Chapter 6 - Unforseen Consequences
Celestia could go fuck a bucket as far as he was concerned.
“GHLGRHLRGRGLHLGRHGRL!”
Well, he still didn’t believe some random, pernickety, magical pony princess sitting prettily plump with her purloined privileges could raise the sun. That would be just… beyond nonsensical.
“Ohhhohohoho sweet God, but this is gooood…”
Even so, marching for five days in the desert and carrying two heavy packs of gold and gems, as well as a heavy weapon, does not make for a happy Handy.
“Perhaps I should get out and dry off………. Hahahahahahahaha who the fuck am I kidding? Fuck the world.”
He was, however, quite fortunate, all things considered. He had managed to come across not one but two oases. The first was basically a small trickle coming out of a source rock under the shade of a rather sickly tree. He had found it on his second day. Handy had lost track of how long he had knelt there, practically sucking the water from the rocks, but he didn’t regret a second of it. He had taken advantage of the situation to clear his throat and relieve himself without worry of losing too much fluid. The problem was he hadn’t had anything that could function as a waterskin. The only leather he possessed was his belt, and there was no way he could use that for such a purpose. So, once he was done, he had topped himself off with water and awaited nightfall before traveling.
It probably had not been the wisest move he could have made. Handy was a north-western European. Desert survival lore was a teensy bit outside his experience range. All he knew was that sun plus exertion equalled bad times. However, he also discovered that night time plus desert plus exertion equalled HOLY FUCK, IT’S COLD! He had found himself sprinting at times to try to warm himself up, not something he thought he’d ever have to do in Badlands such as these, but as previously stated, Handy had no idea how to survive out here, so he had played it by ear. For one, he had crawled under large rocks to keep out of the sunlight and wind. Food had been scarce, and Handy had found himself lucky to have come across a couple of rather unfortunate coyotes. He cooked and voraciously devoured the first one while saving most of the meat of the second for the rest of his journey, thankful for his knives. Briefly, he had considered the possibility that the two horribly murdered coyotes may have been sapient.
But only briefly.
The second oasis he found was on the fifth and final day, just as he was starting to seriously lose moisture. He almost couldn’t believe what he saw. It was a large rock formation with dark soil surrounding it, with abundant plant life and shady trees. There was a God-damn spring bursting from numerous rocks. One was even powerful enough to count as a waterfall in its own right. So of course he stripped down, and with joyful abandon, dived into the small lake. It was little more than a glorified pond, but it was the Mare Nostrum as far as Handy could give a rat’s arse.
He stayed there all day, showering under the water. Words failed to express his jubilation as he finally got to wash the filth from his flesh. He made use of the water to clean his clothes as well. It was a slapdash job but it was badly needed. The best part was that the water was quickly drained away almost as fast it came up! As soon as he dirtied the water, it was replaced with more glorious, clean liquid, and Handy indulged himself in its luxury. However, all good things must come to an end, and eventually Handy pulled himself from the water and dried himself off before putting his clothes on. He laid there on the sparse grass and warm, fertile soil, the shade of the trees protecting his eyes from the glare of the sun.
This day couldn’t get any better. Though, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure which day it was… Ah well, it didn’t matter. The only thing that could make this better would be—
“Well howdy there, travlah!”
Ah, yes, that would be the one thing that made his day better.
Handy sat up with a start and grabbed his war hammer. The pony stallion before him raised a hoof. “Woah, easy there, pilgrim, I don’t mean ya no harm none,” the light brown earth pony stated. He was of average size for a stallion, bulky though. He had a short black tail and cropped mane with a scraggly beard, his blue eyes framed by bushy eyebrows and mutton chops. Unlike most ponies, he was wearing a shirt and a green jacket with numerous pockets to match his saddlebags.
Handy did not let go of his war hammer, but also did not raise it up as he got to his feet. The pony looked up, the long reed he was chewing moving from one side of his mouth to the other. “Tall one ain’tcha? What’s yer name?” he asked. His eyes squinted, studying Handy. Handy stared right back.
“Handy of Milesia,” Handy said. “Before you ask, I’m a human. No, I’m not from around here. Yes, I am lost. I got lost because of questionable choices I made one night, and I have no idea where the nearest town is. I wear clothes because I am a noble, mercenary, and adventurer, in that order.”
The pony looked up at Handy for a few tense seconds before laughing out loud. Handy frowned. “Ho boy, get asked that a lot, I take it? Ha ha, well, ya must pardon folks, but ya’re a mite strange sight.”
“I had gathered as much, yes,” Handy said. “Forgive my brusqueness, but it’s been a long week wandering these Badlands. Prithee, can you tell me where the nearest town is? I’d like to return to civilization.”
“Mighty fancy tongue ya got there, fellah. Ya really are lost,” he said before laughing again. He extended a hoof for a shake, which Handy accepted with his free hand. The pony raised an eyebrow at his appendages. “Well, my name’s True Shot, and I know these Badlands like the back of my hoof. Hay, this here’s even my favourite water source out these parts. I just stopped by to fill my stocks before moseying on to Pawstown.”
“Pawstown?”
“Oh yeah, dog town. Well, mostly. It was actually a pony settlement originally, but the dog packs moved in to help with the mining. The town mostly feeds and services them. It’s the last stop before the trek to the frontier station to catch a train.” Handy beamed internally. Never before was he so happy to hear about the schizophrenic technology level of this land.
“Ah, excellent! Pray tell, True Shot.” No reason not to ham it up a bit. He had decided, Joachim and Chrysalis aside – one knowing him for his true cynical self and the other knowing his unpleasant side – that he would play up the mysterious foreigner aspect he had presented to Charity Bell. Why? Fuck you, that’s why. Handy deserved some fun. “I would be most grateful if you could help me.”
“Aha, well ya wouldn’t be the first straggler I picked up. If you come with me, I’ll take ya to town, get yerself looked after,” True Shot said. Handy’s stomach rumbled, and he looked down in shame. True Shot laughed. It only took a few minutes for True Shot to fill up his containers of water and for Handy to get his gear together. The two of them left the oasis and made their way over to a small wagon. There were a few odds and ends on the back of it, such as bags and packages. There appeared to be a unicorn in dark cloak sitting there and reading a book that it levitated before it, its cloak flapping madly in the wind. “Gawain, hop on.” Handy looked at the wagon and back at the earth pony.
“Are you sure? I would much rather not become a burden to you, fine sir,” Handy said. True Shot shook his head.
“Not at all, pilgrim, I can handle it. Gawain,” he insisted. Handy shrugged and climbed up onto the wagon. The unicorn paid him no mind other than to give a snort of disapproval and shuffling further away from the human, not so much as sparing him a glance. Handy was perfectly fine with this, however, so he ignored the red unicorn’s rudeness, idly playing with the blue pendant Chrysalis had ‘given’ him as the scenery passed them by.
--=--
They rolled into Pawstown an hour or so later. The red unicorn hopped down from the back of the wagon and trotted off somewhere without so much as a word. Handy huffed – she could have at least thanked True Shot for his kindness. Which reminded him. Handy got off himself and pulled his packs with him. He jogged around the wagon to walk beside True Shot as he pulled the wagon.
“My thanks, True Shot, for your kindness. Allow me to recompense you for your aid,” Handy said, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a number of bits. True Shot hummed a little ditty to himself as Handy counted out ten bits. He had way too many coins anyway, but there was no sense letting anyone know that was what caused his packs to bulge. He held his hand over to True Shot. “Shalt this cover thy efforts?” he asked. True Shot looked and his eyebrows rose.
“Aheh, a bit much for a simple favour friend… But if yer giving, I’m not goin’ ta say no.” True Shot then reached with his mouth and pulled open a pocket for Handy to dump the coins into. True, a bit or two would’ve been enough, but Handy liked this pony and could afford to be generous.
“Again my thanks, good sir,” Handy said, looking around. The town’s buildings were, by and large, a mixture of wood and mud-brick, with some stone thrown in for good measure, giving it a distinct appearance from the previous settlements he had had the privilege of seeing. Evidence of pony architecture was obvious: little decorative heart shapes cut out of everything, a few moons and suns here or there – that sort of thing. “Pray, where would the nearest halfway house be?” Handy asked. True Shot chuckled and pointed at a rather large building with the word ‘SALOON’ above the doorway. Oh yeah, that looked legit. Handy resisted the urge to sigh and simply nodded his thanks before walking off. He heard True Shot chuckle a bit before mouthing something about ‘city folk.’
Now, you would think that wouldn’t bother Handy, but it did. However, because True Shot was in his good books, he let it slide. Walking up to the saloon door, he noticed the denizens of Pawstown were taking time out of their various activities to give Handy the evil eye. Great, frontier town that doesn’t take kindly to strangers? Who’da guessed? He took special note of the various diamond dogs who walked the street, who sniffed the air before looking at Handy suspiciously. Handy did not care for that at all. How dare they!? Dogs should know better than that…
Handy blinked. What was he thinking about? Oh right, a room for the night. He pushed open the door to the saloon. Even at this time of day, it was still packed. Dirty-looking diamond dogs – more mutts who regarded Handy with instant suspicion – along with quite a number of ponies and the first griffons he had seen aside from Joachim. As interesting as the sight was, he ignored the chatting avians as the rest of the people caroused and relaxed over meals and fine conversation. He could not fault them. If True Shot’s words rang honest, then this was another mining town out here in the middle of the Badlands. It seemed earth ponies dominated if you discounted the dogs, which Handy was tempted to do. He guessed the earth ponies worked the land to get food, and the pegasi, pfft, worked the weather. Yeah, right, and Handy was a duke. That left the mining to the dogs. The griffons… He didn’t know. They looked like they didn’t belong. Cloaks, dirtied feathers – probably travellers like him.
He walked up to the counter. The bar mare was chatting to some lush or another when he put his hand on the counter. “Excuse me, fair landlady, perchance you have a room for the night?” Someone laughed behind him, and he resisted the urge to scowl. Savages.
“My my, aren’t we a sweet talker. Tall, dark and… whatever you are.”
“My name is Handy, milady, of Milesia. A human quite far from home, you understand,” Handy said, smiling softly, making sure to keep his canines covered. He would rather not unnerve the pony, but considering this was a dog town, perhaps the ponies here were made of sterner stuff? He would have to see about that sometime. The ruby-coloured and rotund earth pony smiled back, her yellow mane raised in a ridiculous-looking do.
“Well, I can’t rightly deny such politesse. It’ll be three bits for the night,” she said. Handy smiled again and reached into his pocket to pull out his money. It felt good to actually be able to pay his way now. He put the money on the counter. The barmare looked down as she counted. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned in closer to look at the coins. Handy wasn’t sure what was wrong. Sure, they were blank with the exception of a big number one on each of them. Slowly, he realised it might be a bit of a currency issue. These were changeling coins after all, and from what he understood, changelings and ponyfolk were not on the best of terms. Slowly, the mare’s eyes widened, and she took one of the coins and bit down on it. She called out for another pony, a blue earth pony stallion with a short, neat, red moustache and shirt complete with waistcoat.
“Is something amiss?” Handy asked, concerned. The mare turned to look back at the human before looking back at the earth pony, and the two began whispering furiously. Handy’s eyes darted around and he felt himself beginning to sweat. The two griffons were giving him sidelong glances, and the dogs were openly looking at him, but they had been doing that anyway. The ponies began giving him furtive glances. Not good.
“A-ha! Yes, everything’s fine!” the mare said, quickly handing two of the coins back to Handy and only taking one of them. The earth pony took it and ran into the back rooms. He came back out with a small bag of bits, placing it on the counter. “We, ah, didn’t mean to be unclear, S-Sir Handy.”
’Sir?’ Handy thought, looking down at the small bag of bits in confusion. “Are you sure? I am perfectly willing to pay whatever amount you require f—”
“Oh nononono! We can’t possibly charge you more than what we charge anypony else! Please, you’ll find the rooms upstairs,” she said, turning around and grabbing a small ring with a key on it from a rack behind her, placing it on the counter. “Room one oh three, on your left, sir. We’re so happy you’ll be staying with us.” The earth pony came around the counter and approached the human.
“Do you need me to carry your bags sir?” he asked. Handy squinted at him.
“No, I do not require such assistance. I, uh, thank you for your professional courtesy, however…” he said, slowly moving to the stairs. Don’t get him wrong, it was a welcome change of pace to be treated with dignity and respect once in a while, but the suddenness of it was rather… off-setting. The stallion, however, was insistent.
“Ah, but at least allow me to show you to your room!” He grabbed the key off the counter and trotted over to the stairs. Handy had no choice but to follow him, lest he look rude. Also, you know, he kinda had the key to his room. He was getting uncomfortable with the whispers that were now emerging on the floor behind him as he ascended the steps. He knew this story; as soon as he was gone, some gossip was going to try to get the skinny from the barkeep, they would fail, the local smooth-talker would succeed, the lush would say something unflattering about the stranger, the smooth-talker would tell the gossip, and a game of Chinese whispers would take care of the rest. Handy was slightly concerned about what the barmare was going to say. He saw what happened when pony grapevine had its way with the truth.
“Here we are,” the stallion said, opening a door at the very end of the corridor. Handy stepped in. It was spacious, with wide windows, heavy curtains and a rather luxurious and inviting looking bed. The room screamed comfort. It even had a vanity with a mirror. Putting issues with masculinity aside for a moment, he’d actually been looking for a good mirror for a while now so he could take care of his unruly hair. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.” Handy looked around. He bounced the small bag of bits in his hand, still not entirely sure why they had taken one coin off of him and given him several times its weight in pony bits. What the hell was the difference? Gold was gold!
His stomach growled, and he threw the bag at the stallion who caught it with his mouth. He looked up at the human with a raised eyebrow. “Prithee, I am quite famished my good stallion. If it pleases you, I would like a meal prepared, whatever this will fetch. With wine, if you have any.” Hey, he was a nobleman, remember? “Vodka if not.” Okay, with some tastes, sure. “Failing that, I will settle for cider.” The pony smiled and nodded furiously before trotting off. Handy let his packs fall on the bed and resisted the urge to flop down on the rather sexy looking bed. Okay, it wasn’t sexy, but it was big enough where he could fit in it comfortably, and he hadn’t seen a bed in well over a week. So, you know, sexy.
If he so much as touched it, he knew he was going to fall face down and fucking expire right there and not get up for a day. He needed to take care of himself. Exploring the room for a bit, he found a closet. It had no clothes; obviously for patrons to store their clothes. That only raised more questions since, you know, most creatures tended to go about naked. He ignored it and continued his search. He encountered a desk drawer beneath the vanity. It contained a rather beaten-looking book that had clearly been read many times. He looked at the spine as the front had no title and possessed no blurb. Huh, Fifty Shades of Ha-NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE. He placed that book back in the drawer and closed it. Sure, there was a chance that it was merely coincidence the book’s title was similar to a rather infamous novel on his world, and it was entirely innocent and full of pleasant things. However, Handy knew that he was Handy and the universe was the universe. As such, there was no God damn way in hell that it wasn’t what he thought it was. Handy shuddered and moved on.
Oh fuck to the hell YES!
Handy found the bathroom, and it had a shower. Everything was right with the world. He spent most of the remaining day in the room, not particularly caring about mixing with the good townsfolk, especially not with the looks they had given him and the hubbub he had caused when all he had tried to do was pay for his room. He washed himself rather thoroughly and saw to his cuts and bruises. They still hurt a bit, but they weren’t serious and nothing looked infected, which was a miracle considering the filth that had covered him. He still longed for the salamander salve, however. The washbasin, thankfully, could be removed from the sink. He plugged it, filled it up with warm water, and took some foam from under the counter. It was old school, but it worked. He applied some of the foam which he hoped was applicable to shaving and carefully applied one of his knives as a razor. It was slow going but felt satisfying as he finally shaved the neck beard he had been cultivating, using the vanity mirror to see to himself.
Next was his hair, which was a more painful affair. Lacking scissors, he pretty much just pulled and hacked away until he looked presentable. He disposed with the water and hair in time for a very surprised bar mare to arrive with his meal. He smiled as he took the tray with the steaming lettuce, peas, apple slices, and what looked like fries but he honestly couldn't tell, they tasted strange but not unpleasantly so. Honestly, it looked beyond delicious, and to his immense joy, they had wine. He had no idea where they got all of this out here in the middle of fucking nowhere, but like hell if he was going to question it. He had given the barmare another coin as a tip. She protested but he insisted because of the excellent service. He requested not to be disturbed for the rest of the day and evening. She nodded and left him to his devices.
He devoured the meal before him with relish and drank the wine, clearing his plate and putting it over to the side. He then knelt down and said a quick prayer. Life… felt good, for the first time in what felt like years. He sat there and sank into the bed. Oh yeah, he couldn’t wait to lie down. He was going to sleep the fuck out of that bed. But he sat there, thinking. He really did feel good. Great even. He looked down at himself. He had finally lost that gut of his which had been haunting him since he was twelve. Sure, it came at the expense of intense labour, culture shock, terrifying experiences, and outright torture, but it was gone. He tensed his arms and felt the strength in them. It wasn’t much – he was a big guy with tremendous upper body strength anyway – but it felt good for the first time in his life.
And… he wasn’t worried… about anything. Back home he had worried about school, then university, then work. He worried about his health; he worried about his car repair bills, his home bills, his taxes. He worried about the state of his country, the state of the world. He worried about history and its legacy, he worried about the future and the horrors it hid. He pretended not to care, not to care about everything, to hide his fears and stress behind a mask of indifference, the same one everyone wore. It was necessary; it was how he survived beneath the crushing despair. At some point, he truly did stop caring. Now here he was, in the middle of nowhere, on another world, and he had no worries anymore. And that worried him.
He shook his head. He was overthinking this and needed some sleep. True, it wouldn’t be REM sleep – it never was anymore – so he wouldn’t get the full psychological benefit. Still, he’d take what he could get. He disrobed and crawled beneath the sheet, falling instantly asleep.
--=--
“Really, Sergeant, really?” Star Shimmer said. The two lunar guardsponies were making their way to the hospital in Spurbay. The Princess had sent them to investigate the incident with the mine. So far, they had spent about a week questioning the survivors about the usurpation by the diamond dogs. The stories differed wildly when they questioned anyone who was not actually there. All roads pointed in the direction of a small inn by the edge of town called the Shady Bough.
“You know our orders, Private,” Sergeant Onyx replied, trotting down the main street. The ponies generally parted to make way for the guardsponies. Clearly this was because they didn’t want to get in under the feet of royal business and had nothing to do with the two intimidating bat ponies with fangs, nope. A town guardpony saluted as the pair passed.
“Yes, but during the day?” Star Shimmer groaned. She was not fond of having to get up this early just because that was when most of the ponies in this town happened to be up and about. Really, so inconsiderate. Onyx smiled.
“You’ll get used to it. Just because we’re night guards doesn’t mean duty only begins with the rise of the moon,” he said. They had visited the inn and met with the friendly landlord and his son, the apparent saviour of the ponies in the mine. It was there they had finally gotten a good description of the two adventurers that had shown up to help liberate the mine, as the pair had stayed at the inn while they licked their wounds. Apparently, it was quite a tale, and the blue unicorn was apparently quite modest about his own part in the affair. His marefriend was having none of it, however, and practically gushed with praise.
It was a griffon and a… hoomun, was it? Yeah, that was it. It was those two who had organised the escape and the rebellion against the diamond dogs. They had gone to investigate the notice the town council had posted that attracted the pair in the first place. Apparently, they had had no idea that there were ponies trapped in the stolen mine, or more accurately, they didn’t care to check and figured hiring some mercenaries was the more economical decision than organising the town guard for a raid. Onyx had summarily used his authority to remove the mayor from his office and instate an interim executive for Spurbay until the towns ponies sorted their local government out, because this incompetence was going in his report, and it was in their best interest that the situation improved before he got word back to Canterlot.
Now with that out of the way, the two lunar ponies had discovered that the two adventurers had already left the town before they arrived. The last thing they needed to investigate before they could give their full report to her Highness was the time they had visited the hospital. Honestly, they didn’t know why Luna cared about this all that much. Sure, yeah, she was a princess, and the harmony of the land was her responsibility and everything. That was fine. But this was a rather small, local affair that sorted itself out. Why was she concerning herself with this? She had a country to run.
He sighed as they made their way into the hospital and began interviewing the medical staff. Apparently, the human was unlike anything they had ever seen before and they had only gotten the chance to do a minimal physical of the creature before he exited the hospital. As interesting as that was, Star Shimmer yawned, clearly bored. Onyx frowned at her unprofessional behaviour. Her tuft ears perked up as she sniffed the air.
“Hey, what’s that?” she asked, looking at a glass jar on a tray the head doctor had beside him.
“Oh, that’s a blood sample we took from the human. It’s the strangest thing. It has a ridiculously high iron content,” the doctor said. His eyes widened as he looked nervously at the two bat ponies. Star Shimmer was now looking curiously at the jar, her ears flicking from time to time. Onyx headed her off.
“Easy, we’ve had our fill for the week,” he said. They were ponies like any other, but their breed of pegasi had a peculiar curse about them that added to the already intimidating reputation they held. He looked over at the jar. He had to admit, it was tempting to have a sample himself. He wondered how it’d taste.
“Uh well…” the doctor said, clearly uncomfortable in the situation. “E-Even so, it’s the only sample we have, but we are more or less done with it.” His horn lit up as he gathered the copies of the report he had gathered on the human and the griffon’s medical status when they had arrived, lifting the jar as well. “This is everything we know about the pair.” He put the information in a small case and handed it to the night guard.
“Thank you for your co-operation. Private?”
“Sir!” Star Shimmer responded as the pair left the hospital, a clearly relieved doctor behind them.
--=--
“So uh—”
“No.”
“Oh come oooonnnn~” Star Shimmer whined. The pair of them were making good progress to Foalsdale, the next location the pair were seen headed. Honestly, he hoped the trail dried up there so he could just go home. “Just a taste, pleeeeaaaase?”
“No. Private, we’ve already had our weekly rations. Don’t be greedy. ‘Sides you heard the doctor. It’s full of iron – does that sound enticing to you?”
“Well, no, not really. But I could get past that. I’m just curious, come on. I know you are too…,” she said, shit-eating grin and all. Onyx looked at her hard before finally sighing.
“Fine, but not a word about this to anyone, do you understand?” He had to admit, his blood pace quickened at the thought. The pair made landfall as he reached into the bag to pull out the small jar. It was labelled ‘Handy’, along with a numerical tag and a species name: human. Huh, so that was how it was spelled. He withheld his urge to down the jar then and there as he uncapped the lid. Star Shimmer, however, did not.
“Yoink!” she said, taking the open jar from her superior.
“Hey!” Onyx complained.
“Oh relax, I’ll only take a bit,” she replied. “Besides…” She sniffed the blood and savoured the flavour. It was a bit stale, but the medical magic the hospital used to keep its samples fresh prevented it from decay and minimised congelation. She exhaled, excited despite herself. It had been so long since any of them had real blood to drink. “What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked, putting the jar to her lips as she drank.
--=--
Handy sneezed.
“Uggghhhh…” He groaned as he tossed in his bed covers. How long had he been asleep? It was day outside. What little light that poured in from behind the heavy curtains caught dust mites in the air as they danced. He really didn’t want to get up, but as he turned, he heard his shoulder pop. Bad sign – he’d been lying in that exact position all night… and day apparently. What time was it? He decided he didn’t care as he shifted his weight and stretched.
He gave a guttural sigh as he pushed himself up from the bed. It was warm, which was to be expected really, but for once he didn’t mind. He was out of the sun, and his pale skin could finally relax. He did his morning ablutions before putting his clothes on. His boots were ragged and torn in places but still mostly functional. His robe had seen better days, and his jeans were practically falling apart. Figured – he was going to need to visit a tailor to get himself properly sorted out.
Then a thought hit him. What was he doing? He looked around his room and saw the silvered war hammer lying on the vanity, the bags bulging with gold that was apparently much more valuable than the average pony bit, and chewed the inside of his mouth. He was an adventurer right? That was what he was now, right? He considered the fact that he had killed an undead, magical dragon. There was… no real way he could come back from that. The experience, the rush, the thrill. Pain and anguish too, sure, but damn, was the payoff worth it, and he wasn’t talking about the gold.
You couldn’t go back from that… You just… couldn’t. Or Handy couldn’t at least. Was that not what he wanted, in truth? Glory, honour, fame, riches, prestige, and power? Wasn’t that what adventurers sought? Wasn’t that why he had bought into all those power fantasies when he was younger? As much as he hated the land he was in, he had to admit that he was actually having the time of his life. Which was odd when one thought about it. One often read stories about someone wishing to go on a great adventure, meet hardship, regret their decision and desire to just go back home and start a farm or some nonsense like that at the end of it.
Nope, this was exactly what Handy wanted. It just was never an option back home, and he only realised it now, standing there, in a town filled with sapient dogs and magical ponies. He tugged at his robe. He was going to need something better than this. Something stronger. He smiled as he eyed the war hammer. Well, he had his character built up – time to commit. But first, he needed to know what he had to work with.
Handy picked up one of his packs and exited the room, locking it behind him.
“Oh!” a voice said, startled. Handy turned. It was the barmare from the other day. “My goodness, Ah was jus’ going to check up on you. You’ve been in there a mighty long time…,” she said. Handy raised an eyebrow before chuckling softly.
“My sincerest apologies for causing you concern, my good lady, but I was rather exhausted from my travels. Prithee, how long was I asleep?” he asked.
“Around twenty hours,” she said, looking Handy over, concerned. Handy blinked. Well shit, he really must have been tired.
“Ó diabhal,” Handy blurted before thinking. The mare started a bit at the sound he made. Handy shook his head. “I beg thy forgiveness,” he said softly. “I was merely taken by surprise. I did not realise I had been abed for such a long time. Here, take this. I believe I shall be staying for another night.” He reached into a pocket, slightly embarrassed that his gaeltacht years had punched their way through his consciousness. The mare shook her head.
“Ohnononono! You’ve paid quite enough to stay for another couple days, sir!” Handy reasoned she must be talking about the coin he had given her as a tip the other night. What was wrong with these ponies? Didn’t anyone here like money? Perhaps she didn’t want to seem to be taking advantage of a rich patron, which he supposed made sense. Still, never say no to free money, or so he thought.
“Very well,” Handy relented. “However, I am in need of a few errands that need fulfilling today. Does this town possess a… blacksmith, perchance?”
“Oh! Yes, you’ll want Heat Source’s metals. Her shop is down the road from here, past the market stalls.”
“My thanks, good lady. I shalt make my way there imminently.” He nodded his thanks as he walked past the mare and down the stairs. Yep, still plenty of people… ponies rather, down here. Dogs too. He had been meaning to ask about that. The first dogs he met had basically enslaved innocent ponies, yet here these dogs were, sitting, eating, drinking, and chatting away with ponies. Either he was just racist, or the ponies were really inconsistent with how they viewed their relationship with other races. The dogs seemed civilized enough; still brutish looking though. The conversation promptly died when Handy walked down the stairs as people turned to look at him.
'Oh great,' he thought, 'just what I need to get the day started'. The dogs were giving him curious looks. He shifted his weight, purposefully moving the war hammer held by his waist using his belt so that it would clink. Several eyes looked down at it, and the dogs took the hint. The ponies still held those curious looks in their eyes, studying him openly. He sighed. It was just like Spurbay after the mine incident. Just what had the pony grapevine been saying about him? Perhaps he was some god king visiting the land ready to whisk away some lucky lady into a life of happiness and luxury, perhaps a sky pirate who lost his ship and was using his ill-gotten gains to gain a crew and retake his airship, or better yet, he was a mysterious traveling wizard, searching for the chosen one to guide him on a grand adventure. Honestly, the things he heard in Spurbay were pretty out there. Nothing they thought of him could surprise him at this point.
“Excuse me.”
Handy looked down. There was a small colt at his feet looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes. He was an adorable little white ball of fluff and d’aww like they all were. Handy, however, had a heart of stone and was unaffected by such cuteness. However, that proved no protection to the next thing the foal said.
“Are you the one who killed the dragon and saved the changelings?”
Holy fuck. Handy’s eyes widened. There was a general murmur in the tavern. Everyone was listening attentively now. Shit. “Aha, and where did you hear that, young lad?” he asked, a faltering smile on his face. He really didn’t want this attention. How in the hell did they get that out of the stir he caused yesterday? He had never breathed a word about where he had come from when True Shot found him.
“There was a huge swarm of changeling’s flying through the sky last night!” the foal said, smiling and stretching his hooves in the air for emphasis. “Daddy and his friends caught a few saying how a great mercenary called the Heartless saved their city from a big scary dragon! All bones and fire the lizard was, and that they were returning home now that it was safe.” The foal pointed at the hammer at Handy’s waist. “They said that the Heartless saved them with a big, silver hammer just like that! So are you him, huh?” He leaned up, hope in his eyes.
Handy began to seriously reconsider his attitude to letting children inside bars. The chatter had died down as all eyes were on him. The griffons from the previous night were skulking about in a dark corner, eyeing him curiously, judging almost. The worst were the dogs, ears perked up and all of them staring daggers at the human. The barmare and her husband were behind the counter. She was whispering something to her partner. He ground his teeth – he didn’t want this attention, for it was only going to cause more trouble than it was worth. However, he could see no way out of it.
He let out a breath and looked down at the small child with a warm smile. “Yes,” he said at last, “I am the one who helped the changelings. I am Handy the Heartless, the Pale One, and I killed the undead dragon of Lepidopolis.” And with that, the room exploded. Between the shouts of fear and the shouts of joy, he could tell no difference. All he knew was that over a dozen arguments erupted at once as growling came from the dogs. A meaty paw slapped down on a table.
“I knew it!” a brown dog shouted. “I knew I smelt a changeling, you smell just like their Queen!” That elicited dark chuckles from the other dogs. Several ponies were snickering at the outburst. Handy was confused but assumed it was an accusation of some sort that he’d rather not have associated with him. He let out a long, low growl of anger. Who was this dog to judge him?
“What you smell is her fear,” Handy said, dropping his noble airs. That quickly got peoples’ attention. “And likely this.” He reached below his robe and pulled out the pendant he wore about his neck. He had forgotten that dogs had a really good sense of smell, but he was rather alarmed they could smell changeling on him despite having thoroughly washed. Perhaps there was pod gunk in his pores. “Tell me, dog, do you know why the Queen and her changelings refer to me as Handy the Heartless?” The inn had gone quiet. The foal at his feet was staring up at him, unsure of whether or not he should still be there. He looked down at the foal and gave him a reassuring smile. He walked down the centre of the bar floor towards the door. Ponies quickly got out of his way.
“It is because they cannot feed from me,” he said almost jovially as he reached the doorway. “Not even their Queen can suck so much as a morsel from my heart, and their magicks have no hold over me.” He fibbed the last bit, but hey, why not, right? He stopped before the door. “So I terrify them as a result. Knowing they could not take from me the help they sought, they paid me.” He placed the pendant back under his robe and took one last look around the saloon. “This pendant is the Queen’s own favour for my service.” Which he stole, but you know, details details. He looked back at the dog who had shouted at him. It didn’t look so cocky anymore. “That is why I smell like the Queen. Care to challenge me further, mutt? I put down an undying dragon. Do you think I would tolerate any nonsense from you?” His eyes narrowed.
“I… Pawson will shut up now…,” the dog said, sitting back down.
“See that he does.” His eyes flicked from dog to dog. They didn’t all cower, but they no longer had the challenging malice in their eyes they had a minute ago. That was gratifying. He looked over to the other denizens of the saloon. The ponies had gotten back to their whispering, and their reactions to his words were mixed. The barmare and her husband just stared at Handy. He was unsure of what they were feeling, but he sincerely hoped it didn’t result in him getting evicted from his room. The griffons had gone back to talking and got up to go out the back way. Well, he was sure nothing bad would come of that. He smiled warmly at the gathered patrons as he shifted the weight on his shoulders.
“Come now, friends,” he began, “I mean none of you any harm. There is no cause for your concern. However, if it please you so, I will leave your humble town in due time so that I do not cause you further distress.” That managed to make a few of the ponies look down sadly. Ah, shame, such a useful tool. These ponies were so affected by it if used properly. He needed to thank Welcome Sight for teaching him that one. “But first I have errands to run. I bid you all good day.”
--=--
So it turned out Handy entirely misjudged the effect his little spiel had on the town’s ponies.
“–And then maybe you’ll go on and save a kingdom from destruction and rescue the royal family!”
Almost as soon as he left to go about his business, ponies had pretty much bolted from their seats after him and pummelled him with questions.
“Where are you from?”
“Do you really not have a heart?”
“What was it like with the changelings? Weren’t you scared?”
“Why do you wear so much clothing?”
“Can I hold your hammer?”
“Is it true you’re Chrysalis’ bed warmer?”
“I heard you secretly have four arms but keep them hidden under your robes. Well, do you?”
“Handy, if that even is your real name, how do we know YOU aren’t a changeling. Huh? HUH!?”
“Hey, can you perform at my daughter’s birthday party?”
“How do you not fall over more often?”
Most of these he could fob off or give his standards answers to. The rest, well, fuck the pony grapevine. That shit was whack yo. Eventually, he lost most of the curious ponies. Well, bar one.
“Oh oh, what are you going to do for your next adventure!? Maybe go down to the southern islands and wrestle the sea serpents! Oh oh! I know…!”
It was the same kid from the saloon, and he was irritating the fuck out of the human. He had half a mind to punt the little bastard as he went from stall to stall, idly observing the various wares and doing his best to ignore the runt, hoping he’d go away. No such luck. The ponies he ran into had various reactions. Some were clearly putting on very fake smiles and hoping he’d move on, others were excited to see him, and still others pretty much made some excuse for why their stall wasn’t open when Handy just so happened to walk by. He didn’t mind – he was just killing time and hoping the kid would leave.
He came across a rather ramshackle-looking stall run by a small diamond dog. She looked downtrodden, and her wares were basically baskets full of some kind of dull, brittle looking gemstones. Really, they had cracks on them and everything. How did she even get them out of the ground without breaking them? “Good day,” he said. The dog looked up at him and seemed to shrink. Good, he wasn’t in the mood for uppity canines. “Pray tell, what have we here?”
“–And then and then *gasp* maybe you could go and fight a minotaur!”
He resisted the urge to shout at the little bastard, focusing instead on the dog and her bunch of useless gems.
“G-G-Grilina dig up gems herself, northern mine, abandoned pit. Good gems! Valuable! Promise!”
“Uh-huh,” Handy mused. The dog was clearly lying. These things didn’t look valuable at all. Pinkish red, chipped, cracked, dull, useless. He had a fair idea this was why that pit was abandoned if this desperate-looking dog was the only one digging there. They were fairly big. The kid was still yammering away when Handy got an idea. “How much for all of them?” he asked. The dog looked up.
“A-A-A-A, really? I, uh, I mean, I could maybe part with them for, uh, a h-hundr—”
“Yeah sure, whatever,” Handy said, dropping a small sack of fifty gold coins. If he was right about the worth of the coins in comparison to Equestrian bits, he might as well have bought her a car. The dog looked at the coins and had a reaction similar to the barmare. Handy swore she was about to hyperventilate. “I’ll be needing a large sack.” The dog quickly handed Handy a large sack before falling over, fainting. Handy shrugged and started dumping the baskets of jewels into the sack. He heard quite a few of them shatter and break. Oh well, it wasn’t the gems he wanted, it was the weight. “Hey, kid.”
“Yes, mister Handy?” The kid looked up, hero worship in his eyes. Handy almost felt bad about this.
Almost.
“I have a quest for you.” The foal gasped. “Yes, that’s right. What I have here is a bag of special gems.” He tied the top of the bag into a knot and handed it over to the excited colt, who took it reverently. “They’re magic, and I have chosen you, yes you, to look after them. When the time is right, I trust you will know what to do with them. It may mean the fate of Equestria one day.” The kid was practically shaking with giddiness and excitement. Handy found himself smiling despite his cruelty. “I have foreseen great potential in you… you uhhh…”
“Grave Danger!” the foal said happily. Handy blinked rapidly.
“Yes, Grave Danger!” ‘Grave Danger? Really? That’s like calling your kid ‘Unforeseen Consequences’ or ‘Mistake’. Great going, pony mom and dad!’ He snickered internally. “I do not know exactly what the future holds in store for you, but I entrust these to you. For I know you will be careful enough to not crack a single precious gem. Am I right?” he challenged, eyes narrowed.
“Oh yes! Oh yes! I won’t let you down! I-I’ll take good care of them, I promise!” The kid saluted as he took the bag in his mouth. Handy smiled.
“Good, that’s good.” Handy stood up and walked off. Grave Danger made to follow him but faceplanted as the bag was too heavy to be moved easily. He looked at the bag as one of the crystals audibly cracked, and he sheepishly looked at the back of Handy, who pretended not to hear. Handy tried very hard not to laugh.
--=--
A small bell rang in the shop of Heat Source’s forge. She put down the tongs she had been holding in her mouth and wiped the sweat from her brow, wiping her hooves on her heat-resistant apron. She was a unicorn but tried her best to minimise the use of her magic. The faded green pony with white hair emerged from the back, as Handy had his senses assaulted by the acrid smell and the intolerable heat of the forge.
The small pony looked up and smiled brightly. “Howdy! My yer a big ‘un. You wouldn’t happen to be the feller True Shot was talking about.”
“True Shot? You mean the kindly stallion who led me to this fair town?” Handy asked, readopting his airs. Heat Source nodded.
“Ah do indeed. Heh, he’s my brother. Came in here right quick, panting like a dog and babbling about suddenly making an awful lot of bits acause a ya.” Handy nodded. He remembered paying the pony quite a few coins, thinking they were ordinary bits. Hmm, that was something to be concerned about, being so generous with an awful lot of money. Just as well he played up his ‘dragon slayer’ reputation a tad, otherwise he’d probably be mugged by now. Handy slung the pack from his shoulder with a grunt.
“He’s a kindly soul. Prithee, I was told I could come here and make request of your metal smithing. Was I informed correctly?” Heat Source’s face lit up. “I would request what might seem to be a rather large commission.”
“Ah hay, I can put hammer to metal for any ol’ thing you’d like! A generous feller like yerself need only ask!” she replied. Handy was pleased.
“I require a suit of armour, finest steel you can place together,” he said. Heat Source scrunched up her muzzle and tapped her hoof to her chin, eyeing Handy speculatively. “Including a helmet and shield if you would please. I will pay extra for padding as well, if it is at all possible.”
“I dunno, yer a strange one to make for. I’ve made armour for dogs and guards before, so I have some experience for a breastplate.” Handy shook his head.
“I’ll be needing more than a breastplate, I am afraid. I’ll require a full cuirass, breastplate, and placcate. Pouldrons, vambraces too,” he said, slapping his shoulder, elbow and forearm, “as well as a pair of gauntlets, if you would be so kind.” He showed her his two hands. “Greaves would also be good, to cover my lower body. I would also require a gorget and mail hauberk. I get into a lot of scraps and would rather not have to suffer so many injuries.” The unicorn had magicked a scroll and quill and began scribbling furiously. She pulled a pair of glasses from somewhere, which amused him. Her muzzle was scrunched up still as she scanned her papers again. He spied her cutie mark, a pair of black tongs crossing over a black hammer over a roaring flame. That was a good omen.
“Ah dunno, sir, this is an awful lot of work. How long will you be in town fer?” she asked, concerned.
“As long as necessary, I currently don’t have anywhere to be,” She still looked unsure. “I can pay whatever price you require.” She looked dubious as she looked at the state of his clothes. Well, he supposed he could not fault her for that, so he pulled out one of his super coins and placed it on the counter. “I know that won’t cover it, even though it is a lot,” he said, cutting her off before she could give a surprised yelp when she studied the coin. He really needed to sit somepony down and get them to tell him exactly how rich he was so he could figure out exactly how much swag he was currently throwing around. He pulled up his pack bag and opened it, revealing the treasure inside that it was practically brimming with. Heat Source’s jaw dropped. “But there is a lot more where it came from.”
After that, she was all business. He spent the next few hours being measured and passing time with idle chat with the mare, who scribbled notes furiously as she drew up designs. She was good company, and he didn’t mind her accent. Not as if he had any right to complain if he didn't, even though he deliberately kept up his own accent-less English, further disguised by the airs he had put on. It was kind of hard to keep a good brogue down. She had particular trouble with his hands, spending two hours alone trying to get their intricacies down. She practically sighed with relief when he informed her simple armoured boots would be enough for his feet. They did not require the articulation of his hands.
She occasionally stopped and rushed off to ‘put some irons on the fire’, evidently getting excited over the project and putting her all into it. He chuckled – he didn’t understand cutie marks, but he knew enough that a pony’s cutie mark had something to do with their special talent, what they truly excel at. Blacksmithing was apparently Heat Source’s passion. He considered the implications of that, wondering what would happen if a pony grew up dreaming of becoming an astronaut to such an extent that it was all he or she thought of, only to get a cutie mark of a filing cabinet.
His thoughts were disturbed by a commotion outside. He heard yelling and the yelp of a few dogs. He ignored it, not being his concern. Heat Source trotted back in. “Ah think I got all I need. You mind if you pay now? I’d like to get to work without any worries.” He saw the shimmer in her eyes and noted it. It was like the shimmer he saw in Welcome’s eyes all those weeks ago. What was that?
“But of course, good lady Source,” he said, smiling genially.
“Ah shucks, none of tha’ fancy talk.” She said chuckling. She gave a rough estimate and Handy forked over nearly two hundred and fifty coins, thinking it'd be enough to cover the price she gave him in bits. He got seventy five back, being told by her that he had given more than enough to profit from. He staggered, because the price in bits she had quoted was substantial.
“IT’S TOO LATE! YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE!” a booming voice declared outside.
“I just need more time! It’s close, I swear!” a feminine voice responded, sounding desperate. Heat Source frowned at that.
“Now just what the hay is going on out there…,” she muttered. Handy shrugged.
“Probably someone forgot to pay back a loan or some nonsense like that,” he reasoned.
“Hey you!” he heard a small voice shout. It sounded familiar, and he quickly tried to get Heat’s attention to draw his own thoughts away from the matter.
“You were saying about how long it’d take?” he asked. Heat turned back to him.
“Oh! Yes, actually turns out it’ll take a lot less time than I initially—”
“AND WHERE IS THIS DRAGON SLAYER, LITTLE PONY!?”
Oh God no. Handy rubbed his forehead.
“He’s here! You just watch; I’ll go get him, you big bully!”
He swore to God that if it was that little— The door to the forge burst open, and an exasperated little foal trotted in. Yep, it was Grave Danger. “Mister Handy sir! Please come quick!” Handy sighed audibly.
“What is it, Grave?” Heat Source looked between the foal and Handy.
“Please you have to help! He’s hurting ponies!” Oh goody, as if he cared.
“Who’s hurting ponies?!” Heat Source asked angrily, snorting. “Just let me get my heated tongs and Ah’ll show him what for!”
“It’s Hectoir,” Grave said, worry in his eyes. Heat visibly deflated. That wasn’t good.
“Hectoir?” Handy asked. Grave shook his head vigorously.
“He’s been terrorizing this town for ages. Always comes into town and does what he want, and nopony will stand up to him.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Handy stated, considering the rather cold looks the townsfolk had given him when he first arrived here.
“But you can stop him!” Grave exclaimed, face full of hope as he pointed to Handy.
“Me?”
“Yeah! You saved the changelings from a dragon! You can help us!”
“Changelings!?” Heat said, looking at Handy incredulously. “Dragon!?” Fuck, okay, next town, he should try NOT to boast about being a dragon slayer. It bit him in the arse faster than he thought it would.
“Well… It was only a little one…,” Handy tried to protest.
“WELL!? I’M WAITING!” the voice of doom boomed. Handy rubbed his temples, tapping his foot on the ground. God, what had he gotten himself into now? Sighing, he stood up and slipped his war hammer out of the belt loop he had fashioned. Welp, he got himself into this mess, so it was up to him to get himself out. From the sound of it, it was probably an uppity diamond dog alpha. He knew how to handle dogs.
“Fine.” He turned to Heat Source. “Now, Lady Source, I feel you now have some idea as to why I made such a heavy request of you. If you would ever be so kind, please, can I entrust you to look after my pack?” He looked down into her eyes, and she nodded slowly. “Magnificent. Alright, little man, show me to this ruffian,” he said with finality, showing more confidence than he honestly felt as he followed the colt outside.
It was not a diamond dog.
It was a towering wall of muscle.
On two hooves.
With two horns.
And a goddamn man-killer battle axe in one meaty fist.
The armoured red minotaur shuddered with deep, rumbling laughter. Handy gulped. Okay, between the dog’s machine of doom and the dragon, this guy wasn’t as world-endingly massive and terrifying, but he was easily the first proper fight he had ever gone up against, not counting the ponies in the forest of course. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this.
“THIS IS THE DRAGON SLAYER? THIS, THIS… WHATEVER IT IS?” The metal bound brute laughed again. It only possessed a breastplate and helmet, but the accompanying horns rounded off the ‘I’m an obvious bad guy’ image he was going for. The chains about his wrists were entirely unnecessary. Actually, now that Handy thought about it, he was ridiculously, almost comically villainous. For God’s sakes, he had red eyes and everything. Handy snorted with withheld laughter.
The bull-man snorted angrily. “AND JUST WHAT IS SO FUNNY!?” it demanded. Handy looked up and realised his mistake. He was outside the forge. The minotaur was across the dusty street from him, the townsfolk having given the minotaur a wide berth and even now were backing away with embarrassing speed from the human. ‘Well fuck you guys too,’ he thought derisively. He tried very hard to not shake visibly. This was going to be bad.
Looking at the minotaur, he only just noticed the red unicorn clasped helplessly in its other hand, black cloak hanging from her. Wasn’t that the mare from the wagon? “My sincerest apologies,” his mouth ran off before his mind caught up with it, “I just fail to take someone such as yourself seriously.” Okay, he could admit he was still running on the power trip he felt from putting those dogs down in the saloon, and it was admittedly rather exciting to trash talk a living myth. The minotaur started.
“WHAT WAS THAT, SHRIMP!?”
“I said, I don’t take you seriously, cow.” He could see his red face getting redder in anger… if that was even possible beneath the fur.
“AND JUST WHY NOT!?” he demanded. The red mare in his hand whimpered, and Handy noticed the bull’s hand had closed about her tighter.
“Because… you are clearly a coward.”
“What!?”
“Oh yeah, I mean, look at yourself,” Handy said, gesturing with his free hand. Okay, it was official, he had no idea what he was doing. The rational part of his mind was ringing alarm bells. Sorry reason, Handy was not at home today. He was currently out partying with testosterone and machismo and would probably wind up dead. Please leave a message after the beep. “Huge ass axe, chains about your wrists, ohhhhh intimidating. I mean, your horns, you painted the tip of them red! What? Too much of a bitch to actually kill someone to stain them with real blood?” he challenged.
The bull was so incandescent with rage, he couldn’t even speak. Handy pushed on. Avoiding this fight was out of the question – the bull was angry, so he needed to think of something fast to keep up with the cheques his mouth was busy writing for him. “You stroll into an isolated town struggling to make its way in the world where you tower over everyone. From what I hear, you’re something of a big shot, am I right?” Handy asked, now idly strolling with arrogant swagger around the edge of the circle the townsfolk had left them. ‘God, I hope future me knows what I am doing because I sure as hell don’t know now.’
“YES, LITTLE PEST! IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU, YOU’D SHOW ME PROPER RESPECT!” the minotaur shouted, gesturing with his battle axe.
“And the shouting. Tut, you’ll run your vocal chords ragged like that. But no, all of this I could forgive and overlook. You’re your own man; you can dress up however you like now that mother’s disapproving gaze isn’t just over your shoulder.” He got a few snickers from that. The bull snorted as he gave the surrounding crowd a death glare, shutting them up good and proper. “But I call you coward because only a coward abuses and bullies a woman,” he said, knowing full well the irony of his statement. He stood by it nonetheless, for he honestly believed it. “Does it make you feel big? Strong? Powerful? Picking on a girl not even a quarter your size? Put her down and fight someone who’s at least stupid enough to stand up to you. Or are you going to confirm my words by running away from a fight?”
That tore it. The minotaur roared and flung the mare from his grip. Handy was concerned for her safety, but some kindly pegasi in the crowd caught her in the air. The minotaur roared, gripping his battle axe in two hands and charging at the human, axe raised overhead.
‘Hey, Past Handy? It’s me, your buddy, Future Handy. Not to be a raging dick or anything, but what the flying fuck did you get me into? Oh God.’ Handy had gripped his war hammer by the head, lining its heft up with his arm. He let his grip loosen on the head until it slipped down his fist, stopping its descent by clasping his fist around the lower part of the haft. The bull was upon him now, and the axe descended. ‘God be with me, this is insane.’
He swung with all his might. Not aiming at the bull, he strained with the weight of the hammer being swung one-handed. The hammer struck the blade of the axe and sent it off course, coming down to Handy’s left and lodging into the ground. Handy staggered from the blow, his arm shaking from the impact. The bull staggered forward, surprised at the sudden closeness between him and the human. Handy panicked and swung with his left fist, impacting on the cheek guard of the minotaur’s helm. Handy felt a finger break and y as he staggered back and struggled to pull his hammer in a two-handed grip.
The minotaur shook his head. Handy had done little more than cause his ears to ring. The bull shook with anger and stomped his hoof, creating small droves in the ground as he hefted his axe back into his grip, ripping it from the ground. He snorted and lowered his head, charging straight at Handy. The human panicked and stepped to the side, swinging his hammer around, desperately hoping to do something to the bull. The hammer caught the back of the rushing bull’s armoured head. The bull went down, his horns digging into the ground as he failed to stop his body before momentum broke one of his horns off. The bull screamed in pain. Handy stumbled back, falling on his arse. He struggled to get up. The bull reared up suddenly, swinging his great battle axe around in a wide arc, the flat of the blades catching Handy bodily. He was flung from his feet and sent sprawling into a nearby building, crashing through a window.
Handy landed hard on something wooden. It broke beneath his weight. He heard pony screams and felt dust settle on him. He was in a sundry store and in great pain. Something was broken, but he had no idea what. He just knew the pain.
“IS THAT IT, RUNT!? WHERE’S YOUR TOUGH TALK NOW!?” he heard the bull shout from outside. He opened his eyes. He saw the broken window before him and looked out, seeing the cloudless sky, felt the heat of the day, heard the cruel mockery of the tyrant in the street, and the red descended across his vision one more time.
A hand clasped about a door handle and tried to force it open. Then a boot crashed through the door handle, sending the door flying. Handy walked out the front of the sundry store, bloodied and bruised but not beaten. “AHAHA! I SEE YOU’RE STILL STANDING! WELL!? COME ON THEN, DRAGON SLAYER.”
“I will rip off your head and shit down your neck,” Handy said, his voice calm and quiet, but heard loud and clear all the same. The bull chuckled.
“OHHH, I GUESS I BETTER WATCH OUT. NOW I GONE AND GOT YOU ALL MAD.”
“I don’t think you understand how good your meat tastes when it is cooked medium to well,” Handy said. The bull looked at him confusedly.
“WHAT?”
“Did I stutter?” Handy said. “I said I am going to fucking eat you.” Handy took a step forward, snarling, blood running over his teeth from his nose. “I am going to cleave that head from your shoulders and mount your skull above my doorway. I will ground your bones to dust and drink it with my tea. Your meat which I don’t find satisfying shall be tenderised and made into mince to be sold as chicken feed. Your hooves shall be broken down and made into adhesive to repair the shoes I walk upon, and your skin will be made into my new belt.” He kept walking threateningly towards the bull, who just looked at the human stunned for a moment before he burst out laughing.
“BIG WORDS, LITTLE BOY. LET’S SEE YOU BACK THEM UP!” he said, running forward and swinging his axe in a horizontal arc. It was a conservative swing, not overreaching. Handy ducked backwards to avoid it and ducked again over to the side to avoid the backwards swing. The ponies and dogs of Pawstown were now panicking and giving a wider space to the battling mammals. The sundry store owners had fled the building, all of them looking on as the pair dived and weaved between each other’s blows. For his part, Handy managed to get a few swings in, his arms getting tired from the effort. Unfortunately, the blows were light and hit at bad angles. The bull had incredible stamina and didn’t tire from swinging his battle axe. More than once, Handy came to a hair’s breadth of death.
The axe swung and caught Handy. Its blade cut a long, bloody scar from his hip up to his chest. It wasn’t deep, but it hurt like a motherfucker, and Handy was now losing quite a bit of blood. Handy fell to the ground in pain, but his adrenaline-fuelled mind forced him back up to his feet, only getting to his knees before having to roll to avoid another blow from the axe, which crashed into the ground. He turned as the minotaur struggled to pull the axe from the ground. This was Handy’s chance.
With an inarticulate roar, he rose to his feet and swung the hammer around in a wide arc and brought it down on the haft of the battle axe, which was made from wood. The haft broke under his attack, and the minotaur staggered back. No longer anything to resist his pulling strength, the creature struggled for balance, but Handy did not give him the chance. From his position, he swung his hammer wide and low in a one handed arc, catching the cloven-hoofed creature at the knee, causing him to lose his footing.
The creature snarled in surprise as he crashed back down on the ground. He struggled to rise up on his elbows, but Handy, in a frenzy, was already upon him and swung his hammer around one more time. It connected with the beast’s helmet in a sickening crumpled sound. He deformed the metal armour as the bull fell back on the ground, groaning. He struggled again to get back up, but his movements were slowed. Handy roared, bringing his hammer back up and down on the creature’s armoured chest. He did it again, and again, and again, eventually hearing something crack beneath the abused metal of the breastplate.
The bull stopped moving, his ragged breath coming in short, shuddering bursts. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon. Handy raised his hammer for one last killing blow before it fell from his hands and he staggered back, falling on his backside in exhaustion. His breathing was ragged, and he felt incredibly warm, his face flush with blood from the effort. He put his hand to his chest, not fully feeling the pain as his mind calmed down and the red mist fell from his vision. He was still on an adrenaline rush, which meant as soon as he calmed down fully, he was going to start hurting like a sumbitch. He could only hear a dull ringing noise in his ears and he was only peripherally aware of the crowd that was slowly gathering around him, his eyes on the fallen minotaur, hardly believing that he actually won that.
Oh wait no, there was the pain, yep, he busted a rib, great. Something else too in his upper right leg. He wasn’t sure what, though. Oh God, he could feel the cut; oh God that was a lot of blood. Oh Go—
--=--
He woke up in his room at the saloon. His hammer lay on the vanity directly across from him. He was propped up against a rather unnecessary amount of pillows, but he wasn’t going to complain. Strange, he didn’t feel sore— Ahhhhh, there we go. Pain, old friend! There you are! It’s been so long, you never call, you never write. No wait, you’re here all the time, like a college friend turned bum currently couch surfing in the spare room and refusing to get the fuck out.
Handy gingerly pulled the blankets off of him. His upper body was exposed and covered in bandages. Okay, the cut was bad, but this was ridiculous. The cut… The bull. Oh! The fight! He remembered now. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and very carefully got out. He winced – his right leg was stiff, and he saw more bandages there. Ah well, looked like they were considerate enough to look after that for him. He did not much care for the fact they had removed his jeans, but he could hardly blame them. It was in his best interests after all. Speaking of, he could no longer find his jeans. He found his robe, socks and boots, however, as well as his shirt. It would have to do for now.
He unlocked his door and exited it. Walking down the corridor, he heard a lot of noise coming from downstairs. He crested the top of the stairs and saw the saloon floor was quite packed. Looking out the windows, he noted that it was night. He must’ve been out for a bit. A cheer rang up from the saloon floor as ponies and dogs started to notice him. Well… that was a welcome turn of events. You’d think after his little threat to murder and eat the minotaur, they might be a little more cautious around him.
He shrugged and descended the steps slowly. The people were evidently deep in their cups as the place was full of songs sung badly and music somewhere was being played. “Oh, sir, you’re up!” The barmare Handy never bothered to learn the name of spoke. He turned to see her trotting over, a tray in her mouth with foaming tankards. She nudged the tray closer to him, and he took a tankard gratefully. The ring on its side was unnecessarily big, but considering it was supposed to fit pony hooves, he guessed it made sense.
“Thank you. Is everyone alright?” Handy asked, taking a sip from the beer so as to not appear rude.
“Oh yes!” she said she beamed. “Nopony thought they’d ever see the day someone put old Hectoir in his place!” Handy took another drink. Mmmm, sweet. What was this?
“Where is the old bull? I hope I did not kill the brute.” ‘That’d be too merciful. I hope he suffers.’ The mare smiled up at him.
“Oh he’s in jail. The sheriff is going to contact the guard to get him transported to a bigger prison. He won’t be bothering nopony for a long time, especially since he has yet to heal.” Handy chuckled. He raised his tankard again as he let out a shuddering breath. That was close. What the hell was he thinking? He spotted a cloaked pony make its way through the crowd. The unicorn pulled her hood down, looking up at the human with a frown.
“Oh, hello there,” Handy said ‘You’re welcome for the save by the way. I hope you make it worth my while, but you won’t because apparently I made the fool mistake of accepting a job before getting paid.’ The pony studied the human before speaking.
“Thanks…,” she said. Her brow furrowed for a moment before the brown-maned mare looked down and walked off.
“Well… Pony of few words that one,” Handy remarked. He then suddenly remembered he hadleft a rather substantial amount of gold with Heat Source and he should probably look into that. However, he was stopped mid-rumination by a tap on the shoulder. He turned and looked into the face of a brown-feathered eagle head. One of the griffons from earlier.
“Excuse me, Sir Handy?” the griffon asked. Its fellow was near the front, watching the pair of them.
“Yes?” Handy said wearily. Please, just leave him be. He was tired and had to find his money before something hilarious happened to it.
“You are Handy the Heartless, correct? The human from Milesia?” the avian asked. Handy chuckled.
“Do you see any other humans around? Besides, you heard me earlier. I saw thee and your friend in the corner this afternoon,” Handy pointed out. The griffon coughed.
“Yes, quite,” the bird recovered. “I just had to make sure, but anyway, as to why I am approaching you now, I represent a wealthy benefactor in the Griffon kingdom, and I was hoping you’d be willing to accept a job offer,” the bird stated, puffing out his chest. Evidently this bird thought highly of himself. Handy considered it. After all he had said and done today, what was he going to do? Say no?
“I’m listening,” Handy said.
--=--
The hooded pony made her way to the edge of town, the darkness of night cloaking her. Sure, she stuck out like a sore thumb in the moonlight, but so long as nopony was looking, and she was sure they weren’t, it would be alright. She trotted up over a small hill and behind a few rocks. Making a few final checks that she was alone, she pulled out her book and flipped the pages. What she was attempting was old, strange magic as she carved out a complex circular pattern in the sand before her according to the designs she saw in the book.
She muttered something in a harsh sounding language, a strange thing to hear coming from pony lips. Without a sound, and without any flash of magical energy, the dust at her hooves converged at a central point and rose into the air in a spiralling horn of dirt before coalescing in a floating orb of dust and sand granules.
The ball of dust warped and took the form of a nondescript pony head, lacking a mane or any distinguishing features of any kind. It was a primitive form of communication, but it was secure and it worked.
“Mistress.” She bowed her head. The disembodied pony head moved as the sand granules displaced and relocated themselves, as if its mouth were moving. The interior granules vibrated in complex frequencies, mimicking the sounds of words. It was not true speech, but a convincing imitation.
“You are bold to contact me like this. Surely you must know I paid that brute of a minotaur to stop you in your foolish quest,” the head responded.
“I understand your intentions, Mistress,” the contrite pony acknowledged, looking at the ground hard. She kept her thoughts to herself, for she had an opportunity to get back into her good graces here. “But Hectoir was defeated.” The sand pony made a surprised sound.
“YOU defeated the minotaur?” the sand pony scoffed. “Hardly.”
“It is as you say, Mistress. I did not defeat the minotaur. Somepony else did,” she said.
“And you are telling me this… why? Surely you understand we hired the brute because we are displeased a resource such as yourself was wasting her time out here chasing a lost cause.”
“It was the lost cause that defeated Hectoir,” the pony said. The sand pony was silent for a time.
“What exactly are you trying to tell me Crimson?” the sand pony asked. The red unicorn sat back up and smiled.
“I found it,” she said. “The creature – I found what we pulled through the veil.”
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Great chapter
Oh my, what has happened here?
Just barely escaping dying of dehydration in the badlands, Handy ends up in a backwater frontier town, where he ends up confronting a maddened Minotaur.
This leads to him seemingly getting embroiled in the business of a noble griffin, which may lead him into another disaster altogether.
And meanwhile, in the shadows, the group who pulled him into this world finally know his whereabouts.
And Luna is still hot on his trails, eventhough it seems like his blood may be a drug to her guards.
Luckily Handy is about to upgrade his equipment a bit, with some full plate armor!
How will this lead to Handy cursing the universe once more?
FInd out, in the next Bad Mondays!
I must say I'm really surprised this story hasn't received more attention, it's really rather good.
Well, as usual a great chapter, and you churn them out fast. Looking forward to the next!
So this guy was carrying TWO big sacks of gold (which is denser and heavier then lead) AND a large steel hammer through the dessert with almost no water for about a week?! This dude is a freaking machine!!!
I laughed so hard! The part where he gave the threat that he will eat the Minotaur was hilarious! And made me kind of hungry... I could use a burger right about now.
I'm sorry, but this made my sides reach orbit.
i.chzbgr.com/maxW500/4993123072/h4461EB22/
God damnit
Why must they tempt fate so? Don't they know that fate loves a challenge?
What?
Fifty Shades of Hay?
Neigh?
WHAT WAS THE LAST WORD?
What?
Fifty Shades of Hay?
Neigh?
WHAT WAS THE LAST WORD?
Needs a space between 'had' and 'left'
Funny thing here, on Google translate with the comma there it reads 'Oh damn', but without it reads 'from satan'
What's the 'y'?
Minotaur is extreme strong. but lack of speed and....
I will say....Minotaur is lack of smart. i will say. a stupid.
You repeated that line twice
4509233 And this same guy said the minator had 'incredible stamina'. That's saying something
heard you secretly have four arms but keep them hidden under your robes. Well, do you?”
Are you making a reference
6451323
My favorite scene.
Seras: "Fine! I'll shoot some of the rotten bastards. Can't be that much fun."
*bang**headshot**red eyes*
"Oh f**k the hell yes."
Hmm, up until now, this story was quite interesting. But this chapter fell in routine of thousands "Regular worker trapped in medieval fantasy" stories. It's one-to-one: bar scene, golden coins, fighting person terrorizing town, general smugness. Even his famous stubbornness is gone, replaced with thrill and fame. Next thing I know, he'll rescue a girl that's going to be sacrificed by village.
Well, in the end, he did not killed Minotaur, so I'll continue reading this.
If it hasn't been called yet, I suspect that handy is a level one through four barbarian D&D fifth addition character.
Awesome chapter! Definitely one of the best stories so far!
Heh
Ahh, German.
i feel that he should not be using such a large weapon. the warhammer is a deadly weapon if used properly, but i feel he would benefit more from using a polearm, such as a war scythe. he already showed proficiency with the staff he had a couple chapters back.
8225168
From the way it's described it sounds more like a mace than an actual warhammer
You may want to take a chance out
8423089
He needs all the chances he can get.
8249592
I have impression that author thinks of something like Mjolnir (sp?), and that is a mace. Warhammer is a weapon with long haft and pointed end(spike) on one side of head... something like ice axe.
Mistakes:
and does what he wants,
A bit redundant
he had left a rather
Commentary:
a quest more important than even Handy knew
Maybe not but you can't argue with the results eh?
This is perhaps the most hilarious excerpt in the story in just how right it ends up being
All the great prophets forget the name of the chosen one! Really!
And so did I, rather less successfully.
no-doubt upset that someone was competing with him in extremely pretentious titles.
PS: Every time I re-read I find more things I love and less mistakes to correct. Best Story.
Awesome chapter, well done good sir
Hey we never did get an epilogue for the diamond dog Grilina Handy bought the gems from that made his armor all magic immune. Be kinda xool to get an update on her and I'd say I want Handy to get another magic suit of armor but current Handy doesn't really need it with the blood thing going for him.
Duke Nukem! Hell yea!
The last sentence of this paragraph is repeated as its own paragraph
the battle-cry of the fishfolk. let the enemies of the murlocs beware!
Right.
I'm now trying to skip ahead to where Handy stops talking like this, because there's only so much cringe I can take. Dude is trying to emulate a noble but is only achieving neckbeard levels of cringe.
10988167
I AM MURLOC!
"Fifty Shades Of Hay" is actually a Horticulture guide to growing various strains of hay.