For What Darker Purpose #5
Sunset Shimmer walked in silence with Zoysia just behind her. They both walked along a narrow bermed path, a collection of land, logs, rocks, and other debris forming an elevated path that rose up out of the muck. It was narrow, not even wide enough for a wagon, and they had passed several offshoots of the path that lead to little cabins and shacks out in the swamp.
There were signs of life out here. In the distance, smoke rose, probably from chimneys, but maybe from stills—both alchemical and alcohol producing no doubt. Ponies lived out here, the sorts of ponies that had no love and no need for civilization.
It was swelteringly hot, well above a hundred degrees already, and the humidity could not possibly go any higher. Sunset Shimmer was soaked, she felt like she was melting, this place was unbearable.
Overhead, something tinkled in the faint, sticky breeze. Looking up, Sunset saw little wooden pony dolls hanging from a tree. The bodies and heads were carved wood, the legs were hollow tubes of bamboo that banged together in the breeze to make a rather creepy sound. Almost right away, Sunset decided that she didn’t like the wooden ponies hanging in the trees. She wondered what they were for, why they were there, what purpose they served, and who made them. There was strange magic in the world, magic spoken of in stories, in legends, magic that was no doubt real or real enough to inspire a story.
The wooden ponies in the trees were creepy enough to make Sunset Shimmer wonder if they were somehow related to the mysterious goings on around here, perhaps the work of some horrid swamp dwelling cultists that enjoyed demon worship, being creepy, and carving creepy dolls. If that was the case, Sunset Shimmer planned to burn them all and their dolls into ash. The clunking, tinkle-clank sound of the hollow legs banging together made Sunset’s skin crawl as she passed below the herd of wooden ponies now overhead.
Hearing wings, Sunset looked up, trying to peer through the trees. Zoysia, beside her, looked panicked and a little scared. It took a few moments, but Sunset was able to see through the thick canopy just enough to see a large, hideous looking wyvern carrying a unicorn in its claws. No natural born wyvern could ever be that distorted and ugly, barring horrible magical accidents. She knew right away who it was. The unicorn was dropped and would have landed in the muck if Sunset hadn’t caught him. She lowered him down to the bermed path and Fever Cure gave her a grateful smile. He was wearing thick smoked glass goggles to protect his eyes from the daylight.
Overhead, the wyvern poofed out of existence and Bucky popped back into existence to take its place. He floated down like a leaf borne on the breeze, his voluminous black cloak fluttering around him.
“Sorry I took so long,” Bucky said.
“We ran into a real wyvern… a she wyvern… she had a real interest in Bucky—”
“I thought we agreed to not speak of this,” Bucky growled, cutting Fever Cure off.
“She wanted to eat me!” Fever Cure stomped his hoof down upon the berm and the moist, fetid earth made a flatulent sound from the impact. “She thought Bucky was the ugliest flying monster she had ever seen… powerful ugly, and she was in the mood for romance. I was to be the romantic dinner.”
Sunset’s ears perked. Zoysia was laughing, but trying not to do so. Bucky looked irritated. Fever Cure looked quite thankful to be on the ground and in one piece. Sunset could not help herself, and laughter bubbled up from her insides as well.
“What is it with monsters and ugliness? Why is that attractive? And why must ponies be romantic meals? I loathe this swamp and everything to do with it.” As Bucky spoke, he slipped into shadow, his legs becoming little more than dark shadows beneath his cloak.
“You broke her heart, Bucky—”
“Shut it!”
“Just think of the offspring though. She’d be real surprised when those eggs hatched and little wyvern-pony hybrids crawled out.” Fever Cure’s smile vanished and the unicorn became rather serious looking. “Would be a fascinating study. I wonder what their immune system would be like and what medical advances we might make from studying them.”
“I brought food,” Bucky said as he made a wispy, shadowy gesture at the saddlebags on Fever Cure. “We should get moving and get to wherever it is we are going.”
Out this far, the bermed path was almost non existent. Sunset felt her hooves squelching in the mud. She cringed with disgust, each step caused the fetid, rotten ground to squirt out decaying, decomposing, rotten gasses. The ground was farting with almost each and every step. Her eyes watered from the stench and the harshness of the air. She felt sick.
“The Swamp of Never Ending Stench,” Bucky said to Fever Cure.
“No, no, no… the Bog of Eternal Stench… it just sounds classier.”
Gagging, Sunset Shimmer said nothing. Something about the process of turning a common pony into a Shadowbolt had unbolted Fever Cure’s common sense, sanity, and ability to have reasonable, sane conversations. Fever Cure and Bucky had been having a good natured argument for quite some time now. Sunset hated them both just a teeny, tiny bit. Neither Fever Cure nor Bucky seemed to be suffering from the near toxic miasma in the air.
Zoysia didn’t seem to be bothered by it too much either, but he had grown up in it.
As Sunset walked, the giant insects that got too close combusted, bursting into flames and exploding. She was killing bugs by the hundreds, maybe by the thousands, and she knew that she wasn’t even making a dent. These swamps had bugs by the zillions.
“The Marsh of Malodorous Assault.”
“No way, Fever, too highbrow.”
“The Muskeg of Malevolent Miasmas.”
“What in Tartarus is a bloody muskeg?” Bucky demanded.
“Gee boss, you should have been paying more attention in school.”
Still gagging, Sunset Shimmer choked up a laugh and almost puked. She heard Zoysia laughing as well, and she wondered how much of this banter was happening to try and put Zoysia at ease. She would not put it past Bucky to do such a thing. She felt her stomach roil and she swallowed the bitter tasting bile that bubbled in the back of her throat.
“We’re almost there… let me go ahead, please, it’s safer that way,” Zoysia said in a worried, pleading voice.
“Lead the way,” Bucky replied, ignoring the smug look of satisfaction upon Fever Cure’s face. “I, for one, am curious as to why you led us all out this way.”
Sunset Shimmer stood unmoving, saying nothing, her suspicions having been proven true. She watched as Zoysia and Brook stood together, whispering to one another, necking, glad to see one another. Sunset could not help but feel that she was intruding upon a very private moment.
Brook, a filly in the middle of her teenage years, had a large, protruding, rounded stomach. The shack they all stood in was half rotten, the wood succumbing to the swamp. The floor was warped and misshapen.
As Sunset stood watching, it was Bucky that pulled a small basket out of Fever Cure’s saddlebags and set it down upon a low, wooden table that had been made out of an apple crate. Brook shoved Zoysia aside as Bucky pulled open the basket, the filly’s horn ignited, and she began pulling out the food inside the of the basket at once. The famished filly began to devour the food as fast as she could, gulping it down, paying no mind to good manners.
Taking a deep breath, Sunset Shimmer found herself staring into the eyes of Zoysia. He looked both happy and scared, worried and relieved, his face was a chaotic, jumbled mix of emotions.
“This is why I sneak away,” Zoysia said to Sunset. “I bring food to her. I’m trying to be a good father. I don’t know where else to get food, it’s kinda hard to come by, so I’m forced to stick it out with my family.”
Chewing, Brook stood with her head held high, her ears erect, her cheeks bulging, and she studied the ponies standing inside of the shack with her. Her pelt was a pale greenish blue, her mane and tail were a darker, more muted shade of greenish blue.
“I suppose the question that needs to be asked is, Brook, why aren’t you with your father?” Bucky pulled more food out of Fever Cure’s saddlebags and set it down upon the table.
Brook swallowed, her ears twitching, and she smacked her lips together a few times. “My father called me a filthy, dirty harlot with the stink of mud pony about me. And that was just the start of it. The things he said… he said horrible things about Zoysia too.”
“So you ran away,” Bucky replied, sighing.
“I had to.” Brook’s eyes began to glisten with tears. “I had to run away… Daddy threatened to take me to Baltimare to have this abomination in my belly aborted.”
The temperature in the shack plunged, becoming icy, allowing each pony present to see their own breath. The walls creaked as ice accumulated. Brook and Zoysia, swamp dwellers, both stepped closer to one another as they began to shiver from the sudden cold.
“If you will excuse me, I need some air,” Bucky said in a low, strained voice. Saying nothing else, he opened the rotting door on creaky hinges, stepped outside, and shut the door behind him.
Blinking, confused, Brook looked around, trying to understand what had just taken place. Fever Cure stood in the corner, his eyes hidden behind the goggles of thick smoked glass, his face showing no emotion. Sunset Shimmer cleared her throat, thankful for the cold, chilly air.
“Master has daughters of his own. He is very, very fond of them. He has a belief that a father has certain… sacred duties, obligations to his daughters, and those duties are sacrosanct. Master does not have much of a moral code beyond that.” Sunset Shimmer, worried, felt another spike of cold and heard the rotten wood of the shack creak as the bone chilling cold settled in. “Fever Cure, would you please see that Brook is okay? Brook, please, continue eating. If you will excuse me, I’m going to go and check upon my Master.”
Bowing her head, Sunset Shimmer stepped outside.
It was snowing. A fresh layer of snow fell down upon the now frozen swamp. An inch of snow had already blanketed the roof. Sunset paused, looking around, trying to spot Bucky, hoping he hadn’t fled. Her eyes darting to and fro, she spotted him a short distance away, standing on a log that rose up out of the now frozen muck. It was cold enough to make her lungs sting, but the cold felt good after being in the abysmal heat.
She trod over the frozen ground, her eyes locked on Bucky, worried, fearful, knowing he was hurting. She could see his sides heaving beneath his black cloak, which was now being covered in white flakes. Snow swirled around at crazy angles.
“Master?” Sunset placed her hoof down on the log, almost slipped, and then tried again. This time, aided by magic, she made her way up the now slippery incline, her hooves getting traction on the icy, slippery surface.
“I’m sorry.”
Bucky’s words came out as a pained wheeze and Sunset felt her heart aching for him. She moved to his side, standing beside him on the log, wishing there was some way to make him feel better.
“I couldn’t control it… I tried to hold it back, but I couldn’t. My willpower and control has failed me… I couldn’t hold back.”
Sunset looked up at the sky overhead, hardly able to see through the thick canopy. Thick grey snow clouds billowed. She caught a few falling flakes on her tongue and felt tingles running up and down her spine.
“Bucky, we all have surges from time to time… it is why we need to keep our emotions in check. Sometimes though, it is unavoidable. Nopony got hurt. It’s just a little snow.” Sunset bumped up against Bucky, trying to make him feel better. “We need to figure out what to do to help them. Master, we need to get them out of here. With the hostile magic about, we need to get Brook away from this place and get her into a hospital. At least, that seems like the wise course of action to me.”
“Minion, I will not be able to deal with Blackwater and his family. I’m going to leave that unpleasant task to you. I’m sorry, but if I met him face to face… I’d… I’d—”
“You would do something that you would not regret, not in the slightest.”
“Yes, Minion.”
“We still need to get to the bottom of what is going on here,” Sunset said in a low voice as more snowflakes fell upon her muzzle. She went cross eyed trying to look at them. “Keep looking around and searching. I’ll deal with the ponies if you navigate the swamps. One way or another, we’re going to get to the truth of what is going on here in this horrible place.”
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Damn! Thanks Kudzu!
Well, looks like neither family is very much liked by Bucky. Both better cooperate fully with Sunset Shimmer. Because I doubt either would like dealing with the alternative.
The betting pool is now live people!
Will blackwater have been scared straight? Are his desire for his daughters happiness and safety. Will he apologize for his behavior and take her back with the baby and the father?
Or will he be a stubborn mule, to blinded by his own uprising to see his daughters pain and refuse the daughter and her bastard?
Get your monies ready folks, the current odds are (Accepting 1:1,5) and (rejection 1:2)
Bets on the "curse" are (natural cause 1:1,5), (magically manipulated natural cause 1:1,25), (necromantic curse 1:2) and finally (daemon related 1:3)
6776191 Add in a 1:10 that Kudzu pulls something out of left field that still fits the clues. He does things just to mess with us all sometimes.
Next one soon?
6789577
Soon.
6789582 SQUEE Of EPIC PROPORTIONS
I am honestly offended that none of you made the reference to Labyrinth.
Bog of Eternal stench... huehuehue....
Suggested edit: It kind of sounds like the ponies have 'no love' and 'no need for civilization', two separate things, which I don't think was the intention.
Ponies lived out here, the sorts of ponies that had no love and no need for civilization.
Ponies lived out here, the sorts of ponies that had no love of and no need for civilization.