Chapter 22: The Work Crew
They descended into growing darkness.
The way past the bridge was easy; the ledge broadening and flattening into a grassy hillside meadow. But the vale into which they walked, ever lower, was full of the fog Snails had seen from the cave-mouth. The light of the cloud-swathed Sun waned, and soon the two young stallions were stumbling through a dim-lit misty gloom, following the golden glow of Ruby Gift, who was walking just a length or two before them.
They were walking fast, not trotting. A canter or gallop would have been very dangerous. Even on this swale, there were obstacles: small streamlets, gullies, hollows and rises. And Snails could not see more than a dozen or so hooves ahead of himself in the gray murk. He had to pay careful attention to where he put his hooves. He sure didn't want to fall now -- it would be very embarrassing!
There were strange sounds in the mist. Rustles, whispers, distant groans, and less describable sounds like the cries of birds or beasts, but none Snails had ever heard before, even in the Everfree Forest. Mindful of Ruby's admonitions, Snails did not want to beak silence by asking her fom whence the groans and stranger sounds issued; he did not want to disappoint her by a display of indiscipline. Besides, he was not sure that he really wanted to know what was making those sounds.
The fog was cold and clammy and wet on his face, and smelled foul in his nostrils and tasted worse upon his upper palate. It was an odor of damp earth and mold and a strange sickly sweetness, like death but somehow different. It reminded him a bit of Ruby, but Ruby's scent was somehow cleaner than this.
Snails powerfully wished that he could see farther in the fog; then thought of what he might then see -- and what might see him -- and was less certain of what he really wanted. What was worse, even though they walked steadily away from Sunney Towne, the fog did not seem to be lifting.
At one point, when the fog billowed especially thick, Ruby stopped suddenly -- so suddenly that Snails came close to colliding with Ruby's yellow-and-orange tailed rump, and Snips actually did bump hsis head into the back of Snails' thighs. A chill wind blew from ahead, driving the fog onto them, and Snails scented death even more strongly than before.
"This way!" whispered Ruby urgently, and she darted to the right.
Snails was almost caught by surprise by this maneuver, but then he hurried after the departing golden glow, and Snips pattered rapidly after him.
Ruby led them off the open meadow into the woods on their margin, by means of a trail which Snails could barely make out in the mists, and which he would never have even guessed existed had he not see Ruby taking it. Snails found it all he could do to keep up with the ghost girl; as he ran after her, twigs whipped his face and chest, repeatedly making him blink; he ducked his head under larger branches and high-stepped over fallen logs and other low-lying obstacles. Behind him, he could hear Snips clambering over these same objects, breathing hard to keep up with them.
Almost as suddenly as she had fled the field, Ruby stopped, tuned and crouched low, looking back at the meadow fom the shelter of the foliage. Snips and Snails followed her lead, getting down beside her. There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by the breathing of the two young stallions. Ruby, of course, did not breathe, but Snips was aware of her presence by a certain friendly coolth, and a scent of burnt eggs and young mare.
Then, the silence was boken by the snapping of a twig somewhere in the meadow. Snails turned, gasping slightly; he heard a gasp from Snips as well, the barely-audible sounds seeming as loud as shouts, so that Snails froze stock still, his heart pounding. Beside him, Snips felt a sudden surge of chill from Ruby, which stopped as quickly as it came.
A second, louder snapping sound ensued. The unknown walker was coming closer. The wind shifted, a breeze blowing directly into the faces of the three listeners. The fog billowed, and borne on the breeze came a choking rotten stench. It was all Snips and Snails could do to avoid gagging.
Now, they could hear the the regular rustle of something big, taking step after slow step, scuffing clumsily through the grass. Snails also thought he could make out a faster scuttling, as if somepony smaller and more agile, but with something wrong about the rhythm.
Ruby gathered herself to rise, but instead remained in place. She was plainly readying herself for whatever action she required. She stayed like this a long while -- then, the hoofsteps slowly receded, and Rusy visibly relaxed. She leaned her head close in to Snails' ear, and said very softly.
"Backbreaker. And Sandwren, his best friend. They did not sense us."
"Your kin?" Snails asked, also speaking very softly.
"Nay," replied Ruby. "Thralls of Roneo; two of his best workers. Backbreaker is huge, and Sandwren fast. They are loyal to Roneo, even beyond his control; uncommon for thralls." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I could overcome them both," she said, looking at Snails, "for they are lesser wights than me. But to do so would light a signal fire to Roneo, and mine other kin; they would soon be all upon us, and I could not defeat so many at once. Better that we slip them.
Snips and Snails nodded.
"I don't want to meet anyponies who smell like that!" Sips commented.
Snails had been thinking much the same thing, but had thought it poor point to rise, given the nature of their guide -- even through Ruby herself didn't smell all that bad, at least not when she was looking like a living filly.
"They cannot help their smell," Ruby commented mildly. "Unlike we Wraiths, they are not naked spirits forming Aspects, but instead ghosts animating their own corpses. Our magic keeps them from rotting whole away, but unless we do cloak them in illusion, they look and smell like what they are -- undead things, that should rightly be long-dead." She laughed softly, but bitterly. "I am an undead thing, that should rightly be longer-dead; but for the cause that I am stronger, I can veil my foulness in a fairer form. Unlike those two poor thralls, who look much more like what they are in truth."
Snails was saddened to hear Ruby speak like that about herself, but he could not explain it all; part of it was that Glittershell knew all about being afraid to look like what she was in truth. It ran deeper than that, though. She had seen Ruby's terrifying skeletal form, but she had also seen what Ruby looked like in life, and more ... she had seen the lovely tracery of light, last night on the earlier bridge. She wasn't sure exactly what that was, but thought that maybe it was Ruby's true soul.
Ruby's soul was beautiful.
"You're a hero," Glittershell said. "Or an angel."
"Hah," replied Ruby, examining the earth before her forehooves. "At least thou didst not dub me 'saint.' Save thy deeming 'til I have gotten ye twain free of this place." She looked up, and stood up. "Now come. We may be able to slip past Roneo's minions, now."
Ruby led the way back to the meadow, and trotted away from Sunney Towne, Snips and Snails following in her hoofsteps. They did not quite canter; the mists were too thick and the way too uneven; they instead kept up a fast trot. Snails had to pay close attention to where he put his hooves, to avoid a stumble.
The mist seemed to be thinning a bit, the vale growing flatter and wider still. Ruby essayed a canter, and Snips and Snails kept pace. They had gone some distance now, though it was hard to tell just how far, in the pervasive gloom. Snails began to hope that they might yet win free of this bad dream, and good honest sunlight finally greet them.
Then the fog thickened, ahead of them and to their left. Ruby brought herself up short and reared, regarding this new development with dismay.
"There be at least one more thrall ahead, that way," Ruby said, pointing a hoof at the fog-bank. "Come! We may be able to slip around to the right!" So saying, she galloped in that direction, Snips and Snails hard on her heels.
Their hooves almost flew, as they darted between a steep slope which led up to the east, and a small wooded hillock to their northwest, which half-plugged the northern outlet from the vale. Beyond that hillock, Snails felt certain, lay their freedom.
Just as they came abreast of the hillock, a sudden surge of fog spurted from behind the eminence, reaching out for them like some great wispy foreleg, in the hoof of which Snails could dimly discern a fast-charging figure. Snails could hear the other Pony's hard-slapping hoofbeats, and -- which greatly increased his fear -- he could hear other hoofbeats, closing in on them from several directions.
"Stay behind me!" Ruby shouted, and she stepped full into the path of the oncoming foe. She set her hooves firmly in the ground, and fixed her gaze on her opponent. She gathered herself, plainly preparing for battle.
The foebeing closed with alarming speed. When the figure, still indistinct within the fog, was almost upon her, Ruby cried out in a clear, ringing voice. "Thou shalt not pass!" At the same moment, she flared from her mane and hooves with a golden glow, streaming from herself to the enemy, an illumination so brilliant that Snails -- despite not being the target -- winced away from it, squinting his eyes against its supernal radiance.
The effect of Ruby's actions were immediate. A pulse of energy, vibrating in time with the ghost girl's voice, visibly manifested through the mist, puffing away the deeper fog surrounding the foe. He stood revealed at a single stallion, a few years older than Snips and Glittershell -- cream white of coat, dark blue of mane and eyes, and remarkably handsome.
The cream-white stallion ran into what seemed a solid but invisible wall between Ruby and himself, rebouding off her magical barrier. Glittershell saw something strange happen here. The white stallion rippled and wavered, like the image from a moving-picture projector when a strong wind disarranged its target screen. For a moment, the stallion flickered between forms, briefly revealing one dreadfully marred by a great deep blackened burn to the whole left side of his face, neck and forward barrel, revealing naked black charred bones beneath, his eyes replaced by baleful sparks of blue fire. By these signs Glittershell knew what she beheld was a Wraith like those she had seen before, for the Aspect of a Wraith was mutable.
The Wraith stallion fell flat on his rear, sitting in the grass, and was for a moment clearly stunned. But only for a moment. Then he looked up, grinning, and his grin was terrible, for halfway through his motion he shifted into his less lovely form, the skin sloughing off the left side of his face to reveal half his skull, and the moving tendons of his long and powerful neck. Snips gasped in horror, and Glittershell trembled in revulsion at this obscene mockery of all wholesome male beauty.
The stallion gazed at Ruby.
"Sister of my beloved," the stallion said, "give unto me the gift thou hast hoarded, as long ago thou didst restore to me the Trothing-Gift that I had lost. Father has said that the fugitives belong to the Wraith who does find them, and thou hast no use for them, as thou hast forsworn eating the lives of Ponies. Give them to me, for I do sorely hunger."
"No!" cried Glittershell. "You can't have me! Um, eat me. You know what I mean!"
The stallion gazed at Glittershell; blinked, and cocked his head, looked again. "Wait," he said to himself. "There were two stallions ... according to Gladstone ... where's the other one? Never mind ..." He recovered his composure, addressed Glittershell directly. "I would not harm thee greatly, young mare. I would merely slay thee and eat thy life. "
"That sounds pretty bad!" Glittershell protested.
"Thou dost not ken," the stallion explained. "I would not torment thee, and once slain thou wouldst simply serve me as honest worker, not as leamare. My love is for Starlet alone, and even if 'twere not so, I would never force a mare. I am not cruel, unlike Gladstone."
Glittershell's confused mind finally caught up with reality, and she grasped several things about her situation all at once.
First, that this Wraith was clearly Roneo. Secondly, that Roneo was reassuring her that he only meant to kill and enslave her, as opposed to the worse things Gladstone might do if he caught her. Glittershell was not completely certain what Gladstone might do, but she was unfortunately not quite innocent enough to be unable to make some really dreadful guesses, which in turn evoked some very disgusting images in her mind.
But, the third thing that Glittershell realized was the worst.
Namely, that those other sets of hoofbeats she had heard were still closing in on them, from all sides. And, while she had been talking with Roneo, they had grown nearer.
Sails cast a frantic look all around her, met Ruby's eyes, and saw from her expression that the ghost girl had come to the exact same realization.
"That way!"cried Ruby, pointing back the way they had come. "Go now -- I'll catch up with ye later!"
Snails needed no further invitation, though he remembered that Backbreaker and Sandwren were back in that general direction. But he had to trust in Ruby's leadership, for if that failed them, they were truly lost.
Snails galloped pellmell away from Roneo, and a moment later heard Snips galloping hard on his hoofsteps. The shorter-gaited stallion was breathing hard, straining himself to match the pace of his long-legged best friend.
From behind came flashes of golden and bluish light. Clearly, the two Wraiths had met in some sort of strange spectral combat. Snails wanted very badly to see what was going on back there, but he knew that he had to flee for his life -- all the more so, if Ruby somehow failed.
He had to run -- but he was burning with curiosity.
So, when he hit a flat stretch, he curved slightly round, slowed and glanced back.
He could see nothing of the battle. In less than half a minute's run, he had gone too far to peer through the mists. He couldn't even see the flashes of light any more. He stood alone, in cold swirling gray mists, on flt grassy plain; he couldn't clearly see the hills he knew were on either side of him.
There was something else, something far more important, that he couldn't see.
Snips was nowhere in sight.
Snails had a sudden, horrid mental image of his best friend, lost out there in the mist alone, unable to see more than a quad or two of lengths ahead of himself, desperately searching for Snails, all alone while the Wraiths and their thralls closed in ...
There was but one thing Snails could do.
He stopped stock-still, took a deep breath, and hollered:
"SNIPSY!"
Then, he listened.
Only silence answered his shout.
Snails drew another deep breath, yelled again, even louder and longer.
"SNIP-SSSY!!!"
He listened again.
He listened for several heartbeats, and again heaard nothing but silence.
Snails was just about to take a third deep breath, and call one more time, when he heard something from the mists ahead of him, the way toward which he had been running. Or, were they ahead of him? It was so terribly easy to get all mixed up about directions in this mist!
It was not, as he had hoped for, an answering call from Snips. Instead, it was a heavy, crunching step, one which he very much feared he had heard before. His whole body tensed with recognition.
Perhaps he was imagining things?
He heard a second crunching sound. And then a third.
Snails stepped slowly backward, not wanting to turn and bolt, mostly because if he did that he would have no idea which way he was going; besides, he could always hope that the big thrall -- if that was really him out there -- would miss him in the fog. And he still had to find Snips ... Snips needed him ...
There was a rapid galloping closing in on him from behind and to his right. Snails whirled to face this new threat.
A short, stocky blue Unicorn, wild orange mane flying about him as he ran, tried to skid to a stop but instead barrelled into Snails, knocking them both over. They sat heavily on the ground.
"Snips!" cried Snails joyfully, all his earlier fears quite forgot. "I'm so glad to see you!"
Though even close up, Snails' coloration was quite washed out by the thickening mists.
"Same here, pal," replied Snips. "You run real fast! I tripped and lost you in the fog. Good thing you called my name!"
"I was worried about you," said Snails. "I kind of thought I heard you before, from that way over there --" he pointed a hoof over his shoulder, "-- but it wasn't you."
There was a foul odor mounting in the air, of moldy earth and something gone very rotten.
"Of course not," said Snips, laughing. "I'm right over here. So you couldn't hear me coming from that direction.
"Yeah," laughed Snails, still overwhelmed with happiness because he had found his friend. "That would be silly."
Something rustled, or perhaps scuttered, somewhere in the mists, but this sound came from yet another direction. In the murky air, it ws hard to tell.
"You said it, pal," said Snips. "That would ... be ..." his voice trailed off into a sound somewhere between a squeak and a gasp.
"What's wrong?" asked Snails.
Something seemed to to be the matter with Snips. The blood had drained from his face, reducing his hue to a sort of pale blue. His orange mane was standing out in all directions. His eyes were very wide, his pupils pinpointed, and his ears back. He seemed to be staring fixedly at Snails.
Snips tried to speak again. Most of his words were lost in wheezing. "... Snailsy," was all the shorter stallion could say. "... Snailsy!"
Fog billowed thickly across them. The smell of death was even worse.
Snails suddenly realized that Snips was not staring at him. Instead, Snips was staring at a point over his shoulder.
"Uhhhh ..." said a deep basso voice, right behind Snails. The sound was somewhere in between a Pony trying to talk through a mouthful of mush, and a wild animal about to attack. At the same moment, the stench of death mounted to overwhelming proportions.
Snails heard something creaking, felt a rush of displaced air behind him ...
The world slowed down.
Snails had always been very good at reacting very quickly when such was needed. He was not by any means a smart Pony, but he had a sense of where things were and where he was and what his body could do and how to do it. This was why he was a natural at dancing and sports.
And at this moment, something very primal within Snails knew that if he did not act now, this was likely to be the last time he would get to do anything.
So it was that Snails threw his weight forward, ducking his head and neck, and the huge off-white foreleg and hoof, which would have struck him with enough force to at least stun him, in a situation in which being stunned would have been very bad indeed. The hoof was moving slowly for a striking blow, so slowly that Snails had time to observe with horrified fascination the ways in which the attached foreleg was marred by cuts and decay in manners which no living leg could have suffered without ruining it for all normal foreleg functions. Flaps of hide and flesh were simply hanging loose, and he could plainly see the exposed cannon-bone.
But that was not important right now; it was actually close to what Snails had expected, for he had seen the Death Aspects of the Wraiths, and he knew that their thralls were weaker but similarly undead creatures. What was important was to use his motion to turn and pivot on his own foreleg, plant his hind hooves firmly on the ground and rise up into a posture from which he could see the thing that was threatening his life.
This had the advantage of being able to plainly see his foe; and it had the disadvantage of being able to plainly see his foe. Snails saw more of his foe than he cared, and he required no particular tactical sense to recoil from the rotting, shambling thing which had once been a stallion the size of Big Mac, or maybe even a bit larger. It was not a skeleton, which was no mercy to the two horrified teenaged observers -- bare bones would have been easy to behold by comparison with the nauseating combination of patches of remaining hide, putrescent green skin, and half-covered bones that, given their condition, should not have been able of independent animate motion.
The undead horror plainly was capable of independent animate motion: it was, in point of fact, moving in a most animate and malign fashion right toward Snips and Snails, all the while making that most disturbing moan. Having missed with that first swipe of its hoof, the monstrosity lurched forward right at him, threatening to throw itself upon Snails in a terrible tackle, catching the young Carrot in a hold from which he much doubted he could break loose.
It was not that Snails thought this through. Snails rarely thought things through, and usually did so when he was being Glittershell, and this was most definitely not a moment at which Glittershell wanted to come out. Rather, Snails acted on instinct and -- unimpeded by conscious thought, Snails' reactions were surprisingly swift.
Every instinct warned Snails to get out of the way of that charge, and so he did, bounding to the left, cutting it so close that he felt the undead thing's hoof brush his tail on its way down. Fortunately, the horror was too slow to actually grab Snais' tail, and hence he won free of its descent upon him.
Free -- but not free to run. For, as Snails glanced back to see what his foe was doing, he saw that Snips had fallen on his rump before the monster's onslaught, and was in a desperate and half fear-frozen fashion trying to get to his hooves. It did not look as if Snips could make it before the thrall could strike. Already, its dreadful glare, red sparks flashing in empty eye sockets, was fixed on the shorter stallion; its hoof was rising again, to strike.
It was a moment of decision, and it is to Snails' credit that he did not even seriously consider leaving Snips to his fate. Instead, he leaped back toward the monster; landed and pivoted on his forehooves, and delivered a perfect double back-kick to the big thing's upper right foreleg.
It was a good straight kick, delibered with the combined power of the momentum of Snails' spin and all the power of his strong young muscles. It was, in fact, the most potent natural weapon of the Equidae, which his ancestors had employed long before Eldren or G'marr had meddled with their genotypes; before telekinetic horns or even sapience. It was their defense against wolves and lions, and against any living thing roughly his own size, it might well have won the fight then and there.
However, what Snails fought was larger than himself, and had not been truly alive for decades. Had it lived, he could not have broken its major bones with his bare hooves; since it was undead, he could not to hope to stun it with any force merely material. Thus his kick was not very effective.
Which is not to say that it was entirely powerless. Before Snails' hard-driven hind hooves, rotten flesh splattered and bone cracked; not a break, but a fracture. The whole great shambling horror that had once been a big stallion tottered on its hooves, and was forced to sidestep to avoid toppling.
"UUuuuHHH!!!" the stallion-thing roared, with a definite tone of anger in that hideous voice, and turned toward Snails, its red eyelights glaring at him in obvious rage. A foreleg swept forth, and though Snails ducked again, this time he was not quite fast enough. The huge hoof clipped Snails on his withers. Pain exploded from the impact, and Snails found himself tumbling helplessly to his right side, rolling over his back, and finished lying on his left.
"Snailsy!" cried Snips, his voice tinged with fear at his friend's plight.
A moment later, Snails heard that strange scuttering gait, and something sandy-brown and semi-skeletal ran at Snips from behind.
"Look out!" Snails shouted, but it was too late; Snips had not even begun to turn when grinning naked jaws gaped wide and the neck darted foward, jaws closing to bit Snips viciously upon the most accessible portion of his anatomy -- his rump. There was a dreadful chomping and tearing sound, and Snips shrieked in mingled pain and terror.
"Snipsy!" cried Snails.
A moment later, Snails had to attend to his own survival. For the great undead stallion was rearing over him; preparing to trample him, with a force that could not help but break bones. Despite the pain from his withers and the fear in his heart, Snails forced himself to focus on the motions of his attacker, gathering himself to move in response.
The foe's right hoof stamped down; Snails rolled to his own right, and the blow that would have shattered his left foreleg instead crushed only grass and soil. Down came the left hoof; Snails rolled left, and felt the wind as the great hoof swept down past his upper back, catching and tearing loose a tress of his green mane. Snails fetched up face-first against the stallion's foul-smelling, half-decayed right foreleg, and wiggled back under the barrel of the stallion, getting a gruesome look at the horribly-putrefied underbelly in the process, and then rolled out from under before the undead creature could catch him.
Snails rolled right onto his hooves, just as the monster turned to face him. A desperate bound away from the thing saved him from a bite; great jaws clacked shut just behind his tail. Thudding hoofsteps told him the thrall was shambling in pursuit.
He could easily have outpaced the clumsy creature, even in the impeding fog. But fear for the fate of his friend was an anguish in his heart. So he pivoted again on his front hooves -- there was a flash of pain in his withers that warned him he had been hurt -- and galloped right past the onrushing monster, flashing by too fast for it to catch him as he passed it.
Snips was standing -- a huge relief went through Snails at the sight of his friend still able to stand -- facing down an undead horror who had by its lines once been a mare. The creature was shorter than Snails but taller than Snips, and slim-built; in life she would have been small and perhaps graceful. Probably pretty.
She was not pretty any more. Her face was mostly gone, and what was left of it were just strips of shriveled flesh, still adhering to her brown-stained skull. Bigger swatches of hide remaining on her body made it apparent that her coat had once been a sandy brownish-yellow; the few remaining tufts of longer hair showed that her coat had been a darker brown. Snails instantly saw the reason for her scuttling gait; one of her forelegs was damaged, and she therefore moved unevenly.
Unfortunately, this did not seem to stop her from moving very rapdily. As Snails galloped at them, she made a run at Snips, and it was only by dint of a desperate dodge that Snails' friend managed to avoid another bite.
Then, Snails was upon the undead mare. As he drew up abreast of Snips, the thrall raised her head and hiss-barked at him; a strange sound, such as he had ever heard issue from any equine mouth. Had he not been impelled by his determination to save Snips, Snails might well have quailed at such a cry, coming from so grisly a source. As it was, it shook him.
But it did not shake Snails sufficiently to stop him from striking. He leaped, lashing out with his right forehoof, and catching the mare-thing right on her opened lower jaw. And a mighty blow it was tht Snais struck, whether due to the momentum of his onrushing gallop, or because the thrall's mouth was open and hence her jaw more thaan normally vulnerable. For Snails' hoof snapped the mandible clean off, sending the smaller thrall sprawling backward in the sward.
The mare-thing emitted a shrill squall, clearly a cry of distress. And it was answered!
With a mighty roar, in which seemed to be mingled both fury and some other emotion, the stallion-creature burst from the mists and flung himself at Snips and Snails. The roar was fortunate for the two living Ponies; Snails had just enough time to scoop up Snips, who was frozen in horror at this new onslaught, toss his friend on his own back, and flee the rampaging monster.
This time, Snails found his advantage in speed much reduced. Between the aches and pains he had from the fight so far, and the burden of Snips, he found it painful to move fast. But he had no choice but to gallop, he had to gallop, and he did gallop fast, fast enough to put his pursuers far behind him, far enough that he could no longer hear the thudding hoofbeats of the huge thrall.
He slowed to a walk. He was noticeably limping now.
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... Did you just have a monster gobble some poor youth's backside? I can't help but think that at this very moment, Luna feels offended and has no idea why.
In all seriousness, great tension and action in this chapter. Snips and Snails are really in the thick of it now. I can't even guess how they might survive all of this.
1) - descended (Missing a "n", also first line,
"can I do this tomorrow conscience?" "no Chris, you wouldn't be able to sleep for the niggling doubts.")
2) - walked (missing a "l" here)
3) - walking (got an "e" and a "w" mixed up here)
4) - what (an extra "a" here I believe)
5) - Snails ("i" and "a" are the wrong way round here)
6) - departing (extra "a")
7) - beside (the "e"'s just seem to have fled this particular expression of closeness)
8) - turned (missing a "r")
9) - seeming as loud (missing an "a")
10) - So that Snails (missing a capital "S")
11) - instead (missing an "a")
12) lokk and smell (missing the "n" here)
13) - honest (missing the "h" here)
14) - short (missing the "h" here)
15) - ??? (I have no clue what this supossed to be, but I'm fairly certain it's not this)
16) - regarding (missing an"a" here)
17) - said (missing an "a" here)
18) - that ("h" and "a" are the wrong way round)
19) - eminence (mising the "e" here)
20) - on_her (need space here)
21) - herself (missing the "r")
22) - I thought Glittershell was the female Mortal pony in this equation, not Snips.
23) - half (*starts screaming internally*)
24) - has (*whimpers*)
25) - Snails (missing a "n" here, also I thought it was Glittershell's time because you refer to Snails/Glittershell as a "her" in this paragraph)
26) - way (too many "y"s)
27) - failed (*SCREAMING EXTERNALLY*)
29) - another (missing the "n" here
30) - was ("I'm calm, I'm calm... no I'm not, I need sleep")
31) - green mane (missing both the "n"s here)
32) - thudding hoofsteps (fairly certain this should be plural right here)
33) - Snails (it's a name, capitalize)
34) - aches and pains (missing the "n" here)
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
If it wasn't for my self appointed job of proof-reader I would have loved this chapter, Gandalf references, heart-pounding action, little bit of fear-snark coming through.
As it stands though I started this chapter tired, got to the middle of it exhausted, and finished back at tired. Just too many mistakes that dragged me out of it and broke apart my suspension of disbelief.
Maybe when the story is finished I'll come back and read it again with fresh eyes.
No joke, I thought the Snips whom Snails had found again was already a wraith himself. Perhaps such a conversion would need more than six to twenty-four seconds though, aka 1d4 rounds.
7948723
Thank you tremendously for the heroic proofing work. I incorporated all the suggested changes and it greatly improved my work.
I'm glad you appreciated the Lord of the Rings shout out, and I hope you liked the edited version.
note, why didn't Either of them use any magic? A quick push or pull, maybe even a bright flash of light could have been helpful.
Why yes, I've seen every "Abbott and Costello Meet ..." horror-comedy movie they made, at one time or another when I was young. I can't be quite as wacky in this story, because Abbott and Costello's adventures followed comedy-logic, and Snips and Snails aren't Pinkie Pie and hence can't warp reality to make things work that way. But Snips' rection to seeing Backbreaker slowly lurch into view out of the mists behind Snails was very much inspired by Costello's in such films.
This is true even though, in terms of the "innocence vs. experience" dynamics of the pairing, Snails in my story is more naive than Snips, and hence Snails is more like Costello's characters with Snips being more like Abbott's. (I say characters because the actors were almost the direct opposite of their characters -- it was actually Abbott who was the sweet guy and Costello who was the conniving bastard, in real life).
I thought recognized some of the 'tone' of that scene. I always did love those Bud & Lou films too (and the Three Stooges, and the Bowery Boys...).