Icon: Remnants of the North

by Vixavior

Act 4- Chapter 3: Scratching on Canvas

Scratching on Canvas
Proofread by TehSporkBandit

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”Did ya see that, did ya?! The paintings were all pretty and they had gold and silver and you did see that, didn’t you?” Pinkie’s excitable chatter tears through the wearying blanket constantly eating at the edges of your mind and turns your thoughts away from the insipid miasma of the wind blasted wasteland. The sound of crunching hooves and occasional bellow of the winds do nothing to still the Earth-pony’s mind or mouth.

“Yes, Pinkie, I saw. Ulf is a hero to them and Olaf is some kind of a saint." It is slow going, the wind bites as voraciously as it did in Vanhoover. It piled the snow against the rock retaining walls that run the length of the road before that too disappears into the argent curtain. There is no telling what lay off either side of the path. At least you haven’t seen anything for the past ten minutes, anyway. “Are you four okay?” You call back after realizing your pony friends were lagging behind.

“Oh, sure, fit as a fiddle. What’s a saint?” Applejack’s voice pierces the whine of the wind, hoof placed over her hat to keep it on her head. She hasn't said much since traversing the refuse pile; the macabre display had stilled even the bellicose Pinkie until the cave had been left behind.

You think about how to answer Applejack's question. “Hmm, like a paragon, I guess. Think Star Swirl the Bearded." It’s as close as you are going to get to an answer they understand.

“What does that mean for us, Rightly?” Fluttershy’s soft question barely registers over the abrasive rasp of the scouring wind.

“Well, you remember the picture in the stairwell?” You look over and wait for her to nod. “If those are even close to true and there’s more than a dozen or so Cloud Gremlins, it means we’re in trouble. It means all of Equestria is in trouble. Fluttershy, do Gremlins usually gather like the ones in those pictures?” Ten or fifteen Gremlins sounds bad, but on that picture were upwards of forty or fifty and they didn’t thin out; the prostrate forms that bowed to the warlord clutching the Alicorn horn merely ended where the panel transitioned to another scene. Besides, there were still the five figures behind Ulf.

I wonder if those five are the Carrion Lords of the High Avery that the message in the paper was talking about.

“No, they’re not solitary, but their family units are relatively small. You might find two to ten in one badling.”

Fluttershy's consummate knowledge and reassuring tone rarely invites more questions, and now was no exception. In that light, it takes several moments to finally pipe up, “Badling?”

“It’s what they call a group of Gremlins. Well, and ducks when they’re flying." She might be a wealth of weird trivia, but it isn’t helping at the moment.

“They let us in a whole lot easier than ah figured. Anypony else suspectin’ this here’s a trap?” Applejack’s question does make you think about that possibility.

“I don’t think so. The bird brains let us in and the Hydra tried to keep us out. I don’t think they care, I bet their beaks they’ll be unhappy about it when we're through with them." Rainbow’s cocksure attitude might be buoying, but she likewise seemed to be certain the weather will break. Taking a breath to ask her about that, she interrupts you mid-draw adding, “This’ll let up soon enough. But that means it’ll just get colder."

With that answered, you nod and turn your attention back towards the path. Something glints in the distance, barely a notable blot of discoloured air marring the wintery shroud of snow. You hold up a hand to halt the party and point towards the distant glow. Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow all bob their head and duck down against the walls. Pinkie mimes zipping her lips closed, locking it, dropping the key, then burying it. You try one thing, just to be sure, “Red.”

“Scarf.” Three separate replies hit you at once as everypony but Pinkie responds.

Her delayed response is thanks to a few beads of sweat as she digs around in the snow as if having actually lost a key. It is enough to make you smile, but in the space of a few seconds she repeats, “Scarf."

Slinking forward, you pull yourself over the retaining wall only to sink waist deep in the snow drift. Your companions quickly follow after as you drag yourself into the field. Wading through, the small, indistinct glow gets brighter and brighter until, finally, you can recognize it as light coming through a pair of windows. They are situated in the back of a large stone building. The panes are scraped glass that has been melted rather than cast, resulting in clear patches and amber blotches that distort the world into lopsided grotesques. It’s latticed in lead and is far more crudely crafted than the soft, elegant stained glass windows ponies create with ease.

Inside is a small room with shapes moving about in the harsh orange glow of a lantern. Rough hewn timber and scattered reed mats cover the floors and walls while lopsided shelves line the walls. It must be a storehouse as it is far too sparse to be a dwelling. A face passes by scant inches from you as the Gremlin slips by in front of the window and down a staircase. Holding remarkably still, you watch the creature obliviously pass by, stop, and by then you have enough time to belly down into the snow as it takes a second look.

“What do you s-” you clasp a hand over Pinkie’s muzzle to stifle her excitement. Having quieted the mare, you crook your fingers so they resemble curved talons or claws. Your friends seem to understand.

Rainbow throws herself at the wall beside you before skirting the stonework and sneaking towards the corner of the building. Applejack just points up to the second story of the storehouse, motioning towards the wooden beams jutting out from the stonework and propping up the irregular slate shingles. There is another window below it and you already have an inkling of what she is planning to do before she rifles through her pack to find the rope. Letting her take care of that, Pinkie and Fluttershy huddle against the stone building, though, the impetuous pink mare peeks up over the window sill.

“Akaaaay,” Pinkie mumbles quietly, “I spy with my little eye: two things warty, red, and kinda scrawny.”

“Lemme' guess, two big ugly Gremlins?” Rainbow hisses from the edge of the building.

“I said scrawny, not big, so I can only give you a half point for that.”

“Hey, I got it right, didn't I?” Rainbow protests and flicks her tail in irritation, “Alright, it opens up into a square up here. The castle can't be much further up, but there's a lot more buildings." The sheets of white twist around a few other spires and scrape into several more indistinct structures which emerge from the grey void as vague geometric shapes.

A whirling hiss continues, but it isn't the freezing wind, rather, it’s a lariat snipping through the air. Applejack spins the lazy lasso and sends if shooting upwards, tightly hooking a projecting wooden spar. “Alright, y'all giddy up now. You too, Rainbow." Applejack stands by the rope and steps on the end, head turning left and right as she stays on the ground on sentry. Rainbow quickly turns and lunges through the snow to the rope, grasping it and managing a shockingly agile shimmy up to the timber beam.

“Does it got a latch on it?” Applejack whispers to the athletic Pegasus leaning out towards the ill-formed window.

Rainbow merely hums for a moment, quirking her head to the side like a philosopher before smirking and punching her forehoof into the window frame. There is a distinct ping of tortured metal that is sure to draw some attention, “Heh, it did. C’mon." She hisses and swings herself over to the window that yawns open wide. Pinkie smiles as you gesture for her to take the rope. She is up not too much slower than Rainbow Dash, leaving you as the third intruder.

“Hop up." Applejack arches her back, bracing as you look at the rope and run through how effortlessly Pinkie and Rainbow had climbed the rope. It was like watching a pair of acrobats and they didn't even have fingers. “Ah'll give ya a lift: one, two, three, and 'hup'!" She arches her back as you uncertainly step on her croup and, through a combination of her single grunting buck and your own hop, you nearly manage to clutch the top of the rope. The strain in your arms is fairly impressive as you clench your teeth while your muscles pull taut.

“Ey, what'sss that?” A sibilant hiss drifts from inside the darkened building. “It sssounded like it came from upssstairs.”

“I's t-t-told you I's saw somefin'! I's t-t-told you!" A second mutters in a high, uneven pitch.

A similar sibilant tone whispers from right near the window, “Naw it'ssss jussst... um, your... Snrkkk- Ouch, Dasssshie!”

“Zip it." The Pegasus replies, but by then, the Earth-pony's giggling and snorting tipped off the Gremlins who's scrambling could be heard from upstairs.

“Yeah, great cover, Pinkie. Alright, lets turn them into paste!" Rainbow claps her hooves together as you grasp the window ledge and drag yourself inside. You tumble in with a thump. The broad axe, bound around your wrist, clatters to the floor as you blink and try to adjust to the dark space. It isn’t the warm, glowing space you assumed it was; lengthy shadows creep over the interiors of the loft as the sharp edges and shifting mirages cast by the single ray of light up the twisting steps melds with several other shafts that lance through the rickety floorboards.

Rainbow is already up and weaving through the large wooden crates and bundled bales of what feels like cotton that scratch your cheek. “Pinkie, get Fluttershy up here, I’ll deal with this!" There is no trepidation, it’s a tremor of excitement quivering in her voice. “C’mon, Rightly!" She howls, finding the stairs and leaping as the first silhouetted spindle-limbed figure crests the steps.

Whether by design or accident, the Pegasus strikes the creature head-on, bowling it over and sending them both careening down the staircase with a rattling crash. Pulling yourself up and over the tied bales, you are already in mid-stride, thundering down the steps to the floor below. In the heat of the moment, you find yourself already in pursuit of a squealing Gremlin as the other snarls, “Sssykes, Sssykes, ssscram!" The leatherbound hilt of the axe bounces off your palm twice before you grip it tightly as you approach the bend in the staircase and see the ruffled heap on the landing.

Rainbow Dash had the presence of mind to lash out as she tumbled, but she'd recovered and by now she has fastened her forelegs around the Gremlin's arms as it desperately claws anything in reach. Its jagged nails cut rents into the wooden floor, dragging up splinters as it tries to pull away.

A second Gremlin advances on the jumbled heap at a wary skulk. It gazes up at you, pupils narrowing in fright as you launch yourself at it all at once. Your knee slams into its jaw, sending it spiraling into the wooden spindles lining the stairwell with splintering crack before it bounces into the darkness and disappears.

The Gremlin moans and then goes quiet as you find yourself on the landing a few feet from Rainbow. The Pegasus growls and strains to keep the creature pinned, “Hold... still!" Her captive seethes and hisses before going limp when the gleaming axe blade hovers in front of its face. You catch its gaze for a moment: iIts pitiless and vicious temper hadn't disappeared, it still simmers behind those defiant ruby eyes. The eyes of a fanatic.

The lower story stinks with the acrid tang of lime and wet fur, but aside from the orange glint from an old oil lamp, a few standing wooden frames, and the low burning coals in a fire, little catches your attention. A shape darts across the shadows between two wooden support beams, causing you to lurch forward with the axe upraised. The skulking shape stops and holds still as the weapon's sheen winks in the harsh light.

It was the escaping Gremlin, nothing more than a vague silhouette, huddling in a corner near a flickering candle. You lick your lips and growl as the creature tries to hide behind some aged wooden crates. You toss them aside, confronting it, transfixing the Gremlin to the spot. Its red hide betrays every nervous twitch and muscle spasm as its knees tremble and knock together. Looming up, you bring the weapon up over your head, staring into its shining amber eyes.

You detect neither malice, nor anger, the Gremlin's eyes go as wide as saucepans while its beaked maw hangs open so you could practically see yourself in its tearful reflection. You were a juggernaut, some massive beast of wrath and ruin compared to its small emaciated frame. It is no scratching, clawing monster, it’s just another being that peers up at you.

The hacking edge would slice down, probably biting through its shoulder and splitting it to its sternum, all without a single clawed hand raised in defense. You hesitate, just a moment, but it is perceptible. The Gremlin’s yellow eyes roll into the back of its head, showing the whites as it collapses in a gasping faint. You hadn't even needed to ask it for some sort of surrender.

“Youch!" Rainbow cries out as the pattering scramble continues behind you. “It bit me! Get ‘em before it rats us out!" Rounding on the creature, you’re still too slow.

The manic Gremlin is already up on its feet as Rainbow lunges at the figure. It feints left, sending the Pegasus sprawling on the floor with a rough cuff on the back of her head. Darting for the door, you take off after it as it gnashes its teeth in response. Twisting the door handle, the dull wind carries the blank plank with a wooden cord open. If it so much as screams, then the element of surprise might be lost. Sure enough, it sucks in a single long breath as you look out over a cobblestone square flanked by buildings half lost in the snow squall.

“Sit’own!" A powerful kick collides with the Gremlin like a runaway freight train, driving every hint of breath from it and sending the beast hurtling into the snow with a muffled crunch. Applejack turns and smiles before nipping the dazed creature by the scruff and dragging it towards you. “Curdja ged da der, sugacu’e?” You nod and hold the door open for her and her captive. The mare quickly drags the gangly imp inside and you quickly shut the door behind her. As it so happens, she may have saved the element of surprise after all. The snow will cover any trace of the struggle soon enough.

“Hmm, lucky break, Applejack,” Rainbow begrudgingly smirks, “but I had him." Rainbow trots over as if accepting the Gremlin as a trophy of sorts.

Applejack just spits the Gremlin out and it tumbles to the ground, senseless and winded from the kick. “Ah didn't doubt it fer a second. But, ah figured ah'd take a peek 'round the front ta' make sure none of them varmints tried ta' sneak out without payin' admission.”

“So, are we gonna' strap him down and interrogate him?” Rainbow asks as the Gremlin coughs and feebly twitches, garnering a surprisingly wolfish growl from Applejack. The octet of hoofsteps making their way down the steps say that Pinkie and Fluttershy are finding their way down, too.

“You bet." The farmpony’s warning snarl is clear enough indication the Gremlin is in trouble.

“Is everypony okay?” Fluttershy’s twittering voice sounds out as barely more than a peep. Glancing sideways at her while Rainbow and Applejack have the Gremlin cornered, you can see Pinkie coming down the steps with a large canvas in her teeth.

Pinkie props the painting up against on the steps, wedging the frame between two of the uneven spindles of the banister. “It’s just like all the paintings back by the stairs! Isn’t it neat?” The picture is of the same warrior, Ulf, and the other quintet of hooded creatures. In front of them were five separate symbols, each seeming to correspond to a prostrate Unicorn. Ulf still stood in the middle, but behind him was some great figure cloaked in glory, wings, a horn, and a great, bright, golden star behind it, which reflects the flames of the guttering lamplight.

“An Alicorn… Celestia?” You look again. It was white, a silhouette against the gold, not even framed in black ink, but as an ‘absent’ space as if not yet filled in. There is writing underneath, both in the Royal Cipher with an amateurish, but careful, hand and that of Equestrian script:

Conquer your passions and you conquer your own heart. Never mind the world, set the example you wish others to follow.

“Where’s Twilight? What’ja do with ‘er?” Applejack’s stamp shakes the floorboards.

“AJ…” you try to interject as something starts to formulate in your mind.

“What did you do with her? You do have her, don’t you? Well, don’t you?! Oh, so you want to do this the hard way?” Rainbow’s angry and aggressive tone isn't as tangible as Applejack's temper, but she is louder for whatever that's worth.

You continue to think, picking something out. The silhouetted figure sat upon a tall throne, backed by a star, but on the throne was a sun to the right and moon to the left, ‘I make all things new.’

Fluttershy had taken the time during the lull to inspect the painting. She squints hard at it, “That's not paper.." Fluttershy points towards the picture and takes two uneasy steps back, “It's skin! They were stretching and painting it on skin!"

“What?!" Pinkie spits and quickly scrapes her tongue with her hooves.

“Ewww... cool, but eew." Rainbow winces but gawks at the picture in macabre fascination, all while keeping her forehooves on the Gremlin’s shoulders.

“Ugh, that ain’t fittin." Applejack eyes the creature while backing off and casting a few wary glances around the room.

“And t-there’s more, lots more. Upstairs." You hadn’t noticed anything in the shadowy corners when you’d first slipped inside.

You head back up the stairs and hold the blackened lamp up over your head so you can see. The pale light reveals a score of cotton bales around you, which probably isn’t the best material to have near an open flame. But in the back are dozens upon dozens of rows of wooden frames with hide sheets stretched across them.

They’re making parchment! The cotton is sucking up the moisture so it stays perfectly dry.

It is clever and effective in this temperature, which also explains the heat of the building when a Gremlin probably wouldn't have needed it much. The smell downstairs is lime for curing the hides, barrels for the process, and almost certainly ink. “Primitive." You mumble to nopony in particular. Something else is more important.

You quickly head to the rows of drying parchment racks. Wandering among them, you look at the mostly blank sheets, but recognize a few more that have ink barely drying on their surface. There are pictures of a great mountain, a grand stone monument silhouetted by the setting sun and the same images of an enthroned Alicorn in the clouds. Ulf stands at its right and serried ranks of a winged host hang around its edges. Other paintings show them among Unicorns, Pegasi, and Earth-ponies alike. Something catches your eye. There is no great tail and flowing mane of starlight, but the background is a very familiar star rather than just a glowing nimbus halo.

“Oh, dear Cel-”

“Find anything neat? This place is super creepy." Pinkie nervously trots up the stairs, taking each step one at a time. It doesn’t interrupt your train of thought in the least as your mouth feels as dry as the cotton bales around you.

“They’re not just trying to destroy Celestia, they’re trying to replace her entirely.”

Pinkie blinks with an incredulous pause “With what?”

“Not ‘what’, but ‘whom’.” With that, you tap the six pointed star.