An Old Mare's Tale: Gadgets, Bringer of SCIENCE!

by Forevermore

Irony Sucks In Every Universe

Minion hated the desert, she hated everything about it. The sand that had been so pretty from far away was itchy and got into places one couldn't easily reach with hooves, and while she enjoyed the thought of enlisting Gadgets' help cleaning it out later, she had to admit: crossing a desert is a thoroughly miserable, time-consuming activity nopony should ever do.

But do it they would to save a perfect stranger from a grisly fate. Not that it would be the first time she'd risked her existence for the sake of somepony she'd never met. The citizens of Araea looked out for each other, especially when the danger was real and the world was looking that much darker.

"So," she called out over the wind, "how much farther have we got to go? Everything looks the same from up here."

"Up here" was on board the same junk she and Gadgets had used to enter the city, empty now from all unnecessary items after a quick trip to The Inconceivable. They'd originally planned to seek out the jackals' lair aboard the mighty airship itself, but Captain Grayshaw had warned them that jackals were extremely cowardly, and the sight of a full-blown warship descending down on their heads would scare them so deep into their caves they'd never be found.

The very same captain now manned the wheel, steering the ship towards its ultimate destination: Forbidden Mountain, where the Dead One sleeps. Grayshaw had proved to be a surprisingly adept pilot, mastering the complicated controls within minutes of first laying talons on them, driving them forward with the practiced ease of a veteran aviator.

Gadgets stood next to the griffon, smiling happily as the wind blew bugs into his teeth and whipped his mane back so hard Minion felt herself wince with pain each time she saw it. Minion herself was lying beneath the sail and behind a number of barrels blocking out most of the wind, grateful for the shorter manecut she'd adopted for traveling. The thought of what might have happened to the absurdly long style she'd worn in Araea in this heat hardly bore thinking on.

Darkfang, their erstwhile draconic friend, was sprawled along the bow, soaking up heat and looking for all the world as if he were in the peak of bliss. Minion silently hoped he'd get bucked off by the junk's fierce bouncing as it made headway against the beginnings of a sandstorm.

Grayshaw had been the only griffon soldier to accompany them on this rescue mission, a fact that, while odd, made the adventurers somewhat more relaxed. In point of fact, the captain had insisted on coming alone, even when his entire squad badgered and pecked at him to bring them along, citing the need for speed and stealth lest the princess be harmed in a firefight between two larger armies.

The griffon had dressed himself in a bronze cuirass worked to resemble individual feathers and a winged helmet shaped to fit his head perfectly and outfitted with a length of metal plates to protect his neck. Bracers covered his front eagle legs and back lion paws; even his wings had been out-fitted with incredibly light copper plating to protect the sensitive joints from harm. The entire ensemble was covered with magical runes in muted colors of brown and black, the wisdom of which had not been lost on the mare. The armor itself was polished to a blinding shine, but the runes gave it the appearance of dappled sand, meaning the griffon would be all but invisible in the desert.

The unicorn had studied a great deal of the science behind enchantment during her brief time in the library, and she knew that those gaudy, self-serving symbols painted in expensive dyes were far more than they appeared. Unlike unicorn magic, which relied on inner strength and willpower, griffon magic focused more on the gathering of energy into specific items through the use of complex rituals and equations, performing subtle, potent spells of offense or defense.

The captain's spear, one of only two weapons he carried, the other being a large knife tucked into his cuirass, was a good example of the former, bedecked as it was runes of combat, particularly those dealing with lightning and penetration. The weapon, currently strapped to its owners back, crackled and popped with electricity, small bolts of red lightning could even be seen sizzling down the haft to the tip.

"According to Bluebeak's map," Grayshaw gestured at the two pieces of parchment currently sealed within the glass podium behind the wheel where its contents would be in easy view of the pilot, "and the information we already had from the Governor, we're about twenty leagues away. Normally that would be a few hours' journey in this weather, even for the fastest fliers, but with this ship," he patted the wheel affectionately, "we should be able to make it in less than one."

"So tell us, Captain," Darkfang called, rousing from feigned sleep to look back at the helm, "what's the Princess like? I've never heard of her."

"The Princess is young, barely more than seventeen years old, and she's weak and sickly much of the time, so she doesn't travel much," the captain answered, making a few small adjustments to their course. "She's also one of our greatest healers, though not much of a fighter."

"And what makes you think she's managed to survive when twelve elite soldiers obviously didn't?"

Grayshaw chuckled, "I said she wasn't much of a fighter, I didn't say she was defenseless. The princess is the only master of Suk'ruk Gui currently in existence."

"Suk'cruck-what?" Minion called out, confused.

"It's old Imperium for 'The Ultimate Defense'," Darkfang explained, "it's an ancient martial art focusing on personal safety, but it's got no attack moves at all. That being said, a master of the art would be basically untouchable on any normal battlefield. It was practiced mostly among monks during the wars of old, so that they could defend themselves without breaking their vows of pacifism."

"It's unpopular nowadays," Grayshaw continued, nodding slightly at the dragon for his explanation. Minion thought she saw a glimmer of affection, though it might just as easily be respect, in his eyes. The captain had never been rude, unfriendly, or even disrespectful, but she'd also got the impression he didn't care much for them, that seemed to no longer be the case.

"Most youngsters just want to learn how to crush their enemies, show off their strength, and that's exactly what the military teaches them. But the Princess is a kind, gentle soul, heck she's even a vegetarian; I don't think there's a being alive she could bare to harm. Even Bluebeak has never been able to make her angry, and everypony who meets him wants to kill him, myself included."

"So if it's so unpopular, where'd she learn it?" Gadgets asked, joining in on the conversation.

Grayshaw blushed sheepishly, making imaginary adjustments to the steering to buy time. "I taught it to her," he said at last.

"You?" Said everypony at once.

"I...dabbled... in the art myself sometime in the past. I thought if I learned a few of the basics it'd give me an edge, I was right and wrong on that score. There's no better way to get yourself out of a jam than Suk'ruk Gui but it's so damn intensive it's impossible to do anything else while you're using it. Meaning you're absolutely safe from everypony else, and everypony else is absolutely safe from you; the perfect technique for a pacifist like the Princess."

"Sounds useful," Minion mused, "not every fight has to end with somepony getting hurt."

The captain shrugged noncommittally, concentrating on his steering, signaling that he was done speaking on the subject. The crew left him to his privacy, Gadgets launching into a tale about how he'd gotten inspiration for a mustard cannon from a kitchen mishap when he was seven, and the resulting explosion that left Punkstill stinking of cheese for six weeks. Eventually though, even he drifted off and another half-hour passed in silence, everypony mentally preparing themselves for the task ahead.

"So," Darkfang said, his voice uncommonly loud in the quiet, "these jackals. What can we expect from them in terms of weaponry?"

Grayshaw's hooded eyes grew bleak as he contemplated the question, "The jackals are scavengers, they take whatever they can get in terms of lethality, and they're notoriously good at fixing what's broken or damaged. They'll have all the weapons the Princess's personal guards were carrying, their armor, and whatever else they might have had on them. We can also assume they'll have a wide variety of spears, swords, bows, and whatever else they've managed to take from trade caravans. It's best to assume they're as well equipped as any modern army, then work from there."

"Sounds like fun."

"Dragon hides are legendary; you won't have much to fear from physical weapons like steel and bronze. But you two," he looked from Gadgets to Minion, "are in danger not only from physical wounds, but poison as well."

"They use poison?" Gadgets asked sharply, looking suddenly alert. Grayshaw nodded, and the smiling colt dived into one of his many pockets. After a minute he found what he was looking for: a small yellow vial filled with what appeared to be amorphous gas.

"Drink a sip of this - just a taste on your tongue - mind you," He told them, handing the bottle to Darkfang, who took it gingerly, holding it at arm's length as if expecting it to explode, change into something else, or start calling him names. Minion understood his trepidation, but she recognized the substance within and knew that this time, there was no danger. Well, depending on what one meant by "danger".

Steeling his courage, the dragon uncorked the vial and raised it to his lips. The moment it touched, he blanched violently and tossed it away, coughing and spluttering; the mare caught the concoction nimbly with her magic.

"What the hay?! That tastes like rotten smurfberries!" The dragon shouted, glaring daggers at the innocently smiling Gadgets, who was doing a good job of looking for all the world as if he'd had no idea of what would happen.

"Rotten-what?" Minion asked, bringing the bottle to her own lips and taking a sip, bravely holding down her gorge as the vile substance rotted her tongue.

"Long story," he gasped, eyes spinning in opposite circles as he grasped the railing for support.

Minion shrugged and floated the harmless looking vile over to the griffon captain, "You next."

Grayshaw looked first at her, who gave him what she thought was a reassuring smile, unable to tell as she could no longer feel her lips; then at Darkfang, who was retching what looked like every meal he'd ever eaten over the side, and finally at Gadgets, who was literally bouncing up and down with glee.

"What is it?" He asked, taking the vial and peering at it with a practiced eye.

"A special cure-all I developed," Gadgets explained, still bouncing, "makes you completely immune to all toxins, poisons, diseases, and infections for thirty-two hours."

The griffon stared at the vial for a moment more, then shrugged and quaffed it, apparently deciding if it was going to kill him, he'd be better off doing it himself. A second later he was halfway over the rail, screeching and spluttering as his stomachs emptied themselves all over the innocent critters below, the vial flying through the air as reflex tossed it as far away from his body as it would go.

Gadgets nimbly caught the vial in the air as it passed him and raised it to his own lips, drinking deeply before re-sealing and returning the wretched substance to his pocket, grabbing the wheel as he did to keep them on course, seemingly unaffected. The speed at which he did this was near blinding, occurring in less than the whole of a second, though Minion was pleased to note she could follow it all perfectly, even if she still couldn't feel her face.

"Never," Darkfang gasped, "again. I don't care if I die. Never. Again."

Grayshaw made what sounded like an agreement before his voice was once again over-taken by the sounds of retching. Minion tried to laugh but soon ended up next to the griffon as her own intestines threatened to escape through her mouth. Gadgets succeeded where she'd failed,

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

The only response he received was several groans and more vomit.

********

"There it is!" Grayshaw, who stood at the prow alongside Darkfang, announced.

Before them rose the tallest sand dune Minion had ever seen, almost twice the size of its neighbors, and completely smooth, the colossal behemoth cast a shadow the size of Beakisburg across the entire land for miles around. The wind seemed not to reach this place, even as it howled about the ears of the little junk's crew.

"There is dark magic in this place," she murmured to nopony in particular, "I can feel it in my horn. We should not be here."

Grayshaw nodded, his eyes cold and intense, the brief moments of joy and vomiting forgotten as their destination loomed in the distance. The griffon stood side by side with Darkfang, and Minion noted how naturally the two looked together, almost as if they'd been comrades for years instead of hours. Their stances perfectly balanced, complimenting each other's strengths and defending their weaknesses. She wondered briefly how a dragon and a griffon would kiss, taking into account the sharp beak of one and the pointy teeth of the other, before a hoof on her shoulder broke through her fantasies. She turned slightly to look into Gadgets' eyes, and shivered at what she found there.

Gone was the crazed brilliance and boundless enthusiasm of the inventor she loved, replaced only by the hard, merciless power of the Deathsmith. It was the same expression he'd worn six years ago, when he'd committed genocide against a manticore pack, wiping out the old, the young, the strong with his death rays, obliterating them before they even had a chance to scream.

The act had been one of mercy, not cruelty, and there-in lay the difference; the difference that kept him from becoming a monster. For the manticores had been infected by plague, a plague engineered by pony hooves, which drove them mad and caused them to attack anything in sight, even their own babes.

The greatest minds of Punkstill had worked round-the-clock for over a month, searching for a cure that did not exist. But when the manticores broke free from quarantine and threatened to kill innocents, something everypony knew they would never have done under their own will, the time had come to act. For that was the true horror of the plague: it didn't destroy the body, it destroyed the mind, and there was no cure, magical or otherwise, to heal such wounds.

So Gadgets had gone away, and the Deathsmith had taken over, killing without hesitation, saving pony lives, and sparing the manticores the horror of what they might have done. His people had not called him a hero, for there was no heroism in what he had done, but they understood the necessity; indeed, many of them had been preparing to do the same. So there was no celebration thrown, no awards given, the ponies had buried the dead and the tragedy was never spoken of again.

The Headmaster had eventually discovered the culprit behind everything. A mad doctor obsessed with his own greatness, who had been banished for unethical experiments over a decade ago, had engineered the plague in an ill-conceived plot for revenge against the town. What followed was the first, and last, execution within Punkstill's walls. The Headmaster himself had wielded the death ray which turned the gibbering pony to dust, and the horror in his eyes as he did had haunted Minion's dreams for many years.

"Gadgets," she called to him, "it's okay, we're not here for violence. We're just going to get the princess back, no need to go crazy."

Her love looked into her eyes and blinked, slowly, but when he opened them again the Deathsmith was gone and Gadgets had returned. More serious than he usually was, perhaps, but Gadgets nonetheless, and for that she was grateful, Celestia only knew what might happen down on the sands. All she knew was that she'd rather face it with the pony she loved, than the pony she feared.

Grayshaw and Darkfang, who had taken note of the affair, and thankfully stayed silent throughout, spoke up only when they were sure the moment had passed.

"This place is rotten," they said in unison. The duo blinked and looked at each other, perplexed and embarrassed by the coincidence. After an exceedingly awkward moment the dragon bowed slightly, gesturing for the griffon to go ahead. The captain nodded in acknowledgement and cleared his throat before continuing.

"It is called the Forbidden Mountain for a reason; dark things are known to have happened here. Tragedies that are never spoken of in polite company, events so terrible mothers refuse to use them to frighten children, and tales to turn the heart of even the most stalwart killer; it is an evil place."

"How can a mountain be evil?" Gadgets asked, his seriousness, though undiminished, losing the battle against impulsive curiosity.

Grayshaw shook his head, "I do not know. There are many legends, each with their own outrageous yet weirdly plausible explanation, yet they all agree on one thing: terrible magics were wrought in this place, powers so dark and corrupted they would melt the mind of any magician stupid enough to tap them. What those magics were is unknown, though many theories have been proposed over the years."

The griffon stopped and looked expectantly at Darkfang, who took the hint and the story, "Some legends speak of how a young unicorn, blinded by rage and grief, called upon the dark powers of the very beings that had driven the alicorns from their first home.

The reasons behind this hypothetical summoning are unknown, though almost every source I've heard of agrees it had something to do with the Event, though was not in fact the Event itself. Anyway, the dark beings mere presence on this earth was sufficient to taint the ground forever, which I suppose is reason enough that ponies stay the hay away from this place. I don't think there's a pony alive, Celestia herself included, that could stand up to whatever power was horrible enough to drive a race of near-immortal demigods from their home."

The crew was silent for a time after this; the only noise was Gadgets activating the junk's cloaking field, a device which would render them invisible to any prying eyes below. His timing, as always, was flawless, as not a minute later they came upon the jackal camp.

At the base of the Forbidden Mountain was a massive cave easily large enough to comfortably house an adult dragon, gathered just outside of which a number of creatures was silhouetted by a massive bonfire. The jackals themselves were eerily similar to the drawing Grayshaw had shown them: sleek black fur adorned with golden chains, anklets, and hats built to resemble eagle wings. Their jewelry was studded with lapis-lazuli, moonstones, and occasional jets; the jackals seemed to prefer darker-colored stones to contrast the shiny gold; Minion wondered if that was a cultural trait or simply unique to this tribe. Most of the jackals looked to be barely the size of ponies, though a fair number would have towered over even the largest of griffons.

The weapons Grayshaw had warned them of were in abundance: rackets of spears, swords, axes, and a hundred other types of lethal toys were scattered about the camp and every jackal seemed to carry some sort of smaller armament amongst their jewels. Minion gulped; they had stopped almost directly above the bonfire and the stealth field was hiding their presence, giving them a priceless advantage in surprise, but their odds of getting through this uninjured once the fighting started were steadily dropping.

Movement in the corner of her eye caused the mare to turn around to look at Darkfang who was writing fiery letters in the air with a glowing claw. The magical fire was bright, though nothing Gadgets technology couldn't handle, and Minion immediately saw the brilliance of what the dragon was doing. If jackals were anything like Diamond Dogs, their hearing was incredibly sensitive, so any noise the crew made would be picked out almost immediately. They had only remained undiscovered for so long because the junk's engines were very close in sound to the desert wind, and the jackals were making enough noise down below they hadn't been able to tell the difference. A voice on the other hand, particularly from a pony or griffon, would be picked out almost immediately and the relaxed mood of their enemies would instantly become one of high alert and suspicion, ruining their only advantage.

"We need to be careful," Darkfang wrote, "I don't see any sign of any griffin down there, well, a living griffon, anyway."

Minion gulped, the jackal camp was littered with the bones of past meals, some fresher than others. The fate of their owners did not bear thinking on.

"I suggest we make our way to the cave as quickly as possible," the dragon continued. "There may be more inside, most likely the chieftain and his elite guard. Once we're in we'll have an easier time holding against those numbers. Agreed?"

Everypony nodded, none daring to speak. Darkfang drew his weapon, the others following suit. Minion gripped her buzz sword tightly in her teeth, Gadgets released the electrical blade hiding in his mechanical hoof, and Grayshaw gripped his fearsome spear in his talons. One more round of nods followed, and the two largest members of their party vaulted over the junk's sides simultaneously, Minion and Gadgets following suit a moment later as startled shouts began to fill the air.

Darkfang landed lightly on the ground between two of the most heavily armored jackals, claws and sword flashing, the only sound two muted thumps as a pair of heads fell to the ground. The dragon was utterly silent as he parried a clumsy spear thrust, following through to impale his attacker with the same smooth motion, buzz blade slicing through bronze, flesh, and bone as if they were paper.

Grayshaw was equally impressive. In the first second he'd pinned a jackal to the ground with a single thrust of his spear through its head, in the next he'd bodily thrown one valiantly attempting to gnaw his ankles into a gathering group, before a particularly large specimen wielding a golden scimitar tackled him from behind.

Minion was forced to look away from her friends battles as a small female jackal closed in, her foaming jaws clutched around a claymore far too big for her. The pony dodged the first clumsy thrust with ease, spinning down the blade before slicing through her midsection, her far superior weapon meeting no resistance. Minion felt bile rise in her throat at the ease with which she'd killed another living creature; no matter how vicious and ferocious their attacks were, the jackals were simply outmatched. This point was driven home when ten were mowed down in seconds by Gadgets, his Gatling gun a new, fearsome weapon the poor creatures had never imagined, much less prepared for, in their entire lives.

Minion killed three more opponents without hesitation and was hunting for more, instinct and bloodlust overriding her senses, before she realized the battle was over. Thirty dead jackals littered sands thoroughly soaked with blood, and her friends were all panting heavily on the edge of the cave beside her, their bodies having unconsciously followed the plan even as their minds were lost in the haze of battle.

"Well," Darkfang, the first to speak, said brightly, "so much for that plan."

Grayshaw rolled his eyes, idly cleaning his spear by stabbing it into the sand, "Stupid beasts, why didn't they just run away when they realized they couldn't win?"

Minion nodded, as did the others, their hearts weighted down by guilt and nausea at the slaughter. They had agreed when they left Beakisburg that any enemies they met would be spared upon surrender or flight. Governor Gripeye had not been pleased by this plan, but he'd eventually buckled under the stern glare of the assembled warriors. They were not murderers, Grayshaw had said, they would not kill those who otherwise might be spared. It was a terrible shame no jackal had tried to test that mercy.

Minion looked down into the cave, pitch-black despite the bright sun over-head. "The princess must be down there," she announced to nopony in particular, "we need to find her before whatever's left of the pack has time to prepare for our arrival."

The others nodded, and with silent precision they swept into the cave, leaving behind the the warmth and the light for the cold, oppressing blackness.

********

The cave turned out to be a tunnel winding down, down into icy darkness, no end in sight. Darkfang and Minion did their best to provide adequate light by which to see, the latter conjuring balls of energy that cast everything into stark relief, the former lighting his spines with magical dragon fire. In the comfortable gloom of twilight aboard The Inconceivable, the party would have had a grand time laughing about how he resembled a Hearth's Warming Eve decoration, but here in the terrible stillness they were thankful for the flickering flames.

They walked on for what seemed like hours, moving quickly yet stealthily, every sense primed. Luckily, the tunnel had only one path so there was no chance of getting lost, but that was small comfort. There were no stalagmites, stalactites, or indeed any other permutation natural to the walls of caves; the entire tunnel was smooth as glass, perfectly circular, and unnatural in every sense of the word. It looked as if it had been carved by some colossal body eating its way through solid rock, smoothing out every imperfection in its wake.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing about the place was that it was not constructed of sand, as the mountain was: it was black, moist stone eerily similar to the rock Minion and Gadgets had grown up around. The resemblance did not bring any comfort to the mare; there were things in the caves of Araea that answered to no master but themselves and who enjoyed devouring anypony foolish enough to wander too close to their dens.

Darkfang, in the lead, raised a claw and the group came to an abrupt stop. The dragon pointed ahead, where just the faintest glow could be seen against the tunnel walls. The light was unmistakable. Somepony had lit a larger version of the bonfire outside, as if its creator had been afraid of the dark. Or what might be lurking in it.

Minion heaved a mental sigh of relief; as terrible as the prospect of more mindless bloodshed was, this fire was the first evidence of life in they'd come across. Wherever the princess was, it had to be here. Wherever here was; the group had been journeying so long the mare was beginning to wonder how many miles from the entrance they might have come.

Darkfang made another gesture and the party started moving again, much slower this time, weapons at the ready. It took over thirty minutes before they came in sight of the flames, though they'd been able to hear their crackling for much longer, and they came once more to a halt twenty meters away, hidden in the gloom. Jackals, significantly larger than any they'd encountered before, lazed around a towering inferno, seemingly bored as their chief slathered and drooled over a young griffon tied paw and talon, her eyes wide with fear.

Interspersed among the jackals were more weapon racks, crates filled with loot, small sleeping pallets holding the remains of a feast, and the corpses of what looked like their chieftain's other playthings. Minion felt the collective shudder of her friends at the end which awaited the innocent girl if they failed in their mission.

The jackal chieftain himself was nearly twice the size of his fellows, though this girth was almost entirely fat, and wore enough jewels to make even Bluebeak swoon with envy. His jowls quivered and his tiny eyes bugged as he ran his tongue over his helpless captive, matting her feathers and fur in slimy, greenish saliva, the sight of which caused Minion to shiver with revolted excitement.

The griffon herself was blue, a color the pony had never seen on one before. Her lion half was a wonderful shade of cyan, her eagle beautiful indigo, her eyes were electric and frightened. Her talons had once been polished to a gleaming shine, though the right was heavily scarred with hundreds of small slashes. Minion wondered what could have done that, immediately ruling out a suicide attempt; many of those slashes were years old and looked as if they'd been made to deliberately draw out non-lethal amounts of blood.

The princess, for she could be nopony else, was staring in muted fear directly at the adventurers, her eagle eyes cutting through the gloom. Grayshaw gave her a reassuring nod, which she returned unnoticed by the chief or his warriors, the latter being far too busy enjoying the show.

Even if her own rage was not tingeing her vision with red, Minion knew there would be no mercy for these, a single glance into the captain's eyes told her that much. She noted that Darkfang and Gadgets' expressions matched her sentiments perfectly. This was going to be over quickly.

As one, the group covered the remaining distance, silent as ghosts. They burst into the light without noise, falling upon their enemies with all the lethality of the Reaper; metal flashed and jackals screamed, cut down as they reached for their weapons. The chieftain stared in mute horror as his greatest warriors, tested in a hundred battles, fell like wheat before the harvester.

He turned to grab a heavily-jeweled greatsword in his jaws, but his weapon was gone, kicked away by a scaly foot as the dragon reached him first. Grayshaw finished dispatching the last of the warriors and advanced on the whimpering creature, murder in his eyes.

"Wait!" Minion called, wrapping the chieftain in her magic and lifting him high into the air where he was safe from her friends.

"Why?!" The griffon demanded, glaring up at the captive for a moment before remembering the princess was at his feet. He quickly bent back down, discarding his spear in favor of his knife as he began to saw at her bonds.

"We still need him," the unicorn explained, lowering the jackal back to the floor, binding him tightly in ropes of energy she conjured from her horn as she did. "We need to know how he found out about the princess, and how many more of his tribe there might still be in this place."

Grayshaw struggled with himself for a moment, cutting through the last rope holding his charge and beginning to massage the life back into her limbs. Finally, he swallowed his rage and nodded, once. Minion smiled at him and turned to address her prisoner.

"Tell me everything you know, starting from how you found out about where she," she pointed a hoof towards the recovering griffon, "would be vulnerable enough for you to attack."

"The grey bird-creature," the jackal gasped, alternating between staring in fear at Darkfang, and horror at Grayshaw. "The old grey one told it to us."

"Grey?" Gadgets asked sharply, "Not black?"

The chief nodded vigorously, "The old bird-creature tells to us places of meat, weapons, treasure. He tells us to kill the blue one and all would be ours. But he lies," his fear turned instantly into rage, "the grey one tells us easy prey he does. But not easy prey, we lose twenty of us to the fierce ones!" He began wailing and writhing on the ground, struggling to break free of his bonds.

Minion, Gadgets, Grayshaw, and Darkfang exchanged a dark glance; they had been so convinced it was Bluebeak who'd set the princess up, Celestia knew he'd given them enough reason to think so! But it would seem their preconceptions were mistaken.

"So," the mare gave voice to their thoughts minutes later, "what happens now?"

"Now?" Darkfang said to her, though he was really addressing the entire group. "Now we get back to Beakisburg and get some answers. It would appear my old friend has some explaining to do."

The others nodded; Minion turned back to address the chief, only to discover to her horror he'd managed to chew through his bonds. Before she had time to wonder how he'd managed to do that, her attention was forced back the way they'd come, where the jackal chieftain stood on his hindlegs, front paws raised high above his head, clutching something.

"Death to the enemies of the True Race," he screeched. "Death for victory, death for vengeance, death for the Dead One!"

"Bomb!" Darkfang shouted, seizing Minion and Gadgets in his claws and hurling them farther back into the cave, "Get down!"

As she flew time seemed to slow, and through her slowed perceptions she saw the dragon dive after them, Grayshaw scoop the princess into his talons to follow suit, and the madness etched into the jackal's face as his weapon killed him.

Even years later she did not remember the explosion; all she knew was that when it happened, for it must have happened, everything went black...and then everything went very, very cold.

Comments

[datdamnface]

I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY I'M BARFING RAINBOWS!

[TacoTown]

YEA! new chapter! fuckyes! also, screw you cliffhanger!

i would cut off an arm to be a part of this story.

EDIT: hmmmm... Dashboard... Modest Mouse... i can think of something better...

gimmie a week to go through my 20 gigs of music.

[Android]

I've been a fan of steam punk and MLP for a while now. and now that the two are combined, my life is complete. I VILL VE VEADING DIS.

[Formed_Zeus]

GREAT CHAPTER!
Its getting really interesting. Can't wait to see what happens. Also, you mentioned somewhere that you were going to catch a certain pony named Bunnyhelm on fire... When can we expect that?

[Forevermore]

453550 Heh, I remember that. Haven't figured out a way to incorporate him into the story yet.

[Taross-Velin]

Yes! New chaptah! Nothing to note or at least anything I remember... Anyway love the backstory of Gadgets keep it up.

[Formed_Zeus]

453792 Just name one of the Jackals Bunnyhelm and have Darkfang Torch his ass.

[Forevermore]

455580 Little late for that, they're all kinda dead.