My Little Praetor: Phthisis is Magic

by FanOfMostEverything

Specialist Consultation

After Celestia's nationwide announcement, the Ponyville ETSAB still needed to say their piece. As the only pegasus available, it fell to Ditzy to get the town where it could hear it. Thus, she flew her mail route, crying, "Meeting at Town Hall ASAP! Everypony to attend!" About halfway through, she started adding, "I am fully aware of the irony!"

That darn mislabeled thundercloud had set back her efforts to make the town forget "Derpy Hooves" by years. Of course, trying to fix the problem with more lightning was, in retrospect, a terrible idea, but— Oh, she'd completed the circuit of the town. When had that happened?

Bemused, she made for the municipal center herself. Once there, she had to excuse herself through the thickening crowd of pegasi hovering above the podium that had been brought out for the agents. Fortunately, the other Bureau members had headed for the town hall as soon as Celestia's face faded from the heavens. The press of bodies was even worse on the ground, with roughly twice the ponies and two thirds the dimensions.

Once Ditzy came to a careful landing (Like hay she was going to stumble in front of the entire freaking town!) the stallion at the podium cleared his throat and began. "Citizens of Ponyville. Many of you know me as Time Turner. Many, including quite a few members of that first group, know me as the Doctor. One or two of you may even know my true name, which I ask you not to mention lest it find its way to a junk mail list." There was laughter at this, the tense sort of laughter that comes when a very worried pony is presented with something that's the same general shape as a joke.

Once it died down, the Doctor continued. "As Celestia herself just informed you, we are officially at war. It may not surprise you that I've seen quite a few of the horrid things, and much as I wish otherwise, closing your eyes, putting your hooves over your ears, and wishing it will all go away is not a viable survival strategy. Running has been known to work, but generally only for small numbers, certainly not for the population of an entire town. As such, we are presented with but one regrettable but necessary option: We must fight.

"I have received a charter from the Princesses permitting me to organize and lead a standing Ponyville Militia. We will not force anypony to serve unwillingly, but know that there are more ways to fight than picking up a spear and trying to stick the pointy end into whatever's in front of you. Bakers, confectioners, smiths, it is with your skills that we will fill our armories. Weatherponies, you can give us an upper hoof in every engagement. Esteemed officials, your influence and mastery of logistics will be just as critical in war as in peace. Everypony has a part to play here.

"But, again, you are not being conscripted. You are being asked. If you so choose, you may flee. Take the next train to anywhere but here. Who knows? We might beat back the invading hordes before you ever see them. But with one fewer ponies helping us, it will be slightly less likely that we will. And if you go?" The Doctor pointed a hoof into the audience. "And you? And you? Then eventually you'll run out of places to run to. And when our foes catch up to you, you will look back on this day, on this chance you had to make a difference that you so callously, foalishly threw away, and the last thought that you will be able to call your own will be a curse upon your own cowardice."

The stallion's grim expression gave way to a bright grin. "Now, any questions?"

His audience raised a pastel rainbow of raised forelimbs.

"Any questions pertaining to the war effort, not a time-traveling blue shed I allegedly possess?" he added.

Most of the legs went back down.

"Questions about my personal relationship with the happily married Ms. Doo are not war-effort-related."

The lingering limbs lowered themselves.

"Very good, then. We will be accepting volunteers here for today, but in the future, the center of operations will be my home and place of business on Stirrup Street. Fairly straightforward, really. Just show up and we'll take care of the rest. That will be all, thank you for your time."

As the crowd began to disperse, a few moving towards the podium, the Doctor grinned. "Well, I think that went well, don't you?"

Ditzy wingshrugged. "As the alchemist said to his apprentice, 'Reactions will be mixed.'"

---

In their basement panic room, beneath layers of cement, steel, lead, and even a thin sheet of adamantine, the florist triplets considered a map of Equestria.

"I say the San Palomino," said Daisy, tapping the southwestern desert with a hoof. "It's so sparsely populated, there's no reason for these monsters to go anywhere near it."

"Unless they want to go somewhere where they won't be bothered," countered Rose. She gestured towards the center of the map. "In Canterlot, we'll be protected by the guard, the position of the city, and the Princesses themselves."

"And any attempt to take out the capital will get us too," noted Lilly. "We should leave the country altogether."

"None of us speak any foreign languages!" protested Daisy.

Lilly shrugged. "They say immersion's the best way to learn."

"Where did you have in mind?" asked Rose. "Oalpaca? Yakutsk? Zanzebar?"

"Um... out of the country?"

Daisy and Rose both sighed. "This is going to be the tulip incident all over again," grumbled the former.

---

The frantic knocking at Silver Spoon's front door only made her approach it more slowly. When she finally arrived, she sweetly called out, "Who is it?" In those three words was a carefully blended subtextual thesis on the myriad ways in which she was so clearly superior to anypony who tried to beat down somepony else's door like a dog desperate to come back inside.

"Spoon, let me in this instant!"

"Tiara!?" Silver Spoon whipped the door open, hoping she'd made the shout sufficiently apologetic and self-abasing. "W-what are you doing here?"

Diamond Tiara was not her usual confident, unshakable self. She was fidgeting constantly, eyes darting from side to side, hooves walking in place.

Silver Spoon blushed. "Um, do you need to—"

"Shut up, Spoon. I am so not in the mood." The pink filly marched inside like she owned the place, the act only slightly spoiled by frequently looking over her shoulder.

"So what's wrong?" asked her cohort, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible.

"Dad's gone completely insane is what's wrong!" cried Tiara. She began to pace about the entry hall. "Instead of getting out of this hick town like any sensible pony would, he's going on about 'honor' and 'duty' and all sorts of other stuff that's just supposed to make us look good to poor ponies. He's not supposed to actually believe in any of it!"

"Um, Tiara..."

The crowned filly carried on heedlessly. "Honestly, it's like he wants to get killed. Or worse, go bankrupt! I even heard him say something about donating to the war effort." She made a face at the reviled word, then gave her friend a less-than-sane grin. "That's where you come in."

Silver Spoon swallowed. "B-but, Tiara..."

"I'm sure your parents still have enough sense to want to get out while the getting's good. Hay, your mom works in the castle in Canterlot!" Diamond Tiara dove at her friend's front feet, going from rant to plead in less than a second. "So please, please, please take me with you!" She gave Silver Spoon the best puppy-dog eyes she could muster, the sort that always made the servants cave in.

Spoon gnawed at her lower lip for a moment. "Um, two problems with that..."

Diamond Tiara's gaze went from butter-melting to nitrogen-condensing in a blink. "What?"

"Well, we, um, aren't leaving." The bespectacled filly gave a nervous grin. "At least, Dad and I aren't. Mom said she'd stay in Canterlot, try to keep everything running smoothly so the Princesses could worry about the, you know, war."

Diamond Tiara clenched her jaw so tightly, she could've bitten down on a lump of coal to make a new gem for her eponymous headgear. "You're not leaving."

"Nope."

"And that's just one of the problems."

Silver Spoon hesitantly nodded. "Yeah."

One of Tiara's eyelids began to twitch. "What. Is. The second one?"

"That'd be me."

Silver Spoon was fascinated by the change in her friend's expression. In the space of a second, Tiara went from confusion to indignation, then recognition, and finally utmost terror.

The filly turned to face the speaker. "D-daddy?"

"I've been trying to tell you," Spoon mumbled.

Tiara swallowed. "H-how much did you hear?"

"For future reference, darlin'," answered Filthy Rich, "never ever ask that question. Makes it clear y've said somethin' y' did'n' want overheard. T' answer th' question, Ah got here about when y' were tellin' Silver Spoon Ah'd gone, how'd ya put it? 'Completely insane,' Ah believe?"

Tiara gave a desperate grin and dug her hooftip into the carpetting as coquettishly as she could. "Eh heh, well, you know, I'm still your silly little filly sometimes..."

Her father seemed less than charmed. He simply clapped his forehooves twice. A grey unicorn came trotting into the room. "Yes, Mr. Rich?"

"Argent, could you do me th' favor of escortin' mah daughter back to our estate?"

The servant considered this for a moment. He glanced at Silver Spoon. "Do you require me for anything, Young Mistress?"

The filly considered her friend, nearly paralyzed with fear, and her friend's father, giving her a look that reminded her how he was only a few generations removed from plain, simple country folk who settled matters in the plain, simple country manner of bucking them into submission. She shook her head.

Argent nodded. "Then I have no prior engagement. Come along, Miss Tiara." Rather than wait for the filly, he simply hoisted her into the air, encapsulated in his metal-tinted magic. For her part, Diamond Tiara thrashed, wailed, and generally made a nuisance of herself, but could do little suspended as she was.

Filthy Rich watched this tableau until it went out of sight, then nodded to Silver Spoon. "Sorry y' had t' see that, li'l Spoony."

"I-it's okay," she muttered, unable to hide just how much it wasn't in her tone.

The stallion smiled sympathetically. "No, Ah suppose it ain't, is it? Don't you worry none, Tiara'll be fine. It's high time she started appreciatin' what bein' a pillar o' th' community's really about." He ruffled her mane affectionately. "Give mah regards t' your father. An' if y' could tell 'im Ah'll have t' cancel our polo match this Saturday, Ah'd be much obliged."

Not trusting her voice, Silver Spoon simply nodded.

"Good girl. Have a nice day, now." Mr. Rich made for the exit.

Easy for you to say, thought the filly. You're not the one who just betrayed your best friend.

---

Spiral Fracture, Ponyville's premiere pediatrician, shook his head as he tried to get his wife to see reason. "Emily, please! I'm doing this for you!"

The white-coated earth mare with a limp black mane sighed and smiled. "Don't you think I'm trying to do the same thing?"

"They need doctors," insisted Spiral. "Authors should get out of town while they can."

Emily rolled her eyes and shifted her flank so her husband could better see her cutie mark, an open book with a question mark on the left page and an exclamation point on the right. "Dear, I'm Em White Shyamenthol. Aliens are actually invading. It'd be like telling Steeple King to run away when a carriage came to life and started running down ponies."

Spiral nickered impatiently. "Emmy, I don't think these aliens will invade in the nude, nor will they treat water like acid."

She just shrugged. "Hay, you never know." Her expression grew serious. "Besides, Twist's too young to travel on her own."

Judging from the doctor's open-mouthed expression, realization had struck him like a sudden blow to the crotch. "Where is she?"

"Twist? I thought she was..." Terror dawned on the suspense writer. "...with you."

---

"Twitht Thyamenthol reporting for duty!" The filly snapped off a passable salute.

Lyra facehoofed. "Sweetie, I admit I've let a few ponies lie about their age a little, but you're really pushing it."

The bespectacled foal pouted. "But, but I can help thupply the armory! Look!" She fished a baggie out of her saddlebags.

"That's really nice of you, Twist, but—" Lyra's tongue halted as she took hold of the offered sack. She could feel the magic within pushing against her own telekinesis.

Twist gave a sheepish smile. "I jutht made the one ath an ekthperiment, but it wath tho thimple. I know I thouldn't want to make thomething tho nathty, but..."

The unicorn nodded as she extracted the bolt. It was a smooth, cylindrical obelisk of peppermint, tapering to a point not unlike a pencil. Quite unlike a pencil, when fired from a crossbow, it would explode in an icy burst on contact, encasing whatever it struck in frigid, sinus-excoriating sugar crystal.

"You didn't fletch it." It wasn't a criticism, more a thought that tumbled from Lyra's lips as she recovered from her surprise.

The filly looked down, not seeming to recognize this. "I don't have a lot of pegathuth friendth, and Thcootaloo hath enough trouble flying ath it ith, and I couldn't tell a grown-up what I wath doing—"

"And your parents would know if you opened up your pillow?"

Twist took a step back and looked up at the mare in awe. "How'd you know?"

Lyra smirked. "You're not the first filly to try enchanting stuff under everypony's muzzles." She shifted to a scowl. Such talent, but so young... The agent sighed as she came to a decision. "Are your parents staying in Ponyville?"

Twist shrugged. "I thnuck out while they were trying to convinthe each other to go."

Lyra nodded. "I've been seeing a lot of that. Well, if you can get the permission of whoever stays, I'll see about an apprenticeship with Miss Dulcinea."

"You mean your very thpecial thomepony?" the filly asked innocently.

The mare gave her a hopeless smile. "Not after I try telling her she'll be training a filly in combat confectionery."

---

Once Spike had awakened, Rarity and he continued their work on her pet project, what she had dubbed the "living accessory." Some manner of event had engaged the town, judging by the sheer volume of hoof traffic outside, but neither paid it much mind.

Unfortunately, it came to pass that the delightful bubble of pony, dragon, and design would have to be breached simply because they lacked all the necessary components. That meant shopping, and that meant a disguise.

Spike frowned as he considered Rarity's plan. "Are you certain that this will work, Milady?"

"Well, it doesn't really make a difference, does it?" she noted. "The fact of the matter is that we need these supplies to realize my vision."

"I could go in your stead," Spike offered.

"That's very sweet of you, darling, but I'd still need to come in order to maintain the spell." The fashionista gave a toss of her mane. "No, I shall go on my own." With that, her horn flared with a burst of sapphire light.

When Spike's vision cleared, he beheld Rarity in her unaltered glory. A strange conflict gripped his heart. This was the paragon of beauty who he'd been privileged to know for roughly two years, and yet from his current vantage point, she seemed... small. Weak. Almost childlike. While her bipedal form was a thing of sleek grace and elegant lines, this equine shape was... not. At least, not nearly as much. It was like watching a goddess turn herself into a marshmallow.

The mare, of course, wasn't privy to these thoughts, and thus asked, "Spike? I didn't miss something with the illusion, did I?"

The dragon shook his head. "No, no. 'Tis a flawless recreation, Milady. I..." He felt his cheeks warm. "I just prefer you as you are now."

Rarity smiled and moved towards her dear friend. Spike felt an invisible hoof affectionately pressed against his chest. "It's just for an hour or so, my dear. I'll be back before you know it."

He bowed. "As you say, Milady."

The mare gave an impish grin. "And I do." With that, she left the Boutique, taking Spike's heart with her.

---

There is a fable of a captain of the Royal Guard whose devotion to duty was so great that she refused to pass on to the Summer Lands. Instead, she became a ghost, her loyalty to the Princess too great for even death to end. This was understandably rather disturbing for her fellow guardsponies. As such, Celestia placed the captain in the night sky, so that she could keep watch over all of Equestria and the recruits could leave their barracks without getting the horseapples scared out of them.

This is a fairly young fable. Luna was never said to be the one who transformed spirit to stars; she was sealed in the moon when the tale was born. However, even a story only centuries young is like a pearl: Beneath the shimmering, mucousy layers of narrative, there is a tiny, irritating grain of truth. There certainly is a constellation the ponies call the Pegasus, but that is not the core truth of the fable.

The core truth is that there really is an eye in the sky watching over Equestria. Her coat is a white as pure as a crusader's conviction. Her mane is a blend of gold, copper, bronze, and rust that, like that crusade, inevitably ends in blood crimson. On each of her flanks is a sword colored and faceted as though carved from ruby. Her name is Vigilance, her full title Mi Milite Vigilanza XXXI, Princess of Battles. She has been in geostationary orbit over Equestria since shortly after she inherited the mantle of Princess Mi Milite from her mother, some four hundred eighty seven years ago.

Vigilance XXX's diplomatic triumphs had made war in or against Equestria almost unthinkable, so her daughter had decided her duty was to keep watch for those who would demonstrate that "almost" was a far cry from "never." Enhancing her eyesight would be easier than three-sixty scrying, so she placed herself at a vantage point where all of Equestria could be in her field of vision.

If asked, Vigilance would insist that she has been doing an exemplary job for nearly half a millennium, despite certain recent signs to the contrary. Nightmare Moon had zipped by her at the speed of night, and she wouldn't have been able to do much against her mad great-to-the-twenty-ninth-aunt anyway. Discord didn't count, as he'd been inside Equestria's borders already. The changelings were, well, changelings. You couldn't expect Vigilance to look askance on ponies walking into Equestria, could you? And the Diamond Dogs were tunnelers. She was on the edge of space.

Look, the point was that griffins and dragons and all the other threats that had the decency to fight fair hadn't been an issue. Right? Right. Get off her case. Sheesh.

...

She heard that!

As far as anypony else in the know was concerned, Vigilance had needed to take a break by the first century and at this point was suffering from a complete lost of perspective, if not sanity.

Drifting through the edges of the atmosphere and the depths of denial, the alicorn didn't anticipate what happened next. Vij?

In space, nopony can hear a scream. Vigilance was thus able to preserve her dignity. After a moment, she remembered how to reply to a telepathic message. Who is this?

You don't know?

Long-neglected memories stirred in the alicorn's mind. Oh. Right. Still kicking, then?

As are you, the other mind noted drily. You're needed.

Yes. Up here.

You're needed on the surface. We've got a war brewing.

What!? Vigilance visually swept Equestria's edges. With who?

Come down. Prudence's filly will tell you.

Vigilance blinked. Pru passed the torch?

More than two centuries ago. Are you going to come down, or do I have to come up there and get you?

The mare rolled her eyes. Alright, alright, I'm coming. She spun a half somersault, flapped her wings once, then folded them and righted herself. The thrust would send her careening downwards, She smiled. Heh. Rainboom incoming. Civvies ain't gonna know what hit 'em.

There have been three in the past decade, two of them in the past eighteen months.

Vigilance fought the urge to open her mouth in shock. That way lay bugs in her teeth. What.

Same pony, no less. Her sister was clearly enjoying her reaction. The Bearer of Loyalty.

Vigilance felt an eyelid twitch. I've got several minutes worth of free fall here. Tell me what I've missed.

Why don't I tell you what you haven't? It'll take much less time.

Don't think I can't still beat you into a paste, Mi Finale Temperanza.

Oh, fine, Temperance mock-grumbled. Prudence will cover the basics. She's better at this sort of thing.

---

Every Nightmare Night, the grand hall of Castle Canterlot was transformed into one of the most impressive haunted houses in Equestria. The decorators, Razor Pinion decided, would've had a field day with what had become of the main room of the Ponyville library. Hay, Sergeant Crystal was even taking notes for them. "Do you have to do that?" he asked her.

Liquid Crystal looked up from her notepad and quirked an eyebrow at the pegasus. "I don't know about you, Private, but I don't want to commit any more of this place to memory than I absolutely have to."

"Not that." Razor nodded towards his superior's eyes. "Do you have to drop your threat detection spell every time you write something?"

"Yes, actually," replied Liquid. "Otherwise the notepad's just a washed-out square of green. Besides, it's not like I shut it down completely. I just let it go passive. If something dangerous does pop up, so does the spell." As if to demonstrate, green energy covered her eyes once more.

Razor tensed, his eyes darting about the room. "What is it!?"

"Motion detected outside of my field of vision." Liquid let the magic guide her gaze. "Wasn't that bust pointed towards the door?"

The stallion looked at the central desk. The carved head that adorned it appeared to be looking right at them. Razor Pinion opened his mouth, but only a faint squeak emerged.

"Now don't—"

In the blink of an eye, the private vaulted from one end of the room to the other, the bust toppling along with him.

"...Panic." Liquid sighed. "Well, congratulations, Private. You killed a table."

Her sarcasm fell flat as black ooze started seeping out of the cleft furniture. "Sun and Moon, you really did kill the table!" Warnings crowded against one another in the unicorn's vision, vying for her attention. Soon flashing alerts overwhelmed her actual sight, forcing her to fully drop the spell. "Razor, do not under any circumstances touch that goop."

"We've got a bigger problem than that, Sarge."

Liquid hesitated. Gone was the stallion's earlier nervousness. In its place was grim determination. "What is it?"

"The doorway's gone," Razor said matter-of-factly.

Before the mare could ask for clarification, the room's sickly lighting began to dim. The reason became obvious once she looked at the walls. "The tree's growing over the windows."

"I'm guessing this isn't typical tree behavior?"

"No, it isn't." Liquid willed her horn brighter. It would soon be their only source of illumination. "Get back over here, Private. I want somepony watching my six."

"Likewise, Ma'am." Razor's hoofsteps echoed strangely in the increasingly enclosed space. "What's the plan?"

The sergeant had already been assembling the rudiments. "We head upstairs, observe as much as we can, then cut our way out. The trunk should be thinner up there."

"Um, Sarge?"

"I know," Liquid groused, "I'd rather not rely on a 'should' either, but it's the best idea I have."

"Not that."

"Well what, then?"

Unease crept back into Razor's voice. "You know how pegasi have built-in altimeters?"

The mare cut short a sigh. This was no time to beat around the bush! "Out with it, Private."

"We're sinking."

At that, the library's burgeoning awareness decided to drop the pretense and just engulfed the two ponies in its surprisingly malleable tissue, ferrying them to the basement laboratory like two giant globs of glucose. The mistress and/or the young master would surely return, as they always had, and they would surely be delighted to find new test subjects waiting for them.

In the meantime, the library was steadily reading its own contents. Surely its masters wouldn't mind if it did some prep work for them, just to save them some time. If nothing else, it liked to think of itself as conscientious.

---

Deep within New Phyrexia, beneath the Furnace Layer where the living and the dead were remade into things that were neither, there was a system of pipes and aqueducts, filled with and ferrying the glistening oil.

Stretching like a blightwidow's web over the Furnace (for the plane's gravity almost always pulls you towards its outer shell,) this system of conduits was, for lack of a better term, the life's work of Kraynox, the Deep Thane. An enormous, oil-slicked collection of countless limbs, Kraynox had never emerged from within the plane to do battle with the Mirrans, content to allow his competitors to tire themselves out with such frivolities. Instead, he focused on what was truly important: Restoring the glory of Old Phyrexia.

The glistening oil had much to teach in that regard. It was not just loaded with the imperative to divide and grow and the schematics for countless machines of war, but also a sort of tangible ancestral memory. From his time in communion with the oil, Kraynox had gathered much information, and he was hard at work applying it. Let the other thanes jockey for ephemeral gains in power. Ultimately, he would triumph.

"Ooh, what's this?"

The Deep Thane roused himself from his meditation in a body of glistening oil half as deep as he was tall. Some... thing was admiring one of his greatest works. "You behold my Orrery, stranger," he rumbled.

"Neat." Pinkie Pie twirled it again. Nine nested half-spheres spun about a shared axis taller than she was when standing on her hind legs. Five orbiting orbs traced their own paths about the assembly. "But aren't there only three, maybe four layers tops?"

Kraynox felt a glow of satisfaction not unlike that from completing a new strand of his oil layer. A willing audience! "It shows not Phyrexia as it is, but as it should be."

"Oh." Pinkie nodded. "Well, the math checks out."

Kraynox blinked. This took some time, as his eyes were as plentiful as his limbs. "How do you mean?"

"Well, if you want to recreate Phyrexia One, then nine layers is kind of a must." The pony turned a speculative eye towards the pipes and sluices overhead. "Certainly explains that plumber's nightmare. You're working your way to the Fifth Sphere."

The Many-Legged suppressed a shudder of ecstasy. He knew not from where this mad prophet had come, but he'd be a fool to not avail himself of her services. "What more can you tell me of Old Phyrexia?"

Pinkie gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't have even told you that much!"

"I implore you, stranger," said the thane, "share what has been lost to all others."

The mare shook her head. "No can do. It's like the proverb says: 'Give a pony a match and he'll be warm for a minute. Set a pony on fire and he'll be warm for a lifetime.'"

Kraynox put his threats of physical harm on hold as he considered this saying. "So... you are going to give me the tools necessary for me to discover the knowledge I desire on my own?"

"No, I'm just going to set you on fire."

"Whuh—AAAAAAAAGH!"

"See, that's the thing," noted Pinkie, watching as the fire travelled up the support strut next to Kraynox's wading pool. "Oil's kinda flammable." The gloom of the Furnace began to lift a little as flames criss-crossed the incomplete fourth layer of New Phyrexia. "Honestly, I barely even have to try with you guys. I just have to take advantage of your work safety violations."

"Really, now."

"Yeah," the pony said, pausing only when she recalled that she'd been largely talking to herself. She turned and looked into a mouth wider than her entire body. It was closed around her tail.

"Up here."

Pinkie followed the tip and found a humanoid torso grafted onto the mouth-monster's back. Judging from the chest bumps, it was female...ish. Judging from the dramatic set of horns, it probably wasn't very nice.

"So," Sheoldred said quietly. "You double-cross Geth, mortify Azax-Azog, and immolate Kraynox." She pursed her fingers. "On the one hand, you're a clear and obvious danger that should be eliminated with extreme prejudice." The praetor smiled. Somehow, the spotless, perfectly ordinary set of human teeth was more disturbing in this place of grime and corruption than her lower mouth's fangs. "On the other, you've eliminated half my competition."

She bent down, grabbed a handful of Pinkie's tail, and hauled up the mare so that they were face-to-face. "I think we need to talk."

Pinkie squirmed. The arm holding her might have been armored in lead, but the grip was solid iron. Might as well make herself comfortable. "Do you know any songs?"

---

Invisible to all eyes but the narrator's, Discord considered the scene before him. "So," he said to himself, "we have the ambitious changeling, the cunning pony, the charismatic minotaur (doo-dah, doo-dah,) and the vain dragon. And then there's you." He was apparently addressing a brightly colored rubber ball lying in the middle of the largest patch of poison joke in the world. The draconequus sighed. "And it seemed like such a good idea at time..."

Truth be told, he'd had almost no say where his Elements had gone. Each seemed to have a mind of its own in that regard, recognizably his, yet skewed to a particular extreme. The Element of Mischief, it seemed, had all of his lighthearted sadism but none of his capacity for forethought. Sure, the plant was the poster seedling for laughter at the expense of others, but anything with half a brain was familiar with its effects, and he'd already met his pony quota. Anything foolish enough to wade into nearly an acre of the weird weed wouldn't be Bearer material. Certainly not after symptoms started manifesting.

Discord perked up as an idea struck him. "Might just be crazy enough to work," he muttered. It wouldn't be easy, but with four out of six activated, he might be able to pull it off. Scrunching up his face in concentration, the embodiment of chaos forced as much power as he could through his tenuous connection to the dormant Element.

At first, nothing happened. Gradually, a faint golden aura formed around the ball. The cheerful colors darkened, faint tendrils of corrupt thaliamancy licking out like the prominences of a black sun.

The aura quickly dissipated with no further visible developments. Discord wiped his brow with exaggerated effort, apparently satisfied. "Phew! I'm going to feel that one tomorrow."

The ball swelled, then exploded in a shower of confetti.

The draconequus beamed and pumped a fist in triumph. "Ha! Worth it!" He vanished from even omniscient sight, a side effect of leaving the area. Meanwhile, the plants touched by the burst Element began to visibly twist and writhe.

---

Peppermint Arbalest 2
Artifact — Equipment
Equipped creature doesn't untap during its controller's untap step.
Equipped creature has "T: This creature deals 1 damage to target creature. That creature doesn't untap during its controller's next untap step."
Equip 4

Bookworm Nexus
Land
Bookworm Nexus enters the battlefield tapped.
You have no maximum hand size.
T: Add 1 to your mana pool.
6: Until end of turn, Bookworm Nexus becomes a Treefolk artifact creature with infect and "This creature's power and toughness are each equal to the number of cards in your hand." It's still a land.

Comments

[DreadedCandiru2]

All this is quite good but it does leave me with the question of what Twilight is doing. Oh, wait. That's what the next chapter is for, isn't it?

[rabidchoco]

Your rendition of Phyrexia is just as nightmarish as depicted in the cards, despite its current-- Oh wait, I think I've already said that. Still, methinks you're hitting critical mass with the creep factor. And again, even moreso considering where they're invading. Never thought I'd cheer for Discord.

[Tsujin Rilauco]

I'm usually able to follow or surmise the strategy behind your end chapter cards, but this Peppermint Arbalest has me a touch confused.

I can think of more than a few ways around that first effect, but I'd rather know what your intent was.

So, FOME, what is your intended use of this card?

[FanOfMostEverything]

1589243 "Wake up, Trixie! Today is the first day of the rest of your research!"

1589867 When you say I'm hitting critical mass, is that a good thing or a bad thing? Not sure if you want me to back off on the grimdark or not...

1591574 Basically, it's a riff on Heavy Arbalest that exchanges some damage potential for tempo advantage. While it can be used to pick off weenies, it will be more useful locking down giant threats. So much more useful that I felt the "doesn't untap" clause from its parent card needed to be retained.

[rabidchoco]

1592474 Phyrexia is supposed to be nightmare fuel, plain and simple. Toning back on the grimdark would lessen the impact... so I'd have to say the "critical mass" is a good thing. And like I said, it's doubly effective given the perceived innocence of Equestria. And I'm just gonna... find a corner... and cower for a few minutes.

[DreadedCandiru2]

1592474
Crap. Let's hope for a twist ending that has Ditzy prevent all this.

[Tsujin Rilauco]

Ah, thanks for clearing that up for me. I feel your version would actually be quite a bit more useful than its parent.

[That_one_guy]

Discord weaponized Poison Joke just now, didn't he? Well shit.

Loving your descriptions of Phyrexia. Beautiful and terrible to behold.

[QueenMoriarty]

And now we need bullet points.

-for all that you go on about the multiple plotlines being distracting, I think the near-constant fandom jokes are even more distracting
-and then we immediately sprout a Filthy Rich subplot that makes me backpedal on that statement
-Freakin' Shyamalan-pony. Because the constant metanarrative wasn't enough, we have to completely remove all tension for an entire scene to make movie jokes that a bunch of people won't get because of that insanely mangled horse-pun name. And now Twist is the daughter of a pediatrician and a pretentious writer. Because of course.
-Up to two alicorn OCs now, possibly three if the pretentious Latin name is any indication, one of whom is the most inefficient spy satellite of all time. Seriously, how would she not notice a rainboom?
-Took me several seconds to remember who the guards patrolling the library were. This right here is the point where the story has too many characters.
-And another several seconds to remember the ambitious changeling, but I blame that one on Thorax.

Sorry that this one's less criticism and more 'Everything Wrong With'. This chapter just kind of reached a critical mass.

[Malandy]

... How did Vij not notice Rainbow's Rainbooms? I guess they're hard to discern from that high up?

[FanOfMostEverything]

7609183
Vigilance watches the borders, not the heartland. Also, spending that long in orbit doesn't do you any favors in terms of alertness.

[Chyre]

Lyra nodded. "I've been seeing a lot of that. Well, if you can get the permission of whoever stays, I'll see about an apprenticeship with Miss Dulcinea."

Is that a reference to Oh to Be Old Again that I see there?