• Published 8th Apr 2012
  • 6,051 Views, 309 Comments

Horns, Hooves, and Fur - Deyeaz

A teenager falls into a river enchanted by Lyra and ends up in Equestria... as a satyr.

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II - A Present From The Shaman

II - A Present From The Shaman

"Sweet, merciful God up in Heaven! WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!"

Adam wanted to know the answers to questions that would probably take almost eons to answer properly. He tried standing up and running away from it all. Sadly, he tripped over his own hoof and took another tumble to the ground, confirming the reality of it all. The four ponies laughed raucously at Adam's misfortune: his face was flushed red with the mortification he was suffering.

"Well, heheh... you're not a pony, that's all I'VE gotta say," Carrot Top finally replied after her fit of laughter ceased.

"YOU DON'T SAY?" he said sarcastically as he steadily got up. He towered over them by about two or three feet, Lyra's horn could only reach his under his chest, which bore a moderately-sized tuft of black/brown hair that was styled in an upside-down and jagged-triangle fashion. Everypony else reached his hips. "How did I become... THIS... to begin with?"

"Who knows?" Lyra answered. "Maybe it was from that little portal you came through?"

"Portal? You mean the water that was sparkling and whatnot?" She nodded proudly.

"In a way, it can act as an overlarge scrying glass and speaker, allowing me and anypony around me to see and hear whatever I want and wherever I want, but not whoever I want, when we look into it. Twilight helped me learn it, and I think I did pretty good during the spell, especially over this huge pond and despite how much mana it drained me of. Maybe I did TOO good, if it resulted in bringing you here and altering your form."

"Hmm... can there be something going on that can disrupt what you see and hear?" He asked, curious to see how she couldn't see him if she was looking through a powerful scrying glass. She nodded again, the pride taken away from this nod.

"Yeah, and the disruption can take form of anything. Bustling crowds of civilians, bad weather, anything that generates a distraction of some sorts on one side or another."

"Hmm... I guess I understand now why you couldn't see and hear me earlier, but I could see and hear you."

"Huh? Whadaya mean?" Carrot Top asked.

"Well, I was literally standing over the edge of the water where you all appeared. I think because there wasn't any distractions afoot- I mean, ahoof - on this end of the scrying glass, I could see you as clear as daylight, but it wasn't like that for you four because there was a huge thunderstorm going on on my end."

"Ohhhh... that kind of explains it," Bon-Bon said, previously bemused about it all.


"Oy... I barely understood that at all, guys. So where're ya from, Mister... er...." Derpy let her sentence hang there. She didn't know what to all this creature.

"What?" he asked.

"Sorry about that. Heheh... you never told us your name."

"And if I recall, none of you told me yours. I think we got off on the wrong foo - er, hoof - when it came to introductions, don'tcha think?" He slowly walked over to them, making sure he didn't fall over again. He already knew who they were, but he didn't he didn't want to reveal that, lest they see him as even more of a weird freak of nature. "Um..." He didn't know where to start. He wasn't good with introductions, seeing as how he liked to isolate himself from others back on Earth.

"What's the matter, mister? You didn't forget your name, did ya?" Bon-Bon teased.

"N-no!" he mumbled, blushing a deep shade of scarlet once more. God, he was feeling like Fluttershy, the way he just stuttered and flushed red again. "Um..." He was visited with a little fun fact he came across while reading a Greek Mythology book. He had read that satyrs had two names: their human names, and the title they are christened when they discover what they are. That's when the idea for a new name - that he got from a video game he had played - popped into his head. "You can just call me... Praxis, the satyr." He stuck out his hand towards Carrot Top first, as she was the one who was first in line starting from right to left.

"Wow," the gardener said. "That's not a bad name there, Praxis!" The other four mares nodded in agreement. She took his hand in her hoof and shook it. "I'm Carrot Top. Nice to meet you." He then moved on to Lyra, who was next in line. The green unicorn stared at the rechristened Praxis's fingers as her hoof was grabbed by them.

"I'm Lyra Heartstrings," the lyre-player introduced, shaking his hand. "Call me Lyra, though." Onto the next one.

"I'm Bon-Bon," the cream-colored candymaker said, shaking hoof-in-hand with him and introduced herself. Last but not least....

"And I'm Derpy!" The gray mailmare concluded happily, extending her hoof out to Praxis. Unfortunately, her hoof-eye coordination was shot to shit. Instead of going into Praxis's outstretched hand, it hit him hard in the lower ribs. He doubled over and did another goat-bleat in pain. "Oops! Heehee, sorry, Praxis!" she apologized, the others giggling at her accidental, yet good-natured blunder.

"Urgh.... Don't worry 'bout it, Derpy." He stood up straight and rubbed the spot where the clumsy Pegasus had struck him. He decided to grab her hoof himself and shake it, before she accidentally hits him again. 'After all, she is the queen of bad luck... and muffins,' he mused to himself.

*RRRRRRRRRR* Praxis clutched his abdomen, his face searing red in embarrassment.

"Heheh... I guess my stomach is angry at me for skipping breakfast this morning," he said, chuckling weakly.

"Hey, you wanna head to the town and grab a bite to eat? It's only about half of a mile from here," Carrot Top suggested. Praxis's stomach (figuratively) got on its hind legs and started panting like a dog at the idea. He nodded, his ears flopping from the back and forth motion. "Super! This way!" They trekked off towards the town, which Praxis's brony instinct could only tell him was Ponyville, in search for something to snack on.

For some weird reason, the satyr felt like devouring some apples and tin cans once the gang got into the town. 'Maybe it's because of my iron stomach of a goat,' he wondered. 'That, or my newly-altered taste buds and cravings.'

"Adam! I'm back!" Osama said, carrying the grilled cod in some aluminum foil that a couple of campers had given him. He noticed the fishing rods laying on the dirt, their lines still cast out to the river.

"Adam?!" He was getting angry as he stared at the rods, thinking that that boy had run off somewhere and abandoned his post. He was going to go look for him and eventually kick his ass for not listening to him...

He WAS... until he spotted a pair of damp, black-framed glasses laying lopsided on the dirt. The lenses were violently cracked, dried blood on the bridge of the nosepiece and in the inner corners of the shattered glass lenses.

"Oh, God...." He dropped the fish and ran to the spot to pick up the glasses. "No... nononononoNO!" Tears were streaming down his face as the recognition of who these visual aids belonged to dawned on him.

They were his little brother's.

"A MONSTERRRR!!!!!!!" a familiar pink pony with a hot pink poofy mane and tail shouted to the civilians as she spotted the satyr going into town. An air siren sounded, like a bomb was about to be dropped on the town, and the many pedestrians on the streets rushed into whatever hiding place they could find. "RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIIIIIVES!"

In less than ten seconds flat, the streets of Ponyville were completely vacant. Stallions, mares, colts, fillies, and foals have been cleared out of the streets at the warning. All the doors were shut and locked, all the blinds and shutters were sealed shut. A tumbleweed rolled across the dirt path, but that was it. Praxis, Derpy, Lyra, Carrot, and Bon-Bon were deathly alone in this immediate ghost town.

"What the hay was that all about?" Lyra asked.

"I just don't know," Derpy responded. "Maybe 'cause Pinkie warned everypony that a monster was on the loose?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... they don't think the monster is me... do they?" the satyr asked fearfully, his tail tucking between his legs. He couldn't believe this. He thought Ponyville was about acceptance, friendship, and all that spectacular jazz. Now? Those were all out the window and into the Dumpster.

"I think they do, Prax," Bon-Bon said morbidly as she turned to him and looked at him sympathetically. "They're not used to... rare creatures... being here."

"Yeesh..." They continued walking, trying to ignore the loneliness that suffocated them, more Praxis than the others.

"Why would anypony want to think Praxis is a monster?" Carrot pondered as they walked through the town in the hopes that at least one store was still open. "He can't be that bad...."

A certain somepony with a cyan coat and a rainbow-colored mane and tail stood above Praxis on a cloud with a white vase in her hoof. The Pegasus took this opportunity to chuck the vase at the satyr. The vase arced through the air and hit the satyr square on the back of the head, shattering into dozens of pieces on impact. Some of the ceramic shards embedded themselves into the flesh as they dispersed. Blood poured from the puncture wounds.

"OW!!!!" he bellowed in agony, furiously ripping out the shards and clutching his new lacerations with both hands afterwords. "MOTHERFFFFU-!" He stopped in mid-swear when he turned around and analyzed who had hit him; he felt his heart plummet like a rock into his stomach at the sight of Rainbow Dash, a look of hatred on her face as she glared at him with constricted magenta eyes.

"GO BACK TO TARTARUS, YOU BUCKING FREAK!" the speed demon roared in her scratchy voice before taking off to the skies and into her cloud palace, leaving a rainbow colored streak behind her. It nearly crushed his heart to mere dust to see that Rainbow, who he was a massive fan of, had treated him with such belligerence and spite.

"Praxis! Are you OK?" Lyra said in concern. She saw his crimson bodily fluids trickling down his neck and along his back. He turned to her; she gasped and put a hoof to her mouth, heartbroken and saddened at the sight of him: their were tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes, which were glazed over with moistness. He was biting his lower lip to prevent from losing control and sobbing out loud.

"Y-yeah. I'll be f-fine," he said, his voice hoarse-sounding when he spoke. He turned away, sniffling quietly as he applied the already ruined remains of his shirt to staunch the blood from his injury, then used whatever dry portion of the cloth that remained to wipe his eyes, preventing his sorrow from being seen any further.

Nopony else remained in the streets, nor did they skulk behind the windows of their homes or hide behind their cloud covers in the hopes that they wouldn't be seen by him. All the alleyways were draped in shadows, and not a single soul lingered in the darkness that the alleys held within them. Once again, they were drowning in their loneliness.

Now... being here reminded him of the torment he suffered back home. All the bullying, beatings, lies, and thievery that were demonstrated upon him by those he once called peers. This time, however, the sharpness and pain of it all was increased by a hundred fold.

The four ponies and one satyr were in a desolate town of neglectful and arrogant equines. Nopony else who was compassionate remained.

Nopony else... save for one.

"You poor, strange creature, I pity the pain you feel. Please let me give you something to help your wounds heal," said a native, yet feminine and familiar voice from the shadows of an alleyway.

The five characters whipped around to the source of the rhythmic voice that spoke. From out of the shadows emerged a zebra pony draped in a dark brown cloak. She was decorated with black stripes all along on her white coat. She removed the hood of her cloak from her head, revealing her black-and-white Mohawk of a mane and the many golden accessories that around her neck and on her ears.

"I an see why that mare tossed that vase. But they should know that violence is no answer to this case," Zecora said, casting a look of spite at the many houses in the vicinity. "I am Zecora, the shaman and medicine mare of Ponyville. The brews and treatments that I make strengthen the weak and fix the ill."

"Hello, Zecora. I'm Praxis. It's a pleasure to meet you," he greeted, extending his hand out to her. She slowly worked her hoof forward until it was in his palm, and then he wrapped my fingers around it and shook it twice before releasing it.

His stomach rumbled again, this time resonating well across the empty town.

"I can see that you wish your belly held food," she chuckled, hiding her muzzle behind her hoof as she gave her hearty laugh. Praxis couldn't help but nod heartily. He desperately needed the comfort that the shaman was providing. She went to her saddlebags filled with mysterious scrolls and ingredients and she burrowed around until she found what she wanted: a large, red, shiny apple. The stem of it was in her mouth as she pulled it out and dropped in his hand. "Try this apple: I assure you that it tastes-" She didn't even end her rhyme before he took an immense bite out of the extremely flavorful fruit. "...very good."

"'Very good' is an understatement, Zecora!" said Praxis after he swallowed what was in his mouth. "This tastes amazing! Thank you!" She could only nod her "you're welcome" and laugh again before rhyming, this time with a more stern, but soothing voice.

"Now you must stand still, Praxis, please. Doing so will let me heal your injury with ease." She dug into her saddleback and pulled out a gauze pad, surgical tape, and some unusual liquid in a vial. She placed two strips of tape on one side of the pad in an "X" formation, then poured some of the strange concoction onto the other side and placed it tenderly upon the bleeding laceration the vase had left upon his cranium. It started to sting the wound on contact, cleaning out any infection and siphoning up all the blood. She flattened out the tape and made sure it stuck to his head. "I understand what it is to be abhorred. But never have they thrown things at me before. That cruelty and prejudice they displayed was brash and unkind: once they see past your... appearance, they won't expect what they'll find."

"Which is?"

"You possess a genuine heart of solid gold, my good sir. That's why I and these four befriended you, despite your horns and fur."

"Um... thank you," he said meekly.

"But before we forget what we must do, forgive me for asking but... what are you?"

"He's a satyr," answered Derpy cheerily. He confirmed the statement with a nod before the klutzy mailmare did something Praxis never guessed would've happened in years: she asked him a good question. "Uh... what's a satyr, Praxis?"

He already had the response within milliseconds after the question was asked, but he paused for dramatic effect and so as to not look like a show-off... like a certain somepony with a blue coat and white mane and tail. "Hmm... a satyr is a Greek mythological creature, formed of half of a human and half of a goat. They have abilities to control nature and life and even entertain or lull others to sleep through their reed pipes or flutes that they play. They're actually very benign creatures!" He said those last words to the houses that the civilians of Ponyville had hold themselves up inside of.

"Hmm... Did you say that satyrs can play the reed pipes and flute?" Zecora began, riffling through her saddlebags. "If so, then let me see if I have one in my bags of loot." She finally pulled out what she was looking for. In her mouth was a silver-wrought flute, played in the same way a recorder would be played. It was designed with tribal-looking markings carved into the metal. Tied around a little groove underneath the lip plate was a thick loop of string, making the instrument double as a necklace. She lifted up a forehoof and waved it down twice: she wanted him to bend down. He obliged, the shaman slipping the string over his horns and head and letting it rest around his neck. "I think that this is yours now, O ye of nature. I have no need of it: not now, nor in the future."

"Wait, you're giving this to me?" he said in disbelief as he sat on his hindquarters in the dirt with his legs crossed, taking the flute into his hands and feeling the ornate and curling grooves engraved in its surface.

"Of course I am, my horned ally. Go give your flute playing a try!" said Zecora happily.

"Come on, Prax! You can do it!" cheered Lyra.

"Yeah! Let's hear it!" Derpy said excitedly.

"Let 'er rip!" added Carrot Top.

"Go on! It might sound good!" Bon-Bon concluded.

Praxis rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. His palms were sweating a bit at how nervous he was getting as he cracked his fingers. He never played a flute before in his life.

"Here goes nothing," he huffed before he put his mouth on the lip plate, closed his eyes, and breathed in from his nose one more time. He commenced playing one of his many favorite songs that came to the top of his head: Puddle of Mudd's "Blurry".

He didn't skip a beat: his fingers flew from hole to hole with breathtaking grace, each controlled breath he exhaled into the flute coming out as a harmonious melody. He was rocking back and forth slowly as he played, every oscillation keeping with the metronome of the song.

The magic energy that he had became evident after a few seconds of playing. The grass and the leaves on the trees were emanating a brighter green than before; the small closed buds of the flowers were spreading their petals ajar as their sweet essence escaped them into the air; baby vegetable and fruit crops were growing at an astronomical rate, the carrots, tomatoes, grapes, strawberries became 150% more than their regular size; the chirping of the birds was intensifying in volume with every passing second. The five mares ooh'd and aah'd as they observed the magic that was improving the flora and fauna of the town . Two sky-blue mockingbirds gently perched themselves on Praxis's shoulders and released their heartwarming song, mimicking the notes that the satyr was eloquently playing.

When the song ended, the five mares were stomping their forelegs on the ground, the Equestrian way of applauding. He let go of his flute and let it lay upon his chest as he stuck out his finger to the mockingbirds and let them climb onto it. He open up his brown eyes again and brought the songbirds up to his face.

"Go, and soar above the highest clouds. Let thy marvelous song be heard," he told them. They chirped, and with that, he stuck out his hand, sending the mockingbirds to take to the sky. The Sun was placed high up into the air, signalling noon time, as he let the warm breeze gently blow his hair and fleece in its general direction. He gave the air a sniff, the smell of apples and flowers strong in his nostrils.

Lyra, Bon-Bon, Carrot Top, and Derpy returned to their homes in Ponyville after Praxis's musical performance. Zecora returned to the Everfree Forest to get home to her hut and forage some important herbs along the way. Praxis decided to follow her, but veered away when they were clear of the town, heading into the forest in a different direction. He found a tall and supple yew tree a couple of yards into the forest.

'This wouldn't be a bad place for an afternoon nap,' he mused. He squatted down low and kicked off of the earth, catching twenty feet of air before landing rather nimbly on the tree's high branches. He repeated this method until he was about sixty feet above the ground. He sat down cautiously on the branch and leaned against the tree, one satyr leg crossed over the other.

'Today wasn't too bad... but it wasn't too good, either,' he thought, giving his flute's engravings another little stroke. He finally decided to succumb to the drowsiness that slowly fell upon him. The warmth of the Sun was only adding to his sleepiness....

And so he dozed off, giving off little bleats with every time he exhaled from his snores. He would've given anything to just lay there and sleep for all eternity... never to be disturbed again....


He awoke suddenly to a bloodcurdling roar and a violent tremor that almost made him fall out of his tree. He glanced down at the disturbance and his pupils shrunk in fear at the horror below him.

A manticore was gazing up at him, getting onto its hind legs and planting his front paws upon the tree again. It licked its lion chops hungrily at the thought of what goats must taste like.

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