Masters of Metal

'Twas a long, long time ago, before neither Celestia nor Luna were born. Ponies lived their lives the same way they do today, albeit they had less to worry about. They were born, they lived, they loved and they died. Everything was as perfect, as living in the past could be, if one doesn't count the slightly higher chance of ailments. But that's a completely different tale, meant for a completely different time and place.

Before the peace, dark, evil beings invaded the land and brought terror into the once-peaceful land of ponies — Equestria. Disappointed that their homes were inhabited by such simpletons and judging pony music as inferior and simplistic, the evil beings arose from their graves and brought their creations — guitars — into the world of drums and singing.

On the first day, the magical instruments started playing by themselves, riff after riff. Ponies fled their homes from their dark and powerful sound and sought shelter from the noise in lakes, mountains, caves and even the forsaken forests. The sound, however, pierced through all and after enduring a whole day, the ponies thought the evil beings had their share of terror and would leave them be.

Then came forth the second day, during which the guitars played solos — bigger parts of songs — in succession. The sound, even stronger than before, shattered the windows, the walls and near the end of the day, the soul. Mere hours before the third day, ponies ran all around, driven insane by the unstoppable onslaught. Few of who were not yet mad started praying for themselves and the future of their land, hoping that someone would stop the evil and restore the sound of silence.

On the dawn of the third day, all who were not made delirious by the musical terror gathered in the land's capital. Upon seeing this, the guitars gave them a very short period of silence, as the evil beings wanted to hear what they had to say.

"Stop, for the sake of our ears and all that is good," they let out out. "We will continue your legacy, Forgotten Ones. But please, we beg you, stop playing." The evil beings were pleased by being called 'Forgotten Ones' by what they believed to be inferiors in terms of music, but less so by the offer of continuing their legacy.

"Nay," let out one of them, towering above all others of his kind. "Stop we shall not, for you cannot continue the legacy of something you don't understand. Your hooves are obsolete tools. Hear our dark music and despair!" With that proclaimed, the guitars resumed playing all around Equestria, instilling madness even deeper into the souls of ponies. By now, most of them were wholly consumed by insanity, only capable of uncomprehensible speech and twitchy movements.

The few brave ones who stood strong against the sound too became victims of it. One by one, they collapsed to the ground, their bodies unable to resist the maddening sound any longer. As all six of them pledged to hold on 'till they collapse, this was the end. They prayed all day and night, but no one had come to their help. While the five reluctantly gave in to the madness, the last and final of the brave kept hoping.

As five of the companions started jumping around, driven by insanity, the corner of the last sane pony's eye saw a figure in the distance, standing strong and heading their way. The pony lifted its head with the last of its might to see it more clearly, but it was all but a blurry image of green and pink. The tallest of the forgotten ones set into motion another period of silence to see who dared approach him.

It was a baby dragon, barely tall enough to reach the likes of even ponies. The evil beings laughed as he went closer and closer, stopping before them with the look of determination and anger. The tallest one then motioned others of his kind to stop laughing and kneeled down significantly to hear what the dragon had to say.

"What say you," mocked him the forgotten one, "Insignificant fool?" The dragon merely pointed to a nearby guitar, not letting out a single word. An angry, annoyed growl unknown to ponykind was heard coming from the forgotten one, as he stood up and reached for the dragon.

"You dare challenge me," he threatened the dragon, holding him by the head. "Wyvern?!" Despite the significant length between him and the ground, the dragon kept his look of ambition, which even further annoyed the forgotten one. The challenged, however, he accepted the dragon's challenge and let go of him at the level of the ground, out of harm's way.

A guitar appeared out of nowhere in the forgotten one's reach and he grabbed it, strumming a few notes as he did. Afterwards, all but one of the remaining guitars disappeared, with the one the dragon chose making its way to him. Yet, as he took it, it was broken, with strings torn and the body about to break. The dragon, seeing his foe at an advantage, responded accordingly.

"You speak of a challenge," muttered the dragon. "Yet you underestimate my power. Even the odds." The forgotten one once more growled in anger, but complied to the dragon's offer to 'even the odds'. And so, in the dragon's hands appeared the same guitar as the one wielded by his opponent.

Afterwards, both of them started playing, engaging in a battle of sound. Whoever would win would decide the fate of Equestria.

The third day went by and so did the fourth one, the winner still unknown. As the strings started changing their colour to orange on the fifth day, ponies gathered around, now free of the curse and able to enjoy and appreciate the sound, including the six brave ones that wanted to strike a deal with the evil. Sworn followers formed for both the dragon and the forgotten one and soon, even betting of bits took place. The land's best two drummers also joined in, providing what little they could to both the challenger and the challanged, yet at the same time, were led by vile rivalry.

However, not even the fifth day brought Equestria a victor.

On around midnight between the fifth and sixth day, the strings on both of their guitars burst into flames, unable to handle the abuse any longer. When the fiery accident ceased and all that remained were two strings out of six, both of them stopped playing. With neither of them a winner, the forgotten one laughed, mocking his challenger.

"You have failed!" he proclaimed, his sworn followers further validating the claim. "You can't reproduce the sound of metal on two strings! Run to the hills before I show you I am the master of puppets!" The dragon, however, was not moved by the fact.

"Right, you are. Play metal, I cannot," responded the dragon. "But I can share something of a different style." And after those words, the dragon switched both his playing hand and the orientation of the guitar, with the two remaining strings now at the bottom.

"Heretic!" further mocked him the forgotten one and grabbed onto his own guitar once more. Yet, when both of them started playing, he suddenly found himself at a severe disadvantage. The dragon played a tune unknown even to him at an astounding speed, and in response, all he could muster were a few dark riffs that faded away mere seconds after being cast. Knowing he had won, the dragon stopped playing and smiled with glee.

The whole crowd cheered for the dragon, proclaiming him as the winner. When both of the guitars disappeared, the forgotten one admitted his defeat and also proclaimed him as the victor.

"You have won this time," he told him. "But heed my words!" The dragon listened more carefully to the upcoming threat and the crowd went silent, wanting to know what the evil had to say.

"Live long, prosper and rock on!" With that said, both the evil and the dragon laughed. After playing one more, final song for their audience, the forgotten one disappeared and with him, all of of the evil. He, however, left the dragon with a gift — his own magical guitar. With it came a note, stating that he should 'use it accordingly.'

As the crowd cheered, he decided the fate of Equestria.

"Let there be rock!" he proclaimed, holding his gift above his head. "And the other things, too!"

Afterwards, Equestria was rebuilt and changed forever, with the dark music heard by ponies influencing modern music to this very day, some genres less, some genres more...

An odd magazine laid on the desk in Twilight's library, simply named 'Dark Music Monthly'. It shifted, as if moved by magic and then opened. Shortly after, Twilight, followed by all of her friends, climbed out of it, exhausted. Whilst the rest were trying to get music notes out of their ears, Twilight was watching with anger as none other than Spike was walking towards her, whistling and eyes closed, very full of himself and happy. After all, he could now play guitar.

"Spike?" asked Twilight in an annoyed tone as he bumped into her and opened his eyes. "What did I tell you about enchanted comic books?" Spike merely scratched his head and after a few seconds, he remembered.

"You told me not to read any of them, I know," he said confidently. "But this wasn't a comic book. It was a magazine, with... ehm... dark magic. That doesn't count, right?" He then laughed worryingly, knowing that at least half of her friends will now try to kill him, since he deliberately got them in trouble again.

However, just like last time, they just called it a day and gave him a pat on the back for being there to save them. Twilight, on the other hand, just sighed and told Spike to write down what she told him, so he won't forget about it again. Hopefully, the dragon will keep his word.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading! As a bonus, have this story-related poem.

And their sound was heard throughout the land,
for they though the music of ponies was bland.
A horrible curse they brought with them,
Sound of music to forever ponies condemn,
In madness bind, ensnare,
Traveller, tourist, beware.

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