• Published 13th May 2016
  • 341 Views, 5 Comments

Unexpected chances - I had no idea



Discord creates a machine which gives out second chances. He forgets to mention the kind of second chance, and the people it gives them to.

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Chapter one: The Inquisitor and her champion

Bam.

Ugh.

Darkness. Darkness and something... smelling like the earth. Not going to open her eyes, though. No, sir. First, she's going to assess the situation. Downside: it hurt up until a minute ago. Upside: now she knows what is it like to be pierced by a sword. Fascinating. A few more, and she can open a scar theatre.

Seriously, though, the last thing she remembers is she and her champion dying... so why is she currently inhaling grass? It just doesn't fit with the cathedral's architecture...or maybe a lot of time passed? Maybe they resurrected her, and now someone's going to come here and say 'Oh, hey, Sally, there was a bit of a mix-up, and we kinda forgot to revive you for a few hundred years. On the bright side, you probably achieved your diet goal, since you're technically bones right now.'

Yes, that would be believeable, sadly. One little, itty-bitty contradiction, though. If she would have been raised as an undead abomination, her stomach surely wouldn't rumble like this. Also, her legs (whose numbers are a little bit unclear at this point), should probably not feel like jelly.

No matter, let's stay positive. Positive! She may or may not be dead, undead, or living. Really, there are no other choices. It is time she stopped analyzing the nothing, and got to the end of things! Or on her feet, actually. She opens her eyes, and somehow manages to stand up. It feels weird, as if she has double the amount of legs she usually possesses, and she can't move her arms. Still, she forgets all about that, when she sees what is lying before her. A wast sea of grass, only broken by the occassional tree. The sun shines brightly, and it is quite unlike how she remembers the monastery. Birds chirping, insects making small noises, a cheerfully colored city in the distance... and a body laying right in front of her.

"Mograine?!"

The one in question groans, but refuses to open his eyes. Sally carefully inspects him. By any means, the one lying in front of her is a horse, yet it bears a striking resemblance to Mograine. That beard, that hair—MANEstyle, all fit. Except for the whole, you know, being red thing. As she recalls, the last time red ponies were mentioned, was when she was five, or so. Maybe it's covered in paint? Abbendis coming up with a new design again? The last time was bad enough, it turned out red mirrors are not practical in any way. Still, maybe this time it actually worked: styling the steeds after their riders, perhaps?

"Moooograaiiiineeee!" she cooes.

"...What," he finally responds. "Make it brief, my head hurts like the Nether."

"I must ask you if you are aware of the fact that you have been turned into a horse?"

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!"

To her great surprise, he shoots up faster than any horse she'd seen in her life. He falls back on his face faster than any of them, though. He tries a second time, and actually succeeds. He seems a little bit groggy, but awake and ready, nonetheless. She notices that he gives her the strange eye.

"Oh, don't worry, Mograine, I think you can still be useful to the Crusade! Why, I could ride you into battle! Technically, it would be a promotion, since you get to carry me into battle, instead of common soldiers." she reassures him.

"..."

"It cannot be that bad! I know you cannot spread the holy word of the Light, but you could always, I don't know, help differentiate plagued grain from normal, or something?"

"... You're a horse, too."

She finally takes a look at herself. Indeed, she became a horse, too. The red hooves are proof of that. Oh well.

"Why aren't you surprised?" the stallion demands.

"Because if I turned into an animal, it just means that it's Friday night, and I'm currently sleeping. Same old dream, same old dream. Galford said it's the side effect of being too long inside four walls, bless his heart. I usually transform into something that actually exists, though. "

He shakes his head.

"You look... somehow different."

"Really? Now I'm curious. I wish there was a mirror here."

"Here you go." a new voice joins, pushing a large mirror in front of her.

"Why thank you!" Sally says, checking herself out in the mirror. Her red coat stands in clear contrast to her white... mane, her eyes unusually large and round, but at least the proper shade of brown. Something about her gown is off though... What could it—Oh, of course! The horn. Well, it fits quite nicely with her image, so no worries there. Still, it seems like she has became some sort of hell-horse? What was it called again... unicorn?

Wait just a Light-forsaken moment! Who is this that brought the mirror? She cautiosly looks behind the mirror, only to be greeted by the biggest grin she's ever seen in her life. A weird, poofy pink pony stands before her; another horsified person, perhaps? Well, if so, who could it be? Let's see... Pink mane, pink coat, aura of love and happiness, scent of sugar, pink coat, eyes radiating trust and curiosity, again, pink coat...

"... Sylvanas?" she asks hesitantly. The pink pony cocks her head.

"What is a 'Sill-one-us'? Is it tasty? I bet it's tasty!" The strange horse gasps. "Oooh, I'm sure I can make it! Would you like to come with me? I live in a bakery, so I'm sure we can make some! Or cakes! I love cakes! And Cakes, too, of course. Do you like cakes? I mean, cake cakes, not Cake Cakes. Well, you can like Cake Cakes as well, but I think we haven't met yet, so it's hard to like them because you don't know them. They make Cake cakes! I wonder what this mirror is doing here, though? Hey! I just realised! You can like the Cakes, since I just told you about them! That would be really nice, I think, and they would be so—"

Sally, a bit still dazzled from the flood of words, notices their sudden absence. Looking up, she sees the pony in deep thought upon examining Whitemane's flank.

"Great." she thinks. "Five minutes, and I'm getting hit on already. Still, better than just being 'hit'."

"Where is your cutie mark?" the strange horse finally speaks.

"...? A person called Mark that is very handsome?"

The pink mare giggles.

"No, silly! Your cutie mark! You know! The mark that show's your special talent!"

She turns sideways, letting Sally take a good look on her flank, which is adorned with three... goblin zeppelins? Maybe her talent is suicide flying? Still, that is an important piece of information. She looks at her own flank, and sees it is devoid of any 'cutie marks'. Mograine seems to be missing it, too. At least he finally stood up.

"My name is Pinkie Pie! What's yours?"

"Um, I'm Whitemane, and this is Mograine." She points to her companion. Pinkie tilts her head in confusion.

"Migraine? Poor fella!"

Mograine slaps himself across the face not unlike a human does with their palms. Sally smiles on him.

"Good thinking, Mograine! Mimic their gestures!"

That line seems to double the speed at which he slaps himself.

"So, why is your name Migraine?" the pink pony asks. "Other ponies always hit you in the head and it hurt? Oooh, wait, don't help, it's metaphissical! Your name is Migraine, but it's actually supposed to represent pudding pops? Amiclose? Maybe you're good at mind games? Or head games! Like beach ball! Or maybe, your special talent is getting a headache? Waaaaaiiit! Something's appeared!"

Mograine, slightly irritated, glances upon his rear and, to see a small image of a pony holding it's head in it's hooves. Mograine becomes significantly irritated.

"OH COME ON!"

"Congratulations! This calls for a party! A super-duper I-got-a-cutie-mark-and-it-s-important-even-though-I-don-t-like-it party! Cheer up, grumpy goose!"

The stallion sighs. He is about to send this pony to warmer regions, when he notices Sally is not paying any attention to him, but plays with the mirror instead. When she manages to reflect sunlight into Mograine's eyes, the pink pony gasps again.

"Oooooh! You got your cutie mark, too! This calls for a double party! I hope my party cannon can handle the heat!" This seems to pique the curiosity of Whitemane.

"Party cannon? You shoot a whole party out of it?" Absent-mindedly, she examines her flank, on which a mirror reflecting sunshine appeared. Pinkie giggles.

"No, silly, it shoots decorations! And confetti! And cake, sometimes! And... well, ants, but that was only one time because I forgot to clean it. Come on! I'm sure you'd feel awesometastic! Pretty please?"

She looks at them with pleading puppy-dog eyes.

"Um, just a second, we need to consider this."

"Okie-dokie-Thorie! I mean, Lokie!"

Sally pulls the still grumbling stallion closer.

"So? What's your take on this?"

"I honestly can not believe all this. What are we supposed to do? How could we battle the unholy like this?"

"Mograine, the only thing unholy here is your moustache. Seriously, you might want to shave that off. Besides, I doubt there would be undead here. This is a talking horse, for Light's sake! Have you noticed the fact that it's in fact not undead, crippled, maimed, mauled, hurt or even generally unhappy with the weather? Would you be this happy with problems like ours? Renault, I don't think we're in Azeroth anymore."

"..." The stallion closes his eyes. "Then what? Should we just follow her whereever she leads us and... party?"

"I honestly think we should. I mean, I can't exactly get ourselves back to Azeroth, and even if I could, we would be still horses; if we marched into one of our camps like that... well, that camp would have something for dinner, let's just say that." She makes a concerned expression. "Aaand... Well, this is hard, but after we died, I got resurrected once more in the cathedral. The news I heard... were unsettling. It turned out most of the Crusade was controlled by dreadlords. Balnazzar and Mal'Ganis. They twisted us to their purposes until we've run out of usefulness... After that... Well, the crusaders in Stratholme did not survive. And considering that I am here... the monastery likely fell, too."

"Accursed beasts! Is there nothing for us to do?"

"I doubt it. I think we only ended up here because our role has ended back home. On the bright side, maybe we will find someone with the same plight as us. Also Mograine, think about it: cake! When was the last time we ate cake? Practically forever!... Why are you hitting your own head?"

"...Fine, I don't care anymore. Let's go."

"It is settled then." She waves to the pink pony, who patiently bounced around in circles around them up until now.

"Lead the way, Pinkie! I am quite curious of this cake you mentioned!"

The sound of their hooves and chatter quickly fade away, and a soft 'fwang' can be heard, signalling the barrier between worlds is penetrated again. Somepony is going to have an interesting night.