Assassinate Princess Celestia!

by D G D Davidson

Chapter 3: The Underworld

Assassinate Princess Celestia!

by D. G. D. Davidson

Chapter 3: The Underworld

As the night wore on and dawn approached, I sat down by the bank of the lake and meditated. Spray from the waterfall settled in my coat, but I ignored it. I had never been particularly skilled at the spiritual side of the mulish arts, but I knew I had to gather my energies if I was to climb the cliff to Canterlot.

I began by focusing on my breathing. As distracting thoughts entered my mind, I noted and dismissed them. I lost track of time, and I lost even the sense of water sprinkling me and chilling my skin. Though it frightened me to do so, I even let go of my rage, the emotion on which I depended for my strength. Nothing remained to me besides interior darkness.

Hovering in a void, I could see my Power like an unidentifiable color floating in gray mist. By refusing to exert my will, practicing total passivity, I soaked up energy from the surrounding world. Taking in life from the flowers at my hooves and from the ripples in the lake, my Power grew. As I meditated, the energy gateways along my spine opened, allowing the Power to flow freely through the mystical path between my dock and the top of my head. I directed it to knit the torn flesh in my left foreleg, to rejuvenate the taxed muscles throughout my body, and to prepare me for the hard task ahead. As I concentrated, anger at Mulia, Celestia, and the ponies resurfaced many times in my thoughts, and my Power faltered. Each time, I dismissed the anger and allowed it to dissolve, much as I longed to cling to it.

When I at last opened my eyes and came back to myself, the sun was already up. I was refreshed, as if I had slept for a whole night. The wound on my left forelimb was still sore, but I could move the leg freely. I rose, cinched on my saddlebags, buckled my sword belt, and allowed anger to return to its accustomed place within me. I used these meditations as I needed them, but I never let them bring true peace to my heart; those mules who dove too freely into the spiritual side of our mystical art became hermits or mendicants, but they were useless as assassins.

Once I was ready, I walked around the lake to the waterfalls. The spray and the roar grew more intense as I drew closer until they became like a wall through which I had to push with teeth clenched and eyes half-shut. Struggling through dense underbrush, I found a narrow, slick ledge that ran behind the falls. Nearly choking on the stinging water flying through the air, I gazed up at the dark, glistening rocks. The cliff face was almost sheer. High overhead, Canterlot looked like a crisscrossing maze of beams and struts: from above, the city looked like a beautiful, many-towered castle of spun sugar, but its underbelly was an ugly, interlaced mass of concrete and steel.

I slipped my climbing claws onto my front hooves. Had I intended to enter Canterlot from below, I would have brought ropes, cams, bolts, and hangers, but now I would have to climb the cliff entirely by hoof.

Raising my Power, I leapt thirty feet into the air and grabbed a small hoofhold. Resisting the temptation to look down, I examined the cliff face above me, attempting to plan my ascent, but a bulge in the rock blocked my sight. I pressed my front hooves into a long, narrow crack and inched my way up, my rear hooves dangling in the air.

When I crested the bulge, a large, round cave opening came into view. I grabbed its lip and hauled myself up.

Standing in the cave’s mouth, I peered into its depth. Shadows prevented me from seeing more than a few feet, but I noted that the walls of the cave were strangely smooth, as if something rough had passed across them many times over several years.

A rush of fetid air enveloped me. Instinctively, I leapt straight up, slipped the climbing claw off my right hoof, and grabbed my sword. Below me, an enormous, red, slick, reptilian head whipped out of the cave and snapped at the air where I had been a moment before.

I dropped onto the quarray eel and slammed my blade deep into the base of its skull, right between two of its cervical vertebrae. With a quick twist of the blade and a loud crunch, I split the vertebrae apart and severed its spinal cord. The monster went limp and its head slumped; I quickly dug my left climbing claw into its scales to prevent myself from slipping back into the lake below.

I looked down. Thick blood ran from the eel and turned one of the waterfalls pink.

Climbing up the creature’s exposed neck, I again tackled the rock face. I could now see several black openings in the cliff, each of them the likely home of another eel. I tried to trace a potential path around them. To keep away from the openings, I would have to make several dangerous zigzags.

As I considered my ascent, a translucent violet sphere appeared high above and encompassed all of Canterlot. Shortly thereafter, a faint buzz struck my ears, suggesting a massive discharge of magical energy. The sphere looked like a force field; apparently, believing Mulia and me to be inside, the Order had issued its threat, and the city had responded. Climbing directly into Canterlot was now impossible: the railway and the airship docks would be the only entry points, and both would be carefully watched.

I turned my gaze to the west. Barely visible in the early morning haze, the high bridge for the Canterlot Express spanned a deep ravine between Hackamore Ridge, the boulder-strewn mountain south of Ponyville, and Mount Eohippus, where Canterlot perched.

I had memorized the Friendship Express’s timetables. Although the train rarely ran on time, I had two hours before it was due.

About a hundred feet above me, a narrow ledge led west. From where I perched, I couldn’t tell if it would take me all the way to the bridge, but it could certainly bring me closer. The ledge was at most half a foot across and appeared to be made up largely of crumbly stone. Several black cave mouths opened in the cliff face directly above it.

Digging my hooves into every pit or nook I could find, I made my way to the ledge, hauled myself onto it, put away my climbing claws, and pulled my sword again.

Because of the curve in the cliff face, I could see no more than ten feet ahead. In several places, the ledge looked ready to crack away from the cliff; in some, it already had. Nonetheless, I had little doubt that I could traverse it: a trained mule could balance even on a twig or a blade of grass.

However, my recently healed wounds and my time in meditation had taxed me. I tried to intensify my anger and raise my Power, but I found both muted. A sense of unreality hung over me, yet, paradoxically, my body had grown heavy.

I stepped forward, and my right foot immediately slipped as the stone beneath me crumbled. I fell onto my left hock and almost tipped sideways into the abyss.

Focusing, I raised myself onto my rear left hoof and lifted my sword over my head. Pushing off with one foot, I leapt forward, at the same time swinging my sword in a wide arc until I alighted on the ledge again, this time with my right hind foot.

I had almost reached the first of the caves, inside of which, no doubt, another quarray eel awaited me. I had no wish to waste my time slaying several of the monsters, so I took a deep breath, raised as much Power as I could, and began to run. I cycled my hind legs, allowing only the toes of my rear hooves to touch the ledge, and held my sword at the ready. The ledge crumbled under me again, but now I was moving too lightly and quickly to fall.

I sprinted past the first cave entrance. As I had expected, a quarray eel’s head shot out and tried to grab me, but it was too slow. The next eel was faster, but I leapt, whirled in the air, and landed on the other side of it, maintaining my pace.

The effort was exhausting, but I pressed on, forcing my Power to keep my body light.

I dodged several more eels in this manner, ducking, leaping, and sprinting. When I had passed sixteen of them, the ledge came to an abrupt end, dwindling until it was only an inch across. Beyond it, the cliff became smooth and slightly concave, no doubt from when a large chunk of the mountainside fell away into the valley in ages past. The smooth face was about five hundred yards across, and it ended at a large dome-shaped boulder, just beyond which was the crisscrossing lattice supporting the railway bridge.

I sheathed my sword, dropped to all fours, and considered my remaining Power.

I had a small chance.

I galloped at top speed straight for the cliff. Using my Power, I ran onto the cliff itself and kept running.

After about three hundred yards, I realized I had overestimated my strength. Though still moving forward, I began sliding. I tried to change my angle, aiming slightly downward so I was in less danger of falling, but my front hooves started to slip. Desperate, I kicked against the cliff with my hind legs and shot forward, letting a combination of gravity and momentum carry me the final two hundred yards.

I crashed hard into the side of the dome-shaped boulder. The impact was almost enough to knock me out, but I forced myself to remain conscious. Scrabbling for a hoofhold with my left front hoof, I reached my right back into my pack and fumbled desperately for my climbing claws.

Just as I began to slide, I found them. I forced my right hoof into one set and then slapped it against the boulder, finding a crack and arresting my descent.

Although I knew I was visible from the city, I lay against the boulder’s side, breathing hard for a full minute as pain coursed through my barrel. I had bruised my ribs, but I was otherwise unharmed.

I climbed around to the west side of the boulder to get out of the city’s view. At last, I reached the bridge itself, and it was a simple matter to climb its supports. Once I did, I slipped across the bridge to Hackamore Ridge. There, the train track ran through a lush, flower-strewn meadow, fed by a waterfall, nestled in a high pass. The fall emptied into a meandering river that ran under a low bridge of pink sandstone. I lowered myself into the river, drank, and waited.

Only a few minutes late, the Friendship Express chugged its way into the meadow. I climbed onto the underside of the bridge, which shook and rattled, threatening to dislodge me, as the train sped by overhead.

Just as the train passed, I leapt up and grabbed the rail on the rear platform of the caboose. I slipped down to the undercarriage and clung to the frame.

The train soon made its way onto Eohippus, at last reaching Canterlot. An unpleasantly sharp tingle of energy ran down the length of my body me as I passed through the force field.

The brake pistons hissed and the train at last pulled into the station. I climbed stealthily forward through the closely packed metal maze of the undercarriage, eager to avoid the gaze of any guards who might check beneath the train. Above me, I heard commotion on the platform.

“Whoa! What’s with all the guards?” somepony yelled.

I recognized that voice. It was Rainbow Dash’s. I had no idea why Ponyville’s weather manager was in Canterlot, but at least her outburst had alerted me that the boarding platform was watched.

“I’m sure they’re just taking the necessary precautions,” somepony else said. “Royal weddings do bring out the strangest ponies.” I couldn’t immediately place that voice. It sounded pretentious, as if its owner was faking more education than she actually possessed.

After that, I heard what sounded like an explosive sneeze, and then the pretentious voice added, “Now let’s get going. We’ve got work to do.”

Hooves thudded on the platform as the ponies disembarked from the train.

Another pony spoke, and I recognized the voice as Applejack’s. “And you’ve got a big brother to go congratulate.”

“Yeah, congratulate,” said another voice, this one the librarian’s. She sounded as if she was walking away, but I could still faintly make out the words, “And then give him a piece of my mind.”

After that, several sets of hooves walked across the platform and faded.

I considered for a moment. I couldn’t be certain, but if the conversation I had just overheard had anything to do with the upcoming wedding, then a few ponies from Ponyville were directly involved in the preparations. I mentally filed that information away for later use in case I needed it.

Fortunately for me, the guards were lax; they did not check the undercarriages of the train cars. After the passengers disembarked, the train began moving again. Canterlot was the end of the Friendship Express line, which had only one track: the train would travel to a roundhouse, turn, and head back down into the valley. It would be easy for me to slip away unnoticed in the train yard.

---

A pony who approached Canterlot by train or ship would get the impression that the city had only a tenuous hold on the cliff where it perched. Its base appeared to consist of a series of rounded concrete slabs hundreds of feet thick, but those slabs were small and unremarkable compared to the graceful, gold-topped marble towers stretching above them.

In fact, the concrete slabs at Canterlot’s base held up very little of the city’s weight. They merely hid from view the enormous, interlacing lattice of steel beams and struts that actually supported the city.

The support beams formed a sort of basement to Canterlot. Naturally protected from the elements by the tons of stone above, this basement was a refuge for the homeless, the criminals, the mentally ill, and the addicts. It contained Canterlot’s living refuse, particularly those who could not train themselves to moderation in the partaking of sassafras root, which had a euphoric effect on ponies. Every year, hundreds of wastrels--deranged, drunken, or murdered--tumbled from their perches amongst the beams and fell to their deaths, crashing into the lake a mile below. None of the opulent unicorns living above them ever noticed.

Walking down an I-beam twenty feet across, squinting into the dimness, I came upon a hunched old mare. From the track marks on the insides of her knees, I could tell she shot up crystal sass, a drug made from concentrated sassafras extract. Sitting on her haunches, she looked up at me with glazed eyes, her unfocused gaze staring past my head and into the distance. Around her, half-hidden in shadows or under piles of rubbish, other ponies swigged from sarsaparilla bottles in brown paper bags or chewed on sassafras bark.

I looked around until I found a derelict earth pony who appeared halfway self-aware, and I kicked him in the flank. He snarled at me and stuck his bottle in his lips like a peevish baby taking a pacifier. “Cover you, half-ass,” he mumbled.

“I want to see Enrico,” I said.

“Maybe Enrico don’t wanna see you.”

I nodded and turned away, saying casually over my shoulder, “You ever see an earth pony fly?”

“No.”

“Me neither.” I whipped around, wrapped his tail in a fetlock, hauled him off the girder, and dangled him in midair.

He screamed and flailed. “Oh, Celestia! Put me down! Put me down! Please! Oh, covering Celestia! Put me down!”

“Put you down, eh?” I let a few inches of his tail slide through my grip.

“No! No! Sweet Celestia in her palace! What do you want?”

“I told you: I want Enrico. You know him?”

The earth pony breathed hard, sounding as if he might pass out. He stopped flailing. “Yeah. Yeah, I know him. But he don’t like to see just anypony. He picky, you know?”

“He’ll see me. Take me to him.”

I flung the earth pony back onto the girder. After he staggered to his hooves, he walked away and I followed. He looked behind himself frequently to give me sullen glares.

We traversed the interlocking maze of girders and cantilevers until we came upon a small shack pieced together out of mismatched bits of wood and corrugated metal. I tossed a bit to the earth pony, pushed open the door, and walked inside.

Two heavyset pegasi inside the door immediately pointed foreleg-mounted crossbows at my head, but I ignored them; they had little chance of touching me with such weapons. Before me, his cloven hooves propped on a desk, sat a mangy satyr with a large cigar in his mouth. This was Enrico, one of the biggest drug lords in the city, responsible for supplying crystal sass to half of Canterlot’s junkies. He was roughly caressing a purple earth pony mare seated on his lap.

Enrico yanked the cigar from his mouth and waved it at me. “Hay, who the cover are you? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I’m here on behalf of Granddam,” I said.

Plainly annoyed, he slapped the mare on the rump. She slid from his lap, looking relieved. Enrico dropped his hooves to the ground, leaned forward, and stubbed out his cigar in a grimy ashtray. “Tell your half-breed nag I’m tired of doing favors.”

“My request is simple, and you’ll be adequately compensated.”

“What is it? Make it quick, half-ass.”

“In a few days’ time, I’m going to take care of some business down here. I know the guardsponies who occasionally patrol the basement are in your pay, and I want you to guarantee that they will look the other way, or perhaps take a little nap, while I’m at work.”

Leaning on his desk, Enrico tapped his fingers together. “And what do I get in return?”

“The continuing gratitude of Granddam, the Order, and myself.”

A sarcastic grin spread across his face, revealing a gold tooth. “This gratitude you speak of, she don’t pay the bills, you know?” He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of distilled sassafras liquor. Pouring into a shot glass, he continued, “I respond amiably to three things, mule: bits, sass, and fillies.” He dropped the bottle back into the drawer and, grimacing, downed the shot. Waving the empty glass at me, he added, “Unless you got one of those, you can get the cover out.”

“If you do as I ask, five thousand unmarked bits will appear in two weeks’ time in the usual location.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I give you my word as a mule. When I say I’m going to pay somepony, I pay him.”

I kicked the right foreleg of the pegasus to my left, directing his crossbow toward his companion. The bow fired and the bolt buried itself in the pony’s right shoulder, dropping him. As he went down, I broke the first pegasus pony’s right knee and then gave him a headbutt to the face. After that, I pulled a shuriken and threw it; it shattered the shot glass in Enrico’s hand and stuck to his desktop.

“And when I say I’m going to kill somepony, I kill him.” I walked toward Enrico, reared, and planted my front hooves on his desk. “So, do we have a deal?”

Enrico lowered his hands to his lap and leaned toward me, shaking his head. “That’s the problem with you mules: you’re too busy showing off to notice the obvious.” From under his desk, I heard a loud click.

I leapt into the air just as the front of the desk evaporated in a deafening explosion. Spinning, I landed behind Enrico, lay the edge of my blade against his throat, and pulled his right hand away from the hidden device he’d just triggered to fire the blast.

Dust and chips of wood floated down around me and settled in my coat. “Your last card’s played, Enrico. Are you going to cooperate or am I going to add a new notch to my hilt?”

“We’re not quite done,” he answered.

I looked down to see the purple pony wench clenching a stiletto in her teeth and holding it to my ribs.

“Looks like we got an Appleloosan standoff, mule,” said Enrico, “so how about you put the toy away and we negotiate like gentlecolts?”

I slapped the stiletto out of the mare’s mouth and cuffed her across the muzzle, sending her to the floor. At the same time, I spun my sword in my right fetlock, knocked the pommel against the back of Enrico’s head, and slammed his face into the top of his desk. Grabbing his hair, I yanked his head back and placed my blade against his neck again.

Enrico gave an exasperated sigh and then, to my surprise, twisted the sword from my grip, reached an arm under my barrel, and tossed me onto the desk, which collapsed under me.

“Stupid mule!” He slapped me in the face several times with the flat of my own blade. “What are you, some kind of idiot? Is Granddam training morons these days? Stupid, stupid!” He threw the sword across the room in disgust and wiggled his fingers at me. “You see these? I got hands, you brain-dead half-ass! And I’m a satyr, not one of your pony weaklings. You do not cover with me, got it?” He kicked me in the head. “That’s for my guards.” He kicked me again. “And that’s for my desk.” He kicked me a third time, harder. “And that’s for hitting my moll.”

Enrico turned to the purple mare, who was sitting on the floor and blubbering. He patted her on the head. “There, there, sweetheart. It’s all right.”

I stood, dusted myself off, and gave Enrico a double rear-kick to the tail, sending him face-first into the floor.

“Enrico,” I said, “I know you’re insensitive to pain, but you’re not as tough as all that.”

He rolled over. “Okay, okay, you got me. But did you have to attack the guards? Good help is hard to find. Fire Watcher there is gonna need stitches.”

I glanced at the pegasi, who writhed on the floor and groaned. “Stop wasting my time, Enrico. Both of us can do this all day.”

Enrico rose to his hooves and patted the dust out of the thick fur on his legs. “I can do what you ask, mule, but not for five thousand. I want ten thousand bits.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t pay, I don’t work.”

“Fifty-five hundred.”

“Are you really as stupid as you are ugly? I need ninety-five hundred at least.”

“I’m not authorized to offer you more than six thousand.”

“Don’t give me that manure. Ninety.”

“If we keep going up and down in these increments, we’ll end at seventy-five hundred. Should we skip to the chase?”

“Are you offering me seventy-five hundred?”

“No.”

“Then eighty-five, and that’s my final offer.”

“I believe I already mentioned six thousand as my final offer.”

“And I believe I already told you to get the cover out of my office.”

“I can persuade Granddam to give you as much as sixty-two.”

“I can persuade Granddam to knock some sense into you. Eighty-three.”

“I might be able to give you sixty-three, but I’ll pay for it.”

“You’re darn right you will. Eighty-two.”

“Sixty-three and a half.”

“Darn it, you stubborn mule. Make it sixty-five and get out.”

“Sixty-five it is.” I turned away from him and walked toward the corner where my sword lay. “You’ll see me again in a few days. Be ready.”

“You shoulda been ready right now, mule.”

Frowning, I turned back toward him, and then I felt the sting of a dart hitting my neck. It had the sharp burn of poison in its tip.

I ripped the dart out and rapidly hit a series of pressure points on my barrel to slow the poison’s spread. Grinding my teeth, I snarled, “Enrico--!”

Enrico shrugged. “What can I say? She offered me the full ten thousand.”

Mulia, lowering a blowgun from her lips, walked in through the doorway. “Hhmmn, good job, Enrico,” she said in her obnoxiously oily false voice. “You managed to, ahmmn, both disarm and distract him.”

“Mulia,” I hissed. I took a step toward her, but stumbled. My vision blurred.

Mulia shook her head and held up a small glass vial. “I could offer you an antidote in exchange for the amp-horn, but it would be easier to let you die and take it from your corpse.”

I staggered sideways, struggling to remain upright, as black circles floated across my eyes. “It’sh not on me,” I slurred. “I hid it.”

Mulia’s smile fell away. “Where?”

“Can’t quite remember. Head feelsh funny.” I collapsed.

“Celestia darn you!” Mulia ran to me, uncorked the vial, and practically rammed the antidote down my throat. It was bitter, like cough syrup gone bad. As I drank, Mulia rifled through my saddlebags.

My vision cleared, but a feeling of extreme drowsiness rose over me. Fighting it, I grabbed Mulia’s head between my front hooves and tried to break her neck, but I was too weak. She head-butted me in the face.

“Give me the amp-horn and I’ll spare you,” she cried.

“Go to Tartarus,” I answered. I waved my hooves, trying to stand, but I was too dizzy; the poison, the side effects of the antidote, and the taxing events of the last few days were too much for me. “You double-crossed me, Mulia!”

“I had to!”

“Liar!” I managed to turn over, but my knees and hocks buckled when I tried to rise to my hooves.

Mulia stood above me, gazing down with unmasked contempt on her face. She slowly shook her head. “I was only following Granddam’s orders.”

I paused. Something knotted up in my stomach. I opened my mouth to answer her, but no words came.

“She’s been watching you. You’re out of control. She told me to take care of you before completing the mission.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. My mouth was dry. I rubbed my tongue around my palate, trying to work up enough saliva to speak. “No. No, that can’t--”

“You’re a walking dead mule,” she said. “When Granddam says you’re dead, you’re dead. Even if I don’t kill you, somepony else will.”

Standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, Enrico said, “Sounds like you’re covered, half-ass.”

“Shut up, Enrico.” I finally managed to gain my feet, though my knees shook. Glaring at Mulia, I snarled, “You are a liar.”

“Give me the amp-horn and I’ll let you go. I’ll tell Granddam I killed you, provided you don’t show your face in the Order again.”

I didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but I knew that in my present condition, I had no chance of escaping her. At the very least, I needed to stall until my head cleared, I regained some strength, and I thought of a plan.

“Deal,” I said. “But no deal. I won’t give you the horn until I use it.”

“What?”

“I’ll get the neutralization spell for the ward on Celestia’s kitchen. When I get it, you can have it. But I’m not giving you the horn unloaded.”

Mulia spread her lips and clenched her teeth. Her ears laid back and her face turned red. “You . . . you . . . you dam-covering son of a nag--”

Weak as I was, I struck her across the face, uncaring whether she retaliated. “Nopony,” I said, “and I mean nopony, talks about my dam. Do we have a deal?”

She wiped a hoof at the cheek I’d struck as if removing a smudge of dirt. “Deal. You have one full day.”

“Two.”

She glared. “You’re cutting it awfully close.”

“In two days, you’ll have your spell. Where should I find you?”

“I’ll find you.” She backed out the open door of the shack, disappearing in the shadows.

Enrico uncrossed his arms and walked toward me, slowly and mockingly clapping his hands. “I love working with mules,” he said. “You’re always such good sources of drama and entertainment.”

Struggling to steady myself, I raised the little Power I had left and picked up my sword. As I ran a hoof along its razor-sharp edge, I said, “There’s more drama coming your way, Enrico. You sold me out.”

His smile faded, replaced suddenly by a look of cunning, but before he could react, I threw the sword toward his neck.

The purple pony screamed.

---

Wiping my blade on a ragged cloth, I walked from Enrico’s shack. My hooves slipped a little with each step I took, and my head still felt light. My next order of business would have to be food and sleep, but, after that, it was time to make a house call on the princess’s chief of security, the stallion they called Shining Armor.

Comments

[D G D Davidson]

Author's note: I borrowed the name "Eohippus" for the mountain where Canterlot stands from The Elements of Harmony and the Saviour of Worlds by RK_Striker_JK_5, which is good just because it has Megan in it and therefore deserves homage. I hope nopony minds.

[LittleSallyDigby]

So I take it "covering" is a euphemism for equine sex? Where does that come from?

Also I will be vaguely disappointed if this guy just walks all over Shining Armor. Then again, he is currently singlehoofedly shielding all of Canterlot, and quite possibly being magically brainwashed as well... So only vaguely disappointed, is what I'm saying.

I like the whole bit about Canterlot's underground and so forth. A satyr drug lord under Equestria's capital is a fun idea.

I'm glad Granddam has spotted that "Our Hero" is a nut who needs to be taken off the playing field.

[Alondro]

I dunno if anyone pointed this out in the comments already, but the mules are quite wrong in thinking that Celestia and Luna are frauds. They forgot that when Nightmare Moon returned, the sun DIDN'T RISE for hours until NM was defeated!

And the forget what happened when Discord was released: the day and night flipping radically back and forth.

So, either Celestia, Luna, and Discord moved the sun and moon OR at the very least they control the rotation of the planet... which is still pretty damn god-like power!

THIS IS WHY YA CAN'T ALLOW HALFBREEDS!! They ain't got a lick o' sense! *raises the ponies in an angry mob to kill off all the mules!*

And once that's done... THEN it will be time for me to eliminate Celestia... FOR LORD DISCORD!! MUWAH HA HA HA HA!!

[Alondro]

*reads the chapter* And then I appear! And my awesome power causes the sword to shatter in the mule's hoof!

I AM THE TRUE GUARDIAN OF CELESTIA!! THE DEUX EX INSERT!! I CONTROL ALL REALITIES!!!

[D G D Davidson]

937229

Not a euphemism. That's the actual equestrian term. I probably overused it in my attempt to make Canterlot's vulgar lowlifes sound vulgar and lowlifish.

937234

Of course hybrids don't have a lick of sense. Think about it . . .

[Kavonde]

Got one, single, solitary typo for ya: "After about three hundred yard, I realized I had overestimated my strength." Needs an "s" after "yard."

Hrrm. You know, satyrs are a good fit for the setting; I hadn't really considered that. Minotaurs exist, after all, so why not satyrs? Plus, it's Hasbro, so anything and everything in the Monster Manuals is open season.

Good stuff as always, man.

[D G D Davidson]

937776

Typo fixed. Thanks for pointing that out.

Since I still like to think G1 is G4's ancient history, we can have centaurs in there, too. Satyrs are not known for their restrained behavior, so they seem to me a good fit for Equestria's gangsters.

[Eric M Ryan]

"Looks like we got an Appleloosan standoff, mule"

Of course, Appleloosan standoffs are usually settled with confectioneries rather than swords or knives. Oh, and the standoffs last for a good 5-10 minutes, it's much more epic somehow (Hint Hint ).

[JMACOB]

Any updates??

[D G D Davidson]

1293462

Sorry. Been very scattered lately, due largely to work, and for the next two weeks I'll be working twelve-hour days including weekends. I do intend to finish the story.

[JMACOB]

1294632
I understand completely. Work and school haven't been the easiest for me either. Update when you're ready. I enjoy this story to much