I wasn't joking when I said that Trog-Gob wouldn't die without my permission.
Grogar apparently knew a ton of spells that would prevent souls from departing from the physical plane, and some of them bound the soul directly to the body, to the point that even if someone were ground to meal, and then burned to ashes, and then burned again to a finer grade of ash, the poor sap would still be stuck in their physical body.
Of course, I didn't have to actually cast that spell myself. Fun fact about the Eidolon of the Grave: Once it finds the individual or individuals responsible for the deaths of those that make up its body, it won't let its victim die and/or pass on until its wrath has been fully visited upon their target. And when it strikes, it doesn't just hit the body...
...It strikes the soul itself. And you have not felt pain until you've had your soul whipped.
So, in spite of the fact that, by the third lash, most of Trog-Gob's body had been reduced to paste, he was still alive, awake, and screaming... a sound which was almost drowned out by the excited shouts and applause of the ponies watching. They say that the same crowd that cheers at a man's coronation will cheer at his execution, but I'd like to think that if the man in question was a complete asshole, the crowd would cheer a lot louder.
Meanwhile, what was I doing? The best thing I could do at the time: Stay Busy.
Yes, I was aware now that I really was in some kind of fantasy world, and in a body not my own, and if I stopped and thought about it for more than a second, I'd probably freak out, and probably not stop freaking out for several hours. However, that was not going to get me anywhere, and I was hardly someplace that would allow me the time to have a safe and proper freakout like I would have wanted. So, to keep myself from thinking about my current situation, I had to think about something, anything else.
Thus, I was reading over an interesting little black book that one of Trog-Gob's servants had given me. The servant in question had seen this book, and where it was hidden, which was why she had been one of the poor souls chosen to become a part of today's festival, in spite of her being illiterate. It turned out that my timing had been supremely fortuitous for her: A 'necro-pony' (No, I hadn't given the Eidolon of the Grave the idea, it turns out that necromorph type ponies are actually a standard type of undead here. Who knew?) had spawned just as she was getting trussed up for her turn in a 'fun' game of 'Guess Where The Red Hot Poker Will Go Next', basically a game of roulette combined with agonizing torture. And no, none of the places the poker will go are any fun at all for the pony. The Trogs who had been taking part got to find out how things went from the other side of the equation, though...
"I cannot possibly thank you enough for bringing this to me, Number Eighty-Seven," I said, as I went over the blackest little black book in history. "This will be absolutely indispensible in the days to come. Consider yourself on the palace staff: I could use a go-getter like yourself at the palace." I was honestly giving though to taking in every pony here: The palace definitely needed the staff, and given that the 'Festival' had been held only a day after the last of Trog-Gob's crops had been harvested, there really wasn't any reason to keep the ponies here. I could have all the feed and seed gathered up and moved to the palace within a couple of days, according to Bray, nevermind all the other loot. With Trog-Gob dead, there really wasn't anyone else to inherit the place, so I'd be free to... bestow it upon any Trog who managed to earn my favor.
The mare, a ginger-colored waif with a black mane, blushed deeply and bowed. "You honor me, master," she said as she raised her head. "I am unworthy."
"Then acquire worth with all the speed you can muster," I stated with a chuckle. "The times are changing, and if you work hard, you may be surprised where you find yourself this time next year..."
I was interrupted by the sound of hooves approaching at a gallop. A lot of them. I turned to the direction of the sound, and saw a massive cloud of dust in the horizon. I was no soldier, but it looked like an army was marching towards Trog-Gob's estate.
"Huh," Bray said, standing nearby, "maybe the Regency Council has decided to do something, after all..."
Looking over at the donkey, I asked, "The what now?"
"Ah, my apologies, master," Bray said, sheepishly, "things have been moving so quickly, I have barely had time to explain anything to you."
"Well," I said, watching the cloud of dust approach, "you can start now."
--------------------------------
Credit where it is due, Grogar may not have planned for his own death, but he did plan for when someone might try to overthrow him, or try to defy him. Since Tambelon literally occupies a world seperate from Equestria, one would have to wonder what might happen if, while Grogar was off conquering Equestria, a few trogs decided that they'd rather be in charge, rather than the big blue goat. Since Grogar would be off-world at the time, what was to prevent someone from just closing off all the routes back to Tambelon, and just declaring themselves rulers of Tambelon?
Grogar found an answer for that.
Firstly, the number of methods available to move between Equestria and Tambelon were legion: Grogar seeded the entire continent with 'Short-Jump' chambers, basically a version of the Long Jump that only moves between Tambelon and Equestria. It would be the work of eons, without any magic and a detailed map of the Short Jump chambers, to disable them all, given that many of them are deep underground. This also prevented Equestrian invasion via the Short Jump, since many of these chambers were literally just an eight foot cube with no entrance or exit, so unless you could teleport over very long distances like Grogar could, an invader would end up trapped in a dark room with limited air, and since the Short Jump was one way only...
Well, let's just say that there may be a few short jump chambers occupied by skeletons and leave it at that.
The other issue, the issue of someone declaring themself king in Grogar's absence, was easier to solve: Grogar placed a curse on the entire planet. It kinda gives you an idea of just how powerful Grogar was in his heyday, that I can say that sentence with a straight face. Saying that he placed a curse on the entire planet is a lot like saying that that he decided to rearrange the positions of all of the continents in such a way that they were more aesthetically pleasing: The amount of sheer power inherent in both acts boggles the mind.
What was the nature of this curse? Simple: Anyone who claims the position of king, prince, emperor, ruler, grand poobah, and a thousand other titles, would die. By being struck instantly by lightning. No less than one hundred times. And if the individual doing so was male, they'd be struck in the nuts each and every time.
I don't know about you, but that would make me think twice about trying to declare myself the ruler of anything.
I honestly don't know if that means that Grogar has a sense of humor, or if he just decided that it would be best to make the curse as devastating as possible to make it clear that this was one subject that he was not willing to take any shit about. Regardless, the message was made clear: Grogar rules Tambelon. To try and take control of Tambelon results in severe groinal ruin for all parties involved. By the time it had happened on three separate occasions, all of them on a bright sunny days, and a fourth one so deep underground that you could smell brimstone, the Trogs got the idea, and quit trying to declare a singular ruler of Tambelon.
But how can you have a civilization without someone in charge, or at least with some measure of authority? The Regency Council figured out a loophole which allowed them to set themselves as, if not rulers, then at least the guys who oversaw, in a general sense, the running of Tambelon as a whole.
They announced that, so long as Grogar was absent, and in the absence of a leader chosen by Grogar himself, the Regency Council would oversee the growth, development, and legislation of the realm, and would promptly hand over the reigns of power back to Grogar as soon as he appeared and demanded it. It worked: Nary a rumble of thunder was heard that day.
To their credit, the Council did a bang-up job, when they took over seven hundred years ago: They closed the breeding camps, set up a form of currency, wrote out a code of law, and began overseeing the logistics of getting Tambelon moving along. Within a century, Tambelon occupied a region that was easily twice the size of Equestria, by all descriptions, and covered the entire continent, and now there was talk of seeing about moving on to the other continents of the world. Not due to population pressures, or because of resource issues, but just because they easily could do so.
I won't go into the details of how it all works, as a lot of that is the kind of bureaucratic bullshit that would make anyone listening bash their head against the wall within sixty seconds, but it boils down to this: Tambelon is divided into four quadrants, and the Regency council has twelve members, three from each quadrant. The three that oversee their particular quadrant more or less have absolute authority there, but they have to have a majority vote amongst themselves before they make any minor legislative changes, and then, for anything major, they have to get the motion to pass through the council as a whole, through another majority vote. In the event of a tie, they invite Bray over, and he casts the deciding vote. That has happened exactly three times in seven hundred years, and none of them were particularly important or world-shaking.
Trog-Gob was confident that he could do as he pleased because he had pulled a lot of strings to arrange for three of his cronies to get the seats in his quadrant. As such, no one could touch him... or so he assumed. Of course, if the three in charge get outvoted by the remaining nine...
Bray had assumed that the Regency Council would never vote to take direct action against Trog-Gob, simply because he had a fairly large following amongst the upper classes, but either something must have happened to change their minds, or some sort of power play was going on...
------------------------------
"So," I stated, flatly, "there's a group of Trogs who are essentially in charge, but only until my return."
"Yes, master," Bray responded promptly.
"I suppose that is fair," I admitted. "Well, I wonder what they'll think of the current situation."
We were about to find out.
"COMPANY, HALT!!!"
The sound of thundering hooves stopped with startling precision. As the dust cleared, I was treated to an impressive sight: An army, no, a cavalry of hundreds of mounted Trogs stood before me. And unlike the Trogs I had seen in the crystal ball earlier, and unlike the bloated piece of shit, Trog-Gob, these actually looked respectable: Broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, their arms rippled with muscle. They wore armor that looked plain, but functional, and perhaps more importantly, was completely uniform, implying a professional army. The only individual who was dressed differently was the commander, who had been riding a chariot, and wore a tall, crested helmet that reminded me of something like a Roman legion commander's. Perhaps more importantly, the ones that were riding, were riding ponies.
Big, muscular, heavily armored ponies.
I really should have considered the possibility that there might be slaves in service to the military. After all, human history is filled to the brim of the same thing having happened. For example, there was the caste of Mamluks in medieval Egypt, who ended up being so badass that they decided to overthrow their rulers and take power for themselves. It didn't end all that well for the Mamluks, but the point was, they eventually wised up and decided that, hey, we've got swords, why should we do what these other guys tell us?
I briefly pondered just what the ratio was between Trogs and ponies. If there were, say, five ponies for every Trog, then sooner or later, someone was going to decide that maybe the majority should get a vote in how things went around here, and then, well...
Down with Trogs, up with ponies.
For now, though, I had to admit that it made for an imposing sight: All of the ponies wore heavy armor, enough that it would make a cavalry charge a devastating prospect for anyone caught on the receiving end. Meanwhile, the soldiers riding the ponies were equally well-armored, and carried swords and shields, along with a cavalry lance. While I was certain that I was more than powerful enough to deal with an army of this size, it was still a sobering prospect, having to face that kind of a force: If this was what they deployed just to deal with a group of unlikable nobles who had no means of defending themselves and were completely unaware that an attack was coming, it implied a spectacularly large army was at the Regency Council's disposal. They had wave after wave of steel-covered meat to hide behind, if they decided to go to war against me.
A second figure stood at the side of what I assumed to be commanding officer, one I had initially overlooked. The figure was richly dressed in a silk, and very definitely feminine. And no, I wasn't talking about the fact that she had a much more pleasant-looking face, or a little shorter and significantly thinner than the rest of the Trogs present. I'll just go ahead and say it: She had... curves. Very prominent ones. I hadn't really considered the possibility that Trog females might have breasts, but this one made it abundantly clear that this was so, given the size of her endowments and the almost scandalous amount of cleavage on display.
I was more concerned with what she was whispering to the commander, though. If the next words out of his mouth included the word 'Charge', I was almost certainly in for a difficult time...
After a moment, the commander nodded, and then, in the best parade ground voice I had ever heard, he shouted, "COMPANY!!! KNEEL!!!"
As one, the riders bowed their heads, as each pony bent a knee before me. The sound of armored legs hitting the ground in a sign of obedience was almost deafening, easily loud enough to drown out the almost juvenile 'squee!' that I let out in response.
Ah, allow me to explain something to you. I suppose that it is long overdue that I told you a little about myself. You see, from an early age, I have been in love with the idea of being a supervillain. Not the 'Dictator who rules with an iron dick' type. Not the cruel and oppressive tyrant. Not the James Bond style megalomaniac. Not some psycho who was evil for the sake of being evil. No.
Growing up, my favorite villain was Doctor Doom. Bombastic, brilliant, badass Doctor Doom. Forget the movies, the kids shows, I speak only of the comic books. One of the most iconic villains that Marvel Comics ever produced. I didn't love the character because of the fact that he was powerful, smarter than almost anyone else in the Marvel universe, or the fact that, in spite of having no powers of his own, he went head to head with GODS and came out on top on a regular basis. I loved the character because, unlike most villains who ruled their own country, his kingdom was nothing like Mordor, or any sort of oppressive tyranny.
It was a paradise. Von Doom's kingdom was one where his people were healthy, happy, and prosperous. And above all else, safe. Because no one wants to fuck with the country that has a mad scientist as its ruler, as said ruler will literally invent new ways of fucking you right back. If Von Doom could have just gotten over his grudge against Reed Richards, and gotten his megalomania under control, he'd more or less be the perfect leader.
Let my enemies fear me, let my allies respect me, and let my subjects love me. What more can any leader be asked to accomplish?
Perhaps it is silly to dream of something like that, but as I've already stated, I decided at a young age that I was not going to be normal. I was going to be fucking spectacular, and I did all I could do to become so. I once, in college, submitted for an assignment the design for an orbital weapon that could launch anvils from space that, once the targeting software was available, would strike with pinpoint accuracy, while allowing the anvil to remain intact even after impact. Overkill, given the kind of destruction that projectile, given its mass and velocity, would cause on impact, but I thought it was worth it. I also included a list of alterations that could be made that would allow it to also launch, among other things, iron statues of 'Buddy Jesus', a hand flipping the bird, Uncle Sam making the 'Deez Nutz' gesture, and, for those who have no flair for style whatsoever, a basic projectile, more or less a cannonball. I got an A+, and a month later, some guys from the government came and paid me a sizable sum for the rights to the design, provided I swore never to disclose the details of how this device might be possible. Sadly, it'll be sixty, seventy years before the software makes it possible to actually allow it to strike with anything like the accuracy I envisioned, but hey, sometimes, human imagination outpaces our current level of technology, and we just have to sprint to catch up.
Sorry, I'm getting off track again, and I apologize. The point is, all I ever needed to ever make my dream a reality was a doom fortress, sufficient funding, and an army. And here I had just been given all three in one day.
Hell yes.
Fuck yes.
Hell. Fucking. YES!!!
NEW CHAPTER UP!!!
Yes! New chapter! Will edit my thoughts on this chapter after I read it... and then get some sleep *it is 2:35 in the morning!*
Edit: Ah yes, Dr. Doom. For those who may not know about the comic book iteration he is indeed a bad-ass among bad-asses (he was the inspiration for Darth Vadar, plus he could easily put down the seven foot tall asthmatic Sith). Here, watch this video to learn all there is to know about DR. DOOM!!!
Also, why do I get the feeling that given the Trog lady's generous endowments that she will soon learn the meaning of 'lusty old goat'.
An Orbital anvil-cannon?
Yes, please!
For some reason, I just love the phrase "doom fortress".
Modeling yourself after Dr. Doom? Genius.
Doctor Doom really is the most admirable of all the Marvel villains. He's probably the most cunning as well.
Trog tits. Seriously, trog tits. Welp... time to drink the rubbing alcohol.
DAMN YOU, THIS CHAPTER IS TOO SHORT!!
How am I supposed to beat back the demons of slumber with such miniscule morsels of glorious and most epic of tales?!
*froths and flails violently in place*
Fool, Doom does as he pleases!
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Yay! New chapter! I love this story, and I love when this story updates!
Great update. Love the world building and the story about how Tambelon works. With Grogar back I imagine that he can easily remove the puny magic of the Alicorns and return to the prime world. Truly all hope lies with Doom, I mean Grogar.
Yes! The witchfire bonewhip works as I imagined!
I will now sacrifice more goats for the overgoat. May a new chapter come soon!
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7167302
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7167320
It's the third longest chapter to date! What more do you want?
7167318
Well, you know, no one seems to have a problem with orcs and goblins having them, so why not with the trogs, too?
Shorter than I'd like, but if they keep coming at this pace I'll gladly overlook that. If I were to be an evil overlord, the type 'Grogar' envisions for himself would be the way I'd go. Looking forward to more.
Keep up the good work. Deus tecum.
so he rules like doctor doom, I'm am okay with this
A wild chapter appears!
Well, not much really happened here, aside form some explanations. But hey, an army. That's gonna be useful. Especially the ponies, if the princesses are wusses. And if nothing else, he can use one as a sort of double agent? Make a sob story for one of them, make it look lie he/she barely escaped with his/her life, and poof. One infiltrator that can give intel about Equestria's technological level. Or more, if the princesses era extra soft and give him/her a job at the palace.
I never really got into comics, so from now on, Dr Doom is based off of this Grogar, not the other way around.
7167286 the term is HORNY old goat
You know, suddenly I'm reminded of the time where Doom actually did conquer the world, actually did a damn good job leading it, solving a bunch of major problems... and got so damn bored that he used the first superhero rebellion that came along as an excuse to drop the responsibilities by allowing himself to be "defeated".
"Doctor Victor Von Doom: Proving that world domination just isn't worth the hassle."
7167383 Can be both, depending on what part of the world you're in ;)
Personally, I would have gone with "Kneel before Zod".
7167389 hmmmmmmmm.......... ACCEPTED!
7167358
Wouldnt mind if you wrote longer chapters, had better writing habits, and at some point get a dedicated editor/proofreader.
I also wouldn't mind a small loan of a million dollars.
YES! Good to see this one is still going. I'm liking the MC more with every chapter. Can't wait to see how he confronts the Princesses.
7167363
On behalf of other like me, do you have a visual example handy?
I know I probably shouldn't be curious, but... look, you've basically just told us that you've invented and introduced vanilla-caramel swirl flavored dog shit. We know, objectively, that we probably shouldn't eat it, but we can't help but wonder how it tastes.
So either you finished Dark Souls III or you died so many times to you lost your shit and rage quit that we have a new chapter. It has been awhile since I read the comics but haven't there been some comics where Doctor Doom was the stereotypical evil dictator that ruled with an iron fist?
I'm trying to imagine a female Trog but having a hard time imagining her attractive. Closest thing to an attractive pig is Miss Piggy. Anything you got as an example for me to imagine?
This is utter nonsense.
Utter, *puts on sunglasses*, Bucking Nonsense.
*Uwaaaaahhh*
You can tell I've wanted to use that quote for a while now.
Side note, GrogarBro has good taste in villains. Especially considering that Darth flippin' Vader was based on the man. Doom is all, baby.
Also, does that female Trog look like a female orc or something? I'm not at all ashamed to admit that I want to know how... Appealing a female Trog might be.
Oh, and finally (this chapter's just a goldmine for comments), 5/1 odds says that the government who bought weaponized-slapstick is really the ACME corporation.
No powers of his own? Dude, Doom is one of the greatest magic users in the Marvel universe. Only dr. Strange, as Sorcerer Supreme, ranks above him.
Oh good, now I know who to blame if 80-year-old me suddenly gets a meteoric anvil to the face.
Loved the chapter, as always. But the "built an orbital cannon as a school project" was a bit far into Gary Stu-ism.
Taking the fact that I've loved every other over the top part of this story, I hope this comment is taken in the spirit it is meant.
I can just imagine Celestia and Luna eventually breaking in to find a slave class of ponies so devoted and living so happily that they kick Celestia right back out.
Ah, Dr Doom. THE most DANGEROUS man on the planet. Good choice.
ALL THE MUSTACHES IN THE UNIVERSE, FOR THE OVERGOAT!
7167505 He didn't build it, he just figured out some theoretical plans/designs/blueprints for one. The level of schooling is also unmentioned so I choose to believe it was a college level architecture and/or science class project.
7167508 if memory serves wasn't there something, some kind of God from chuchunka. ...where black panther originates that judged doom only one to be able to safely rule the marvel earth?
I think it was something along chuchunka or is that Krogen...
7167508 THIRD most dangerous man. The second, by Victor's own admission, is Stephen Strange (a dude who has Gods on speed-dial and regularly eats out with the ruler of an entire dimension - that'd be Clea, his girlfriend, apprentice and heir of flame-headed Dormammu) and the first, of course, is Doreen Green, aka the Unbeatable Squirrel Girl, a cute little scamp that regularly beats up dudes like Galactus and Thanos without breaking a sweat - that "unbeatable" in her hero name isn't for show, after all.
7167597 Actually, I think that the Great Goat would get along quite well with Squirrel Girl.
Also, MOAR!!!!!
7167597 Ah, but Squirrel Girl isn't a villain, she's a lethal joke character more potent then Deadpool himself. I don't think you could classify her as dangerous to the planet unless the planet is revealed to be a giant squirrel in hibernation, in which case all hell will break loose.
As for Strange... I believe it, but was talking more from the perspective of heroes rather then a power scale one or from the perspective of Doom himself. If I was going by power scale for people on the planet, Molecule Man would screw everything up in an instant.
... Except that Doom controlled Molecule Man during the Secret Wars on Battleworld... And Molecule Man is in the top 5 more powerful characters in the ENTIRETY of Marvel... Welp. Back to #1 Doom goes.
... Dammit, now I want to see a world that IS a hibernating giant squirrel just to see how badly Squirrel Girl would destroy everyone. I don't think even the One Above All would try to go against that.
Just don't turn into a megalomaniac now.
But yeah, another great chapter!
Imagining that cavalry... phew. Good thing they realized who our hero is or there would certainly be a problem
Also, I wonder how they'd react to the necromorph in the background (unless it has finished its job and dissolved already) - did they miss it, or were they wary of it until they found that Grogar was there?
Anyway, absolute obedience. Nice!
This chapter makes me smile.
Well he has Dooms ego already, that's for sure.
I'm pretty sure our protagonist will be sad when he realizes this is actually the entire army, considering that they probably saw that giant evil green and Black Death cloud in the sky.
7167454 He shall henceforth be named "Brogar" and there's nothing anyone can do to change my mind!
Dude... Get outta my head. Brogar it is!!!
oh god, this fic keeps getting more and more pants on head rediculous...AND I BUCKING LOVE IT...Don;t ever try to be serious in this story...
7167647
Actually, Squirrel Girl true identity explains why she is so powerful.
So, I've basically been waiting since near the beginning for New Grogar to whip his new nation into a respectable place and then come back to Equestria and the princesses will just have to accept it because it's at least as nice of a place as theirs. This chapter gives me hope that that is exactly where you're headed with it.
11/10, would chuckle over again.
He needs to get over his squick of ponies though. I think he'd catch less from them than the trogs.