My Little Pony - Inquisition

by truekry

Prologue

A crackling fire, echoing laughter and mulled wine. The small tavern on a favourable location near the crossroads between Canterlot, Fillydelphia, and Manehatten flourished with life and happiness, while the winter had the young night in its icy grip outside. Snow, driven by the wind, whipped against the windows as merchants and travellers recovered from the hard day on the road.

At the largest table in the tavern, a group of unicorns were seated with half-emptied mugs and abacuses next to parchments over which they were discussing. One table over was a colourful and very tipsy group of griffons and diamond dogs that were loudly telling stories of their conquests. One griffon held a young waitress, an earth pony with green fur and a pink mane that she hid under a kerchief, close while he carefully caressed her flanks with his talon.

The young mare giggled and refilled the mug of the drunken griffon.

The picture was the same at nearly every table in the tavern. The guests enjoyed the evening, much to the delight of the host, who watched in satisfaction and with a broad grin from the counter as he mentally checked his largest profit of the new year. The amount of money he had made so far would last over the next few weeks when not even the bravest vagabond would dare to travel.

A loud bang and the impact of hooves on wood, followed by a cold draft which swept through the room, caught the attention of everyone and made them look over to the door. Two hooded figures scurried into the tavern. Long, thick coats with hoods covered the bodies and heads of the two ponies who shook the snow from their clothes in the entrance. The clink of many small chains carried through the room.

Free from the snow, the smaller of the two figures turned around and closed the door, which allowed most of the customers to relax somewhat and whispers to spring to life. Everyone knew what had now strayed their way into their midst, but hardly anyone dared to give it word. The dark blue coats, the white crescent on both sides where normally a cutie mark would be, and the dark snouts, which poked out from under the hoods, didn’t leave room for many other possibilities.

Hooves met wood as the two figures began to move. Fearful eyes followed them from every table they passed. Ponies snorted, griffons clacked their beaks, and diamond dogs started to growl. The more shadow-loving customers reached with their hooves, paws, or claws to their weapons on their respective belts, ready to use them if one of the two got the idea to come any closer to them.

Honey Mead had run this little tavern over twenty years now. He had seen many beings of different species come and go. He called merchants, travellers, soldiers, and even thieves and other scum his customers. It didn’t matter for him, as his cutie mark told him to care for everyone who stepped into his establishment. However, for the two ponies who had just sat down by his counter, he felt the will to refuse them his hospitality for the first time.

“What can I get you?” His common sense told him otherwise.

The larger pony threw back its hood, and a mare with a light blue mane emerged. Her fur was shaggy, grey as steel, and covered with patches of rust. Only in this case the rusty patches were scars. The yellow glowing eyes, as though they belonged to a cat, along with the pointed teeth that came into view when she opened her mouth, made his heart lurch in his chest.

“Two mugs of warm cider, whatever is the special of the day, and a room.” The mare reached into her coat with her mouth and threw a leather pouch filled with coins on the counter. Honey Mead gulped at the sight of the bag. Leather, the trademark material that the Hunters of the Inquisition used and what gave them the nickname ‘vultures’. It was a material that would give any normal pony a heavy case of shivers down their spines. It did to Mead.

The second, smaller pony threw back his hood as well. Like his companion, he was a thestral but looked barely old enough be called a stallion, though he was not a colt anymore. He had dark and shaggy blue fur and a ragged silver mane which hung over his face and shoulders. He shifted on his bar stool, which caused more clinks from the chains under his coat to be heard.

“Here’s the cider,” Mead said as he placed two mugs in front of his newest guests. “I’ll get your meal right away.” The middle-aged honey-coloured stallion looked briefly over his shoulder into the room and then vanished through a door next to him into the kitchen.

Silence governed the tavern, but it didn’t seem to bother the thestral mare. She grabbed the mug of warm cider with her fetlock and gulped the liquid down so fast that some of it ran down her chin and onto the counter. She then slammed the mug down and turned to the customers. “By Luna, could you all just stop clinging to your tails like foals for a moment? If we were here because of any of you, you would already have noticed,” she called into the room with a deep, rasping voice.

“Master?” the young stallion asked in concern as he passed his mug between his hooves back and forth. The mare whirled around on her barstool, leaned on the counter with both front legs, and grabbed his mug. Before the stallion could raise his voice, it was empty too.

“Liam, sometimes you have to remind the population that we’re not all evil.” Liam looked over his shoulder. Most of the other customers had returned to their own business, but who had learned to read others like he did knew that appearances were deceptive. The ears of the present ponies were turned in their direction and not to the one they conversed with. Griffons had stretched their necks, their eyes wandering over the crowd. Liam couldn’t see it, but his sensitive ears heard the sniffing of the diamond dogs. It was quiet, but it was there.

“I don’t think that was the right choice of words though.” His master rolled her eyes.

“Then let’s play a game to relax a bit. How many weapons are in this room?” Liam closed his eyes while his ears straightened.

“The three pegasi in the far back left corner are wearing hoof blades.” He listened for a few seconds. “Two griffons from the table at the entrance have swords.”

“Which of the five?”

“The… The two right and left of the one with fancy clothing. Maybe a diplomat who’s trying to travel while keeping a low profile or a wealthy merchant, I guess.

“Which of the two? No guesswork. Guesses are our death.”

“I can hear gold jingle. A rich merchant. A diplomat would be housed by the Crown and wouldn’t have the need for that much money.” His master hummed in agreement. He also heard something else. “The unicorn merchants at the large table. They have daggers in their saddlebags.” Liam paused for a short moment. “No, not all of them… only three or four of them. The others could have daggers too, but they don’t have their saddlebags with them. They must be outside in the barn with their carts. It’s two groups of merchants who met here to make a deal. Those with the daggers are planning to get their money back later though. “

“Very good. Something else?”

“The two diamond dogs stink.” His master laughed while the host returned from the kitchen. Liam opened his eyes again and came face to face with a wooden plate with steaming vegetable soup consisting of carrots, peas, potatoes, and pieces of a hearty loaf of bread. A wooden spoon was thrown by the host onto the plate, which made some of soup splash onto the counter.

Liam wanted to say something but held back. He was used to those things by now. “Thanks,” his master said and made the soup follow the cider. The host looked at both of them for a few seconds longer and then went on his way to serve those his two waitresses couldn’t cover.

For a few minutes, they just slurped their soup, then rattled wood against wood. “Did you notice anything else?”

Liam was a little surprised and also put his spoon down on his half-empty plate. This time he didn’t close his eyes but looked over his shoulder again. The merchants had finished their deal and drank to celebrate the closing of the transaction. Only one half drank the watered wine; the other had normal wine. The griffons were still at their table as they kept their exchange of stories going, the one in the fancy gown still feeling up the waitress. The dark figures in the back had put their attention on something else. “No, Master, I think that was everything.”

She grinned. It was never good if she grinned. “First of all, you forgot our own weapons. It may be difficult, but a skilled enemy could get a hold of your weapon in battle. And try to use your nose again.” She shoved his plate away and pointed into the room with a hoof. Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. Alcohol, various meals, sweat, dirt, shit, and piss – all smells that were more than normal for a remote little tavern. He could also smell the waitress who was with the griffon.

“The waitress, she’s in heat. Somewhat unusual for the season. She must be out in the surrounding woods a lot to get enough sun for that to happen.”

“And?”

“She doesn’t smell of herbs. So what is she doing out there?” He took another breath and let the many smells affect him. He slowly moved his head in different direction to see which smell got stronger and which weaker. There was something about her. He had smelled it before, Liam was sure of that. This must be what his master wanted to hint at, but by Luna he couldn’t determine it.

“Necromancy,” she whispered into his ear.

Liam’s eyes widened, and he looked at the young earth pony mare, how she giggled as the talon of the griffon went through her tail. “Death,” he answered quietly. “She smells of death, corpses.”

His master tapped her hoof against her nose. “Looks like our homecoming will be a little delayed.”

My little Pony

Inquisition

“Liam, wake up.” The young thestral slowly opened his eyes and looked around.

“Mom, what...” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and shook his head. “What is it, Master?” His chain mail pinched at him and took some hair with it as he stood up. The room was small, containing two simple beds with mattresses made out of straw. In the corner stood a wooden washtub filled with clean water next to a small chamber pot. The only light came from the candles that burned in little enclaves on the wall, as there wasn’t a window to let in any moonlight.

Liam picked up his belt from the bedpost and strapped his swords to it. They were simple short swords that he had made himself. “We’ll have activity shortly. The host locked the tavern an hour ago.” The belt followed the leathery protection for his shoulders and back. “If she goes out in the woods tonight, it will be soon. The storm’s calmed down, and the moon is full tonight.”

Liam pulled his armor tight with his teeth and pulled his cloak over it. His master didn’t have to do any of that as she hadn’t left her position ever since they had entered the room. She sat on her haunches next to the door, left ear leaning on the stone wall and peeking through the cracks of the wooden door into the corridor. “Do you really think she’s experimenting with necromancy? A simple mare from the countryside? Where would she get the knowledge from?”

“You’ve seen how many merchants pass through here. Most of them come from or want to go to Canterlot, the most magical city in the entire kingdom. Probably more banned writings exchange hooves here than in the back streets of Stalliongrad.” Liam had to agree with his master’s logic. The location was most favourable for that sort of thing, but what was missing was a motive. “So, what do we know about her?”

“Her name is most likely Platter. It could be a fake though. Green fur, pink mane. She’s young, between fourteen and sixteen years old. Thanks to our observations, we know she is not related to the host in any way, or anyone else here. She neither fears contact with other species like griffons or diamond dogs, most likely because of her working in this tavern. She is in heat and flirts with everything with a pulse between his legs. At least she did the entire evening. Her cutie mark is a table with a plate on top of it, which signals her talent of catering to others. Additional talents could lie in the field of social contacts, persuasion of ponies and so on and—”

His master suddenly held up her right hoof to silence him. Trained instinct took over Liam’s body. His ears straightened up, his eyes focused, and every muscle in his body tensed to minimize the chances of making any accidental noises. Both thestrals, stiff as statues, listened and observed as a lone pony wandered down the hall. The light of another candle fell through the crack below the door, and quiet steps were audible. Liam heard as the wood gently creaked as the pony made way past their door. Instantly, his mind began to analyse the volume and pattern of the steps and the speed of the pony to decipher who was out there.

The eye of his master went with the pony while she peeped through the cracks as the nightly wanderer started to go down the stairs. They listened as the entrance door opened and hooves crunched the freshly fallen snow. The moment the door closed, both thestrals sprang to life again. Their eyes met before his master began to move. She tore the door open, and they hastily went down the stairs as well. Chairs lied upside down on the tables, the once crackling fire was nothing more than embers, and the floor was cleaned and smelled of lilac. On the counter, the freshly washed mugs stood like a piece of art, arranged in a pyramid as they were. Without making a noise, their hooves rushed over the wooden floor in the tavern section. They leaned against the wall by the door that led outside and threw a glance out the window. Liam glimpsed green fur that vanished in the night.

“She didn’t wear a robe or anything,” his master noted. “It’s too cold to go outside without clothes. I won’t even give her ten minutes until she gets frostbite. If she had gone out at this hour in the past, she should have been covered in it.” That would be a clear sign for any trained Hunter of the Inquisition that something was amiss.

Hooves went down under robes and even further under the chain mail. Both of them pulled out an amulet with a glowing white crystal and began to speak: “In the name of her Holy Majesty, Princess Luna de Equestria, we begin the hunt of the subject known as Platter. She is under suspicion of using black magic, forbidden after paragraph one of the magical council in the year one hundred twenty two of the Third Era.”

The amulets extinguished for a small moment before their glow returned shortly, now a deep fearsome red. “Approved,” a monotone female voice came from the crystals in the amulets. “Act according to your own discretion. Good hunt.” Both ponies nodded at each other, then followed the mare into the dark and icy night.

For them, it was neither of those. They were thestrals, Hunters of the Royal Inquisition, and there were no better conditions for them. Their thick fur made them almost immune to the cold. Their golden slitted eyes, the eyes of a cat, were sufficient to make the faintest light of night bright as day for them. Their noses and ears were more sensitive than those of their equine brother and sisters. Not that they needed them to hunt down their target today, as the snow made it rather easy.

Flitting shadows were what Liam at his master were as they went from the tavern into the woods, their cloaks billowing about them. They galloped past trees, shrubs, broken-off branches, and other things the snow didn’t manage to cover entirely.

Their pupils were dilated, the moon bright as the sun as they reached a small clearing after what would take a normal pony ten minutes to reach from the tavern. Both were breathing heavily as they came to a halt, steam coming from their nostrils as they started to look around. The forest around them moaned and groaned in the wind as branches released their heavy white load while owls roamed for their breakfast. Otherwise, except for their breathing, it was silent.

Liam searched for the mare. Her tracks ended in front of him in the snow. She had to be here somewhere. He took a closer look to make sure she hadn’t gone back in her own hoof prints, but she didn’t even have time for that. Also, they would have seen her, and the snow around her tracks was untouched.

“We have a ghost!” his master cried out suddenly. Liam whirled around just in time to see a terrifying figure made of bones and shreds of flesh rush at him. The young Hunter rolled out of the way and drew one of his swords from his scabbard with his mouth as the ghost floated by. “We need something to write the runes upon!” his master yelled again and also pulled her sword from under her coat.

The ghost was devoid of any beauty the mare he had seen earlier possessed. All four of her legs were only bones with tiny pieces of flesh left. Her body seemed better preserved, but her stomach was ripped open, and intestines peeked out of the gaping wound. Liam recognized a pony that had been prey to wolves when he saw one.

To get rid of a ghost, there were only a few possibilities. The least dangerous one was to dig up the remains, cleanse them in fire, and then properly bury them again. The more dangerous method required them to fight the ghost and catch it in a rune prison. Three runes had to be placed in a triangle: dinokm, drem and lok. Even experienced hunters would only try that with a party of three. A ghost was a desperate soul that clung to its lost life and refused to move on. However, they needed the souls of the living to remain in this world for any large period of time. That this ghost managed to trick them and created an illusion that seemed so real spoke a lot about how many must had fallen victim to it.

Hastily, Liam drew the yol rune in the snow with his hoof. The moment he finished the last stroke, it began to glow, and a wall of fire erupted over the snow towards the ghost. Even if fire didn’t hurt ghosts, the fear of fire was branded in them from back when they were still alive. The ghost let out a shriek of pure terror as it tried to cover its face with its skeletal legs.

His master had, by now, thrown away her cloak and spread her wings. With a few flaps, she rose into the air and started to fly around the still irritated ghost. Liam didn’t need words to understand that it was his job to create the rune cage, if possible on something more permanent than snow. His eyes darted around, and he quickly found something promising. A few meters away from the clearing, behind some bushes, stood three trees in the needed triangle.

He galloped without throwing a glance back, for every second counted. One mistake could cost one of them their soul.

He only needed seconds to reach the trees, walk from one to the other, and mark the triangle. It wasn’t perfect but would do. If it wouldn’t free the ghost from its misery, it would bind it long enough to come back with reinforcements.

Liam renewed the grip on his sword, so that the blade now pointed left, and started to inscribe the first rune on the trunk. The dry bark gave away easily. Flashes of rune magic were visible in corner of his eyes. His master was very experienced, one of the best. If there was somepony who could occupy a mighty ghost alone, it was her. Nevertheless, Liam felt the urge to hurry; every moment that passed was one too much.

Another piercing scream of torment reached his ears, and a quick glance back showed how his master was cutting away at the ghost. She turned the sword in the air and dodged one of the ghost’s hooves with a skilled reverse roll, her own hooves inches above the snow. It made Liam wonder again how dangerous the things must have been that gave her all her scars.

Finally, with a last stroke of his sword, the last rune was finished. Liam rammed his sword into the frozen ground. “Master! Over here!” he yelled to the battling mare. She was just doing another roll over the head of the ghost as she cut away with her long sword. The ghost dissolved into a fine mist but rematerialized almost instantly again. In a blind rage against its attacker that it wasn’t able to catch, the ghost followed Liam’s master as she flew towards him. She tackled him out of the cage as she landed.

They both saw how the ghost floated over the snow towards them while unholy screams no living soul should be capable of left its mouth. Then it entered the cage. The runes on the trees began to glow instantly, very old magic started working, and the ghost quickly hit the ground. Its face twisted in confusion as it felt the earth for the first time in a long while. The ghost looked at the ground and then towards them before it was cut in half by a long sword. Bones shattered to the ground while flesh hit the ground with a wet splash of blood.

His master also rammed her sword into the ground and started drawing a rune into the dirt with her left hoof. The body burst into flames. Liam stepped next to his master as the smell of rotting corpse was glossed over with the smell of burnt flesh. “Our hunt is closed,” they said together, and the amulets were extinguished.

“Someone summoned her spirit,” his master continued without taking her eyes off the fire. “Not too long ago as well. Rumours of missing travellers would have otherwise made it to Canterlot or other cities and attracted the attention of other Hunters. We should look for her burial site and search for clues for the necromancer behind it.” Ghosts always returned to the place where they were originally buried. Nobody knew why, but they liked to lure their victims there. “But I don’t want to fight a pack of wolves for that.”

Liam looked up to the sky and Luna’s moon, whose magical light gave evil no place to hide. It was the light of the moon that drove them forward and revealed the truth to everyone who wore the amulet of the Inquisition. “I can imagine the pain a soul must feel to be imprisoned in its own dead body… feeling every wound all the time.”

“My teacher once told me that ghosts weren’t crazy killers when they come back. At least, not at first. It is the pain of the wounds, of being dead, that makes them lose their minds, what turns them into the monsters we know. And I’m not talking only about physical pain.” Both thestrals turned away and stowed their swords away again.

Author's Note:

Well, look at that: A new story.
I took notes the last six month for this and now I can finally start this. It's a great feeling. For today, you only get the prologue, but the first chapter will follow shortly. Hope you have a good time and leave some comments. Authors love comments.

I also would like to mention that this, like most of my stories, was originally written in German, then translated into English. In case of this story, by myself.

Thanks to Handyman for beta reading.
Special thanks to JBL for editing my mess.

Comments

[JBL]

The forest around them moaned and groaned in the wind as branches released their heavy white load

i.imgur.com/vPPWqxs.jpg

[chavis54]

Drem yol lok
Greetings

[Gigas]

And something else that I'm going to follow forever...

[JhnKing]

That was a really cool intro! The inquisition so far reminds me of Withers, and that is by no means a bad thing.