Knowledge
I run as if chased by the very hounds of Hell through the brush and thicket of the Everfree Forest, once perfectly coiffed hair turned to an unruly mess by the wind and grasping branches, my baby blue dress now a tattered mess of scratched and mud stained fabric.
“It can’t be him, it can’t be him, it can’t be him” I tell myself as a mantra, even as my hoof snags on a root and she hell to my hands and knees. Without missing a beat I get back upright and start running again as if the cuts and scrapes on my palms and knees did not matter. Although , at that point, they were inconsequential, it simply could not be him.
Not my little Spikey. He was not violent. He did not get himself into such troubles. So why, why had a horrified looking Rainbow Dash come to my Boutique to tell me that Twilight needed myself and the other girls help to subdue Spike. Spike was a sweetheart, he didn’t need to be “subdued”, he had even offered to keep the children of the school safe so that the children could take a field trip to the Everfree forest. He had done it before with no problems, Spike was almost as tall as Applejack after he had his ten month growth spurt, not even the wildlife of the Everfree forest would come within fifty feet of his scent.
“No , no, this must be a misunderstanding” I whisper to myself through ragged gasps of air. “Surely it is”, Spike must have needed “support” of course, not to be “subdued”, Rainbow Dash must have simply made a mistake in the spur of the moment. Of course that’s what she meant, our little Spike was the kindest, sweetest, most gentle…
I stop and watch in horror at the scene playing out before my eyes, at the beastly looking scaled creature the size of an adult mare trashing before my eyes. What little of it’s purple scales I can see are charred by burn marks. The rest of the creatures body is covered by what can only be the light reflecting scarlet of blood. The creature is surrounded by three shapes trying to wrestle it to the ground and a shimmering ball of magic surrounds it’s head.
I can only stare as I see the creature pry Applejack off his leg with only one hand and smash her into Twilight. As the alicorn and the earth pony fall into a heap the shimmering light around Twilight’s horn fades and the ball around the creature’s head breaks.
“No, this is wrong” I whisper as I stare, refusing to accept that the empty-eyed, rictus grinning monstrosity in front of me is the Spike I know, yet there he is howling like a dying manticore, pupils constricted to the size of pinpricks in empty eyes, shark like teeth protruded and covered in blood and gristle and every muscle on his body taut like whipcord.
Before I manage another word Applejack recovers herself and, with both hands on the soggy blood spattered ground launches her hooves into Spike’s chin even as Rainbow Dash smashes herself on the back of Spike’s legs and hamstrings him. The shock of Applejacks buck clamps his jaw shut and he falls on his back only to recover instantly and grab Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s heads and ram them into the ground. Without skipping a beat he charges me mouth agape and murder in his eyes.
“Spike, Fall”, I hear a desperate yell from behind him and he smashes into the ground as if struck by the fist of an invisible giant. I see Twilight straining, her horn spouting sparks.
“For the love of Celestia Spike, don’t make me do this”, she screams again, even as Spike slowly but surely begins to push himself back up, pushing himself against the invisible force.
“Please stop” Twilight’s voice cracks, her eyes brimming with tears, as her horn flares stronger and Spike, still screaming, smashes into the ground again.
“Rarity”, Rainbow Dash yells, getting up but still reeling and unstable on her legs, “get Cheerilee and the foals, we’ve got our hands full here”.
I force myself to look beyond Spike’s struggling bulk and behind Twilight I see Cheerilee in the gloom holding what looks like a burlap sack and the bug eyed frightened foals behind her.
I race to them my horn flaring with a light spell to guide them away from this nightmare but then I see it and stop in abject horror. Cheerilee and the Cutie Mark Crusaders around her all covered in cuts and bruises, all with desperate looks in their eyes as they look at me.
As the light of my horn hits them and my mid begins to process what I’m seeing, I realize what the burlap sack really was. My heart stops as I stare at Scotaloo holding a bloodstained scrap of clothing to the limp form of Sweetie Belle cradled in Cheerilee’s arms.
I begin screaming as I see her torn throat and the gushing blood.
Rarity wakes up screaming, her evening gown drenched in cold sweat.
The nightmare again, as vivid as the day it had happened one year ago. Nightmare or no se instinctively claws at her bed sheets and jumps towards the door. She opens in but instead of the waiting night she sees the tiny form of her little sister, her covers held tightly to her chest.
“Rarity, are you okay”, Sweetie Belle asks and Rarity, her eyes filled with tears, grabs her in a bear hug.
“Oh sweetie, I was just about to come and ask you the same thing”
“You had the nightmare again, didn’t you” Sweetie mumbles, her faces mushed to Rarity’s chest.
“I…yes darling, and I apologize for waking you up again”
“I could sleep in your bed tonight if it will make you feel better” Sweetie says smirking.
Rarity can’t help but feel a smile cross her own face “If you would be so kind”.
As they get cozy under the covers , after a quick change from the sweat drenched gown of course, Rarity watches the sleeping Sweetie Belle. Her eyes fall to the scar on her sister’s neck and her smile fades.
She knew the scar well, it started from under her sister’s jaw and ended halfway across her left shoulder. Ten large puncture wounds and scar tissue where the skin and flesh had been torn. Sweetie Belle’s pearly white coat of fur had only recently started growing in that are again but it was still noticeable. Princess Celestia herself had healed and saved her sister’s life, but the scar was beyond even her abilities to completely erase, and it remained, a constant reminder to “his” betrayal.
“Oh Spike” Rarity whispered as she pulled Sweetie closer to her.
“We loved you so much”.
“How could you?”
In another part of Ponyville, in the cold empty rooms of a crystal castle, a depressing air dominated the entire atmosphere.
Twilight stood in the Round Table Room, hunched over one of the many books scattered over the massive table. She looked like she felt, bags under her eyes, hair a mess and her entire body skinny and showing signs of malnourishment.
She stared at the same two pages of the book she had been reading for the past hour. Her eyes were on the illustration of a draconic bipedal creature and she stared at it as if her eyes alone could will it to life and give her more answers.
Twilight shook her head, realizing that she had been staring into space for the better part of the past hour and concentrated on the book itself. She had read this book cover to cover time and again but she wanted to read the first excerpt again, if only to give the illusion that she was doing something to solve and unsolvable riddle.
“A Manifest on Dragonkin and the Peculiarities of the Legion of the Damned” by Starswirl the Bearded.
Chapter Nine: Draka
As we have made it abundantly clear by now, there is no such thing as a single conglomerate one may simply refer to as “dragons”. They are simply a sub-species of the draconic race, which, as we have well established implies any sub-species from the tiny drakes, wyverns and dragons to the notoriously enormous and ancient wyrms. Now, dear reader, we come to the most peculiar of all draconic sub-species, the Draka , not to be confused with their larger cousins the Dragons.
This particular species is first and foremost known for it’s physical aspect. They are bipedal creatures almost resembling lizardmen, however on much larger scale. They are among the few draconic subspecies that have no wings, not even vestigial ones like the land dwelling Balaur, considered to be amongst the most dangerous and secretive of the “dragon clans” as members of the draconic race like to put it. What I know of this “clan” is due to my many adventures, or misadventures according to Celestia, with my long time friend and companion Varishma Tal-Draka, a strong young female Draka, and quite easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself.
Individuals of this species are supremely capable when it comes to martial prowess and physical capabilities. They are also well known as the greatest blacksmiths and artisans in the world. This “clan”, as we shall respectfully coin draconic species from this point onwards, originates from the Far East, from the ancient lands of Nippon. It is actually a well known historical fact that it was this clan that first created the Warrior Culture that even to this day is the main life-style adopted even by the ponies of Nippon.
As far as size goes a full grown individual usually stands anywhere between twelve to thirteen feet tall (three point six meters) although some individuals have been known to reach upwards of fifteen feet (four point five meters tall).
They are also known to have a very muscular build, however this may be attributed to the intense physical conditioning and training that they undergo since old enough to walk rather than to any anatomical perquisite.
A common misconception made by ponies is that the Draka are a brutish species, due to their height, large shoulders and muscular body type, and that their only redeeming fact is that they walk upright like ponies do. However, this could not be further from the truth. For any who have spent any length of time in the company of a Draka, such as I have done, will find that their warrior culture is focused not only on the developing of physical strength but also intellectual pursuits. Varishma Tal-Draka herself has actually informed me on numerous occasions that one of the most important tenants of Draka culture is that “A fools mind cannot coexist within a warlords body”. Like all Draka she had a tendency to speak rarely and in few words as, according to another tenant of Draka culture “Words are wind, actions are stone”.
Warriors of the Draka are known not only to exceptional fighters both on their own and in teams but also very capable tacticians, armorers, writers and performers of epic war songs and a select number of them are the only creatures in the world that can channel the powers of the winds of magic through the Draken Runes, unlike Dragons and Wyrms who, like ponies, can channel magic through their own bodies.
While other races may mistakenly see them as brutish due to their war-like nature, the Draka are very well respected within draconic society, not just due to their creation of dragonscript, the only draconic form of written language, and their invention of arquebuses and dragon-flame canons, but also due to their martial prowess. It is a well known fact that a full-grown Draka can battle a full grown dragon to a standstill, even though a Dragon is about four times the size and ten times the weight of a Draka.
Among draconic society they are also known as Oath-Keepers, a Draka that pledges their service to one he or she consider a “master” is known to willingly and gladly die the most horrible and painful death in service of said “master”. “The word of a Draka is as strong as steel and as enduring as the mountains” as the draconic saying goes, and a truer saying has never been spoken.
Insofar as lifespan goes, allow me to put it simply. Unknown. Draka for all appearances cannot physically die of old age. However this is unverified as Varishma herself has told me that in all of Draka history there has never been one Draka that has died in any other way than in battle. They actually appear to be immune even to disease and most poisons, usually entering a catatonic coma-like state for a period of time only to awaken cured, something no other draconic “clan” is able to do. For all intents and purposes it seems that the only way to kill a Draka permanently is in battle.
In fact the oldest Draka, Veshanesh Vala, was over one hundred seventy thousand years old and was still as fit as a Daraka in his prime. He had died in battle during the great Abyss incursion from Ginungagap over one thousand years ago known as “The Corruption of Sombra”.
However, this brings me to the final part, the greatest downfall of the Draka, their pride and the mental affliction they suffer known as the “Thirst”. The draconic race is well known for it’s overbearing sense of pride, commonly known as the “dragon code”, but even among them, the Draka are known to be obsessive when it concerns their pride and code of honor.
The “clan” itself has the fewest individuals when compared to any other draconic “clan” as it is, numbering at most five thousand individuals in the entire world.
This is partially due to their very low birth-rate, a female Draka being able to give birth to only two children during her entire lifespan, very low when compared to other draconic "clans". This however, is not the problem. The real problem is the mental affliction, the “Thirst”, that all Draka suffer at a fundamentally genetic level. An infant Draka will start showing signs of the “Thirst” from the day it is able to walk and it will only increase with age.
To any outside viewer, the affliction can be summed up quite simply. Any and all Draka actively seek out battle, at an instinctual level they are drawn to battlefields, to hunting the most dangerous monsters, to the most suicidal battles. This is also the main reason why the Draka willingly make up the first line of defense at the Mouth of Madness, the portal that connects our world to that of Ginungagap, the Gaping Maw. Too many good Draka have willingly given their lives in battle against the undead and demonic aberrations that damned Ginun hurls into our world. Even though I know that it is due to their sacrifices that all others races have been able to flourish and not witness such horrors that would make even the devils of Tartarus weep, it wounds my old heart to see so many noble creatures die like this.
The second consequence of this mental instability is an even more horrific one. Draka warrior culture teaches self-control and physical conditioning above all else, as the “Thirst” has an advanced form some draconic scholars have called “Blood Madness”. A Draka that is pushed to the brink of it’s limits both mentally and physically will simply shut down most of it’s brain. The only parts of it’s brain still active will be those related to instinctual fighting. Nerve endings will not register pain anymore, and any limits on muscles will be completely broken. Draka afflicted with the “Blood madness” will transform from noble warriors to howling, blood starved, bersek beasts that can only fight and cannot even differentiate between friend and foe. What’s more a Draka that spends too much time in this state can not be reversed as the parts of the brain that shut down become effectively brain-dead after ten minutes of lack of blood and oxygen.
Needless to say, such individuals have be regretfully put down so that they may at least die with dignity before they harm anyone else. It is a sad state but, I am heartbroken to say, it is not the only one.
The second reason the Draka race numbers so few individuals is, as I have stated earlier, their pride. Draka are fiercely proud and honorable to the extent of it being a psychosis. A Draka who has done anything to shame their name react in what I can only describe as a ridiculous manner. They take the pledge of The Legion of the Damned. A legionnaire Draka can erase their shame only by dying in a blaze of glory against the daemons of Ginun, the enemies of life itself.
The Legion of Damned itself is actually comprised only of Draka, as they are the only creatures that can adapt to and exist indefinitely within Ginungagap, a dead plane of existence so dangerous and devoid of warmth that even an elder dragon would die within a year.
The Legion of the Damned, in lack of a greater purpose other than dying in battle, is tasked with the recovery of ancient draconic artifacts and the slaughter of as many daemon and undead as possible.
This concludes my addendum on the noble, honor-bound and fiercely independent warriors of the Draka. In closing all I can say is that, if you ever have the fortune to be named “friend” by a Draka, what you have gained by your side is a comrade that would fight for you until the end of Time and would gladly follow you into the jaws of Death itself.I have been one of the few fortunate enough to know such a companion in the form of Varishma Tal-Draka, and a truer companion I have never met.
Twilight Sparkle closed the book. She had read this chapter a thousand times and knew she would read it a thousand more. She put her face into her hands and started crying again, something she had been doing nightly for the past year.
What kind of a joke of a big sister had she been, if only she had not ignored Spike, if only she had not ignored what he was, maybe she could have helped him, maybe he would not have fallen to what she now knew as the “Blood Madness”, maybe her number one assistant, her little Draka would still be here with her.
But now he was gone forever.
A behemoth of purple scales and scar tissue stood in the middle of his tent holding a crumpled up, singed letter in his clawed hand. It had been over two thousand years since Celestia had sent a letter through the interdimensional magic that connected her magic to Spike’s flame, but here it was nonetheless.
Why had Celestia sent it to him?
For the fifth time he read that had been meant for Twilight.
“My most faithful student, I am sorry for having failed you
I did not trust in your strength enough and now I and my sister are to pay the price for my foolishness
Please, Twilight, take everyone from Ponyville and Canterlot and seek refuge in the Crystal Empire.
Tell Cadence that the Abyss rots within Equestria
She will explain everything
Please hurry, you are all in danger ”.
The last sentence reverberated through Spike’s mind like a lance point. “You are all in danger”.
Spike, Darraor of the Legion of the Damned, Veshanesh of the Draka, spoke a single word, his voice like the sound of two boulders crushing against each other.
“Shagga”
Hey lads and lasses, got this second chapter out faster than I expected.
First of all I want to thank everyone that has favourited and followed this story. Sincerely, thank you so much.
Second, I apologize for this exposition heavy chapter but i considered it best to flesh out the lore right now so everyone knows what we're dealing with.
As always, constructive criticism and input is much appreciated.
If I screw up you guys be sure to let me know.
Much more action in Chapter 3, gonna have it out by next week, maybe even sooner, I love writing.
Appreciate all of you, feel free to comment.
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You are aware that this is below the replacement rate, right? This needs to be higher than two or population growth is literally impossible.
Great chapter,
Really quickly, how much of the cthulhu mythos are you drawing from? I recognize a lot of terms and names that seem pretty familiar.
Very rich setting you've got going, I like the histories and naming conventions for the Draka.
There were a few spelling errors in the beginning during Rarity's nightmare, particularly with regard to the perspective, you might want to revisit that section.
I am very keen to see what happens when Spike reunites with everyone, if everyone is still alive considering the 2000 years that have passed (you could overcome this by stating time passes differently in demon realms).
My only warning is to be careful of letting your characters become over-dramatic, as this affects their credibility.
Keep up the good work!
Okay, so Spike is a Draka, went mad due to his genetics and lacking fighting, and is now in an afterlife where he has to fight the army of death demons to get artifacts from them alongside his kind. Thanks to him they have got most of them, but he got a letter that was meant for Twilight that something big and bad is/was/going to happen in Equestria.
Have it out by Monday I command you
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Hey lads and lasses, since you guys were generous enough to offer a bit of your time on reading this new chapter and commenting on it, I feel it's my duty to you great people to answer some questions.
First off, Chapter 3 will focus on Spike, the Legion of the Damned and Ginungagap (Ginun will be thoroughly explained and I promise i'll try to make the exposition dump as unobtrussive as possible)
To DARKPHANTOM13, you are close my friend, but not close enough. I won't say more as I don't want to spoil my own story, but all I can say at this point is that Spike is NOT dead.
To Jamesinor, you are on the money brother, Cthulhu mythos and cosmic horror are my favourite types of horror and i use a lot of the Cthulhu mythos terms as a tribute to the genius of H.P.Lovecraft.
To Xoid, what you say is true, and it is my failure for not taking it into consideration (Constructive Criticism point given my friend)
To Nethalar Thnx for telling me bout the spelling errors , i'll be sure to revisit that part. As for your comment, I have already considered the 2000 years issue before starting the story, and all I can say is, all will be explained in Chapter 3. As for the over-dramatic part, thanks for the warning but don't worry i hate overly dramatic characters almost as much as I hate Mary Sue characters. I appreciate your warning though, and your interest in my story.
Finally to Animated Rarity Yeeees Masteeerrrr, no but seriously I'll try to update as soon as possible man, thnx for your second comment on my story. Dunno if I'll be able to finish it by Monday, got an animation for a client to finish, but I'll try my best
All in all everyone, you humble me with your interest in this story of mine and I'll do my best to not let you down.
Appreciate you all,
And remember, IN CTHULHU WE TRUST.
Grimdark Fantasy you say?
...
I LIKE IT!
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Nice, I love lovecraftian horror, and the entire mythos in general, as I live in Portland and we have a massive cthulhu film festival every year
5954161 meh immortals can live with that and it did say Female Draka never said anything about a Draka and pony or another type of dragon
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No, they can’t. Even if they were actually immortal (not merely ageless) and had infinite resources a rate of one child per female per lifetime guarantees a maximum possible population growth that halves with each generation. Eventually you would reach a generation where there is only ONE member in it. Because they’re not immortal, an absolute minimum of two is required just to maintain the population even though they don’t die of old age. Realistically, it needs needs to be higher still because of their high attrition rate.
edits: clarity, wording
5956610 ........OK your really getting it to it......I'm just going to walk away now
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Well man, when you're right you're right, so I changed it to two children during a lifespan. Thank you for pointing it out, I appreciate it.
P.S. The Draka are not immortal, immortal characters quickly become Mary Sue characters which is a bad thing, as for ageless, like I said in the story, they might be or they might just have enormously long lifespans, but it is unknown, as no Draka in all of history, male or female, has ever died in any way other than in battle.
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You’re quite welcome, but bear in mind that two is just for sustaining the breeding population, assuming a 50/50 gender ratio. (You can get away with two if and only if the gender ratio was skewed in favour of females.)
And I knew they weren’t immortal; I was just entertaining that notion for the sake of argument in order to demonstrate to Dragon Blaze‐X that a birth rate of one child per female per lifetime still leads to the draka’s population never exceeding just under twice what their origin population’s was… even under perfect conditions. (Also, I recognise that you haven’t explicitly stated that they cannot die of old age but with what you have stated they are effectively incapable of doing so.)
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actually... isn't it that with each generation the population multiplies by two?
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lol nvm :P
HOW MANY FACES CAN ONE FOAL HAVE?! DID THEY REPLACE HER THROAT WITH A FACE?! Lol
And if I were Rarity I'd ask Sweetie Belle to remove her face from my breasts.