• Published 3rd Apr 2014
  • 3,739 Views, 138 Comments

The Purloined Pony - Chris

When a young foal goes missing, it's up to Carrot Top to step in and save the day.

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Page 75

You bite your lip, doing your best to look distraught. “Well... I suppose there’s not much a poor, miserable pony like me can offer to a great and powerful ruler such as yourself. It’s clear you provide well for yourself, being as wise and clever as you are.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” the fat boggie croaks, but then he waves his hand indulgently. “But it’s true, my wisdom and insight are beyond compare.”

“Well then,” you shrug, “I’m sure you’ve got no need for carrots from my garden... or bits from my pocket... or my magical spell that makes me completely invulnerable to harm... or my—”

“Wait, wait! What was that last one?”

You smile shyly. “Oh, merely an enchantment which I’ve learned which makes one’s body proof against all poisons and wounds. No matter how hard I am struck, no blood will spill forth. I assumed you, with all your knowledge, must already have such a spell.”

The Ceanntighern looks at you suspiciously. “You mean to tell me that you ponies have discovered such a power?”

“Oh, not at all! Why, I’m the only pony who knows this spell, I believe. You don’t know much about ponies, I suppose?” You mentally cross your hooves; your plan won’t work if he knows anything about pony physiology.

The Ceanntighern scoffs. “I know more than any boggie about ponies, but perhaps there are still some... minor details... in which you could instruct us. It has been generations since the last raid into pony lands, after all. You say you’re proof against any weapon or poison?”

“I’ll prove it, if you like. Have one of your guards stab me with your sleeping spears, say...” you make a show of looking over the guards, before pointing to Hinterheart. “...that one. Here,” you hold out your hoof to him, “strike me on the very bottom of my leg.” Hinterheart looks at you suspiciously, but thrusts his spear into the bottom of your leg. As you’d hoped, he caught the importance of striking low; his spear bites into your hoof well below the flesh.

You hold your impaled hoof aloft and remove the spear with a dramatic flourish. “No blood, and no sleep. I trust you are satisfied?”

The Ceanntighern gapes at you. Then he announces in a voice that quivers ever so slightly, “I order you to bestow this power upon me immediately. Do this, and I shall... I shall deign to release the foal.”

You smile brightly at him. “Of course, sire. Allow me.” You wave your hoofs in the air and start chanting nonsense words. After a few minutes, you lower yourself to the ground, doing your best to look exhausted. “It is done. No weapon can harm you now.”

The Ceanntighern frowns. “Is that it? Funny, I don’t feel any different...”

“Ah, but sire!” offers Hinterheart, “You glow with an unearthly aura! Your skin glistens like diamonds! You practically radiate invulnerability!”

The fat boggie looks down at himself with a grin. “Why yes, I suppose I do...”

“Here sire,” Hinterheart offers, taking another spear from one of the guards, “Hold out your hand and let me prove to all your incomparable resilience. When you are unharmed by the prick of this spear, your position will never be in doubt again!”

The Ceanntighern hesitates, but puts forth his hand. “Well... yes, I suppose that’s best...”

Hinterheart pricks his hand, and at once the Ceanntighern collapses off his throne, already deep in slumber as he hits the ground.


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