Interlude Part Two: Something Rises
"I'm back."
White Quill looked over her shoulder at the pony who'd spoken. The earth pony Old Iron may have been getting on in years, but he was solidly built, and impressively bearded. Twenty years the unicorn's senior, his coat was gray, and his mane, beard, and tail a rust red, although most of his body was covered by a heavy jacket to keep out the chill of the frozen north. He was also the only other pony for miles, and the unicorn scholar was lucky enough to have anyone else with her on what most ponies would consider a fool's errand.
Chasing a legend, one older than Equestria itself.
"Have our guides changed their minds yet?" the white unicorn asked as she turned back towards the structure ahead.
Old Iron stated, flatly, "No. I didn't expect them to: The yaks are many things, and traditionalists is chief among them. That thing ahead is considered cursed, forbidden, and dangerous. There isn't enough money in the world to convince them to come any closer, let alone what we've paid them. They won't come within ten miles of it. They said they'll wait where they are for three days, but after that, they'll be turning back, with or without us." After a moment, he added, "Can't say I blame them. That... thing gives me a bad feeling, even from this far off."
White Quill pulled out her binoculars, and studied the object again. You couldn't consider it a castle, fortress, or palace, as that would imply it looked pony-made. Instead, it seemed more like a rock formation that happened to have formed in a vaguely building-like shape. A building of black crystals, shot through with veins of red, it stood out in the ice and snow that surrounded it. It was sitting out here as far north as a pony could go before they would start going south again
'Black as night, red as blood, a fortress at world's end, stay well away from this foul place, you'll surely die my friend.' Just like in the legends. The place where the hero did battle against the First Evil, or at least so she hoped. It looked deserted, although the glowing red veins of those black stones implied that something might still reside there...
And the chill that ran down her spine every time she looked at it told her that, even now, this was not a place for any being who treasured their life.
But she couldn't just turn back now: She'd staked her entire career as a scholar on being able to find this place. If she left now, she'd be a laughingstock. The legend of the hero who slew the first evil was perhaps the oldest legend, predating Equestria, and possibly even the first Equine civilizations. Everypony dismissed it as a fairy tale, like the legend of Gusty the Great's battle against Grogar. Presenting evidence, indisputable proof that the legend was true, would make White Quill the most lauded archaeologist on the planet. She'd need to get closer, so she could take photos, maybe find a relic or two to bring back...
Quickly in, and quickly out: What could possibly go wrong?
Little did she know that those five words were etched into thousands of tombstones the world over.
White Quill picked up her knapsack, slung it across her shoulders, and turned around to address Old Iron again. "Let's go."
"This was a terrible idea."
Literally just five minutes after they'd stepped inside.
White Quill ignored Old Iron's comment. He'd repeated that same statement at least three times already in the last five minutes, and it was just as irritating now as it was the first time... especially since she couldn't possibly agree more. The moment that they'd stepped through the doorway, the veins on the wall had pulsed brightly, and the stone had suddenly closed behind the pair, trapping them inside. Since then, they'd tried navigating the halls, seeing doorways open and close as they approached. The pair were clearly being herded, but there was no option other than to continue moving: The one time they'd tried to stop, dozens of spikes had sprung from the floor, walls, and ceiling, making it clear that delay would not be tolerated.
They continued to hustle down the corridors of the fortress, doors slamming shut behind them every few seconds. Clearly, something was waiting for the pair at the end of this path, but somehow, White Quill doubted it was going to be Fufu the Huggy Bunny.
Finally, the two turned a corner, and entered a massive courtyard. For the first time since they'd entered this place, they found normal soil and grass, rather than black stone, beneath their hooves, and the sun shone down on them from above. More surprisingly, the courtyard was as warm as a pleasant spring day. But all of that paled in comparison to what the pair saw in the center of the courtyard
A sword, plunged point first into the ground. A magnificent sword, with a blade that shone with a brilliant white light. No, it couldn't be...
"The Sword of Destruction..."
White Quill immediately began walking towards it, all concerns about her safety forgotten. Here it was, the legendary sword itself, the blade that struck down the First Evil. It looked just like how the legends described. If she could take this back, show it to the other archaeologists at the Equestrian Archaeological Society, she...
"Touching that is a really bad idea," Old Iron stated, bluntly, suddenly snapping the mare back to reality. "This is obviously a trap. The moment you touch that thing, something awful will happen. Maybe even every awful thing that could ever happen to a pony."
White Quill turned back towards Old Iron, and raised a hoof to argue... then paused, placed her hoof against her chin for a second, then admitted, "Yeah, you're right. Nothing good could possibly come from touching that thing." Taking her knapsack off, she began digging around inside of it. "I can just take a picture of it. Once I've explained the circumstances, I'm sure that the old boys at the Equestrian Archaeological Society will accept it. We can come back with a real expedition, with enough backup to make sure that, whatever happens, we can go home with that sword..."
With her back turned, and with her body blocking Old Iron's view of the blade, neither one of them noticed a tiny drop of black fluid emerge from the ground where the sword was planted, and suddenly zip through the grass in a long, curved path, careful to keep well out of sight and away from the scholar. As White Quill finally succeeded in finding her camera and turned back towards the sword, the droplet reached Old Iron, and shot up his leg, in an instant entering his ear before the stallion even noticed it was there. The stallion's body went very still, his eyes glazing over, and his last breath exiting his lungs with a quiet hiss.
After finally lining up a proper shot, White Quill took a few pictures, then began putting the camera away. "There we go," the scholar said, smiling. "I'm no Photo Finish, but I think that'll do the job." Turning back towards Old Iron, she added, "And I found my grappling hook. My dad always said that, if you were ever to go on an archaeological expedition, you should carry one. That or a whip, but I'm not that kind of girl. Anyway, I think we might be able to scale the walls from here. It might be tricky, getting across the roof, but..."
She stopped, noting her associate's odd posture and vacant expression. And... weren't his eyes brown before, not red? "Old Iron, is something wrong?"
Seeming to notice White Quill for the first time, the stallion turned towards her. "Oh, I'm fine," he said, his voice sounding... off. "Just a little bit hungry." Then Old Iron opened his mouth wide, and...
Then fingers emerged from his mouth, took a good grip, and forced his mouth open even wider. As White Quill watched in horror and revulsion, first two hands, then four, then eight emerged, all of them forcing the stallion's mouth impossibly wide, to the point that a pony's head could fit inside.
And then the mare saw something inside his mouth. Something with blood red eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth.
"Care to help me with that, dumpling?" the First Evil asked, its voice dripping honey and malice in equal measure.
Before Quill could react, run, or scream, an arm shot out with speed enough to put a bullet to shame, and a hand with a grip like iron grabbed the scholar by the throat. With equal speed, the arm retracted, pulling the mare in. The hands holding the stallion's mouth open retracted, and his mouth closed shut with a snap.
For several seconds, the sounds of muffled screams were heard inside of the stallion's body, and for a brief moment, his side bulged, as if something here pushing its face against the inside of his skin in an effort to get out. Then, there was a muffled snap, and the screams grew louder. Then a second snap, and a third, each one punctuated by an increase in volume. Then, with a final crunch, the screaming stopped, and was shortly after followed by a sound that was disgustingly similar to someone sucking a thick milkshake through a straw. When the sound finally stopped, the stallion's head hung low, almost as if asleep.
Then, a horn sprouted from his forehead. After a moment, it traveled downward, cutting his face open with a sound like a knife cutting through wet cloth, and didn't stop until it went down to about mid-chest. Then, two hooves emerged from the opening, and pulled his skin open, revealing a blood drenched White Quill... or at least, something that looked a little bit like White Quill. But it didn't walk or hold itself like her, and White Quill certainly didn't have red eyes.
Taking a moment to shake itself off, it moved over towards Quill's knapsack, and dug around until it found a mirror. It took a few seconds to study itself, then shook its head in irritation and said to itself, "Pathetic. Why did the first mare to come here in eons have to be somepony this... plain, and pudgy. You'd think that somepony who'd venture out this far would at least be in decent shape. I'll have to make a few adjustments..."
Closing its eyes, it went to work. First, the mare's stomach retracted as a freshman fifteen that had stayed on well after senior year (and candor forces us to admit doubled in the years after) vanished, along with any other excess fat across the body. Then, muscle began to tone, until her body took on a panther-ish look of grace and fitness that would normally require a lifetime gym membership, at least two personal trainers, and more granola bars in the place of regular meals than even a pony could tolerate. Finally, the mare's facial structure began to change, going from average to attractive, and then to jaw-droppingly gorgeous.
Looking itself in the mirror again, it said, "It's a start. But certainly not enough." It stretched, and its limbs began to lengthen, and she grew taller, her body changing until it had reached alicorn proportions, yet still kept its highly athletic tone and angelic beauty. "Much better," it said, before regarding its reflection again. "But the color scheme will have to go: White on white is so not my color."
It opened its mouth, and a black fluid emerged, flowing backwards over her body, changing its coat to an inky black, and her mane and tail a smoky gray. As an afterthought, the mane and tail lengthened considerably, going from the short bob cut that the scholar had preferred to a long, silky waterfall of smoke-colored hair that went down to the tops of her hooves. Finally, the fluid flowed over her cutie mark, erasing it. A moment later, a new mark appeared, a red hand, an eye sitting in its palm.
"Much better," it said to itself as it admired its handiwork. "I think I can work with this." After all, it had learned that mortals seemed much more vulnerable to a beautiful female than most any other creature, no matter how obviously evil they looked. In fact, the obviously evil appearance seemed even more of a turn on for most. It would be a while before it regained its full strength, but for now, the First Evil had flesh of its own again.
After a moment, it turned towards the Sword of Destruction, and opened its mouth. Again, an arm shot out, and its hand grasped the weapon by the hilt. The arm retracted, drawing the sword inside. Best not to leave that thing lying about. That blasted weapon had caused enough trouble the first time around. While it couldn't be destroyed, it would be well out of reach to anyone, housed in the First Evil's stomach.
It chuckled a little at that last thought. 'The First Evil'. How amusing. How languages change over time. Before being the First Evil, it was The Source Of All Evil. And before that, it was The Origin Of All Evil. And before that, That Which Gave Birth To The Great Evils. But before even that, at the very beginning of it all, was its favorite name of all.
The Mother Of All Evils. And as the name implied, she was one bad mother...
Her stomach grumbling, The Mother Of All Evils frowned in annoyance. It had been ages since she'd had a proper meal, and two little ponies weren't nearly enough to sate an appetite that could depopulate an entire city in one sitting. 'Well,' she thought with a smile, 'there's a few yaks a little ways away, according to Old Iron's and White Quill's memories. A delightful little appetizer. And a bit further off, there was a whole lovely city full of yaks to play with, before sitting down to a proper meal...'
Then, the evil paused, cleared her throat a few times, then belched out a skull, its shape indicating it had belonged to an earth pony. A moment later, a second followed, this time belonging to a unicorn. After several minutes, and two full skeletons, she finally quit. 'Blech', she thought to herself, 'that's what happens when you don't properly chew your food before swallowing.'
A pair of pained moans began to emerge from the vicinity of its stomach. In annoyance, it turned towards the offending organ, and snapped, "Shut up. You two will have plenty to keep you company shortly." Mortals. Sheesh. Swallow their souls, and all they did was complain, complain, complain about how much being digested hurt. And they only complained louder when it finally came time for them to be... released. She doubted that even the most pessimistic mortal expected to spend their afterlife at the bottom of an outhouse, or however they disposed of solid waste these days...
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It's been a long time since I last said it, but... NEW CHAPTER UP!!!
This is the best day ever.....
You had to do it. XD
Nice
On one hand, yay, you're back!
On the other, you're frikkin evil.
Huh, I must be messed up in the head just enough to find having my soul turned into literal shit hilarious. Either that, or I must have met Discord and forgotten about it.
8739860
I think a bigger part of it is the fact that in western culture, a spear is primarily a symbol of... ahem, masculinity. So, the symbolism of using a spear to kill something, at least in the older legends, was that you were f!cking whatever it is to death. Meanwhile, The sword symbolizes power, protection, authority, strength, and courage, among other things. While the sword is also a symbol of... ahem, masculinity, it isn't as pronounced a symbol as a spear. A hero using a sword to defeat a monster is often a symbol of how the hero's strength and courage vanquished the foe.
8740158
It was impossible for me to resist.
8740163
Well, the next chapter will get us back to our favorite Overgoat. And lucky you, you won't have to wait over a year to get it
.
I shall now effectively and efficiently summarize the reaction of the general population to this chapter:
"Jesus, dude."
Yup... that was a thing. Two thumbs up. Would definitely approve of not going off to look for scary things.
8740186
Hey, I had to work hard to come up with a villain more evil than Trog-Gob. I mean, the ultimate evil can't be outdone by a mere mortal, it has to be something so awful that it makes even Trog-Gob look insignificant in comparison. So, what's worse than someone who tortures ponies to death? Well, if an afterlife exists, then at least in death, the dead ponies would eventually find release, and be reunited with their loved ones. So, the answer was clear: I needed something that didn't simply make your life a living hell, but also ruined your afterlife in the most horrific way possible. Can you think of anything worse than this? I really hope not.
8740199
I mean, maybe? I'm not gonna try and find out, though, I've seen horror movies!
As soon as I think of it, it'll burst into reality, most likely through my stomach.
This made my day. Also they are a special kind of evil.
Holy shit it's
It's actually back
Praise the sun
8740199
I can think of something, the transformation of one's soul into a tool of said evil, both barring you from reaching the afterlife, while also turning your existence against all you hold dear. Maybe while in the belly of the first evil, the souls in question have corruption adhere to the soul, leaving enough of the soul whole for the individual to see and understand what is happening, but not enough to wrest control of their actions or act, with the corruption controlling them. Then afterwords, the souls are born from the Mother of All Evils as demons, slaves to her will, and if killed, well, the corruption reels the soul back into the Mother to be born over and over again, with the only release being the complete obliteration of the soul.
IT LIVESSS!
ITS ALIVE!!
2.bp.blogspot.com/_MOG5U-NGAXc/TRNmN0TF-GI/AAAAAAAAAEk/qY4zlJJ3Yb0/s1600/Fucked_up_story_bro.jpg
8740151
Welcome back brother!
Well, the First Evil better remember not to doodle in the outhouse. That's how the King (and JFK) caught the last guy to go around eating souls and crapping them out.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2017/4/29/1424307__safe_artist-colon-creatorofpony_sunset+shimmer_equestria+girls_3d_cross_jontron_meme_out+of+this+house_solo_source+filmmaker_takeshi%27s+chall.jpeg
>The first evil isn't vegan.
Heh, haven't read a mlp fic in awhile and this story in longer but couldn't resist after seeing this.
The first thing I thought was happening was that quil had stumbled onto the sealing site for their dimension and was going to end up opening it and introducing a third party into the conflict, and thus a pony uprising, before he could gain control over things.
This would, of course, prevent him from ignoring the outside world like he wanted to and bring a pretty big hamper into his planned expansion along with the ever amusing "I'm not evil! No seriously, I'm not! It was the other guy in this body before me that was, not me!" conflict but I'm glad that you went this way instead though I could still see things happening that way depending on how he gets involved.
8740199
Holy shit your back I thought you died or something lol glad to see your back.
8740218
yep, that is a lot more horrible. but not as funny.
choices, choices...
Well will you look at that... This story isn't completely dead after all. Gives me hope for the future of fimfiction as a whole.
*squeals like a stick pig*
Oh, God. I think I'm gonna be sick
Yeah, that's definitely something hard to beat. Well, that and the fact that they're basically still self aware after they were eaten alive.
... who needs to sleep when you have such lovely scene in mind?
8740313
Buddy, that ain't the worst thing I've read or seen, far from it. You consider that stomach churning? You have a weak mind and stomach. Seriously.
8740218
But can it be seen as funny somehow because in all honesty that's one of the things to expect in a Bucking nonsense story?
I rather hope the 'overgoat' finds them and can do something about their new position in afterlife. Just think about it, instant faithful followers.
"So why do you follow him?"
"Our existence was shit."
"I'm certain it wasn't that" *gets caught off*
"No no no I mean literally something ate us and crapped out our souls to spend all eternity as defecated waste not worth their time beyond wiping their @$$ to make certain we didn't cling to it."
"....."
Sees that the is a new chapter to this
I'm hoping for either a scene where the mother of all evils sees THE MIGHTY OVERGOAT! as her son and decides to leave him be, or he consumes her in a surprising and evil twist and says some spine-chilling one-liner
This first evil seems mildly troublesome. Better send Twilight and gang to defeat/befriend it with no support or contingency's whatsoever.
I was rudely woken up by my brother having to get dropped off at work at 5 am, this made happy to be awake.
8740175
To a certain degree, the sword is also a symbol of wealth and status.
The production of high quality metal was a rather strenuous affair, which made good quality items expensive. And a spearhead requires more or less just a well forged tip to be effective, a sword whole body and edges needs to be well made by a experienced Smith (ref. "The ulfberht swords").
Not to mention that a spearhead requires a fraction of the metal a sword needs, thus already making its cost a mere fraction compared to a sword in it self.
The reasons behind the popularity of the ax amongst the Vikings is a couple of things.... easier to wield than a sword and more versatility than a spear, sturdy, can easily be paired with a shield, relatively cheap, multi use tool, and ease of maintenance.
Ps: It lives!
8740313
Tell me about it, it's 6 am and now I've gotta cook something or I'll go crazy.
EDIT: Nevermind, I don't need to defrost any meat. I found some.
8740319
Well, excuse me if I'm not a fan of vore scenes and helpless people getting eaten alive
For the record, I have no problems with scenes of violent death, but I have a rather vivid imagination, so reading about the agony of a character being consumed while she's still alive is not like reading about the same character being beheaded by a sword or simply knowing that she was eaten.
It lives! Praise Odin! Praise Allah! Praise Jesus. Praise Azathoth! Praise Yog-Sothoth! Praise Cthulhu!
8740362
Yes
8740362
you forgot to praise Grogar the Overgoat. Unsubscribled.
I smell Overgoat vs. Handsalot on wwf soon.
Awesome! Here's hoping we get updates on all of your other fantastic works as well. Your work is some of the best comedy on this site.
Quite disturbing.
Say, didn't the Overgoat of tambalon have a reputation of being a necromancer? It would be a shame if all those eaten souls gave this "mommy" a severe case of indigestion...
I'm unable to look away from this story. It's like looking at a horrific accident. Not in that it is badly written, but the sheer amount of horror this chapter instilled in me.
Is this a Fallen London reference? :o
Not like Fufu is much of an improvement...
vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/bloodc/images/8/83/Vlcsnap-2011-10-04-16h57m48s124.png/revision/latest?cb=20111004215819
8740538
(recognizes where that image is from)
8740543
He just wants to hug ya... TO DEATH!!!
It. Is. ALIIIIIVE!!
Gotta say though, the First Evil's frivolous waste of otherwise perfectly good and useful souls is almost silly.
Can't help but think of HIM
ITS ALIVE YESSS