The Super Awesome Story About Stuff

by BlackRoseRaven

The Direction We Take

Chapter One: The Direction We Take
~BlackRoseRaven

Our noble heroes, following the lead of River Styx, crossed the sprawling fields and soon found themselves with a landmark in sight that all of them were able to recognize: Manehattan. The sprawling metropolis was a welcome sight after having traveled through nothing but raucous, wild lands for endless mile after mile, where green Eden stretched its way into an abundant but empty desert of-

“Shut up, great voice.” Luna complained, huffing and glowering up at the sky as the group strode slowly down the cobblestone street of the old city. Her starry mane flicked around her as she glanced back and forth, adding in a whinier voice: “And there was plenty to be had in that... sodding excuse for a wild-lands as well! Did thou not see the deer? The deer! The gorgeous deer!”

“It wasn't a deer, dear. It was just a pony out on a hike.” Scrivener Blooms said mildly, and Luna looked at him grumpily. “Well, of course he ran away from us. I'd run away from us. And that's even before you decided to charge at him.”

Luna huffed loudly, but Scrivener only continued to look at her mildly before Twilight murmured: “But we really do have to be more careful, Luna. I mean, this is clearly Manehattan but...”

She broke off, not needing to state the obvious, as Luna grumbled in agreement and Scrivener nodded slowly. At the head of the group, River Styx paused and looked back over his shoulder as the others slowed, letting them catch up a little: he didn't really want to try and make friends with them, but as little as he liked it, coming into the city had made it abundantly clear that things here were far more complicated than he had guessed at first.

One of those things was the fact that they were walking down the street of one of the most populated cities in Equestria... and while they could hear noises and rumblings and even the occasional voice, there wasn't a single pony present on the street with them. Apart from the indistinct noises, the only other signs of life came from blurred shapes that moved every now and then in the windows.

Marina was looking back and forth uncomfortably, nervously chewing on her lower lip as she stayed halfway between River Styx and the three strange ponies ambling along behind them. She couldn't help but shoot them anxious looks every now and then over her shoulder, shifting uneasily: while River Styx seemed a little... unfriendly, he was obviously taking the whole situation seriously and there was less... off about him than these other ponies.

After all, Luna and Twilight... those were ponies she had never really known, but she had known of them. At least enough to know that they were acting very peculiar... especially Luna. After all, the Princess of the Night wasn't acting like any kind of princess of anything that Marina could think of...

As if to prove her point, Luna turned towards the black stallion striding alongside her and belched loudly in his face. Scrivener Blooms scowled and leaned away from her as she gave him a big, childish grin, before the sapphire mare declared: “'Tis a compliment in some countries!”

“No, it's not. Especially not when you just lean into someone's face and burp. That's awful, Luna.” reprimanded Twilight, but Luna looked undaunted, only sniffing loudly and raising her head high in the air, before the purple mare suddenly glanced curiously forwards as she felt Marina's eyes lingering on the three of them.

Marina immediately blushed and looked sharply back ahead, hurrying up towards River Styx... before she quailed a bit when he looked over his shoulder at her sourly, the stallion coming to a halt. Marina nearly stumbled past him, but she managed to catch herself and give him a lame smile before she lowered her head and said the first thing that came to mind: “My big brother's a guard.”

There was silence for a moment, during which River Styx studied her intently... and then he sighed a little before his eyes flicked back over his shoulder, the stallion asking grudgingly: “Who are you three? You both resemble the princesses, but...”

He left off, and Scrivener Blooms rose his head and said dryly: “Well, one's still a bit of a princess. The other, on the other hoof...”

“I am no princess. Thou art a butt, Scrivener Blooms. Thou art a great stupid butt.” Luna complained, looking offended... and then she stepped forwards and slammed her head into the side of Scrivener's skull, knocking him flopping to the cobblestone street with a groan as Twilight winced and stumbled to the side, grabbing at her own head as she glared at Luna.

But Luna was simply grinning, looking very proud of herself; then again, she always did after successfully abusing someone close to her in the eye of the public. She knew full well that River Styx would only stare her suspiciously, even if Marina was left gaping in open-mouthed horror... and Scrivener Blooms only sighed from the ground before he mumbled: “Well, I hope she's made herself clear. Luna is not a princess. Luna is... Luna.”

“No spoilers.” said a curt voice, and the five ponies all looked up in surprise to see what looked like a pony striding towards them down the street, his head raised high and dressed in an eclectic set of clothing. The sleeves covering his limbs puffed loosely out, but were cinched tightly around his hooves by belts, while a fancy, thick vest tightly gripped his body, squeezing around him like a corset.

But all five ponies noticed something odd about the stranger... or rather, stranger than everything else strange about him showing up here out of nowhere. He was handsome, with a gorgeous, dark red chestnut body and studious, dark eyes beneath a loose black mane... but his tail was long and green and draconic, flicking back and forth with catlike irritability.

He halted in front of them, then rose his head and declared imperiously, as he placed a hoof against his breast: “I am the Director, and you are all my actors. Now. We don't have much time to get started, my actors. I shall be expecting a hundred and ten percent from each and every one of you.”

“Apart from being mathematically impossible, none of us here are very good at acting.” Scrivener Blooms said mildly as he picked himself up off the road, absently brushing at himself as River Styx only scowled and Marina shifted uneasily, the mare looking back and forth as she swore she heard... movement, all around them. “Also, we already ran into some generically-named mastermind who told us what to do. Why are you telling us what to do?”

“Because I am the Director! And like my fellow Draconequus, I am here to keep this play running at full speed ahead!” declared the Director, one hoof thrusting high into the air as if to reach for the stars high above, his whole effeminate body tense as his eyes glowed with the exhilaration of the oncoming play, which would surely be a massively-successful drama and not yet another terrible failure in a long series of flops for this sad little portmanteau.

“Be quiet, Narrator, you're not in this scene!” the Director snapped angrily up at the sky, one of his eyes visibly twitching as Luna giggled behind a hoof and Twilight sighed and dropped her face in a hoof.

Scrivener, however, only looked meditative before he said wryly: “Huh. He makes a good point, though. Well, I'm assuming the Narrator is male, or at least masculine. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.”

Scrivener Blooms looked up into the sky, his wandering gaze followed by the others into the vast and infinite cosmos, as if searching for some sign of the divine being whose melodic voice they could all hear at times whispering through their minds in sweet and saccharine tones. But in this, that most glorious and powerful and omnipresent voice had no answer, for what is the meaning of 'he' or 'she' to an entity of such cosmic proportion and power? Nay, the Narrator is divine, and divinity is beyond the comprehension and measure of sex and gender, for truly, he is but universal law, he is above such petty things as-

“Clearly the narrator is a dick. I am not saying that this means he is male, but 'tis certainly a dick.” Luna declared informatively, and Scrivener Blooms shrugged amiably as Twilight Sparkle only gave another sigh, looking as if she was developing a headache. “And apparently thou art a fish, Port Minnow. What a strange name thou has!”

The Director scowled at Luna, and then he sat back and pointed at his tail, saying moodily: “I am a Draconequus. See? This is proof!”

Scrivener Blooms studied the stallion for a few moments, and then he replied dryly: “In the sense that you're part draco and part equus, yes. But in that same sense, Luna can be called a princess when she's anything but.”

“Nay, I cannot. I am a virile stallion.” Luna declared proudly, raising her head high before grinning over at the Director. “Am I not impressive, Port Minnow? Thou may be a rather handsome Draconequus, considering that thou art a little less... mishy-mashy than most I have seen, but I am still ten times the stallion thou art.”

The Director only looked sourly at Luna for a few moments, then he scowled as River Styx asked calmly: “And what if we don't want to be in your play?”

“Considering the fact you've already passed auditions and come to the set for our first big night, I think it's a little late to back out now.” The Director replied moodily, narrowing his eyes slightly. Luna growled at this, and even if River Styx wasn't quite as vocal, his expression made his displeasure more than clear.

Scrivener scowled a little... which played right into the direction the play was supposed to head anyway, little did he know. Oh, alas, poor and unfortunate Scrivener Blooms, caught in the tide and turmoil of the ever-flowing, ever-lasting sea of words that this endless and engulfing story is quickly becoming, these ponies all but victims, but he perhaps the worst; a writer tied in a web of words, an author following a text written not by him but by the countless string-pulling fingers of-

“Cut!” the Director shouted. He sounded petulant and upset for absolutely no discernible or logical reason at all, as directors often are.

Luna giggled like a little filly and Twilight looked exasperated and River Styx scowled and Marina looked torn between giggling and staring and Scrivener, well, he was Scrivener Blooms, and he was never very happy.

“Get yourself under control, Narrator, or I swear to Loki himself I will call The Redacted.” the Director threatened, and an uncomfortable, cold silence fell as the very air around them seemed to freeze with the tension that suddenly cut through the world.

They all felt it there, in that moment: that some threats shouldn't be made so lightly. That some forces had to be respected; and while a fearsome whip or not, some weapons had a tendency to bite the hooves that tried to free them.

The Director grimaced a little, and then he shook his head slowly before muttering: “Well, now that we have that out of the way... shall we get down to business? As the Narrator so inarticulately put it, we all have our roles to play. And what is more important, your ego, or your friends?”

“My ego, obviously. She's right over there.” Scrivener Blooms said dryly, gesturing with his head towards Luna, who scowled... but then simply shrugged amiably. “I'd also like to point out that most of us here don't know each other. So you know. You can make us angrier by threatening us with bodily harm, but. That's about it.”

The Director rolled his eyes, his long, draconic tail flicking absently behind him before he said moodily: “Oh, don't worry, I'm not threatening any of you. Don't forget that we brought you here from your varicose worlds without so much as a moment of effort expended upon our part. We are very capable of retrieving others from those same-such worlds as well, be they large...”

The Director held up a hoof, and a moment later, there was a flash of light before a small creature appeared in a burst of light, staring back and forth in surprise before it immediately flung itself away from the Director and scampered towards River Styx. The stallion himself was staring in surprise, mouth slightly open as his eyes disbelievingly followed the mustelid's movements even as it leapt up onto him and scurried quickly to the safety of the stallion's head.

Scrivener and Luna both cocked their heads as Marina stared, but Twilight's eyes widened slightly in surprise before she exclaimed: “That's a genet! They're pretty uncommon in Equestria... I'm guessing its bonded to you, which means he must have been yours from a young age...”

River Styx didn't reply, simply blinking slowly before the Director said pompously: “Yes, tell them about your little friend, River Styx... or shall I bring another little family member of yours here from your homeworld?”

River Styx immediately narrowed his eyes, his body tensing up as he set himself... but the little genet tugged at his mane, as if urging him to calm down, and instead the stallion only grimaced before muttering: “There's no need for that. I get it. We have to play along.”

The Director began to smile... and then Scrivener Blooms said blandly: “Although you are aware that 'varicose' doesn't mean 'varied,' it means 'large ugly veins in your legs.'”

The smile on the face of the pony-like Draconequus curdled, and then it slowly turned a scowl towards Scrivener Blooms, who was looking fearlessly at the Director as Luna grinned widely and Twilight sighed and dropped her face in a hoof. “Your powers might be great and terrible, Mr. Behind the Curtain, but all the friends and family of Luna and I aren't so easy to pick on. I mean, you know, by all means, bring Celestia. Or as she's better known these days, Fffpt.”

Scrivener blinked dumbly, then looked down at his own mouth as Luna cocked her head in surprise before remarking: “'Tis not a terrible name for Celestia, but all the same, 'tis not what we call her. We call her Fff... fffpt.”

Luna scowled as she found herself unable to say the name as well, and the Director looked remarkably pleased with himself for someone who had absolutely nothing to do with their predicament. “Shut up, Narrator. But as for you ponies, my friends and I have decreed that-”

Any attempt at a sensible explanation was ruined as Luna began to try and shout her sister's name: every time, however, her mouth refused to cooperate, her tongue flapping wildly, her lips pursing uselessly. As Luna shook her head back and forth, trying to shout, all she managed to do was yell wordlessly and blow loud, long raspberries in every direction, ponies shouting and swearing and ducking away as spittle and saliva flew in every direction.

Luna finally puttered out, her lips finally fizzling to a stop as a last bit of saliva dripped from her muzzle, and she huffed a little at the Director, who was staring at her with a mix of horror and disbelief beneath the mask of spit now covering his face. “Well. That is silly. Why can I not say her name? And what of my name, Bffpt?”

Luna's eyes widened slightly, and then a look suffused her face that could only be described as 'horrendous,' one of her eyes twitching as her jaw clenched. Her starry, ephemeral mane swirled around her face before she threw her head back and roared furiously at the sky, River Styx scowling and Marina flinching away, but Twilight only sighed and Scrivener Blooms simply looked at the mare before he remarked dryly: “No, honestly, Luna. Just let it out.”

“Oh shut up, great idiot Scrivener Blooms!” Luna snapped, and then she turned her furious eyes towards the Director, stomping a hoof towards him with enough force to crack the road tiles beneath it. And whether or not the Director really believed in his own fabled superiority, he wilted like a flower under the corybantic gaze of the mare.

“Aye, I shall fall upon thee like a Corybant indeed!” the mare shouted, taking another stomp towards the Director, who was now trying his hardest not to retreat any further under the harrowing glare of the mare. “How dare thee, how dare thee and thy sordid kind take away mine ability to speak mine own name! I have always been known as Bffpt and...”

One of Luna's eyes twitched, her teeth grinding together, her head twisting slightly to the side as her ephemeral mane sparked before bursting into blue flames. It whipped back and forth as the mare's hooves slowly dug into the ground, cracking the stone beneath them as the Director stared in horror, cowering beneath the fulminating, gorgonic gaze of the mare.

“You know, you can't just add '-ic' to everything and make it a descriptor.” Scrivener Blooms said mildly. He seemed as unfazed by Luna's rage as he was unable to creatively conjugate an adjective, which was, by chance, the word he should have used in place of his own incorrectly-placed jargon. “Luna's always angry. And I'm a writer, not a languageist.”

“Scrivy.” Twilight said dryly, but Scrivener Blooms only shrugged easily before the violet mare turned her eyes back towards Luna, who was still twitching as she loomed over the stallion, her mane a whirl of sapphire hellfire. “Uh, Luna? You're scaring everypony.”

“They should be afraid! They should all fear me! I am as great and terrible as the sea!” Luna roared, raising her hooves above her head as her horn sparked, lightning crackling around her. River Styx grimaced and leaned slightly away from a stray bolt of electricity that hit the ground nearby, his genet pet squeaking and leaping to the safety of the back of his neck, while Marina yelped and danced backwards, staring in shock at the mare as she stared at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. “And thou, Director! Thou hast offended me, and for this, I demand recompense! I demand satisfaction! I demand mine own accursed name!”

“It's certainly accursed.” Scrivener muttered, and then he sighed as Luna glared balefully over her shoulder at him, one of her eyes twitching, and the Director immediately took the moment to scuttle hurriedly away. “Please don't go starting a fight before we even know precisely what it is we're up against yet.”

“I shall fight whatever I damned well please.” Luna huffed loudly, not at all trying to suck up all the attention she could. “Oh, quiet. Foul-mouthed Narrator. But I suppose that is all thou art, a mouth. And unlike most stallions, thy mouthy-parts do not even make up for the lack of any nethers, for 'tis not as if-”

Any further comments were censored by large black pieces of tape that firmly slapped themselves over her muzzle. And a paper bag that dropped over her head, her furious little blue-green eyes glaring with the rage of a thousand suns even as she was left helpless to shout any of the many, many profanities she wanted to.

Scrivener Blooms looked up at the sky meditatively for a moment, and then he and Twilight traded looks before both ponies simply shrugged, Luna stomping her hooves wildly as she gave muffled little shouts and danced around in anger, slashing her horn wildly in Scrivener's direction.

“I just don't think it's a terrible look on you.” Scrivener said blandly, and Twilight sighed before walking over to try and calm down the raging mare, as the stallion's eyes flicked back towards the Director, who was half-hiding in an alley and scowling out at them. “So if you guys are a theater company with this much power... why don't you create your own actors? Why kidnap us?”

The Director scoffed loudly at this, saying contemptibly: “Kidnap you? What we did is invite you to partake in our magnum opus-”

“Without asking, and now we're forcibly confined here, while you threaten out friends and loved ones with your quote-unquote 'omnipotence.'” Scrivener said, gesturing towards Luna as Twilight uselessly tried to yank the paper bag off her head, the sapphire mare's rump waving back and forth as she tried to drag herself backwards while Twilight pulled.

But the Director only smiled thinly, then he shrugged and spread his forelegs, saying ironically: “Welcome to showbusiness. Which isn't that different from life in general.”

The Director paused, then turned his eyes towards River Styx and Marina, saying wryly: “But perhaps we should give our other stars some time to shine, now shouldn't we? You, River Styx, you have a rather interesting backstory. But don't worry, I'm not going to typecast you; besides, we don't even have a script for Oliver Twist.”

River Styx scowled, but before he could say anything, the Director turned towards Marina, saying with a knowing look: “And you. You're quite the sweet mare, aren't you? A real treat to work with. And you have a bit of a thing for chaos, isn't that right? Well, don't worry. I've worked with plenty of silly little girls who kept too many secrets in the past.”

Marina looked hurriedly away, flushing slightly as she shifted backwards, and then the Director cleared his throat before clapping his front hooves together, visibly starting to regain some of his old composure now that he was able to get back to his favorite hobby of bullying ponies. “Now. River and Marina. Our first scene calls for a little bit of humor. But not the slapstick or silly kind, of course, we want to hide how churlish you all are under a bit of sharp wit-”

“You can sharpen your wit all you want, Director. That doesn't make it any less dim or any less small.” Scrivener Blooms said mildly, and Luna snorted beneath the paper bag as Twilight sighed, looking pleadingly over at the stallion as she finally stepped away from the bagheaded mare. “You know, if you stopped threatening and insulting us all the time, we might actually be more inclined to play along with your stupid little game. I would also like to point out that while Luna can't interrupt you anymore, she can still pummel you.”

“Hiding behind your wife again, I see.” the Director retorted, raising his head slightly and glowering at Scrivener Blooms... although he did step ever so slightly away from Luna, even as he added: “What makes you think we won't put the rest of the Princess of the Night in a sack if she continues to struggle?”

“I don't think she's the princess.” River Styx interrupted, tossing a glance towards Luna, who nodded vehemently in agreement. “I also think that you can't do anything yourself. The Narrator seems to be the one holding all the cards.”

“The Narrator is an idiot.” the Director said distastefully, scowling over at River Styx. “I was going to cast you in a lead role, you know. Get you away from these idiots. But now you open your mouth and you're just as obnoxious as the rest of them. Well, what about you, girl? Are you going to be smart enough to listen, at least?”

Marina lowered her head, biting her lip... but to her surprise, River Styx shifted ever so slightly in front of her, the stallion saying in a quiet, cold voice: “I don't have a lot of patience for bullies or cowards. Are you going to get to the point or are you just going to talk in circles?”

The Director frowned moodily, and then he finally sat back and clapped his front hooves together, saying irritably: “Narrator, I can't work with these ingrates. Take them away.”

But nothing happened. The Director was left scowling at the air, but still, nothing happened, in spite of how much he scrunched up his muzzle or made those annoying little growling noises. It was possibly because the Narrator was an idiot, but we'll probably never know. It's not like the Narrator really has anything to do with the story, after all. It's not like the Narrator ever does anything. Because if he ever did anything, if he was important at all, he was rather sure he'd at least get a 'please' or a 'thank you' or maybe even a nice word now and then. But oh no. The Narrator is just an idiot.

Slowly, the Director dropped his face in his hooves, rubbing slowly at his features. After a moment, he snorted, then rose his head and opened his mouth, clearly about to call for someone-

“Director.” whispered a voice, and the Director froze before he slowly, creakily looked over his shoulder. The other ponies all looked up as well in surprise at the creature that had appeared... or at least, they thought it was a creature. It was shrouded in thick, bluish mist that twisted incessantly around it, its shape a malformed and mismatched black shadow beneath the cloak of fog. Small red eyes burned out of the darkness, piercing and terribly bright, and currently locked completely on the Draconequus in front of him.

The Director swallowed thickly, looking up at the phantasm before he grinned weakly and said finally: “Pluto. This... this is quite a surprise, sir, I... I didn't expect to see you at all today, I...”

The shade called Pluto made a quiet shushing noise, and the Director immediately fell silent, dropping his head between his shoulders. Slowly, the shadow gestured towards the ponies... although it didn't so much as look in their direction. But the gesture alone seemed to convey both weight and fear: Marina felt like her legs wanted to buckle beneath her at just being in the presence of this... thing. And whatever Pluto was, it hadn't so much as looked at them: what terrible pains would its gaze carry? How much could it make even the strong ponies around her suffer with only a single glance?

Marina swallowed thickly, her body shivering violently, her eyes wide as she whimpered weakly in her throat. But it was all unnoticed: the ponies around her seemed almost frozen, and the Director was pale as a ghost as he stared up at Pluto, as the shadow said in its soft, ominous voice: “Director. I have provided for you. It is your job to mold them accordingly. It is your job to make the play decent. Do your job. Or face the consequences.”

The fog around Pluto shifted, and a single long claw shrouded in shadows emerged from the mass of roiling fog, the digit slowly reaching down and touching the Director's face. Immediately, the Draconequus whimpered and flinched away as a layer of frost spread quickly over his cheek.

He staggered backwards, then hurriedly scrubbed at his cheek with a hoof, nodding violently and blurting: “Yes, yes sir, I know you're right sir and I'll get to work right away, you... you won't regret this, I promise! I'll take care of everything, I'll make the play the best it can be with these... these fine young thespians you've brought me!”

Pluto didn't speak: only looked at the Director for a moment longer, and then vanished. And the moment the creature faded from sight, the sense of palpable malice in the air faded, and the Director slumped, breathing hard and looking down before he shook his head quickly and mumbled: “He's always supposed to call before he drops in to the studio... but oh, of course he never does...”

The Director shook himself out briefly, then he scowled as he looked up at the ponies. He rubbed moodily at his frostbitten cheek, then said flatly: “You're leaking.”

Luna blinked and looked down between her own legs as Twilight frowned and Scrivener glanced over his shoulder... but then River Styx rose a hind hoof in surprise as he realized there was something wet on it.

He saw something... brownish dripping from it, and his eyes drew back, following the trail of the liquid to Marina. And what he saw made his eyes widen in surprise, the stallion stumbling away as the genet on his head seemed to stare with equal shock at the mare.

Marina looked down at one of her hooves, trembling hard as she saw that she was literally melting, rivers of brown flowing down from her sagging body. For a few moments she only shivered as she continued to study her hoof in the painful silence, and then dropped her head, half-hiding behind her mane as she whispered: “S-Sorry.”

She closed her eyes, concentrating... and the streams of brown that had been flowing from her body shivered before slowly beginning to withdraw. It pooled upwards, her body gradually solidifying again as she arched her back with a wince, before she finally gave a quiet sigh as she glanced away.

“You're a golem.” River Styx said, his voice almost emotionless even as his eyes nearly burned into her, and Marina flushed as she shifted silently, her eyes dropping to the ground.

“I'm a pony. I... had an accident. Involving chocolate.” Marina murmured, her eyes trailing over the ground before she shifted away from the stallion slightly... then dropped her eyes hurriedly when she saw the other three ponies were looking at her as well. “I.. I can usually control it, it's just... I just... that shadow...”

She shivered and shook herself out. But it wasn't her fault, dear friends, not at all: she was merely suffering the brunt of the ill will of the world around her, as it seemed she was always fated to. Touched by chaos as she was, this world strengthened her magic and her control over the chocolate wrapped around what little remains of the pony inside it. But such susceptibility and empathy with the powers of the Draconequus have also left her more vulnerable to the perils carried by creatures that both control and defy such chaos.

Twilight Sparkle frowned as she looked up into the air, focusing as intently as she could on that little voice whispering in their minds. The Director, meanwhile, sighed and rolled his eyes, saying sourly: “That wasn't in the original script, Narrator. Try and keep to the story.”

This was a rather ironic order, considering the fact the Director hadn't even assigned anyone any roles yet, with all his whining and his flouncing and his posturing.

The Director ground his teeth together, but ignored the obnoxious and yet incredibly charismatic voice of the Narrator, instead turning his eyes back towards the ponies and saying contemptibly: “Fine. I'm assigning you your parts. Make sure you honor them or there will be hell to pay. Not just for you, but for everything you care about.”

Luna gave a muffled growl, but Twilight looked at her pointedly as Marina lowered her head and River Styx narrowed his eyes; he couldn't hide the way he shifted slightly, however, and the Director gave a thin smile before he said calmly: “Better. First. A streetwise rapscallion and his little pet. Sounds perfect for you, doesn't it, River Styx? I know I promised you no Oliver Twist, but the silver screen's nothing but a one hour lie. You'll get used to it.”

The Director flicked his hoof, and River Styx's eyes widened as there was a puff of smoke around him, obscuring his vision for a moment as his whole body tingled with pain... and then he looked down at himself in disbelief to see that his armor had been replaced by a long, wool scarf and a mangled, patched cloth jacket. He looked back and forth over himself in disbelief, a beaten baker boy cap tilting back and forth on his head before he looked over his shoulder at his genet... who was simply sitting on his back, staring back at him with the same stunned expression, dressed in a matching cap and scarf.

River Styx ground his teeth together, glaring at the Director as he reached up to yank off his cap and fling it to the ground, stomping on it with one hoof as he yanked the scarf free with the other. “What the hell did you do with my armor?”

“You're stepping on it.” the Director said calmly, and River Styx frowned before the Director smiled thinly and held up a hoof... and a moment later, the stallion had a hoof resting on top of a damaged helm instead of a cloth cap. “Look at that, you've gone and ruined it.”

“Transmogrification. That's a pretty standard Draconequus ability.” Twilight said quietly, and the Director rolled his eyes in exasperation. “But the source of that power isn't you.”

“Or is it? I guess you'll never know.” The Director flicked his hoof, and under River Styx's hoof, the helm transformed back into a battered cap. It happened in perfect time with his gesture... but with no tangible pulse of magic, it was impossible to tell whether or not the power had really come from the Director or not, or it was merely another trick of the Narrator. And that was precisely the way the Director liked it.

“Now, next, we have... oh yes, a female role. I suppose you're only mare by technicality, but...” The Director clicked his tongue, looking sourly over bag-headed Luna and frowning Twilight Sparkle. “That still makes you twice as much a mare as any of these... coyotes.”

Luna gave a muffled shout of indignation as she stomped her hooves in an angry little dance, while Twilight only sighed before asking tiredly: “I know Scrivy already tried to point this out, but you know that you catch more flies with honey than-”

“Well, I'm not trying to catch flies. I'm trying to straighten out a few bent nails. And for that, you use a hammer.” the Director retorted, and then he sniffed disdainfully before his eyes flicked moodily towards Marina. “You should be the girl, selling flowers on the corner. I would send you to the bakery, but I recognize for you that might be considered cannibalism.”

Marina dropped her head, flushing and opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something... but then she only shifted backwards, her eyes flicking away when the Director glared at her. The dragon-tailed pony sniffed loudly after a moment at this, before his eyes turned towards Scrivener Blooms. “And you three. I'm assigning you all chorus positions, because of your annoying little lifeline.”

Scrivener Blooms looked meditatively at the Director for a moment, and then he simply dropped on his rump and said calmly: “No.”

Twilight sighed, and Luna nodded violently in agreement with Scrivener as she dropped on her own rump. The Director scowled at the three of them, opening his mouth, but Scrivener Blooms cut him off before he could speak, saying dryly: “You're not going to call anyone for help, because your flank is already on the line with that spirit... whatever the hell it is. I can't think of anyone off the top of my head that we know who you bringing to this world wouldn't just make your life even more miserable. I mean, look at Luna and me. Do you really think we hang out with normal ponies?

“And like Twilight said. The source of the power isn't you. She estimated you can generate around twenty bæns of energy. That's barely enough to generate some light, let alone transform uh...” Scrivener shot a quick look at Twilight, who gave him a flat look in return... but all the same, something seemed to pass between them before the stallion looked back ahead. “Transform nonvariable materials into multiform substances. Whatever that means.”

Marina looked uncertainly at Scrivener Blooms, while River Styx frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. From some of the reading he had done in the libraries at Canterlot to improve his own magic control, he understood the basics of what the stallion was talking about... but why was the earth pony talking like he had been sharing entire conversations with the purple mare all this time? Twilight Sparkle – or the mare going by that name, since River was certain by now that neither Luna nor Twilight were by any means the Princess of the Night or the Princess of Magic – had been the quietest of them all so far.

The Director was blushing ever so slightly, one of his eyes twitching as his draconic tail whipped back and forth behind him. Then he gritted his teeth before he rose a hoof, saying coldly: “Perhaps I should demonstrate why I am called the Director. Narrator! Close the stage!”

And before anypony could react, the world around them went black, leaving them wrapped in inky darkness. There was a profound, terrible silence... and then a brilliant flash of light that left the Director eclipsed within its glowing hold.

“I don't think that you're using that word right.” Scrivener muttered as he rubbed at his eyes, then frowned and looked ahead: in much plainer language, the Director was standing beneath a bright spotlight that emanated from... no light source the stallion could discern. And he and the others were all on the edge of it, standing in... nothingness. Dark, empty, hollow... Nothing.

“This place is where we take actors who need a bit more coaching, or a reminder that they should get in line. Think of this your first warning. We can't have the actors trying to run the show, after all.”

The Director gestured towards them distastefully, and then his eyes halted on Scrivener Blooms, the Draconequus saying calmly: “Now. Since you seem to be the appointed spokesperson for your little triad... why don't we have a little bit of a speaking session, you and I? You're so proud of your wit, so let's see if you can actually keep up in a game of sport.”

Scrivener Blooms gave a wry smile, then he shrugged a bit as Luna's head snapped up, the mare immediately beginning to wiggle back and forth on the spot as she gave muffled shouts of what sounded like excitement and encouragement. “I'm not much for sports. But if you're saying you want to see who can make who cry first...”

“Now, we're civilized people, aren't we? We'll conduct it in verse format. Primary verses will be ten syllables per line, done in ABAB rhyming couplets.” The Director retorted, polishing one of his hooves against his chest before he rose himself calmly up on his hind legs, then dropped backwards into a canvas chair that appeared behind him in a puff of smoke. “Every second verse will be free form, but must be exactly forty words long. If you win, I'll give you creative control of the first scene of the play.”

“You better win.” River Styx muttered, glancing down at the patchy clothing he was dressed in.

Scrivener Blooms only shrugged amiably, and then he asked: “Any other rules, Mr. Director? Or should we flip a coin to see who goes first?”

“Yes, two: one, you are not permitted to use your link to your benefit. I expect mental silence.” The Director said calmly, before he gave a thin smile. “Well, more so than usual. Since all the chatter I hear between you three is nothing but echoes and ghosts anyway.”

“Hey, don't waste your ammunition before we've even gotten started. Even if you're just firing blanks.” Scrivener replied calmly, with that same infuriating smile on his face.

The Director scowled ever so slightly, and then he held up a hoof and said shortly: “Two: no stealing from other sources. Original material only.”

Scrivener gave a quick nod, and then he strode forwards and held out a hoof, saying mildly: “May the worst pony win.”

The Director only snorted, smiling contemptibly down at Scrivener Blooms before he gestured sharply upwards... and the ponies looked dumbly upwards in surprise as two massive, floating cylinders of glass appeared above their heads. These hummed quietly as they hovered slowly on their sides, before a portrait appeared beside each cylinder as some kind of bright green substance filled up both large tubes. “These illustrate our emotional well-being. So no matter how you try and hide it, every little bit that chips away at you will be noted. Is that renaissance enough for you, purple poet?”

Scrivener's face remained impassive, but there was a faint clink as the green in one bar lowered slightly: the bar beside Scrivener's portrait, to be precise. The green bar that illustrated his mental health in this verbal mortal combat between these two street fighting-

“Shut up, Narrator.” The Director said irritably, and then he turned his eyes back towards Scrivener, saying pleasantly: “I have drawn first blood. As such, it only seems fair that I give you the first turn. How does that sound to you?”

“Thank you.” Scrivener paused meditatively, glancing over his shoulder at Twilight Sparkle. “How does it feel to be an actual purple unicorn, on that note? I mean, it's pretty insulting. You can be pretty... detailed yourself, but I don't think you're hyperdescriptive. Actually, most people don't have any idea what real hyperdescription is. That asshole Quill, now as we've discussed in the past, he used actual hyperdescription, which-”

“Will you get on with it? Or do I have to add a timer to the rules?” The Director snapped, and Scrivener smiled slightly as he turned his gaze back towards the Draconequus.

“Just checking something.” Scrivener said mildly, before he cleared his throat and then recited in a pleasant voice:

“It has been said that those who can't do, teach:

But it seems that those who can't teach, direct.

And I suppose those who can't direct leech

From their friends to try and hide their defect.”

The Director scowled darkly, his eyes narrowing slightly before he gave a thin smile, even as the green in the bar floating above depleted slightly. Scrivener only bowed his head towards him politely, gesturing with one hoof, and the Director ground his teeth together for a few moments before saying contemptibly:

“So what's it like to grow up in cage?

To know you were worthless in daddy's eyes?

Has it left you with deeply buried rage?

Or can you only voice whimpering cries?”

Scrivener leaned back slightly in surprise, eyes widening a bit as the green decreased dramatically across his bar, before his features suddenly hardened. The Director only grinned, but Scrivener slowly cracked his neck as Luna danced furiously behind him and Twilight half-covered her mouth with a hoof, wincing a bit as she looked uneasily at the stallion.

Marina shifted uneasily, as River Styx frowned, narrowing his eyes towards the Director. But after a moment, the attention was drawn back to Scrivener as he said in a steady, conversational voice:

“Was your mother a dragon, or was she the horse?

Your father must have either liked big big big ladies,

Or he had an itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie problem.

But I see you inherited the worst of both worlds.”

The Director snorted at this, scowling a little as his tail snapped behind him and the green in his bar dropped slightly before he replied:

“I don't have a mother or a father, which is still more than you ever had:

What's wrong? Going to cry? Have I gone and made you a little mad?

Then why don't you have a tissue for your issue?”

With a flick of his hoof, a box of tissues appeared in midair before it was flung towards Scrivener Blooms, hitting him in the face and falling to the ground with a clunk. Scrivener Blooms looked down at this mildly as the green in his bar dropped slightly... but then the Director frowned as he looked up and noted that it hadn't dropped nearly as much as he'd expected it to.

Scrivener looked up after a moment, and he was smiling like a predator as he replied calmly:

“It's good that you don't; fortunate, really.

They don't have to see your countless failures.

As your lord yourself, preening helplessly,

Scared of your brothers in Pluto's favor.”

The Director twitched slightly at this, then he bared his teeth angrily... but quickly caught himself even as the green in the cylinder above him depleted. There was silence for a few moments as the two looked at each other for a few long moments, and then the Director retorted:

“You are one to speak of failure, slave hoof:

You failed to save an entire nation.

Your wife is a whore, your life is a goof,

You are a blight upon all creation.”

Scrivener Blooms only looked meditative, even as the green in his cylinder pointedly decreased again. The Director smiled coldly at this, his eyes gleaming, his own bar more than half-full still and Scrivener's reduced to but a mere fifth, at most: another verse at most, and-

“Since being friends is out of the question, and you don't want to play nice,

I'll take off the kit gloves now and add a little spice.

Powerless and pedantic: that's why you're so frantic,

Trapped in someone else's past.”

The Director snorted... but his eyes flicked to the side even as he muttered:

“That does not even make any sense. You

don't know the first thing about me. You stu-

pid hack, you broken doll, silence; have you-”

There was a loud gong, and the Director frowned as he looked up as a voice said pointedly: “You cannot rhyme the same word with the same word. The Director's turn is forfeited.”

“What? I... Narrator! Narrator, that dialogue was not part of the poem, fix your error immediately!” shouted the Director furiously, one of his eyes twitching as he waved a hoof angrily in the air... not even noticing that his own cylinder depleted slightly. But Scrivener Blooms noticed, and it gave him an idea- “No, you... stop it! You're the one giving him ideas! This is an outrage! This is treachery, Narrator!”

“I think I will stoop down to your level,

Since you obviously still want to play.

You are a fat, ugly, stupid devil,

And I also think that you may be gay.”

Scrivener Blooms looked smugly over at the Director, who twitched visibly as he slowly turned to face the stallion, opening his mouth as more than half the remaining green in his cylinder drained... before he quickly snapped his jaw shut, eyes narrowing to slits as he hissed through his teeth.

The two glared at each other for a few moments, and then the Director leaned forwards and growled:

“You're a handicap, an anchor, dead weight clinging to your wives,

You took more than you deserve, and you happily ruin their lives.

You are weak, you are pathetic, you are useless, you are waste,

Go kill yourself in disgrace.”

Scrivener clicked his tongue at this as his bar diminished slightly, before he gave that infuriating smile of his again as the Director ground his teeth together, grinding one hoof into the ground before the stallion replied gently:

“It's a little sad what I see before me,

Just a child: how long have you been lonely?

You treat us like we're your dolls,

Because that's all you've ever known:

It's not your fault that you've been so alone.”

“Do not pity me, you son of a bitch!

You don't know the first thing about... all this!

You're just projecting your feelings you... witch,

You are the garbage, my life is... like... bliss!”

The Director spat to the side, then looked up and snarled as he saw that Scrivener's cylinder had barely depleted at all from his last stuttered verse... while his own was nearly empty. But that damn smile on the stallion's face, and how patronizing he was being, and... and the way he kept switching back and forth between making a mockery of him and trying to get into his head, not to mention the fact that the traitorous – but strangely charismatic! – Narrator kept counting what clearly weren't meant to be parts of the poems against him...

“Allow me to summarize what I learnt:

You are a coward, a bully, a jerk.

A failure who many times has been burnt.

You yell and bleat, as you can't handle work.”

The Director scowled darkly, one of his eyes twitching slightly before he growled: “I am not a failure. I am the Director! I am in charge here! I am the one who tells you stupid actors what to do! And I... and... I...”

The Director slowly looked up as Scrivener only continued to smile indulgently, even as his eyes gleamed with victory. And the Draconequus couldn't help but stare in horror at the sight of his empty cylinder, shaking his head in disbelief before he looked down and howled: “No! That's wrong! I'm the one who-”

“Oh shut up, great idiot. Scrivener Blooms was far too kind to thou.” Luna complained, and then she blinked before brightening as she waggled her ears and shook her head quickly back and forth. “Scrivy! I have been freed from my prison!”

“Narrator, fix this!” shouted the Director... but nothing happened because the Director lost, fair and square, due to his own inability to control either his mouth or his temper. “Don't make me... I'll... this isn't...”

The Director lost all coherency even as he stuttered angrily on like a broken typewriter, while Scrivener only continued to look at him with that same pleasant smile. River Styx, meanwhile, glanced quickly down at himself, giving a small grunt of relief as he saw the ragged clothes had turned back into his battered armor. Although that would have to be repaired...

He paused, then glanced at his genet as it hopped onto his shoulder, before he rolled his eyes at the sight of it: his odd little companion was still dressed in his little cap and scarf. The stallion made a face at it, then he shook his head before glancing up and asking: “Does that mean we're free?”

Marina looked up quickly as well, and a moment later, so did the other ponies. The Director, of course, only continued to scowl at them, not at all nearly as polite or intelligent or just all around nice as these ponies who were at least smart enough to acknowledge the real talent in the room-

“Oh shut up, Narrator. Besides, Scrivener Blooms didn't win. He merely refuses to acknowledge his defeat.” The Director growled as he hopped out of his chair, looking up... and then he slowly narrowed his eyes as he saw the cylinders and portraits had vanished, replaced by a painting of the Director in a diaper and bawling his eyes out. “Oh. Very droll.”

Scrivener Blooms rose a hoof for attention, which the Narrator so graciously gave him. “Thanks. So does that mean I can choose what we do now?”

“Cheaters never prosper.” The Director said grouchily, but then he was compelled to answer the stallion's question all the same, explaining very nicely that they would be permitted to choose the basis for the next scene, although the votes of the audience would still modify the stallion's desires. “I did not explain that at all! He is not-”

“I think we should go home. Can I choose that?” Scrivener asked blandly, and then he frowned over his shoulder as Twilight winced, starting to shake her head wildly... but a little too late.

There was a flash of light as the Director winced away... and then he snorted in amusement as Marina and River Styx were both left staring at the emptiness where the three ponies had been only moments ago. There was silence for a few moments before the Director grinned slowly, then clapped his hooves together, saying positively: “Perfect! That's perfect! That idiot went and took care of himself.”

“What happened?” Marina asked worriedly, turning towards the Director... while River Styx frowned uncertainly, even as he realized what might have happened...

“They went home. Or to their equivalents in this world.” The Director smiled thinly, then he stomped a hoof... and the blackness around them simply burst apart like smoke, leaving them once more in the middle of the streets of Manehattan. “Unfortunately, those three have a rather peculiar link between them. Which means that they're all probably dead.”

Marina's eyes widened as River Styx narrowed his eyes... but there was no need for the two to worry so much. Scrivener Blooms made another direction that would have to be honored: that they would be able to survive apart, until someone came to rescue them.

River Styx looked up at this, and then he snorted, looking away and saying moodily: “I have my doubts those ponies are even actual ponies. Something about the three of them seems off.”

“You're not saying we... should just leave them, are you? We might need their help and...” Marina bit her lip, looking almost pleadingly over at River Styx. And the unicorn couldn't help but grimace and shift a little, his eyes flicking away from her even as he was reminded for a moment... “My... my big brother is a guard, and he always said you don't leave ponies behind.”

River Styx looked back towards the mare, hating the way he felt his stomach twist a little at her words... and then he scowled as the Director said thoughtfully: “A journey to find lost friends, who may already be dead. I think I can work with that. Yes, perfect. I'm glad I thought of this brilliant idea.”

The Director smiled pompously, clearly not at all taking credit for another pony's idea as he instructed: “River Styx, Marina Wildheart, head to the train platform. You'll get there just before the train leaves if you hurry. There happens to be a train that goes right to Ponyville from here, it should make it in a few hours.”

“That's impossible. There's at least ten stops between here and Ponyville, not to mention the only train that services Ponyville is the short-run Friendship Express.” retorted River Styx, but the Director only looked down at him condescendingly.

“Welcome to showbusiness. We fudge facts where necessary and make magic happen. Now get out there and get to work, my young thespians. I'll be back to give you further direction on the train.” The Director retorted, and then he simply vanished from sight, as if he had never been there at all. Which certainly would have been much nicer for everyone, since all he did was make things that much worse.

River Styx glanced moodily up at the sky, then he shook his head slowly before Marina asked hesitantly: “Are... are we going to the train?”

The stallion was tempted to say no, to instead look for a way out of this nightmare... but it only took one glance back at the mare and a tug on his ear from his genet to make that strange feeling of guilt twist through his stomach again, and he muttered: “Fine. But you better tell me what you are along the way. I don't like surprises.”

Marina smiled briefly, nodding quickly as she hurried up beside the stallion as he started down the road, two ponies on the first steps of which would no doubt be a truly unforgettable adventure.

Comments

[NoLongerSober]

That genet seems like a classy fellow. ;)

[BlackRoseRaven]

5700998

Well, that's one word for it, yes. I'm admittedly looking forwards to it, though, and the weird ideas people come up with. I like a challenge.

[Koekelbag]

“Then went home. Or to their equivalents in this world.”

Oh my...
Truth is, I planned on also calling out "varicose", mistaking it for various... but then you did it yourself... and now I can't help but blush.

It seems that in every new chapter I read of you, there's always a few new (Genet? That's an actual thing?) words to discover.

Also (though I'm not sure why), I find the story (wich is hilarious, by-the-by) is easier to read if I just imagine it as one big, giant discussion with an omnipotent god narrator... (wich it technically is, but still...)

[BlackRoseRaven]

5721234

Thankee. I am extra glad to make sure this one gets edited.
And yeah, there will be. A lot of word jokes and puns in this story in particular. It should be fun. And yes. Genets are rather adorable, actually.
But thanks. I'm very glad you're finding this one enjoyable. It's meant to be a fun story and all, so. I'm just going to continue to keep it as fun as I can and work in people's ideas as I get them. There may be some serious moments here and there, but even then I'm going to try to aim to keep it lighthearted.
Although. Knowing me and all. Well. You can imagine.