• Published 28th Mar 2016
  • 21,878 Views, 1,610 Comments

ALL GLORY TO THE OVERGOAT!!! - Bucking Nonsense

The most terrible villain Equestria has ever known has returned... with the mind of an extremely eccentric human behind the wheels.

  • ...

THE OVERGOAT RISES... Then Promptly Goes Back To Sleep

A Thousand Years Ago...

Celestia and Luna were not having a good day.

Leaving aside the fact that the two of them had spent the last three moons locked in an enchanted slumber. An enchanted slumber filled with horrendous nightmares fit to give mortal ponies a heart attack. As dreadful as that had been, what they had woken up to had been far worse: The Evil known as Grogar had led an army across Equestria, and had been mere hours from complete victory when the princesses had finally been released from the spell. The two had flown immediately to confront the villain and his army, expecting it to be an easy battle. The fact that they had decimated Grogar's forces in the open seconds of the battle had reinforced that belief. If Grogar had been so cowardly that he would render the two princesses unconscious, rather than face them outright, surely that was a sign that he was weak, that he feared the princesses and could not stand against them.

And then, Grogar himself had taken the field, and the expectations of the two princesses had been shot down as violently as they were themselves. Grogar had not enchanted the princesses because he was afraid of them, he'd enchanted them because that was the easiest way to deal with them while he conquered Equestria. The truth was, Grogar was far stronger than the princesses had ever imagined possible.

No being, not even the other Evils, beings like Grogar, had been anywhere as powerful. He had swatted the two princesses from the sky as if they were flies. And before the two had hit the ground, the vile goat had unleashed a barrage of dark energy fit to wipe a city from face of the world... and continued to release salvos of increasing power, ferocity, and complexity as the two princesses struggled to fend off his relentless assault.

Any attempt to counter-attack, to retreat, to even seek a second's respite, were met with increased fury. He seemed able to predict every move that the princesses made, and responded accordingly. The two alicorns could barely move an inch from where they had landed. Even if there had been time to plan, to form a strategy, to think... it would have been meaningless. Bad enough that Grogar possessed such overwhelming power, but the fact that he was clearly as intelligent as the princesses, if not more so, made him all the more terrible to face.

The two princesses stood at the bottom of a blackened crater, as deep as their palace was tall and more than a mile wide, and blackened and smoking from the forces unleashed by Grogar's assault. The goat himself stood at the edge, looking down upon them as he directed his assault, his face expressionless, his eyes as soulless as a doll, like all of his kind.

Finally, after a seeming eternity, but in truth it was only eight hours of continuous assault, the Evil had stopped his vicious attacks. But now, his intense glare upon the two exhausted alicorns was somehow even worse than the assault that had preceded it. Those red eyes, with their black, rectangular pupils, would have been unnerving on any creature, but the soulless void that lurked behind them granted his glare a kind of gravity, one that almost felt like his eyes could suck a pony's soul right from its breast.

"You have been weighed," Grogar stated, with a voice like an open tomb, dusty, dark and foreboding. Spheres of dark energy formed above the two weary alicorns, first in ones and twos, then in dozens, scores. "You have been measured," the Evil added, as the number of spheres exceeded five hundred, and multiplied ever faster. "And you have been found... wanting," he finished, as thousands, tens of thousands... millions of spheres of dark energy blotted out the sky, each one capable of wiping out a city. "I've toyed with you enough. No more games. It is time to finish this."

Gazing up at the sky, Celestia felt a wave of crushing despair wash over her. If Grogar was capable of this, then there was nothing that could stop him. No force on the planet could match a power like this. In a last gesture of defiance, she fired the last bit of energy she had at the Evil, in a bolt so pitifully weak she almost felt ashamed of it...

It stuck Grogar, surprisingly. A bolt so weak that it could barely tickle an infant was hardly worth noticing, let alone blocking. It struck the small bell that that blue goat wore around his neck, causing it to ring, briefly.

And somewhere, where the Meta-Gods exist, the god of random numbers took notice of this final, desperate move, and pulled out from his celestial robes a D20. He gave it a roll, and then, after taking a moment to make certain that no one was watching, nudged it from a seven to a twenty. "If anyone asks," the deity said to himself (mostly), "that was definitely a natural twenty."

It wouldn't do for anyone to discover that sometimes, even the god of random chance plays favorites...

The smallest of cracks formed on the surface of the bell, and dark energy began to spill from it. As the spheres of energy in the air began to disappear, the Evil looked down upon the bell, a look of horror beginning to come across his face. "What have you done?" He asked, slowly looking towards the princesses. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!"

And then, there was a terrible explosion...

Celestia sprang awake, breathing heavily. After a moment, she calmed herself, then took a moment to take in her surroundings. She looked to her left, and saw nothing out of place. She looked to her right...

"You didn't think this was over, did you?" Grogar asked, his face bare inches from Celestia's. "So long as my body exists, it will never be over."

Celestia sprang awake, for real this time, breathing heavily, her heart hammering in her chest. After making certain that this time, she was well and truly alone, and well and truly awake, she called upon her sister, and told Luna of the dream.

"Another vision?" Luna asked, as the two drank tea on the palace balcony. The last time Celestia had dreamed such a dream, it had heralded the return of Tirek, after all...

"I don't know," Celestia admitted, unhappily. "Most of it was simply memories of that terrible battle. Perhaps it is simply my fears catching up with me: Even with Cadance, Twilight Sparkle, and perhaps one day even little Flurry Heart added to our numbers, and Discord added in for good measure, we would be sorely outmatched, should Grogar ever return." After a moment, she added, "Or perhaps it is guilt I feel, at our inability to rescue those taken captive, and forced to serve as slaves in... that place." It was best not to name Tambelon aloud, or Grogar, its dark master. Evils, even dead ones, would know when their name has been spoken aloud, and the last thing anypony needed was for the mostly dead, but still slightly alive, Evil to be roused simply because somepony had mentioned him or his city in conversation.

"It has been a thousand years," Luna mentioned, her expression grim, "and things long sealed, long forgotten, or long since undone have had a habit of returning recently. Perhaps it might be a good idea to see if the barriers that protect that place have faded enough that we can put things to rest, once and for all."

"As much as I would like to do so," Celestia admitted, sadly, "we dare not risk it. Trying to break through his barriers may just succeed in rousing... him. And the last thing that anypony needs is for that villainous goat to return."


I count it a point of personal pride, that I have trained myself to be able to automatically say that, in my absolute best evil monster/villain/demon voice, whenever I am woken up by anything other than my alarm clock. I started doing that when I was six, and by the time I was eight, I could do it so well that when someone tried to break into the house, and startled me awake, the guy jumped out the window, ran all the way to the police, and turned himself in, confessing to all manner of crimes but insisting that someone call the Vatican, because he was absolutely certain that he'd stumbled upon the Anti-Christ.

Why would I train myself to do something like that? Well, let me ask you this: Why not? Why choose to be ordinary? Why choose to be normal? Why be bland, when you can be extraordinary? Who are you, not to be great? The only thing holding you back is you!

Besides, it's a lot more fun to pretend to be the bad guy, than it is pretending to be the good guy.

Anyway, the point is, something had disturbed my slumber, so, as per my own self-conditioned reflex, I responded in the manner I had long ago deemed appropriate. The only thing different was the response...

"B-B-Bray, oh great one," a voice replied, weakly.

My brain kicked into first gear, and I began reading off the script I had mentally prepared for whenever someone I didn't know woke me. "Well then, Bray, you will do as follows: Draw a bath for me, not too hot, and not too cold. Then, you will gather a score of virgins and have them form a throne for me with their bodies. Finally, you will then prepare me a breakfast of beer and pancakes!"

The voice asked, weakly, "Beer and pancakes, master?"

As my brain entered second gear, I shouted, "Yes, beer and pancakes, knave! For mine is a mighty hunger, and can only be sated by the blood of orphans, or beer and pancakes, and I have given up orphan's blood for Lent!" I don't actually celebrate Lent, but he didn't need to know that.

"At... at once, master," the voice answered, promptly.

"Good," I replied, as my brain started down-shifting. "Now don't disturb me until you are done."

Twenty minutes later, I felt a poke at my side. This time, my brain went to page two of the script.

"Motherfucker, what did I tell you?!" I declared, angrily. "I know you can't have finished all of that this quickly!"

The voice, after a brief pause, said, "The, ah, bath is drawn, master, and the virgins have been assembled and are contorting themselves to make a proper throne for you as we speak. I thought you might want to be roused in time, that you might finish your bath just as the pancakes came off the pan. I doubt that you'd want to eat them cold."

My brain immediately went all the way from Park to Overdrive, and I sat up straight. Even as I did so, my body felt... odd. As I opened up my eyes, I began to say, "You'd better not be fucking with... me..."

The reason my sentence ground to a halt was because I came face to face with a donkey. A donkey who was dressed, inexplicably, like a mix of medieval court jester and medieval knave. I looked down at my hands, and saw, to my shock, that they were now goatish hooves.

'What in the fuck? What in a billion, trillion fucks?'

That was when I decided that I wouldn't drop jager bombs before bed anymore. Three dreams like this one was more than enough.

Author's Note: