85 - Time and Time Again...
Extended Holiday
Ch 85: Time and Time Again...
Act 11
“So let me get this straight. There’s a Captain Jack Harness you work with from time to time who is constantly time traveling using a teleport bracelet that also acts as a temporal displacer, but it was damaged, and now it’s traveling through space and time randomly and taking anyone that touches it with it until it wears completely down?” Vital Spark asked as they entered the TARDIS.
“Precisely. So now on top of trying to catch the lovely device, or what’s left of it now, I’m going to have to find Hammer Strike and bring him back. Do you have any idea how much debt I already owe him? It’s positively ridiculous!” The Doctor said as he pulled out the bag and hooked the wire up to a bunch of cables with pincers to scan its energy signature. “Hmmm … just as I suspected.” He tutted and shook his head.
“Yeah, there’s someone else we’re going to have to pick up before we can leave. Otherwise she’ll kill Vital Spark,” Grif said
“Uh, Grif, who are you talking about?” Vital asked, a look of pure bafflement on his face.
“Rarity.” Grif shrugged. “She demanded to be part of the next adventure. And frankly, you're the only one of us who can’t fly and/or time travel. And she’s gotten very good with a rapier.”
“And she’d take it out on me even though I had nothing to do with it?”
“Guilty by association, my friend. You may not have robbed the bank, but you helped plan the robbery.”
“How am I supposed to be responsible for Hammer Strike being flung somewhere in time?”
“It’s not so much him getting flung in time as the possibility of her getting left behind.”
“Fair enough. You’re alright if we pick her up first, aren’t you?” Vital asked as he turned to the console. “I mean, she probably feels the same way you do if The Doctor tries to leave you behind.”
“Need I remind the group that the Demon Slayers have taken a liking to Vital and his rather innocent outlook on life? It reminds us all of who we go to war for. I’d rather he remain in one piece,” Pensword said. “Anyway, Doctor, I do not like the look you have there. Where and when is he?”
“That’s not right. It can’t be right. He’s already there. He can’t be there twice; it’d skew the timeline,” The Doctor said as he checked and rechecked the calculations.
“Well, while you’re busy taking care of that, do you think the TARDIS would mind swinging by Carousel Boutique to pick up Rarity? I’d rather not have a bunch of holes put through me if I can help it,” Vital Spark said.
The TARDIS began its musical droning, signaling she had already started to travel. Within a few seconds the faint image of the familiar Unicorn began phasing in and out of the ship. With a final echoing thud, the Ship finished its materialization and Rarity stood gawking at the group.
“My boutique! My beautiful boutique!” she wailed before turning on the group at the console. “What have you done to my fabulous store?” she demanded as she advanced on the gathered Ponies and Gryphon, her horn ablaze.
“Rarity, calm down. Your shop’s fine,” Grif said, raising his talons placatingly. Just look outside.
“And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?” she snarled as a series of tiny and very sharp pins emerged from the pincushion she’d been holding in her hoof. The flashing of her horn complimented the ruby hairpin in her hair beautifully.
“You are going to be seeing Hammer Strike soon? If you do calm down, you will learn how your shop is fine, and how you are here as well,” Pensword said casually as he observed one of the many round things surrounding the control panel.
“Hammer Strike? Did he arrange this?”
“Not exactly, Rarity,” Vital Spark said as he walked over to the ramp that led to the doors. “Just take a step out this way. It’s easier to show, then tell.” He pushed open the door with the familiar creak of old wood on unoiled hinges.
Rarity proceeded to make her way outside. Her eyes widened. She popped her head back inside. She raced outside again. Her hoofsteps were clearly audible as she raced around the ship to return to the entrance in a matter of seconds. She peered inside again. “I don’t believe it,” she gasped.
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s–” The Doctor started.
“It’s smaller on the outside,” Rarity said.
“... Okay, that is a first,” the Doctor said, turning back to the monitor as he stamped a hoof on the floor with a decisive clop. The doors slammed shut and the TARDIS began whirring again as her engines engaged and she took flight.
“Where to, Doctor?” Vital asked.
“Pre-unification Equestria, the kingdom of your ancestor, Lady Rarity.”
“M-my ancestor?”
“Why, Princess Platinum, of course,” The Doctor said offhandedly as he continued to manipulate various levers and buttons. “Now, if you lot could please let me concentrate, the TARDIS is a very finicky thing sometimes, and the old girl would like some attention. Go talk with yourselves for now. I’ll let you know once we’ve arrived,” he said dismissively.
Pensword frowned as Derpy got to help a little with the machine. “But I wanted to help as well. The jiggly lever looked fun.” He paused . “Okay, Matthew, you are a commander. You are not a colt. Act your age,” he chided himself, then sighed as he turned, only to bump into Rarity. “My apologies, Rarity. I was just making my way to find the wardrobe. It is going to be cold where we’re going. Would you care to join me? Your gift for finding jewels and impeccable fashion sense should aid us well on this venture. I can apprise you of current events as well.”
“Oh alright, but only because I know you’d be helpless without me,” Rarity huffed, daintily sticking her nose up as she passed.
“Well, you know more about that era of history than I. I could teach you about the Military Pegasus territory just fine, but Unicorn nobility stuff… I’m still getting used to the fact that I am a noble.” Pensword gave a small laugh. “Come on, I think I know where the place is.”
“That makes two of us, Darling. And wait … “ her eyes widened. “Did he just say that I was descended from Princess Platinum?”
“Really? Really? Rarity, I figured you were at least smart enough to see this one coming.” Grif facetaloned. “I’ve been teaching you to pay attention to detail. Have you not found it at least a little funny that you both had a talent for tracking gems? That your family, despite not being nobility officially till less than a year ago, receives a royal stipend every month that pays for your parents’ endless vacations and trips?” Grif asked her levelly. “You’re the bastard line. Your family's being paid to keep quiet about it and let house Platinum act like you don’t exist.”
“First of all, the talent for tracking gems was never historically verified. Some scholars merely theorize that was her gift. As for the other parts … I always assumed Mother and Father were using credit. They … never were very focused on finances.”
“They bought you a store for your cuteceñera present,” Grif said flatly.
Rarity’s face fell. “What you say does make sense.” She sighed. “To think that I’m descended from a bastard.”
“Rarity, just about every noble family is somewhere down the line,” Vital said. “You know how they can be.”
“... True. It is going to take some getting used to, all the same.”
“Just be wary. I’m guessing now that you’ve got your own noble status, House Platinum may try to rejoin with you again.”
Rarity laughed. “Oh, they can try, Vital Spark. They can try.”
“That’s my student.” Grif smiled. “Everything you need is in your bla– we forgot your sword.” Grif facetaloned again.
“I’m sure we can find a suitable replacement, Grif. The TARDIS has everything a person could need, including swords and other props. It won’t be the same as Seamripper, but it’ll have to do,” Vital said.
“I suppose so. Come on, Pensword, we have work to do.” With that, Rarity stepped purposefully out of the room and passed down a hall as Pensword raced to catch up.
“So, Doctor, how far do we have to go before we reach our destination?” Vital asked.
Just before the doctor could speak, The TARDIS shook slightly as the droning stopped. “I think we’ve arrived.”
“You… think?” Grif asked
“Well … there was a bit of a static moment there on the scanners, but I don’t think anything serious happened,” The Doctor said, checking the screens.
Grif moved to the doors. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” The Doctor said.
“That’s what you said last time,” Derpy commented dryly.
Tentatively, Grif opened the door before immediately slamming it. “Doctor, I don’t think we’re in Equestria.”
“Grif, I’m 960 years old. I believe I know how to navigate time and space,” The Doctor said as he moved towards the door. “I assure you we are most definitely, unequivocally, without a doubt in Eque–” he opened the door to reveal an alien that resembled a knight chess piece with a frill of razor sharp metal down it’s back and two glowing lights resembling pony ears. A long spiraling metal horn stuck out from the forehead.
“EXTERMINATE!” the alien shouted in The Doctor’s face.
“... Oh dear.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself. It had been over a week and he was beginning to question how long it would be until The Doctor showed up. He hummed at the crude tools he had made with what materials he had available. A forge was mostly made, though some components of it were barely being held together, and it would have to do until he could build a proper set-up.
He nodded in approval as he finished shaping the anvil. If he was going to be with these kits for the long haul, they needed a proper shelter to stay in, not some random cave. He was loath to admit it, but the cold was still a bit bothersome, and until he could sort through whatever was going on with his magic, a house would provide better shelter and warmth. The task would prove to be a bit more difficult with his hoof wrapped up. He frowned as he shifted his right forehoof around. For some reason, whatever it was that he had done to the Windigos had burned him. He would need to investigate the abnormality later once he had healed. To say the least, life in this time period had proven to be an interesting experience for him.
Kurama had left one day and returned with a large sturdy stick. He had spent the last few days smoothing and rounding it out. it seemed obvious to Hammer Strike he planned to try and repair the naginata. Gakushu had taken to gathering and organizing the cave into something of a livable location. If they were going to weather the storm outside, they would need to make the space more livable until a better structure could be completed. Haku diligently worked at his scrolls, painting various kanji to record the events of their party and the time they would be spending with Hammer Strike, starting with a list of the fallen party members’ names.
Hammer Strike perked up for a moment. Looking towards the entrance, his eyes caught the faint movement of something fluttering outside of the cave. Flashes of orange, red, and the hardest to see, white flickered across the clearing. He frowned as he looked back towards the cave’s occupants. Yes, the trio were still there. Standing up casually, he yawned and made his way towards the cave mouth as nonchalantly as he could manage.
“Where are you going?” Kurama asked without looking up from his work.
“Please don’t leave. Tell him he can’t leave,” Gakushu begged.
“I’ll return shortly,” Hammer Strike replied. “Movement outside.”
Kurama moved closer to the cave entrance and drew his short sword, sitting against the rock face so he could see anything oncoming.
“Keep guard here,” Hammer Strike instructed as he left the cave. “I’ll be back soon.”
“We will be waiting, Hammer Strike Sama,” Haku said.
“Did any of you mention the change in his eye color?” Gakushu asked as he moved about, keeping an eye on the entrance while he put a makeshift kettle on the fire to boil.
Hammer Strike focused on the faint trail in the snow beneath him, following it towards a familiar environment. He frowned as he took note of where the trail was ending, but the sight of other Kitsunes only brought more confusion. From what Kurama stated, a search party wouldn’t be formed for another two years, and then they had to track down where they were.
“Haku, get to the center of the group. Something feels wrong,” a three-tailed rusty-red Kitsune male instructed.
Hammer Strike frowned, but before he could say anything he heard Haku respond, a spectral image of him moving through him towards the other Kitsune.
“Y-yes, Himura Sensei,” Haku said as he crept towards the center, his eyes darting warily between the trees.
After a moment, Hammer Strike was able to note that all of the Kitsune around him that he could see were faintly transparent. He saw Gakushu in the center holding a tree branch as he stood at the side of an older white furred five tailed Kitsune. The older Kitsune held a familiar satchel and wore a tall cap.
Several of the older Kitsunes drew their weapons. Curved blades and naginatas glinted in the sunlight as the warriors formed a loose perimeter around several other adults and the youngsters. A deep orange adult smiled warmly at Kurama. “Don’t worry. Just watch and learn, nephew.”
It was just as those words left his mouth that they came. The sun was covered by blackened clouds. The winds picked up and the temperature dropped as six Windigos galloped into the clearing. The head stallion snorted indignantly at the Kitsunes and was answered by a howl of smoke and fire from the lead warrior. The Windigos seemed to backtrack for a moment, but only a moment before they charged the group.
One warrior managed to get a first strike, lashing out with a massive fireball that proceeded to cause the spectral horses to vanish in a whirlwind. The victory, however, was short lived as the warrior was overcame by another Windigo. The battle quickly turned out of favor for the Kitsune as they were trampled, frozen, or even, to Hammer Strike’s horror, suffocated as the air was ripped from their very lungs and their fires extinguished. The warriors were cut down in short order. What few scholars remained pushed the children behind them towards the trees to keep them safe as the two remaining warriors fought to protect them. One male wielding a naginata kept the Windigos at a distance with the white heat of his blade while the one Hammer Strike identified as Kurama’s uncle fought with his long sword, which was wreathed in solid blue flames. The spear wielder went down as one Windigo charged him head on, impaling itself on the spear, but the force of the charge tore the spearhead off and sent it flying. He was soon trampled as two others moved in on him. These creatures may well have been spirits, but they could clearly interact with the physical plane just as easily as they could the astral.
Kurama’s uncle fought the oncoming tide alone. Strike after strike forced them back, causing them to lose ground. From his outside perspective, Hammer Strike easily recognised the tactics the Windigos were employing as they forced the Kitsune to slowly turn his back to the leader. The moment the tactic was complete, the male Windigo dove into the Kitsune’s chest and pulled back out, trailing a flimsy white substance. The further it pulled, the more the Kitsune gasped, struggling for air. The Windigo was suffocating him. Slowly. In one last dying act, the warrior turned and slashed, his blade tearing through the Windigo’s ethereal body moments before the flames died out and both were no more. What hammerstrike watched next was a massacre. The remaining scholars attempting to fight back with their foxfire were easily overwhelmed by the remaining onslaught. Kurama noticed the naginata head on the ground and grabbed it. The moment he lowered his head, Gakushu took an errant blast of pure cold air to the face. Kurama instantly righted himself, moving to a sloppy sword stance as he tried to put himself between the other two, even as Haku let out a low cry.
“S-stay back!” Kurama shouted, blasting a pathetic fireball. From there, everything was as Hammer Strike remembered it. Everyone began to fade as he watched himself charge into the battle. He cringed as he closed his eyes, pain flooding his head as soon as everything finished fading. He sat down, taking a moment to let the throbbing subside. After a few moments he sighed and opened his eyes once more. Everything was as it was, and as it should be. He shook his head and turned around to double check. There was nothing different here. Making his way back to the cave, he was greeted with the sight of Kurama standing guard. He shook his head towards the Kitsunes. “Nothing. We’re fine.”
“For now anyway,” Kurama said as he sheathed the blade and returned to working on the naginata. “There is no good wood around here for the shaft. This might work in a pinch, but nothing is springy enough. What I wouldn’t give for some bamboo right now.”
“I’ll help you find better materials when we have somewhere more than just a cave to settle in.”
“Is there any way that we may assist, Hammer Strike Sama?” Haku asked.
“Not much for now. Starting tomorrow I’ll be collecting wood. If you really want to help, you can help me clear the branches off the trees.”
“Anything, so long as we can be of use.”
While the others worked to winnow the branches off the frozen boughs of the trees, Gakushu approached Hammer Strike, brush and ink in hand. He pointed to himself. “Gakushu.” He waited for Hammer Strike to respond. If he was going to teach, he was going to start at the beginning.
“I learned your name ages ago,” Hammer Strike replied, only to frown for a moment. “And you don’t understand much Equish in the first place…” he muttered to himself.
Gakushu frowned. “Ga-kus-hu.” He pointed to himself again, then pointed at Hammer Strike. “We start at the start.”
“I can’t tell if I should feel insulted or not…” Hammer Strike sighed, rubbing his head. “Yes, Gakushu.”
“Is there a problem, Hammer Strike Sama?” Haku asked.
“I learn drastically differently from how you’re all trying to teach me. It’s going to take a while if we go about this method of me learning your language.”
“What are you …?” Haku turned to face Gakushu and the light dawned. “Gakushu, how do you expect to teach him if you cannot understand his responses in the first place?”
“I was going to point at other objects after he said my name. I would then hope he would say the object's name in his language. Start small and grow. We have a lot of free time.”
Haku sighed and shook his head. “Gakushu, you need to explain that to him before you try it.” He turned to face the Pony. “Gakushu is trying to teach you the rudiments of our language and is hoping that you may do the same for him.”
“I don’t learn by a game of point and repeat, I’m sorry to say.” Hammer Strike hummed. “What other languages do you know? Do you speak Draconic? Perhaps even, wait, no, that place doesn’t exist yet,” Hammer Strike muttered the last part to himself.
“The Dragons hoard their language as closely as they do their treasures. While the Eastern Dragons of our lands are kinder and wiser than their Western counterparts, we have yet to reach that kind of understanding with them.”
“Well, at least I have a language you can’t understand either,” Hammer Strike said in Draconic, then let loose a sigh.
“If that method is not conducive to your learning, how would you prefer to learn? Gakushu is frustrated being the only one who cannot communicate properly with you.”
“Have him list words and sentence structures, then you translate them. I will read it while you sleep and we can work on pronouncing things when you’re all awake.”
“It seems reasonable. I will see what Gakushu thinks.” Turning to his friend, a somewhat heated conversation followed by a brief nod led to a smiling Haku. “He accepts, under one condition. He asks that you assist him by pronouncing the words aloud for him when he is present so that he may associate the sounds with the words. He reads your language well, but the ability to speak yet eludes him.”
“I’ll accept these terms.”
“Then it is decided. We will begin tomorrow, and Gakushu will draw up the list tonight for you to review.”
“Did he agree, Haku?”
“Yes, Gakushu, he agreed. You begin tonight. Draw up the list and he will study it in preparation for tomorrow. Don’t forget the sounds so he can say them aloud.”
“I shall get started on the list. This is going to be fun. I get to teach.”
“And learn,” Haku added dryly.
Hammer Strike rolled his shoulders, having just finished a foundation for their house-to-be. He smiled as he looked at the materials he had in place. All he had to do was place things where they were needed and ensure proper insulation of the house.
Haku cocked his head as he stared at the structure. “I believe we will require some moss, Hammer Strike Sama.”
“Just Hammer Strike,” he replied tiredly. “And what makes you say that?”
“It acts as insulation against the cold.”
“Well, that is one method, but there are other ways.”
“What other ways?” he asked curiously.
“You’ll see them once I make them.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he moved towards the segments he had laid off to the side.
“As long as it’s warmer than that goddess damned cave,” Kurama said as he split another log with the crudely made axe Hammer Strike had fashioned days ago. “I’m certain Gakushu nearly froze last night.”
“I’ll apply some more power to the fire from now on,” Hammer Strike promised, grabbing a wall segment.
“Kurama, please. You know the elders would have us show more respect to the goddess’s name.”
“Well when we get back, the elders can punish me, Haku, but for now, we are on the other side of the planet!” Kurama snapped.
“... I miss them, too, you know,” Haku said. Afterwards, he attacked his task, tying the makeshift bindings Hammer Strike had fashioned from roots he’d managed to dig up after thawing the earth. His paw pads had been worn raw, but he continued to work.
Meanwhile Gakushu was using a rock and some charcoal to draw up what he thought would be a good looking building. Inevitably, it took on the appearance of a pagoda-like structure with slanted roof and terracotta roof tiles.
Hammer Strike paused in his work as he looked around himself suddenly, his eyes trailing over things in the air around the group.
“What’s wrong with your eye?” Kurama asked him. “It keeps glowing purple”
“And it is right now?” He asked.
“Yes.” Kurama nodded.
Hammer Strike looked at the wooden walls that surrounded him, a fireplace and small pieces of furniture were in the room as well. “If only you could see what I can right now,” he replied as he watched an image of himself walk into the room and add more wood to the fireplace. He watched as everything shook for a moment. A table to his side collapsed. The image of himself frowned heavily as he looked to the table only to pause as a thoughtful look crossed his face. After a few moments he brought a hoof up and began to move it across the room before settling on a singular spot. Right where the present Hammer Strike was. His image gave a small smile and a wave before everything began to fade once more.
“What is it?” Kurama asked him.
“Something that is to come.”
“What is he saying?” Gakushu asked.
“He claims to be seeing a vision of the future,” Haku explained.
“If he is, then he must be blessed by the goddess. It is a blessing for us to have been saved by him,” Gakushu muttered in awe.
“The elders say the future is too fluid to be seen,” Kurama reminded them.
“But what if it is a less fluid moment?” Haku asked. “After all, even the mighty rivers flow into tiny pools where their song is sweet and soft, and their surfaces are made clear.”
“It is time, Haku. The river must surrender to the slope of the mountain, but even we are subject to time. Even those who it cannot wear down must feel its flow.”
“Why can’t it be both?”
“You’re the scholar. You’re supposed to figure it out. I’m just repeating what we’ve been told.”
“But… his eye glows. Magic is involved. Pony magic is still not very well understood,” Gakushu replied. “We need to keep this phenomenon under observation.” He flinched. “That is, If you two think it wise to do so.”
“There is also the fact that this is the mysterious Hammer Strike. He is an enigma both magically, logically, and historically.”
“Are you three done talking behind my back?” Hammer Strike questioned as he finished placing the third wall segment.
“I apologize, Hammer Strike. We lapsed into our native tongue. We were theorizing how it is magically possible for you to actually look into the future,” Haku said.
“Magically, it’s not possible,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. A moment later, both eyes shifted from their usual blue to a deep purple. “What I use is something much more interesting.”
“What did he say?” Gakushu asked.
“He said he uses a different power, something that doesn’t stem from magic,” Haku replied. He turned to Hammer Strike. “Do you mind if I keep a record while we are together?”
“We have to record this then, I have, we never heard anything like this. We have to record this,” Gakushu chittered excitedly.
“I don’t mind, but I will be keeping some information to myself,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
Week 2, Day 2
With hard work and a lot of elbow grease, the house was nearly finished. The day had drawn on to afternoon, and hammerstrike was working on some of the final touches. Kurama sat with his back to the house, sharpening his blades in the setting sun. Gakushu was working on a flat piece of slate as he wrote more sentences and words for the strange lessons he shared with Hammer Strike. Haku stared at the sun as it began to drop over the snow and returned to his brush and paper switching between a stout, thick bristled brush and a finer, slim one. He sighed occasionally, his breath steaming in the wind.
“Does this damned cold ever let up?” Kurama growled as he worked. Sparks flew from the blade as he continued to run the whet stone over it.
“I fear that this is something connected to those ice spirits,” Gakushu muttered. “I still feel cold in my limbs from that attack.”
“It is likely. You can feel the magic in the air. It is … oppressive.” Haku sighed as he added a few gentle strokes. “How close are we, Hammer Strike?”
“Not that much longer. Just need to finish stabilizing the supports.”
“Do you require assistance?”
“I’d prefer you not, as if this falls down on me, I can shrug it off.”
“As you desire.”
“We’ll need to hunt soon, but is there anything living plant or animal in this goddess forsaken wasteland?” Kurama asked.
“I hope so. I am getting hungry for fresh meat, and hopefully they are not infected or infested by those icy spirits,” Gakushu muttered.
“Ask Hammer Strike. He might know the area,” Haku said without looking up from his work.
“Ask me what?” Hammer Strike questioned.
Kurama looked to Haku and growled when he didn’t say anything. He then promptly turned to Hammer Strike, his tone sharp. “Is there anything still alive here? The rations are fine, but we should hunt fresh meat soon.”
“I saw some small game north of the house,” Hammer Strike replied simply, followed shortly by a solid thud. “And that should be it. Stable structure.”
“Very well,” Kurama said. “Let's see if this forest at least has something to make an acceptable bow.”
“Look for some hickory. It’s a taller tree, dark, with an overlay in the bark. It should be fine enough for now. There are other materials, but if you can mark one of them, I can go and get it later when I have the time to make it.”
“Okay,” Kurama said. Putting his whetstone away, he headed into the forest with his naginata held tight.
“He should be alright, right?” Haku asked.
“What’s going on? Where is Kurama going?” Gakushu asked. Worry wrinkled his brow as his tail twitched nervously.
“He has gone in search of wood for a bow.”
“What we need is a snare. I don’t care about the hunt. We need food. This is the worst winter in my memory,” Gakushu muttered.
“It is the worst in any memory, Gakushu,” Haku replied.
“You know, I just finished the structure. You can both move your conversation inside a place with proper insulation and a working fireplace,” Hammer Strike commented as he casually opened the door to the new house.
.
Gakushu gave Hammer Strike a blank stare. He caught maybe two words. Fire. Okay, maybe just one word.
“House finished, Get inside,” Hammer Strike tried again.
Gakushu started, then stared back at the Pony. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you?” He stood up and quickly moved to enter the house.
“You are progressing very well. I barely detected an accent,” Haku complimented Hammer Strike.
“Give me a while. When I know a majority of the language, I’ll be able to do more than just small sentences,” Hammer replied.
“I assume it will take a few more weeks before you reach that point, but I am certain the others are looking forward to it,” Haku said as he gathered his supplies.
“I know Gakushu is.”
“I still do not understand how you could make use of that many lists. There are only so many hours in a day.”
“I’m a quick learner.”
Haku shrugged, then entered the cabin. It was simple in nature, hardwood floors, a support pillar, and a stone-encased fireplace off to the side, burning away at the fuel Hammer Strike had somehow provided without the foxes noticing. A few crude tables and chairs had been added to the location for at least some small sense of normalcy. Hammer Strike sighed. “I still need to get the materials for a bed, but that can come later. At least we have an insulated, warm building to rest in. That’s what matters.”
Week 6, Day 4
Gakushu sat at the desk with a stone on the table as he let his imagination run wild. Familiar buildings slowly took shape as his sooty paw worked at the paper. He giggled to himself as he relished in the warmth of the cabin. Older huts with terracotta tile roofs gave way to something … different. Newer buildings towered upwards, their bodies a mixture of metal and glass, a work of structural art. Was it functional? Probably not. But it was artistic. He looked up and blinked blearily at the fireplace before returning to his work.
Kurama entered the house with a cursory grunt. Several small rabbits had been tied to a rope around his waist. He promptly set down near the fire and began to clean them with a flint knife. “Is everything alright, Gakushu?” he asked as he tossed the inedible organs into the fire while he worked.
“Yes. I am trying to plan, and well, continue the training my Sensei was giving me. I was supposed to help plan out a city on one of the newer islands.”
“Gakushu, why do you never call him father?” Kurama asked after a deep breath. “Even when you were his student, you have never acknowledged him as your parent.”
“Because father….” His voice caught in his throat. “Because he always asked me to treat him as a teacher when we were in our lessons. You never were home or over visiting much. I … actually used to call him father all the time. I … I miss him, Kurama. And Sensei is ... it is how I cope right now. I cannot … I cannot ...”
“Very well, Gakushu. I won’t push you.” Kurama sighed as he looked at his quarry. “No vegetation means thin rabbits, sadly. There is barely any meat on these.”
“At least it is fresh, which is what I am craving.” Gakushu frowned as he looked at the table. “I do miss him. Sometimes I feel like I am going to walk into a room and there he will be, sitting at the table working and smiling before calling me over to show me his newest project. I saved his plans, you know. They are stored in the chest Hammer Strike Sama gave me.”
“You were lucky to have him,” Kurama said as he worked. “I was the youngest of twelve, with my oldest brother seventy years older than me. If not for my uncle, I’d probably have been left to waste.”
“Well when we get back I am going to have you as my main bodyguard. You can be my samurai protector,” Gakushu promised. “I am going to be traveling, after all, and the plans I have might not be popular at first. And, well… my family always has a protector when we journey to gather information.”
“You do me far too much honor, Gakushu,” Kurama said. “I have already failed as a protector.”
“You were willing to give your life to protect us. That is not failure, nor is it weakness,” Haku piped up at last. He pressed forward to the pair. “To think like that is weakness when most would flee from what you faced bravely, and what they faced.” Haku thrust out an arm, revealing the scroll he had been painting on for the last five weeks. “They died with honor, and they shall be remembered with honor.” The painting was surprisingly accurate. There the party stood, each smiling. Kurama’s uncle waved cheerfully. Gakushu’s father nodded approvingly, scroll and brush in hand. The other warriors laughed as they circled the party while historians clung to their brush kits and charcoal. The cherry trees that surrounded them were in full bloom as a few gentle strokes simulated wind carrying the petals over the mountains. A great cloud had been painted underneath them, and their fur was unmarred by the passing of years. “It is not much, I know, but I hope it is … suitable.”
“It, It is amazing.” Gakushu whispered in awe. Tears beaded in his eyes.
“It is truly beautiful, Haku,” Kurama said.
“I … wished to remember them somehow. Until we can return home again, I thought this would be the best way.” Grabbing his bag, Haku pulled out two sticks of incense and complimenting holders and placed them on the mantle of the fireplace.
A thud interrupted the group as a saw blade made it’s way through a segment of the northern wall and slowly began to trail downwards.
“... You know, I feel like I should be surprised by this, but for some reason, I am not anymore,” Haku said. “Hammer Strike is an … interesting being.”
“I worry what he could do if we were to commission him to build a palace for our nine-tailed emperor. The building might never cease, even if we were to build to the very heavens themselves,” Gakushu muttered softly.
“He does it to fill his mind,” Kurama said.
Eventually the blade made it’s way across both sides, and the section of wall was pulled back, revealing a new segment to the home. Hammer Strike stood there placing the segment against another wall. He rolled his shoulders and muttered something about making a needle and thread to fix up his dress shirt. His coat lay neatly folded inside the first segment on top of one of the roughhewn tables.
“What is this section for?” Gakushu asked, expecting one of his other friends to translate the question for him.
“Storage.” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Have you thought about building a mine, Hammer Strike?” Kurama asked as he studied the quickly dulling flint knife.
“What do you believe I do when you are all asleep?”
“Have you found any ore yet?” Kurama asked. In equestrian this time.
“Small amounts of copper, iron, and sadly a decent sum of gold ore.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“May I take a look at the iron? Perhaps I will be able to find something to make a more suitable knife with,” Kurama said.
“How trained are you in smithing?”
“When one takes up the warrior’s mantle in our country, one must learn to create weapons and tools before one may actually possess them, unless they are inherited. Technically, I should not have these, but I can make a suitable knife.”
“I could teach you a few things if you’d like. I’ve been smithing for most of my life now,” Hammer Strike offered.
“I ... I would appreciate that.” Kurama bowed his head.
“Hope you’re prepared for the amount of work I do in one sitting. Only time it took me longer than a day was when I was shaping a material that broke seven anvils.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Seven?” Haku’s eyes widened. “What earthly substance could possibly manage to break seven anvils in the crafting?”
“The bones of an Ursa Major.”
“What about an Ursa Major?” Gakushu asked. “I recognize the word, but what is it?”
“That’s impossible. An Ursa Major is nigh unkillable. Why, its vitals alone are practically impossible to reach. It towers to the very heavens themselves. Its pelt is like diamond. Not even you could have killed such a creature unassisted, Hammer Strike.”
“My… student at the time took care of it.”
“This student sounds like a fearsome warrior indeed,” Kurama said, nodding.
Haku turned to Gaushu and quickly explained what they had been discussing.
“We get some good sparring matches.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Only time we can both really let loose in a fight...”
Gakushu fell off his chair at hearing the news, especially when the legendary smith said only he and his apprentice could fight one another at full strength. His eye twitched as he muttered one phrase. “I must see this armor. I must see this beast.”
“One day you will,” Hammer Strike replied.
Week 9, Day 2
Gakushu looked out the window, confused. Both ears twitched and he spoke without turning his head. “Haku… I think something is out there. I feel like we are being watched, and I cannot stay warm again. Something is out there, and it is turning my blood to ice.”
“Windigo?” Haku hissed.
“I know not. But I fear it has no honorable intentions.”
“Should I go out and scout?” Kurama asked, already reaching for his naginata.
“NO!” Gakushu shouted in Equish. “No. Please, don’t leave me. What if you go out and they come in?”
“Nothing will get past me, Gakushu. I swear on the tails of my ancestors.”
“At least wait for Hammer Strike, Kurama. He should be back from the mine soon,” Haku said.
“Soon may not be soon enough,” Kurama noted. “But if it’s truly your wish, I will wait.”
“Can you not set up a defense?” Gakushu shivered. “Please, drive it away.”
“We can try to invoke the goddess’ blessing, but I don’t know if it will work. We are still so very young,” Haku said. “I wish Hammer Strike were here.”
Whatever was outside, its presence soon faded. Another figure was making its way towards the house, a heavy wooden container on his back. Hammer Strike muttered to himself as he carried a decent sized load of wood and ore he’d harvested. Something else was out in the woods, but it ran off before he could get close enough to figure out what it was.
“Hammer Strike,” Gakushu shouted from the window. “Something is out there and found the cabin!”
“I know. I’ll set up things later for it,” Hammer Strike called back in response.
“Thank the goddess,” Haku said fervently.
“Perhaps we should light some perimeter fires, Haku. If it was a creature of the ice, that should help ward them off,” Kurama said.
“True. Though we would need to keep them burning. That might prove difficult after a time.”
Hammer Strike entered the room, and then moved towards the fireplace, intent on stacking the wood off to the side.
“Perhaps we could try some spell notes? They could prove adequate wards, or at least warnings while the fires burn,” Haku said.
“I’ll lay some traps that will activate by Windigo magic in a moment,” Hammer Strike said.
“May I observe?” Haku asked.
“Sure.”
Haku grinned. “I am curious to see how you are able to channel magic when so few of your particular tribe can.”
“I’ll be doing something other than just magic. Come on,” Hammer Strike said, placing his pack on the ground and moved towards the door. A few moments later, Haku raced after him, brush and scroll in hand.
Hammer Strike took several steps outside before stopping as his eyes shifted to a familiar purple. “Okay … change of plans.” By now he had finally figured out what was going on. After accidentally using whatever the device was that brought him to this time, it had altered his thaumic field, filling it with the unique aspect of time itself. His field was burning off the energy at random, clearing it from his system while using it. The interesting part of this strange process was the fact it gave him the ability to see brief moments in time both past and future.
In front of him he could see three Windigos. Behind him he saw Kurama, Haku, and Gakushu, each preparing for the worst. Kurama looked particularly battered. He frowned as he watched himself casually walk out of the building with a smile before saying something to the trio. It was at that moment that something different happened. Everything stopped in the vision.
“... Hammer Strike?” Haku asked nervously.
“One moment, Haku. I want to... try something,” he said, looking back to the Windigos only he could see. He wondered to himself if he could do more with time than just look.
His hoof ignited in orange fire that slowly shifted to a dark purple. He brought his hoof forward and pushed three balls of fire towards the images, stopping it in the center of their being. The reaction was instant as the vision continued. The Windigos shrieked before the growing flame that consumed them.
“Well I think I just settled that,” Hammer Strike said, somewhat unsure of himself.
“What did you just do?” Haku asked, trembling somewhat. “That fire … what … what was that?”
“Something more than just fire, and if this plays out correctly, you’ll see its power.”
“... When?”
“No idea.”
Haku just stared. “N-nani?”
Week 12 Day 6
Gakushu looked at the table and frowned at the stew cooking on the fire. Haku and Kurama were both off doing goddess knew what, and he was stuck in the house trying to handle the nuances of Equish. He knew he had to work harder, but he felt like he was hitting a wall in his studies. He turned to the tanned hide as he worked on his drawing, labeling each object both in Equish and Naponese before repeating the words aloud. He looked back at his previous side projects. He didn’t even know why he drew those tall ugly buildings. They would never work. No one would want to have a house that could be seen into from the outdoors. Besides that, it would be too open to attack should their warding spells fail. At last, he returned to the more traditional building schematics of his home land.
The door opened as Hammer Strike entered, carrying more firewood to add to a stockpile that they had been making. He muttered faint things to himself as he moved to stack them. “Hey.”
“How do you learn so fast?” Gakushu frowned. “It makes it feel almost like I am the unneeded wheel a merchant took with him.”
“Everyone learns differently. Perhaps we should try another method with you. I learn fast because, in most cases, if I learned slowly I would have made plenty of mistakes.”
“What manner do you suggest we try?” Gakushu asked.
“Rather than read and attempt, why not try true lessons, somewhat like how you tried to teach me long ago?”
“It was only three months ago. A long time ago would be if we were fifty years.” Gakushu gave a barely perceptible smirk as his tail twitched playfully.
“Any amount of time can be considered long, Gakushu. It doesn’t help that you miss out on half a day while I do not.”
“You scare me.”
“I scare everyone.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“I don’t want to be scared of you, Hammer.”
“As long as you aren’t against me, you have nothing to fear. My wrath is for those who would harm my friends and family.”
“Why would I be against the stallion who saved me?”
“You’d be surprised.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Did Haku finish the blue thread that I requested?”
“I know not. I think it was in the workshop you added on last month.”
“Good. I’d really like to patch up my coat. I may not use it for warmth, but I like the extra pockets, and… it reminds me of a few things.”
Then the door opened and a cold draft blew through the halls.
“Honestly, Kurama, you’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to take a break from time to time,” Haku said as the pair passed through the door and into the warmth of their new home.
“I am not a scholar,” Kurama told him as he closed the door again. “I have been raised to survive on little rest. Do not worry for me. I will be fine.”
“At least have some soup. Little rest is one thing. Little nourishment is another.”
“You and Gakushu finish first. I will have what's left.”
“I already ate,” Gakushu said calmly as he worked on the rough outlines of a pagoda.
“See? And there is plenty more. Let me serve you a bowl.”
“...Very well,” Kurama sighed.
Pleased with his victory, Haku whistled to himself as he ladled a serving into the rough wooden bowls they had carved from the surrounding trees. Thanks to Hammer Strike, it had been easy to break them down. He laid it down in front of his friend before returning to take his own serving. “How long have you been performing those exercises Hammer Strike gave you now anyways?” he asked as he took his seat.
“Once in the morning after katas and once in the evening before night watch,” Kurama said, eating slowly.
“That is good,” Haku said absently as he stirred the stew with a makeshift spoon before letting out a heavy sigh. “I miss home.”
“They won’t forget you,” Kurama promised.
“I do not fear being forgotten. I am merely … homesick. Aren’t you?” he asked, motioning to his companions.
“I have no home to return to,” Kurama pointed out.
“I shall adopt you as my brother,” Gakushu answered with conviction.
Haku’s head snapped up, his gaze determined. “Let us make a pact. The three of us. No matter what path we may choose on the road of life, we will all be each other’s family.”
“A pact for a thousand years.” Kurama chuckled dryly.
“Longer, should the goddess permit,” Haku said as he extended a paw.
“I agree to this pact. We shall be each other’s family.” Gakushu’s look was stern and unyielding as he added his own paw.
Kurama silently added his own paw to the others.
“With the goddess as our witness, this pact is binding. From this day forward, we are brothers, and will share in all that we do, all that we have, and all that we are.” A dim glow emanated from each of the Kitsune’s paws as their magical auras blended to create a ball of fire streaked with orange, red, and violet. It danced there for a time as the three stared before it disappeared with a light pop and the sound of tinkling laughter. The scent of fresh grain and rice filled the room for a brief moment, and then it was gone.
Gakushu’s eyes widened in shock, his pupils practically the size of his nose. He looked to the others silently, his muzzle slightly open.
“... It appears she has accepted our pact,” Haku said slowly before letting loose an explosive breath.
“So let it be,” Kurama said, trying his best to hide the awe in his face, though he could do little to hide it from his voice.
“Oddest thing I’ve seen so far,” Hammer Strike muttered in Draconic.
Week 18 day 4
“Ha!” Kurama shouted as he swung his naginata at an invisible opponent. The darkness around him was illuminated only by the orange fire that wreathed the blade. To the outside observer the movements would seem graceful, calculated, smooth. To Kurama, all he could see was the swing going inches too high or centimeters too low, or not being quick enough on the reprieve. The Kitsune growled to himself as he started the katas again. Perfection was to be the only option.
Gakushu tossed and turned in his bed, his sleep uneasy as he lashed in his sheets. He moaned, but he didn’t wake. Trapped within the realm between dreams and waking, the land of nightmares stretched across his consciousness. He was once again in the meadow. The Windigos swarmed around them, but this time, this time their party was winning. Gakushu prepared to cheer before a sudden blast of cold struck him. He watched a frigid blue welt rise from his fur. Cold flooded through his body and he shivered where he stood as he bent to pick up a branch. A small flame ignited at its tip as he waved it about to try to scare away the monsters. His vision began to swim. His body continued to tremble. He felt feverish, but he had to keep fighting. It was either that, or die.
Suddenly, one of the creatures appeared to his left. Where had it come from? He waved the stick at it and it nimbly pranced aside on the wind. Gakushu stared in surprise. The stick had moved so slowly. Why? His arms … they felt … sluggish, heavy. He watched the stick fall, the little flame freezing into crystal as he dropped to his knees. The cold was gone. The air around him almost felt warm. A sudden wind picked up, whirling around him. It raced through his fur, bent back his ears, and flowed over the welt. As it did so, pain like nothing he had ever felt before flooded his system. The welt consumed his fur, spreading like the morning frost he had seen so many times in the window of their little cottage each morning. He looked down to see his fingers and paws clench together and slowly coalesce, darkening into thick, solid hooves. He watched the ghostly fetlocks grow, felt his neck twist and snap as it lengthened and expanded, felt the wind whip at his fur and cause it to lengthen around his neck and down his back. His robes tore under the increasing pressure of his rapidly changing body. Then he felt them. Standing next to him. Side to side. All together. Just like him. Looking down, he found himself standing on all four insubstantial hooves in the air. A guttural growl rose in his throat, but emerged as a whinny. He felt anger. He felt hunger. He felt want. His eyes locked on two small, defenseless kits, their eyes wide with terror as they clung to one another for comfort. Fear. He felt it, and he … he reveled in it, fed on it. He felt what little was left of his face contort into a sneer as he reared into the air and promptly charged. The air was filled with screams.
Gakushu sat up, tearing the blanket in half with paw, claws, and teeth as he screamed in terror. His eyes were wide as the full moon as his gaze darted nervously back and forth, back and forth across the room. He couldn’t stop. The screaming continued, stopping only for him to take a quick breath before continuing at the top of his lungs. He began to hyperventilate, panting out of control as his screams gradually grew hoarse. They were there. Everywhere. He could see them all around him, lurking in the shadows, skittering with every snow flurry, bringing the cold, calling to him, hunting him.
The door burst open as Kurama rushed in with his wakizashi in hand. “Gakushu, are you alri–?” He dropped the blade to the floor as he saw the look on his friend's face before moving over to him and surrounding him in his warm arms. “Are you alright?” Kurama’s voice was calmer this time. He gently wrapped his paws around Gakushu.
“Stay away,” Gakushu said raspily. “Stay away before I turn you as well. They are coming. They are here. They … they want me. They want me.…” He wept uncontrollably. “Let me go!” He struggled, squirming in Kurama’s grip. “Don’t you understand? If I leave, they will follow me. You all will be safe. They just want me!” he cried.
Kurama held on all the tighter. “They will have to kill me to get to you,” he said.
“But I don’t want you dead. I don’t want anyone dead. You are too precious, too important. You can take my things when the rescue comes, but I am the most expendable of the party.”
“The warrior is always the most expendable,” Kurama chided. “Even if it is not valuable to you, your life is valuable to me.”
“But they already hurt me. I feel like a part of me is no longer me. They know where I am, and that makes me a danger, the weak stone in the wall. You have to let me go.” Once more, Gakushu renewed his struggles.
“Goddess, Gakushu, if I can’t save you and Haku, then what good am I?” Tears pooled in Kurama’s eyes as he held his friend close. “Ple-please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be worthless.”
“But I could kill all of you. Is that a threat you want to take, a risk to our mission? How many others did they send out to this land to find out why this winter is lasting? How many of them are gone? How many got turned into those things or became food for later? This winter is the greatest threat, not just to this land, but all the world!”
“Don’t be foolish, Gakushu. You're not a threat. You’ll never be one of them. You're far too good for that.”
“How can you be sure?” Gakushu whined. His struggles had weakened, and his body shook with horrified sobs. “How can you be sure?”
“Because we’ve been friends since we were cubs!”
“But I don’t even trust myself right now. I … I felt like I was changing in that nightmare. I was becoming one of them. I … I attacked two kits. … I attacked you.”
“You attacked in a dream, Gakushu. It wasn’t real,” Haku said as he entered the room. His eyes were puffy from lack of sleep as he rubbed against them with a free paw. He took a seat on the other side of the bed and placed an arm around Gakushu’s shoulders, adding his own support and body heat to the group. “We made a pact, Gakushu. The three of us. We are brothers now, and we will remain brothers through the best and the worst.” He laid his other free paw on top of Gakushu’s clenched fists.
“I don’t want to hurt my brothers. I … I never had brothers before. Please ... just please. I want my family. I want you. But I cannot risk hurting you.”
“We always risk hurting the ones we love, Gakushu. It’s a risk we’re willing to take,” Haku said.
“I ... I will try to remember that. It is just .... I do not know who I shall be. I fear when I return my family name will be considered dead. My father was the last of our line. The fire sickness took the rest.” He took a deep breath. This time, his voice didn’t catch. “Do you think Hammer Strike Sama would be willing to be adopted?”
“You can ask him tomorrow,” Kurama said “For now, try and get some sleep. We will protect you.”
“All through the night,” Haku promised.
”Th… Thank you. I shall… I shall try to get some sleep. That, or I might try to learn something. I feel as if my heart is about to burst. I fear going back to sleep.”
“Whatever you want, Gakushu. Whatever you want.”
Week 20, Day 3
Kurama’s naginata was a blur of motion as the young Kitsune worked on his technique. Every motion was thought out, fluid, calculated as he moved against his invisible opponent with a finely honed ferocity. The blade glowed brightly with it’s orange wreath of flames.
“You really are very good,” Haku complimented as he emerged from the cabin with a bowl of steaming venison. He offered the dish to his companion and smiled.
“I’m making mistakes.” Kurama sighed. “A weapon is an extension of self. Every movement is supposed to be without question, and I am not achieving that.”
“I … used to read a great deal before I came on this journey. I am no expert, but I believe part of your trouble is that you cannot relax. By overthinking the situation, your body becomes more tense, and it leads to mistakes.”
“I’m fine,” Kurama said as resolutely as he could. It wasn’t very convincing.
“You’ve been pressing yourself, Kurama, and it’s taking its toll on your body. We’re starting to worry,” Haku said bluntly as he took his seat on a nearby stump.
“A true samurai can survive for days on little rest or food. I have had plenty of both.”
“But that is during a mission or campaign. What happens afterwards? Does one not rest and regain one’s health? Pressing for such long periods, if not blessed by the goddess, will lead to death. You cannot be like Hammer Strike Sama. He is very unique, unlike anything I have ever seen,” Gakushu said as he emerged from the wood shed Hammer Strike had built to store and dry their firewood. He laid the armful of logs on the ground before standing next to Haku.
“We are in a campaign, Gakushu!” Kurama snapped. “We are until we no longer have to worry about ice spirits at our door.”
“If Hammer Strike is to be believed, that will not happen for many years to come, Kurama, even after we leave this place. Working to be a stronger warrior is good, but not if it costs you everything in the process. Hammer Strike and I have been discussing how to defend our home against the Windigos. We believe a combination of his magic and my sealing arts should do the trick to create a warding spell powerful enough to repel them.”
“If warding spells were a definitive solution, Haku, our people would not need warriors. We would not need to fear the tengu swooping down on us from the skies, or the oni in the mountains. Wards fail, haku. And when they do, we must be prepared to fight.”
“Warriors fail, too, Kurama!” Haku snapped as he rose from his seat. The venison had grown cool in the winter air. “If you did not maintain your naginata, it would have fallen to waste by now. If you do not care for your body the same way, then you will waste away instead. All the weapons in the world are useless without the warrior to wield them, no matter how powerful they may be.”
The ground beneath Haku’s feet began to sizzle and crack as the snow melted to slush. A similar phenomenon surrounded Kurama as the two stared each other down. A cold wind wailed as it passed through the trees, stirring up the snowflakes from the snowdrifts and striking them against the two Kitsunes’ faces.
“For the last time, Haku, I am FINE!” Kurama shouted as the two closed the distance between one another.
Gakushu shivered, his eyes going wide. “Hammer Strike!” he shouted. “They… They are coming. They are coming!” Then he turned back to the adopted brothers. “Fight them. Not each other.” He lunged to the two boys, trying to separate them with his own body to little effect.
“Enough, Gakushu. This is between me and Kurama,” Haku growled.
Those monsters are coming. Can’t you feel it? Those monsters are coming here!”
The grey clouds darkened, casting a shadow over the clearing as the two stared each other down and Gakushu struggled to keep things calm. Flurries began to eddy around the trio and Gakushu shuddered, clutching to the furs Hammer Strike had tanned for him to wear.
Kurama broke the standoff with Haku to scan the area. “Get inside,” he growled as he flourished the naginata.
“You’re in no condition to fight,” Haku said, easily switching to Equish.
“And Gakushu is freezing. Get him inside. I’ll be fine!”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Haku said. Suddenly the fires surrounding the property diminished, then died with a pathetic sputter. The shrill whinny of the wind spirit echoed through the air. With a sudden explosive column of wind and snow, the creature made contact on the earth, its ethereal mane flowing behind it with the cold bit of frost and ice crystals. Frigid fire burned in its eyes as it bore down on the trio.
Growling, Kurama charged, sweeping his hand to circle him and the beast in orange flames. The Kitsune impatiently moved forward with a chop. The Windigo side stepped. Kurama followed with a upward slice, which, once again, the Windigo dodged easily. Angry, Kurama shifted his stance, hardening his form as he concentrated his power into his upper body and arms. With one swift movement he lunged forward in a stab. The Windigo leaped out of the way. No longer content to play with the creature, it responded by blasting the young fox full force in the chest, sending him flying through what little remained of the fire wall and impacting into a tree. The flames sputtered out as Kurama lost consciousness. A fresh coat of frost had covered his orange fur, giving it a silver ruff. The Windigo reared triumphantly as it bore down on him, only for it to explode apart in a puff of steam and water droplets.
“Hooves off,” Haku growled, his paws still sparking as he scanned the clearing carefully before racing to Kurama’s side. “You stupid, stubborn fool.” Tears stood in his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Gakushu, I will require your help. That fireball took a lot out of me.” Even as he said it, his body was shaking from the cold.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Kurama must be revived. Do you remember the basic healing spell Kaede Sensei taught us before we were assigned?”
Gakushu nodded as he slowly raised his paws. Haku mirrored his movements as the pair closed their eyes and placed their hands over Kurama’s chest. A warm, golden glow flowed over the recumbent fox. Haku was sweating as they continued to work until at last, Kurama coughed and opened his eyes.
“Thank the Goddess you are alright,” Gakushu said. “Please, please don’t do that again.”
Haku panted, a tired smile on his face. “Now will you listen?”
“Where?” The orange Kitsune’s eyes widened as he coughed, struggling to rise.
“Gakushu,” Haku said as he shifted to pull one of Kurama’s arms over his shoulders. “Will you take the other side?”
“Okay.” Gakushu shifted to the other side and together, they pulled Kurama to his feet. Together, they stumbled towards the house. As they drew within range of the door, a layer of frost grew over it, caking their boots and hindering their movements. The wind and the snowflakes picked up, biting into their fur and drying their noses. From the edges of the forest, three more Windigos emerged, snorting and tossing their heads as they advanced. They took their time, easing their approach. Their prey was weak, an easy target to feed upon, though the destruction of their herdmate had roused their ire, and it showed as the frost slowly turned to ice, effectively rooting the three Kitsunes to the spot.
“Nowhere to run,” Haku grunted. “Either we fight … or we die.”
“Then we fight,” Gakushu muttered with a peaceful smile.
“What do you say, Kurama? Up for a last battle?” Haku asked.
“I–I won’t go down easy.” The orange Kitsune drew his blade.
The door to the house opened with a loud crack and the tinkling of built up ice falling to the ground as Hammer Strike calmly walked out, looking to the Windigos and the three kits before him. He gave a faint grin in the Windigos’ direction. “Tell me, Haku. Do you remember what I showed you weeks ago?”
“H-Hammer Strike, is this really the time for–?”
The Windigos suddenly contorted, shrieking in pain. Their cries echoed in an eerie three part harmony as a burning purple light slowly pulsed within their barrels, spreading ever so slowly as the light grew stronger. Their forms grew less visible, becoming little more than a dim outline as the flames ate hungrily, consuming the very air and water from which the spirits had been made. Passing like a blight, tongues of flame spread up their necks and into their eyes, changing the color as they looked in horror at the grinning Pony. Then in a last wail, their manes ignited into purple fire, and having burst free of its confines, the purple flames consumed the Windigos’ vital essence until there was nothing left. A few pale embers flickered peacefully on the wind, dancing like snowflakes before they, too, snuffed out, leaving only the silence in their wake.
“... Oh,” Haku said.
Gakushu stammered as he sat down. He couldn’t form words in either language to describe the fear, horror, sorrow, anxiety, and sheer adrenaline that coursed through him. Finally, he settled on just letting the emotions carry over and out as he wept.
Kurama let out a long dry laugh before slumping to the ground, his body completely exhausted.
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Hammer Strike slayer of the things with FIRE and MORE FIRE.
Well its pretty good, nice to see some backround history to hammerstrike.
Another great chapter mate! also, those kitsunes are adorable!
Hammerstrike is leveling up in a new job class, temporal manipulation? That bracelt might have started things off, but his mind and body learn about the energies even as the origional generator dissapates.
The reason the Tardis takes teh Doctor to the times and places he goes in teh order he goes, is because he very carefully doesnt look deeply into the Time Vortex, which he has a couple times, as that defines his world line for his future absolutely, so giving intereference like being on teh phone to a radio station while listening to the radio.
Given Hammerstrike is in teh same temporal location twice, Id expect some interference between his two occurances, but with a bit of experimenting Id expect him to work out how to switch from in phase destructive interference, to out of phase constructive intereference, because two parts of the same world line are shifted relative to each other to start with.
Hammerstrike used Future Sight. Its Super Effective.
Im wondering why it would take so long for search teams to come looking for them, if they were in the same origionating country. The time taken mentined makes me thing Hammerstrike recognises the place, because its where he built the Castle Of The Two Sisters or somethng.
Temporal hallucinations, Architect creating downtown Tokyo. At least with the skycrapers. Gets confusing.
Doctor didnt say When he was picking Hammerstrike up, so lets see what intresting times are approaching. Where the windigo blows.
"My fires will haunt you through time, you cannot run, nor hide, for you were already found, and already beat. Now is judgment for sinful acts you will make, ones that darken your soul even in the past, and as such, now you must perish and have this world cleaned of your filth."~ hammerstrike should have said this before the windigos died, would have been badass.
Just saying
KILL IT KILL IT WHIT FIRE!!!! hehe good chapter guys keep the great work upp this is still kepping me exsited and damn clif hanger! XD
Did Hammer Strike just... Deus Ex Machina himself out of a situation?
7209508
No, he didn't. Basically what happened is Hammer Strike's thaumic field had the time aspect shoved into it when he was thrown back by the remnants of that time bracelet The Doctor mentioned. Since Hammer Strike already has his attributes set in his field, having the time aspect shoved in basically overloads his field, so to compensate, the field is randomly shoving the time aspect out through his body in the form of visions of the future or past and the flames he sent through time previously (hence the flames being purple, rather than the usual blue). So yeah, he didn't deus ex. It was more of an experiment, and he could easily have killed them in the present if it didn't work.
7209797 So will he lose time powers in the future then when it all gets shoved out? Or have altogether weaker powers in broader fields?
7209987
That will be revealed in the next couple of chapters.
Okay, Harmony is suppose to be chaos and order working together. Harmony is always changing, because what is harmony is different with each situation. What I want to know is why would Vital Spark have aspect of Order only? As I've stated before Harmony is Chaos and Order working together. Chaos can be bad, but so can pure order. What is slavery but Order run rampant?
Finally, I imagined what would happen if Shawn/Hammerstrike's parent's showed up. All I can say is that his mother terrifies me.
7213943
Clearly you need to go back to chapter 84. Hammer Strike clearly states that Vital has two separate aspects in his field: Peredito and Ordo, which roughly translates to chaos and order.
7214038 Oh, I'm sorry. Just the way he stated sounded like the Peredito came from Discord. I suppose he wouldn't know that it didn't come from him anyway.
7214065
That's because it did. At least in part. Discord was the reason Vital Spark was brought to Equestria in the first place, so his chaos magic lingered on him for a while. That chaos blended with the dark energies from Shawn when he was in his evil state to form the perdito part of Vital's/Conor's field. The other part, ordo, came from Harmony when she gave Conor the crystal filled with the purity aspect to balance him out. The field formed shortly thereafter, most likely during the conflict that came when the purity crystal made contact with the dark crystals to purge Shawn.
7214065
Also, to address your initial concern, it's true that harmony generally is meant to represent a blending of order and chaos, and can indeed adjust to fit what harmony needs to in certain standards and separate events. In this case, though, Harmony is a symbol of order, which is why Discord hated the tree so much before his imprisonment, and planted the seeds to try to weaken and kill the tree. He wanted to be free of any magic that could bind him like the elements of harmony did, and that means killing the source of that power.
Well that's one way to use Future Sight.