy turned around in his cot, blanket firmly wrapped around him as if it was the most precious thing in the world.
“Amends for what?”
“You know, the thing in the— Uh, the cave mine… the fight.”
“You do realise I started it, right?”
“W-Well, uh…” Night burped. “I know but— Uh, you was, were, right, and I just wanted to say… thanks.” Warm looked at the ground. “I had forgotten thosh closest to meh an, and I… It uh took me being enslaved and beaten over the head by ah, ah, you uh… whatever you are, to fully realise it.” He looked down at the cup he had magicked over to the shed with him, thinking. “And some ovvah fings as well…” Handy sighed as he looked at the forlorn equine before him. He was in a better state than he was this morning, bandaged head aside, but this was clearly troubling him. Handy knew what to say.
“It’s okay, Warm.”
“N-No shsss not!”
“Yes, it is. I had no call to say what I did, even if it was necessary at the time. I should be apologising to you. I am sorry, Warm.”
“R-Really?” Warm looked up, a smile on his lips.
“Yes, I didn’t mean a word of what I said,” Handy said, a reassuring smile on his face. ‘I meant every word of what I said,’ he thought, greatly desiring the sad, drunken pony to leave his room. He turned around. “Go back and enjoy the party. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want some sleep.
“Y-Yeah, I guess I will,” Warm said. He looked at his hooves by the door of the shed and levitated a foaming tankard into the shed. “’fought you shouldn’t be left out thou’, got ya a beer.”
“Thanks, man, just leave it there on the counter by the rake. I’ll get it in the morning,” Handy said. Warm obliged. He looked back down into his own half-finished cup for a moment, lingering on the threshold of the dark shed. He looked back out over the garden behind his father’s inn, looking at Happy Hour smiling radiantly while dancing with her friends around a small fire as minstrels played their songs. He chewed his bottom lip. “Hey ah… Handy?” He got a disinterested sigh in response.
“What is it now, Warm?” Handy muttered dejectedly.
“You evah… You evah try to do somefing… something you don’t know if it’ll… it’ll work out in the end, and if it doesn’t it’ll… it’ll crush you, but you know you can’t afford not to try?” he asked. Handy actually chuckled.
“Sounds my mind set leading up to University, but yeah, I think I get what you mean,” Handy said in response, still not turning around. He did not get what Warm meant.
“W-Well… Do ya think it’s worth it?” Warm asked, his hopeful eyes turned towards Handy. Handy took a minute to respond.
“You know, I don’t know. No one does. But there is a truth that is said back where I come from; maybe it’ll do you some good. A wise human once said that there is nothing gained if there is nothing ventured. You do need to take a risk to get what you want.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Or you’ll risk not getting anything at all.” Handy stuck out and arm and waved half-heartedly. “I’d say go for it, do the impossible, see the invisible, yours is the drill horn that will pierce the heavens, yadda yadda yadda.”
The smile that graced Warm’s face was wide enough that if he had seen it, Handy would’ve thought his face threatened to break.
“Thanks! I’ll-uh, I’ll go do that! You’re a pal, Handy.”
“Whatever.”
And with that, Warm closed the door to the shed, once more bathing Handy in soothing darkness. Warm Night looked back over to the mare in question, his hoof tapping the earth nervously. He downed the rest of his tankard before throwing it away, steeling himself. “Nothing ventured…” he said, repeating the ‘encouragement’ Handy gave him, and trotted over to Happy Hour.
‘You know...’ Handy thought to himself, snuggling up comfortably in the thick blanket. Welcome had insisted on one of the rooms in the inn, but as soon as Handy learned that the cot in the shed, by poor design no less, was big enough to fit him comfortably, he had jumped at the opportunity to sleep there instead. It spared him the wrath of the partying ponies who invaded every inch of the rest of the premises, so it was a wise idea by anyone’s count. ‘If I cover my ears like this, and curl up like so, I can reduce the noise to a dull roar. Yeah, I can deal with this. I can get to sleep now.’
“HEY EVERYPONY!” an absurdly obnoxious filly’s voice sounded from somewhere on the grounds. “GUESS WHAT I BROUGHT!?”
And so the rest of the evening was kept alive by the light of colourful explosions in the air as apparently some ship captain had brought home excess cargo of fireworks from some faraway trade deal. Handy shuddered in agitation.
‘Such… Terrible… Beatings…’
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Ok. This story is growing on me a bit.
And Handy's wrath shall be terrible indeed!
Btw, did he do something like The Stare back With Rex? Or is this something completely different that will return later in the story?
And releasing that voice will of course have no repercussions at all, right? Right?
Anyway, liking the way this story is going so far. Really great story telling. You manage to make the characters believable and likable.
A good amount of drama, comedy, adventure and romance. Keep up the good work.
Have a moustache for your efforts.
I can certainly say what passed between Rex and Handy had nothing to do with Fluttershy's Stare.
static.gamespot.com/uploads/original/1535/15358569/2499461-1394410947285.jpg
This made me happy
4428914 i2.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/313/239/f3a.png
4686613
global3.memecdn.com/rmx-oh-you_o_518420.jpg
Aaaaand now I'm hooked
This is great! A big fat story more than interesting to sink my brain into. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
3907193
Course not.
.... This one was fueled by something else entirely...
Not quite 'The Stare', more... 'Tranquil Rage.'
Fight the power?
[youtube=www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFFrmguBPRk]
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
That thing with Rex… that was some jungle book shit right there wasn't it?
Also this chapter has crushed whatever waning hope I had of rescuing my free-time from the clutches of this story.
Holy crap, this is just chapter 2?
I'm enjoying this a lot. Interesting plot and enjoyable well written characters. Count me in.
Fireworks...such terrible beatings. LOL
This story is already fucking amazing . Thank you for writing this.
It feels like i am reading a dungeons and dragon campaign
I don't get the drill reference...
8154610
Unforgivable. Google 'Gurren Lagann', only the best anime in existence, and get cultured, you philistine!
A Gurren Lagann reference? Yep, glad i found this story, something tells me it's gonna be a good one!
4th re-read and this still nearly has me rolling on the floor, especially this bit:
It's 3:30 am and I have had insomnia for several months now. My neighbors upstairs have a new mattress and have been testing it out all night. I can't get over how much I identify with Handy this chapter.
Fucking gurren lagann reference
Buck me by the Sun, if those two sold something useful.
Well! That’s ONE magical portal home he won’t be able to use. Off to the the next one.
Gotta get back, back to his landy, Samurai Handy.
Whutch-ah!
images.genius.com/9456d2e225df68af3a69a1fb5d1c0078.430x245x1.png
I laughed.
ROFLMAO!!!
8697384
BWAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA
that that was good
I absolutely lost it when I read this line.
God bless the English
Or are you Irish? Scottish? Either way, God Bless you.
Forgive an ignorant Yank.
Thus, Handy L. Jackson was born this day
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4VmdXDljno
when ponies hugged handy
OK, so....this guy breaks the magical object that he is asking to save him.
Is that what I read? He asks it to help him a while smashing it on a plinth?
Its like having a paramedic giving a loved on CPR, so you smash him on the head with a brick.
Monk
11105850
The voice was asking him to break the stone as a condition for it helping him out.
Man this story is starting out great. Judging from the story length looks like im in for a good read for a while
9289047
Always keep your Iron levels up!