6 - Vengeful
Château les Épine - La vallée-des-Roses - Prance
24th of Leaffall, 16 EoH
Three ponies labored within a small dimly lit room within Château les Épine. The rising sun’s pale rays barely peeked over the damaged outer wall, slipping through the room’s window and providing just enough light to make someone briefly consider blowing out the candles, but then decide to wait a few more minutes.
If anything, the three unicorns working within the room needed more light. Their task was delicate, easily disturbed by all manner of things, including not being able to tell the colors of the materials they worked with.
As none of them possessed white or yellow magic, nor had yet leaned a proper light spell, any light they made would distort the colors of everything around them. It would only take connecting one fiber incorrectly to destroy all they had worked towards.
The three clustered around the low table which filled the room. No other furniture or decoration lay within the bare stone chamber. This workshop had been set up especially for this job and would be dismantled as soon as it were completed. By order of the Steward, naturally.
The three apprentice necromancers doing the actual work had long since finished talking about the oddity of the job. Granted limb replacements were typically performed in hospitals, and the tissues repaired before attaching them.
But orders were orders. In the end, the three apprentices were happy to accept the job and the fifteen credits towards their journeymare certifications in payment.
With a flourish of teal magic, one of the three unicorns made one final stitch and knotted the catgut suture. He leaned down, checking the seam between the living tissue and the graft which had hopefully just been finished.
“I have finished,” the unicorn announced happily, as he confirmed the graft had been successful.
Despite the abnormal constraints placed on the operation.
“Is that everything?” Another asked her counterparts.
“I believe so, Lady Ebony requested we only do the minimum required for functionality,” the third answered. “We’ve done just a bit more than that… Hopefully they won't notice. Are we ready to bring them in?”
The first of the three nodded slowly. “Yes. There’s nothing more to do without observably violating orders. Shall we?”
The mare nodded and turned to leave, having been the closest to the door. The three workers quickly left the room, wooden door creaking shut behind them. But they did not leave the room empty.
Minutes later, the door creaked open once more allowing two different ponies to enter the temporary workroom. One was Ebony Pearl, Head Caretaker of des-Roses Knights. Her metallic white fur and wavy pale green mane seemed duller than they would normally have been. Dark circles under her eyes and limp ears showing her to be on the far end of exhausted.
The mare, along with every other member of the Necromancer’s Guild in the village had spent two days without sleep rearming, refitting, and recharging the des-Roses’ Knight Battalion. Had they not, a griffon attack may have broken through the Line due to the Knight’s lessened charge. But if the griffons attacked now, the Knights had no support.
Des-Roses sat in danger for the next three days, and the reason for the danger lay upon the table in front of her, and the stallion at her side.
The stallion looked off. Jet black from nose to tail, with an air of superiority and confidence not often found in earth ponies. He carried himself like a noble, the sort who look down upon those below them due to the greater power they themselves possess. Dignified charisma and charm presented themselves in his posture, his dutiful focused expression, and in the purposeful way he moved.
He appeared no different than anypony who might work on the world stage. Those with power to their names would see him as one of their own merely through his force of personality. He belonged in places of power and importance as if he were an innate part of them. As if taking him from those places would diminish them.
Yet anypony without power of their own would see the charisma in which he covered himself much like the poisonous secretions of tree frogs. The same qualities which made him dignified and noble to those atop the pyramid acted as warning signs to those at the bottom. Even if they could not quite place why his mere presence made them nervous. Especially since he was so charming.
“You are certain this is a good idea?” Ebony asked hesitantly, looking at the comatose form laying atop the slab.
“You are not questioning the steward’s orders, are you?” The stallion asked. “The guild is already on thin ice. It would be a shame to get them into further trouble.”
Ebony winced. Giving out the spell commands to raise more than a squad was against guild code. Her scheme to more easily distribute new weapons and armor would have gone undetected if only everypony had followed her orders to the letter. At least, that’s how she saw it.
“I am,” Ebony admitted. “But I don’t want to anger the guild. I’ll follow Imperial Orders, I always have. But I still object to this, and I have the right to say so. He caused far too much damage to be allowed to leave the Empire until his debts are paid off.”
“Trust me, I understand how highly people value their opinions. Unfortunately, the law is the law, and we have all agreed to follow it,” the stallion replied tactfully. “Wake him, it is time to see if he is in working condition.”
Ebony nodded, her horn sparking several times before her magic finally took hold. The mare groaned in pain as last dregs of her mana left her body, all to end the medical coma of the third pony in the room. The moment the spell completed, Ebony staggered, bringing one hoof up to rub her right temple soothingly.
“Bucking headaches… He deserves this,” she muttered.
The stallion rolled his eyes.
The pony on the worktable stirred, one light yellow leg curling towards his chest. Scar-like strips of brown fur ran jaggedly down the leg from the shoulder, bordered by the pale stitches which held the reanimated flesh to the body on the verge of necrosis. A crude, heavy, double tall bronze horseshoe crudely nailed to the hoof.
His other legs were much the same, minus the shoe. That was to make up for the one leg’s shorter length.
The front right a dark green, the rear left leg, the, and plot a light gray, his rear right a vivid amber. The only brown which remained on the stallion was his head, upper half of his barrel, neck, and shoulders. The rest of his body replaced piece by piece, forming a literal patchwork pony.
The stallion screamed in agony, the nerves embedded in the grafted flesh sending signals of rot, decay, and damage from countless tunnels nibbled away by various insects. Not that any scavenging insects remained within him now. But their tunnels remained, crisscrossing the donated parts like a city’s roads.
The Lord Mayor of des-Roses had only ordered him to be repaired enough to function. He would have to heal himself. The smallest part of his punishment.
“Can it, Sunlit!” Ebony roared.
Sunlit Star clenched his teeth, nearly whiting out from the pain. The black stallion narrowed his eyes, unwilling to be delayed. Sunlit’s pain subsided, cooling to a terrible, but tolerable point.
“Can you hear me with those ears, or are they too rotten to work?” Ebony demanded, mocking the mismatched yellow left and black right ears which had been stitched into place.
“What… Did… You do… To me?” Sunlit hissed slowly.
Ebony trotted around to the stallion’s front, glaring into his one remaining eye and empty socket with a fury born of having had to do actual work herself.
“I didn’t do a single thing. If it were up to me, you would have bled out for the Knight’s amusement,” Ebony snapped. “Do you have any idea what you have done? If this village is burned to the ground while we are weak, that will be entirely your fault!
“For an absolute fool, you have far more luck than you deserve. This Steward’s Agent got you to a healer in time, and he was looking for you because, for some reason, the Emperor knows why, the Steward wants your brainless plot to work on some bucking project or another.
“Oh, wait, your plot is fertilizing a patch of grass on the Line. I hope the new one develops crippling arthritis, you-”
“Be quiet,” the black stallion ordered, voice so charged with ironclad seriousness that Ebony immediately stopped speaking.
Ebony’s ears drooped, the rebuke sinking deeply into her psyche. “I-I have the right to discipline my subordinate!” She protested.
“He is not under your command anymore. He answers to me, at least, until he and the flights he is to be assigned to have completed their mission. Until then, you hold no authority over him. As deserved as a tongue lashing may be, it is not yours to give. Explain to him what he must do in the eyes of your law, then leave,” the stallion ordered.
The command was firm and presented with a layer of malice, but delivered with a charisma and weight one would expect from a higher ranking commander such as a Vice General. Ebony gulped and nodded. Not daring to go against somepony who had presented credentials as an Imperial Agent.
Intrigued by the mare’s fear, Sunlit tried to turn his head to see just who the stallion was, but winced, neck seizing up immediately as vertebrae ground together.
“Ahh!” He hissed, biting his lip.
Ebony smiled, watching him squirm in pain.
“Good…” She said to herself, then cleared her throat, and in a clear voice announced, “Sunlit Star, for wasting military resources and endangering an Imperial Settlement, you have been fined two hundred and thirty-seven thousand barrels.
“This is in addition to a death sentence, but fortunately for you, that is being waived if you take a special offer. You are also fired from the Caretakers, and the Guild has officially revoked your license to practice Necromancy.”
“Won't stop me… From… Doing what… I want to,” Sunlit spat.
The stallion chuckled, a look of amusement crossing his face. “Tenacious little thing, aren't you? Then again, you did survive losing a good two-thirds of your body piece by piece.”
Ebony snorted. “No, but constables bolts will when you try, Sun. He’s all yours, Mister Dawn. I don’t want to look at this worm-eaten patchwork anymore,” the mare announced loudly, turning and swiftly marching from the room, slamming the door behind her.
“So,” Sunlit asked as the door slammed. “How bad is it? I can’t see myself… But I can feel it.”
The jet black stallion took a few steps, walking into Sun’s view for the first time. “Personally, I think it’s a work of art. I could hardly call your body bad, this sort of thing is… Well, let’s just say I enjoy a harem of customized individuals, to which I shall be adding someone similar to you. Just for aesthetic's sake.”
Sunlit blinked, confusion filling his mind for an instant. When his eyes opened, the stallion looked entirely different. All of the dignity in him had evaporated. Leaving behind nothing more than boiling dark charisma, and a sadist’s smile.
No. A predator's smile.
Sunlit’s eye contracted, terror racing down his spine, and the other four sections of spine which were now a part of him. Dawn smiled.
“Yes, I think you understand what you are dealing with now. Is that right?” The stallion asked calmly.
“I-I think I do,” Sunlit stammered.
“Good! Except see, you only understand who I am. What I can do, and what I enjoy,” Dawn said conversationally. “You have no idea what I can be to you if you are willing to shall we say, ‘play ball’.”
Sunlit opened his mouth to reply, his jaw pulling loose from his mouth with a wet rip and a gurgle of pain as the poorly done stitches ripped their way clean of his cheek.
Dawn scowled angrily as Sunlit feebly reached up to push his jaw back into place. “Amateurs! I need you to be able to speak. Enjoy this as a sample of my power.”
Dawn waved his hoof over Sunlit’s body, and the pain vanished. The fresh wound knitted itself back together, leaving only a thin jagged scar behind.
“W-what are you?” Sunlit asked fearfully, scooting back across the table he had been rebuilt upon.
“I think it’s clear that I am not a pony. All you need know is that I am whatever I wish to be,” Dawn replied with a slim smile. “Today, I wish to be your friend. I like you, Sunlit. You have such a beautiful ability to truly hate others, and the drive to take whatever you desire. You remind me of myself, which is why it sickens me to see you rotting like this.
“I’m not talking about the undead grafts either. I’m talking about your life. Sitting at one well paying and respected job, in a position of power over a few… Pathetic, and wasteful. Like leaving food out to rot. You could be so much more, with just a little help.”
Sunlit paused, remembering hearing about the draconequus which served the Equestrian Crown. Was this stallion something similar? A secret weapon, held in reserve? It certainly would be a thing the Stewards would have done if they could.
“You’re not… What’s his name? Ah, Discord! Are you?” Sunlit asked suspiciously.
Dawn smiled. “You’re also intelligent, in some respects. For the record, no. I am not Discord. Though we are related.”
“Okay, so, you’re basically all powerful,” Sunlit said suspiciously. “What could you possibly need me to do that you can’t just make happen?”
Dawn smiled and dipped his chin slightly pulling Sunlit closer to him through mere force of will. “My great grandfather has privileges I don’t. For now. Until then, I work through my friends. Until they fail me, that is,” he informed.
“S-so um… What do you want me to do?” Sunlit asked.
“I want you to do what you want to do yourself,” Dawn chuckled. “I want you to kill Gentle Repose, and destroy his work.”
Sunlit’s eye widened in surprise. “Why?”
“Because you despise him in such a beautiful way that I would be doing a disservice to art itself if I didn’t allow you to end his life,” Dawn replied. “I can’t have him unliving for any longer. He’s a nuisance to me, and luckily for you, I can’t kill the undead. That falls under my sister’s jurisdiction and well… Heh, she’s dead.”
“What’s in it for me?” Sunlit asked, a smug smile beginning to form on his lips as he realized the position he was in.
“I take it you’ve realized I don't work for the Steward by now, right?” Dawn asked.
Sunlit frowned. He hadn’t. But he wasn’t about to mention it.
“The truth is, he works for me. I put him on his throne and have permitted him to do with Prance as he wished, so long as he allowed the griffons to feed as they pleased,” Dawn said darkly. “He hasn’t held up his end of our bargain. I have revoked my friendship. If I had a new friend that I liked, well, that throne just might find its way into their possession.”
“Say that I helped you… Would you stab me in the back too? Because I would if I were you,” Sunlit said, letting the other stallion know he understood the threat and hoping to hide the intimidating feeling it left him with.
“No. Unlike those beneath me, I always keep my word,” Dawn replied firmly. “It is too late for my plans involving our carnivorous friends to be enacted. The Steward’s doing. He wanted to be in power and not facing a peasant revolt more than he wanted to remain my friend. I always keep my deals, Sunlit. Including the conditions that apply when you break them.
“Kill Repose, and Prance is yours with no stipulations. This place is nothing to me now.”
Sunlit nodded slowly, the black stallion’s offer breathing fresh life into the flame of lustful greed within his heart. But a small nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered a final warning.
“Alright, and what do you actually get out of this?” Sunlit asked. “What is it that you want to have happen by me killing him for you? I won't do a damn thing if it’s going to go against my own interests.”
Dawn nodded to himself. A pleased look crossing his face. “That’s another thing about you which reminds you of myself. I want what you want, complete and total freedom to do as I please. All I’m having you do is… Weed a garden. So to speak.”
Sunlit nodded to himself, satisfied with that simple explanation. Perhaps another pony would ask more questions, but for Sun, the simple explanation explained everything he cared to know.
“It’s a deal. If you can give me the right tool for the job. I’m not going to attack him if he stands a chance of winning. I’m not stupid,” Sunlit offered.
Dawn laughed, the mocking laughter echoing off the stone walls despite the room’s tiny size.
“I have been manipulating events longer than your species has walked this world. Of course, I will be stacking the deck in my favor. Only fools rely on luck,” Dawn laughed.
“Sooo like… You’re going to give me more power, right?” Sunlit asked.
Dawn smirked, giving Sunlit the look a professor who enjoyed holding their knowledge just above their student’s reach gives everypony in their lecture hall.
“Heh… That never works, you know. Give a mortal power and it always bites you in the ass. No, I won't be giving you magic beyond the imagination of even the mightiest of unicorns. I want friends, Sunlit. Not competitors, and certainly not peers,” Dawn chuckled.
“Then what-” Sunlit asked, thoroughly confused.
“I will teach you a single spell,” Dawn interrupted.
“Unless it’s a bucking megaspell, I highly doubt one spell will make a difference. That abomination does have more raw power than me. Even if it’s unrefined and unfairly his,” Sunlit muttered bitterly.
“As entertaining as giving a psychopath such as you the power to obliterate towns in an instant might be, I have something more…artistic in mind,” Dawn informed, turning to look out of the room’s window. “You’re not the first nation to embrace necromancy. The first great civilization your species founded learned and discovered more in the field than anypony to ever live will again. Because I prevent it.
“You’re so lucky I like you, Sunlit. You see, I destroyed that kingdom due to them creating spells such as these… Now, a simple warning. If you use this spell in any way I disapprove of, or teach it to anypony else, well, I won’t kill you.”
Sun raised the eyebrow over his empty socket. “And that’s a threat, how?” He asked smugly.
The black stallion leaned in close to Sun’s face, his black eyes suddenly glowing with pinpricks of light as if a single coal were set into each socket. His mouth split open to reveal an unnatural smile of needle-like teeth, hot, foul smelling breath oozing between them as pale steam.
“Living is a far worse fate than death for those I despise. I will give you everything you ever wanted, and then rot each of them away, one by one, each perfectly timed and executed to rip your very soul to pieces, each and every time. Then I will give you your hopes and dreams back once again and repeat the cycle until you die alone, broken, and forgotten. Are we clear?” Dawn asked.
“Y-yes!” Sun yelped, realizing at last exactly what he had gotten himself into.
Dawn’s monstrous visage fade away, returning to a normal pony’s face as if nothing had ever changed.
“Come,” Dawn ordered pulling Sunlit to within mere centimeters of his mouth in order to whisper. “This is how you create an undead creature with a unique mind of your own design. Not a mere programmed vessel or someone you need to know will not rebel, but a true creature which can think, plan, and wishes only to please you…”
Felling Axe - 1st of Chillfrost, 16 EoH
High King’s Forest - Griffon Kingdoms
I’d always assumed that a pony traveling anywhere could easily forage for themselves. I mean, they can eat grass if they want to. It’s bland, kinda bitter, and weirdly chewy, but they can live on it for a while. I’d assumed there would be plenty of food on our journey.
While it was true that Repose didn’t actually need to eat, I did need food, and we were unsure if I could feed off him if he was dead. He offered to let me check, but I couldn't bring myself to hurt him.
Unfortunately, we would know the answer shortly. Because the Griffon kingdom was practically badlands.
They had trees. Which technically made the land we walked through for the last few days a forest. But you had buck all between the trees. Just dry, sandy soil. What little nutrients the soil had was going right into the trees.
You could also tell that the trees were artificial. Nature hadn’t put them here. The Griffons had to have seeded the forest. Especially since there was only one kind of tree.
Ailanthus trees. Kilometer after kilometer of Ailanthus trees. Literally nothing but Ailanthus trees for days.
The complete insanity of the trees made sense if you knew anything about wood. Ailanthus trees grow lightning fast, easily hitting fifty meters tall in just twenty-five years. They can clone themselves from root systems left in the ground after cutting one down, and will regrow from the old trunk if cut down. They also can grow anywhere, being basically a weed, and are extremely good as compost.
Repose and I had spent days walking through a massive ecological engineering project. These trees were there to try and breathe some life back into the dead soil.
I didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hoof, it was very impressive that the griffons could think of a massive project like this instead of seeking arcane assistance from another species. On the other, what the buck had they done to need this much compost?
“Fell, look,” Repose said quietly, shaking me from my thoughts.
I turned my head towards where he was pointing. The first thing which caught my eye being a large gap in the trees.
“Huh, yeah… Think that clearing is a logging operation?” I asked, supposing there might be some supplies we could make ‘vanish’.
We needed more than food. There would be snowstorms. We would need a tent. Changelings don’t do well with the cold.
“No, look beyond the clearing to the other side,” Repose instructed.
I squinted, forcing my eyes to change shape. The lenses over my compound eyes refocused, magnifying the view slightly.
“Brambles? That’s interesting,” I said to myself. Then the distinct artificial shapes hidden within the brambles popped out at me. “Ohhh… Now I see it.”
“See what? I was pointing out the anomaly. It’s got to signify something with everything else completely terraformed,” Repose asked.
“It does,” I answered, blinking my eyes back into their normal shape. “There’s a fence hidden inside the brambles.”
“Good thing I spotted them,” Repose said, clearly understanding the significance of his find.
“Yeah. We have some sort of camp, and-”
“And it’s not supposed to be here,” Repose said.
I frowned. “I was going to say that means we can try and pick up some supplies. What makes you say that?”
Repose raised an eyebrow at me. “You are a soldier. Why would you disguise a fence as a three pony high thorny hedge?”
“Oh. Hmm… So then it’s likely some kind of illegal operation. Or they are keeping livestock inside. Brambles would keep rabbits from getting out, and also work as fairly good barbed wire. Could go either way,” I analyzed, doing my best to calculate the most likely option.
It’s a good thing Repose had a little officer’s training. I’d always been an enlisted bug. I preferred being subordinate.
“I’ve never been any good at illusions,” Repose said thoughtfully. “Can you go griffon?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I can’t do specific griffons through. I um, I’m not very good at shapechanging.”
“How does that work? Wouldn’t it be easier to imitate a specific individual then make your own?” Repose asked.
“No, anyling can do a random pony instinctively, but um... It’s sort of a martial art,” I explained. “I practiced ‘pony style’ enough to make myself look any way I like as a pony. I practiced ‘griffon style’ enough to learn to take on a griffon shape. The griffon I do will be a random one every time.”
Repose nodded thoughtfully, then squinted back at the thornwall. “I’d like to know what that is before we sneak around it. Just so we know if we could bump into a patrol or not. Also how big it is. If not all of it is fenced off and we wander into the middle of say, a poacher’s den…”
I nodded. “I can check it out and get back to you,” I offered. “Can you stay hidden until I get back?”
Repose smiled like a school age colt. “Can I?” He asked in a playful voice.
To my horror, with a pulse of red light, all of Repose’s flesh simply melted away. Dissolving into nothing within a span of seconds. Before I could react in horror, he swept off his cloak, skeleton moving with a faint red glow around it, bundled the cloak up, and stuffed it into his empty ribcage before simply falling over.
“I would say this is pretty hidden,” Repose said in a hauntingly distorted voice. “Regenerating all of that mass is going to be tiring, so, feel free to take a while.”
“Uh… Y-yeah. I’ll do that,” I stammered.
Doing my best to just ignore the absolute horror show, especially since he seemed to be very proud of his admittedly ingenious hiding ‘spot’, I reached a hoof down to my abdomen and clicked my armor’s releases. I wasn’t a Scout. I’d have to leave the armor behind.
My armor clicked several times as the latches opened, the back splitting open to allow me to wiggle my way free of the suit. If I had time, I’d have broken it down to hide it more easily, but I had a feeling I would need to get into it swiftly in a few minutes.
“Put this up in a tree or something, please,” I asked Repose as I wormed my way out of the armor, slipping off my helmet and stashing it inside the chest as I snapped my wings open, flying up a short ways to slide my rear legs free, then dropping to the ground.
“Of course. I’ll let it drop back down the moment I see you coming back,” Repose replied.
“You can see like that?!” I exclaimed in honest shock.
“Yes. But not well. At all,” he informed honestly.
“Alright, heading out,” I said as I took a breath to perform the shift.
Griffon. Not a shape I had used very much. A complex form as well. I’d have to be careful.
The body, tail, and back legs of a lion. I thought about them, pictured, them, held the image clear in my mind, then progressed. The head and wings of an eagle with an eagle's talons as the front feet. I focused on those features, picturing them as clearly as my imagination could, and then stuck them onto the other half.
Stage one complete.
I concentrated, instinct guiding my mind as it worked to comprehend the function of each and every part. Inside and out. The instinctive calculations were never precise, always raw, always needing to be trained and refined. A single mistake and the form would die as I changed into it. I could easily kill myself with one stray thought taking on such a complicated form.
But it had to be done.
I took a deep breath, and reached into the back of my mind for my magic, pushing the image I had created along with the mental ‘arm’.
My body erupted into emerald green flames as my magic broke down my body, rearranging each part in gaseous form and then solidifying it once more in that single split second, the flash of green light concealing the transformation itself. Even from me.
But I knew what happened when we’d changed form. Never watch a changeling shift through anything which filters out green light. It’s pretty creepy looking.
I gasped as the transformation finished falling to my knees and talons, coughing, head spinning, and vision grayed out for several moments.
“Are you okay?” Repose asked urgently.
“Forgot… To… Oxygenate… Blood… Properly….” I panted.
“That can happen?” he asked in concern.
I nodded, finally getting enough air to breathe and function properly. Scooping up my saddle bags, half out of habit and half in case I needed some tools, I tossed it onto my back clumsily. Not used to using taloned fingers.
“Yeah, I’m okay now. Be back soon,” I said comfortingly before heading off for the briar fence.
I searched the living wall for several long minutes, wondering if an entrance was cleverly hidden inside the vegetation. But when my search turned up nothing, I broke a branch off the brambles, and lay it on the ground, bent into a v shape to point the way back to repose, then set off to follow the wall’s left side, knowing there would be an entrance someplace.
While a ground entrance for a hidden place owned by a flying species might seem like a silly notion to some, it’s only logical. If you can fly, you can move above a place. If you can fly above a place, it needs to be hidden from above to be, well, hidden. So a hidden compound would have a ground level entrance.
Or at least, that’s what I thought.
After one full loop back to my stick I learned two things. One, there was no ground entrance. Two, the perimeter of the ‘camp’ meant it had to be at least a square kilometer. This was a hamlet.
Or a really bucking huge camp.
Taking a nervous breath, I opened my wings and buzzed them. Which got me precisely nowhere. Because that’s not how avian wings work.
Ponyfeathers! I completely forgot I didn’t know how to fly as anything but a changeling. I had one option.
Backing away from the wall, I dug my talons into a tree and climbed up the side. Fortunately, the tree was much taller than the wall, offering me a view of a small hamlet, tucked away behind the bramble fence and quite open to the air.
The hamlet was built around a literal oasis within the arid forest. A lush green pasture, growing well despite the early days of winter. The pasture was dotted with large plots of land growing random vegetables, and ‘fenced in’ with a ring of large pens filled to the brim with rabbits.
As I was searching for the means by which this possibility could exist, I spotted the slaves. Earth Ponies, a few dozen. Chained to cables with a pulley mechanism permitting them to move in a straight line along one part of the pasture, but nowhere else.
The sight made my stomach turn. It’s one thing to be dependent on other species for survival and so keep them close to you. It’s another thing to treat them like animals.
Bucking savages…
The meat farm occupied the hamlet’s center, with path marked out by stones ringing it and connecting all of the ‘buildings’ in a web-like pattern. Aside from the three dozen small, cabin sized yurts, three permanent larger structures existed, each set on one cardinal direction of the central ring.
The largest one was a big log building which served some purpose I couldn’t comprehend. It must have been important, because it had multiple cables strung up between it and a series of tall poles which ran alongside the path, with one more cable going to each yurt’s roof.
Perhaps this was the means of raising a camouflage net? Their crops may need more light than could filter through the netting.
The next largest building was made of stone, and clearly served as an armory and barracks. It had a shooting range behind it, and several lightly armored guards posted beside the doors. Each of them was armed with what appeared to be short barreled rifles.
Why any species would use gunpowder weapons as anything more than sporting equipment was beyond me. Especially ones with short barrels, given the accuracy issues that would cause. Even without enchantments, a crossbow is still plenty powerful, and far more accurate. If a bit shorter ranged.
Crossbows are also silent! I’d always hated fighting griffons, the noise made it hard to hear orders. A brilliant tactic if it wasn't just as detrimental to them as well. Honestly, even rate of fire isn’t an issue! There are many mechanical designs for repeating cross-
“Hey you!” A voice shouted angrily in griffonese. “I see you in that tree! Fly down here, talons where I can see ‘em!”
Buck! What the hay color was I? How had he seen me so-
Oh, I was bright white with little gray spots. That is not tree colored. Oops.
At least I spoke their language.
Thinking quickly I called back, “I can’t fly. I was climbing up to see it I could jump over your um, well I guess it’s a fence.”
“What do you mean you can’t fly?” the voice called again.
This time I was able to spot the speaker. A griffoness, in a rather good ghillie suit, walking atop a small ledge built behind the bramble fence. I was fairly certain she had a weapon trained on me, but the fact she mostly looked like a slightly higher blob of brambles made that hard to tell.
“I just got away from some hunters who decided I’d be better off as their food,” I replied, hoping it would sound plausible.
Then, a second idea popped into my head. “Look, I don’t want to get into another fight today, and those jerks took most of my stuff. I still got some things you might like. I’d be willing to trade some things. Or I can just climb down and leave. You can even watch me go if you want.”
“Pfff, that’s total dung. You’re a bandit scouting us out. So you can get down here or I can put a bullet through your left eye and out the right one!” She called menacingly.
“Would a scout seriously spy from a tree without any camouflage on when they are not tree colored?” I called back, rolling my eyes for good measure.
“... Okay, fair point, but-”
“Gretchen! He’s got a tool belt, not a holster or scabbard,” someone else chided. “What are you looking for?”
“Um, food if possible, I could also use a tent and a blanket. I’m headed north,” I called back.
“Mmm, so a trail kit. What do you have to trade?” The same person asked.
“This is a terrible idea!” Gretchen growled. “He could be-”
“Unruffle those feathers, Gretch! I’ve been guarding for years, you’ve been guarding for days. Trust me, he’s no threat. What do you have stranger?” He asked again.
“Er…” I said to fill the dead air as I mentally listed off my rather sizable tools. “Well, I’m a carpenter by trade. Quite a lot really. I could afford to part with several hammers, a few chisels, a draw knife, and I do have a few pony made power tools but-”
“Pony tools!? Where did you pick those up?” The second griffon asked suspiciously.
“My dad picked them up as loot in a raid down south a long time ago. They still work,” I lied.
“Do you have a drill and bit set?” He asked after a short pause.
I tried to bite my lip, the gesture not remotely working due to having a lack of lips. I honestly wish I had a mirror because the two griffons below me snickered.
“Okay, yeah, he’s been roughed up,” Gretchen decided. “That has to be a concussion face.”
“Er, sorry, what?” I called, playing into her assumption.
“Do you have a drill and bit set?” The griffon repeated.
I did. I had one. And I liked it. Quite a bit. It was one of the best tools I owned. I’d really rather not part with it…
I sighed. “Yeah… I do,” I answered.
“I can see you’d rather keep it,” the griffon called. “But let me tell you, I’m not going to be interested in anything else.”
But on the other hoof, Repose had abandoned his entire alchemy lab to help me. What kind of friend and one day hubby would I be if I wasn’t willing to sacrifice things for him?
“What comes in that kit?” I asked.
“Tent, canvas rucksack, wool blanket, canteen, two days dried rations, and a tomahawk. In exchange for the drill, and all the bits you have. Take it or leave it,” he answered.
I assumed it was a he. The voice was more rumbly.
Did I really want to part with that drill? It took me a very long time to save up for it and it was extremely useful. I even had a pocket hole jig, and a full set of- No… no. I had to do it. But I also had to bargain.
“That’s not very fair, I have a pretty large bitset. Hundred and twenty pieces. How about we make that two weeks rations?” I asked.
“Holy crap! I mean, um, that’s what I thought you would have!” The griffon stammered in shock.
Heh heh, gotcha!
“You know, Franz, I could just shoot him and we could take it,” Gretchen said, presumably more loudly than she thought.
“It would be worth the bullet…” Franz mused. “Though you could miss and hit the drill if he moves before you fire, and he’s asking for far less than the value of repairing the генератор.”
I frowned, not knowing what the hell that word was. But the low curse Gretchen hissed meant it was probably important to their settlement.
“You have a deal, stranger. I’ll give you a kit and lower it over the fence. You put your tools in the bucket and then be on the way. Try and run without paying and I’ll let Gretchen here shoot you,” He warned.
“Understood. I’ll just hop down and wait at the bottom,” I promised.
“You do that. Gretch, don’t even think about it. I hear a gunshot and I’m eating the next egg you lay right in front of you! Understand?”
“... I’m sterile. I eat them myself. This is not a problem for me. We have this conversation every damn time…” Gretchen muttered.
“I know. I do it to annoy you, rookie. Back soon, stranger,” Franz said, the sound of creaking boards and a rustle of wings accompanying a completely ordinary looking chunk of brambles flying off the wall top.
Okay, note to self, when you go back to changeling form, change your eyes to work in the thermal wavelengths. Eastern Griffon camouflage is scary good! The ones around our hive had never been this good.
Or was I out of practice at literally everything? Probably that one. Buck.
I climbed down the tree and walked up to the brambles as close as I dared. I’d seen how badly furred species could get tangled up in those thorny vines. No sense in getting stuck on the wall of the barely not hostile people.
As I got close, Gretchen reared up on her hind legs to keep her weapon trained on me. I hadn’t fought griffons in a long time, but I could tell they had made some progress with their weapons. The rifle she had looked much sleeker and far more refined than the ones I remembered. It had a lever near the grip which I presumed was to allow the flint to be relocked more quickly, and without the shooter having to remove their tallon from the tiller.
Noticing my staring inquisitively at her weapon was intimidating the Gryphoness, I decided to keep analyzing it. I was confident my danger sense would let me dodge any shot she happened take and well, it took those things ages to reload.
Over all, the weapon was not bad. Likely decent as a long range weapon for picking off a specific target, without an enchanter’s touch the range would be much greater than even a heavy crossbow. Still, you’d get much more rapid fire from a repeating crossbow. Even with a quick way to reset the wheel lock you’d have to…
I felt my eyes narrow slightly as I realized something. That couldn’t be what the lever was for. It made no sense. It would be a total weapon redesign to save about two seconds in a minute long process.
Take paper cartridge, puncture, pour powder in barrel. Place patch in barrel. Insert ball. Ram down firmly. Turn the wheel lock to prime the flint, add powder to the flash pan, lower the lever, fire.
A lever mechanism for just the wheel did nothing to accelerate that process. A full redesign of the mechanism including tucking the flint under a brass plate covering made no sense to shave off a few seconds. What did it do?
Gretchen shifted uneasily, allowing me a view of the weapon’s side for a split second. It had a little recessed bit, with a steel bit behind it. A door?
Ah ha! The lever opened the door, likely also cocking the wheel mechanism, allowing the cartridge to be inserted directly into the back of the barrel. Ingenious! That definitely would save time on the reload! Mabey even enable something approximating rapid fire.
What was the little metal rod below the barrel for? Support? They did do away with a lot of the wood which supported the barrels on older weapons. Ah, right. Those things kicked back when you used them! It must be some weight to prevent the weapon from doing that as badly.
Should I ask her if I can see it? Because I really want to see it.
“Stop staring at me before I let ants eat your brains!” Gretchen suddenly shouted.
“Sorry!” I apologised, looking away. “I like machines is all.”
I always liked seeing technological progress. I’d gotten to see lots of arcane progress since leaving hibernation, which I guess made tech special. More rare.
Just as I was wondering if I should be honestly afraid of the rookie guard actually shooting me, the fence creaked again, accompanied by a thump as something landed atop it.
“I’m back stranger and- Gretch…” Franz sighed.
“What?” she asked.
“Safety's on,” He sighed.
“What?” Gretchen said turning her weapon to one side, closing her eyes angrily, and clicking a small button with a talon tip. “This never happened!”
Ahhh! Yes, that made sense. A small system to prevent the firing mechanism from operating. My old bow had one of those. Lets you keep the weapon ready to fire at all times without worrying about it going off while it’s slung on your back. Too bad we’d already traded. I’d love to get one of those rifles and inspect it. Maybe they had managed to catch up to a light crossbow.
“Oh, it happened,” Franz said firmly.
A rope with attached bucket suddenly appeared over the edge of the fence, sliding quickly down until the bucket thumped to the ground, revealing the medium sized backpack inside, with a rolled up blanket lashed to the bottom and a rolled up canvas tent lashed to the top. The pack’s frame had been cunningly fashioned from the tent’s poles if the metal fixings on the pack frame's ends were any indication.
“Food, canteen, and tomahawk are inside,” Franz grunted.
I lifted the pack out, set it down, and then retrieved my drill from my saddlebags, followed by the bit set, and set them into the bucket with a reluctant sigh. If only I’d kept a bugout bag…
Hehehe, bugout bag!
“Open that box. I want to make sure there are bits in it,” Franz instructed.
I opened the box with a nod, and took out the eight smaller boxes, opening them up to display the bits.
“That good?” I asked.
“You didn’t lie, so yes. Now get going, and if anyone attacks out hamlet in the next week, I will personally hunt you down and use your hide as a new door for my yurt,” Franz warned casualty.
It took me a second to realize that the threat wasn’t a threat, but a standard farewell. It had been said too calmly and formally to be anything other than a ritual.
“Farewell, sir. Ma’am,” I said, picking up the pack, slinging it onto my back between my wings, and then quickly walking off into the forest, making sure to break line of sight at the treeline.
It took me a few minutes to find my way back to Repose. I hadn’t dared look back for my V shaped branch, lurking around after the trade would have been a good way to get shot at.
Sure, I could dodge one shooter’s bullets, those big balls were honestly no faster than an arrow. But as with any ranged weapon and my danger sense, a group of people shooting at me made it exponentially harder to dodge the incoming fire. Warning or no warning.
“Reep?” I called quietly as I entered the place I was relatively sure he was hiding-
A skeleton suddenly rose up from the earth! I screamed like a terrified Nymph, definitely alerting the griffon guards atop the wall! The skeletons’ macabre grin flashing hungrily for the-
“Sorry didn’t see you coming,” Repose apologize horn glowing red as he lowered my armor from the tree above him.
My heart throbbed dangerously in my chest. I definitely had NOT formed it right. I think I was about to have a heart attack!
“Put your… Put it back on. Please,” I begged.
“Oh! Yes. Sorry about that,” he laughed.
A deep red glow engulfed Repose, the translucent aura allowing me to watch as the spell’s energy coalesced into scraps of muscle, ligaments, organs, skin, putting him back into the sexy but now also creepy because he could do this exact thing from that I was familiar with.
It looked like a slower part by part changeling transformation. Ugh.
To take my mind off of that bit of body horror, I transformed myself, making sure to close my eyes as I returned to my changeling body. As I turned back, I did my best to try and make myself look like the pony form I had created. Small, sleek, a little effeminate, not obviously strong.
And like always I failed. Big, bulky, thicker exoskeletal plates. Ugh… Why couldn’t I be a Scout? Their natural forms were cute. Also, I’d be way better at shifting.
“I’m back to normal, Fell,” Repose informed. “You can open your eyes.”
I detected a hint of amusement in his voice as he said that.
“I’m sorry! It’s just really bucking terrifying to see a skeleton move!” I hissed.
“Hmm… I suppose would be if you didn’t grow up with it,” Repose said with a frown, putting a hoof to his muzzle in thought. “At any rate, what are we dealing with?”
“A hamlet. Several slaves, really good camouflaged guards, who totally heard me scream. Uh… We should go,” I said, eyes widening as I realized they would likely be prepping for an attack, assuming the fictional bandits I had mentioned caught up with me.
Repose nodded. “Climb in your armor and lead the way around,” he ordered.
I nodded, shedding the pack and saddle bags as I hopped into my armor. “Oh! As an update, I got us a tent, blanket, some food, water, and a hatchet,” I said, slipping my helmet on, taking care to slide the horn into its sheath properly.
“Just one blanket?” Repose asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, they didn’t like haggling.”
“Hmm… That doesn't seem like enough for a colder night outdoors. I do provide body heat. I suppose we’ll just have to cuddle for warmth,” Repose mused.
I felt my face contort in joy as I realized that yes, we would in fact HAVE to cuddle. Barely containing a squee, I cleared my throat, hoping to ensure the sound wouldn’t come out.
“Yes, have to. Totaly. It’s a shame,” I joked.
Repose frowned oddly. “I assumed changelings would enjoy cuddling.”
I facehooved, the sound of rubber meeting unknown armor plating echoing off the trees. “That was a joke, Reep.”
“Oh. Good. Because I haven't cuddled with a stallion in a long time. Honestly, can't remember if I liked it or not. It will be fun to find out. At any rate, we should get clear of the area. Lead the way?” He asked.
He was into stallions!? YAY!
This time, I couldn’t hold in the squee.
"Nyeee!" I had a shot! It wasn’t all futile!
Repose head tilted. “Um, what was that?”
“Er,” I stammered. “Armor pressurizing?”
“Oh,” he said, genuinely buying that pathetic excuse…
I love you, you oblivious idiot.
“Come on, we need to get moving. We should go west for a while then turn back north. Their compound is pretty big,” I said, starting to move along.
The first night we slept together, I would have to find some way of making Repose take big spoon, and then get him to stay that wa-
NO! Bad Fell! Possible angry invisible snipers within two hundred meters! Eyes open, ears out.
Gods damn my bucking rusty ass! I needed to get my head back into the game.
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Dammit, Double-D, I mean I hate you are around starting shit, but I am also kinda glad you just turned Sunshit into an ugly version of Sally.
Oh Gentle, you oblivious idiot, you have what you've always had... A head full of bricks. Cause you're as thick as one...
Why not Zoidberg?
I'm sorry.
Okay, then Repose. Imma just try to forget you doing that.
7607836 Just imagine him showing Fluttershy that trick... A thing which may or may not happen in the future.
Congrats!
7607989 Sweet! Thanks, added to description.
So the big spell given to the resident douche is a make harem spell?
Ninja Assasin Harem
This is so good congrats on the first changling lich gay duo I have ever seen. Also I liked your design for the camp.
Dawn, how scurry, O_o.
I actually didn't realize it was him fir a few minutes XD
In the picture, witch one is Felling Axe, and witch one is Repose?
Dawn is a little darker in this chapter. It will be interesting to see how it all plays out
7608030 Repose never said he's sexually attracted to males... Only that he's cuddled up with one before. He could simply have been in a survival situation before, and be straight or any other orientation. Fell is just being optimistic, as is his character.
7608023 That's how someone who values sex over personal power would use it, yes. However...
7608123 I've seen stupider happen IRL. Durring a game of tag, *Dudes chasing me, I desperately bluer* "Look a distraction!" *dudes actually turn and look*
7608127 Havent read the story yet? Fell is the changeling, and on the left. Repose is (technically) the pony in the cloak and on the right.
7608159 Glad you're enjoying things :)
7608194 darnit, that never works with me! :c
(I've actually tried three times now XD)
Damn it, Dawn, just fuck off. Couldn't even let Little Shit stay dead for a bit longer
Also, Repose, buddy, ya gotta warn someone before you go all Bones McGee on them. That shit is scary when you don't know it's coming.
7608587 Poor stallion had been wanting to do that since he was 312. Can't blame him for being a little exited ^^
Well, at least Dawn let slip to Sunlit how he can defend himself (somewhat) if Sunlit pisses him off... Not that I'm rooting for Sunlit at all.
I wonder where the catbirbs got their fancy-shmancy shooters from.
Completely aside, a story I'm toying with has an OC protag named Sunlit and now I'm getting the weirdest juxtaposition here.
7608664
As a species without magic, Girffons are actually quite adept at technology. This is the first time Fell ahs encountered Griffon Kingdom nationals since he was put into hibernation, he's expecting their hardware to be ware it was several centuries ago. In those centuries the griffons have progressed up to the late 1800's in terms of firearms.
Howeaver, their progress is slowed by their nation being, well, very poor. They have tech, but most griffons live like it's a Fallout game. What tech they have is bodged up from scrap and the like. Good weapons are usually hand-me-downs from one's parents. If they had better economics over the years, the would be up to near future firearms. But the lack of materials and funds means they can't innovate frequently.
The other largly griffon nation in the world is deep into the computer age, while the Griffon Kingdom is at 1882 tech at best (Crude electrical grids feeding first gen electrical devices, early self-contained cartridge weapons (no semi auto yet), terrafying medical practiaces, using crude stuff like cocane as pain killers for surgery...)
7608194
Well he needs to start his army somewhere and he seems like the type.
If it were me my first victim would be a target of oppurtunity, probably a vagrant, stab and spell just to see how much mana it cost me.
I assume they'd know if the spell was used on a member of the iron line so once I knew how the spell affected me I'd be looking for 3 things:
1) innocent looking ponies, 1 or 2 that nobody would look at with suspition. I'd probably get these using my vagrant to go grave robbing or "shopping" at a morgue. I can then use these thralls either to lure in off duty military types and other victims, or to hunt the wildlife since it'd be easier to fix any damage to them than it would to myself.
2) A few big strong things, be it ponies or creatures from the local bestiary, I'll need to work on the move so I need a wagon with enough room to operate in and a few someone/things to pull it.
3) A bunch of animals like rats cats and/or dogs that can scavenge while we move, bigger would be better so they can carry bodies in fewer pieces (or larger bodies). Probably start by visiting pest control for a couple of animals,once moving this inital group can bring in more scavenger types while new acquisitions can be assainged to look for more useful things.
Bunnies would also be suitable if I could turn them at a small enough cost
.
Once I have this set up I can follow fell/reep while building my main force, which would be determined by what creatures (EDIT including ponies and griffins) I had access to and just how much frankenstiening I could do them. And yes step 1 could totally double as the harem, I'm not going to deny I'd at least be tempted... Although I couldn't tell you if I'd follow through or not useless I became a necromancer and had that spell.
For fuck's sake, no one who works with necromancy can be this stupid! No, seriously, he is being smug next to a being that could kill him without a thought, he backtalked a commander who has literally authorized the removal of most of his limbs and only superficially replaced them, and now he's asking how this is a threat? No one is this stupid-there are so many different answers to this.
Here's three of the top of my head.
Eternal unlike as sentient but encased in concrete and magic cut off. Nominated for live organ harvest with the best life support and tissue regrowers in the world. Babysitting angel bunny.
No. You're not getting off the hook for realizing now. If Discord was dealing with you, he would draw in sharpie all over your head and body and head the words "Hello! I'm a moron! that will only fade when you demonstrate a suitable feat of intelligence to prove them wrong and will actively breed and multiply for every stupid action you take. Furthermore, he'll superglue a stupid looking and flamboyant hat that will never match any color scheme envisioned by mortal eyes and is cursed to always end up back on your head with even stronger superglue instantly adhering it.
I like to believe there is a circle of all powerful Griffon engineers and scientist who are never questioned and, while incredibly capable, choose their products by taping subjects to a dart board, getting drunk with no less then seven shots of whiskey, and throw darts and decide to work on whatever they happen to hit. In this case, they missed the twenty foot dart board, broke a window, and the dart landed in a compost heap.
oooo fallout refrains
You know, skeletons would probably be creepier if you had an exoskeleton anyway.
We're getting into my wheelhouse with discussion on firearms. It seems that this is most likely a lever action with an underbarrel tube magazine. Certainly one of the more common methods of feeding a lever action.
I would like to point out that it's fairly uncommon for a lever action to have a manual safety. I have seen it, notably on the Rossi Rio Bravo, though I think it's most likely that the presence of the manual safety is to make the gun more import-able under Section 922r of Title 18 USC. Many domestically produced lever action rifles forego the manual safety, as lowering the hammer to half-cock works very well.
That being said, there are some guns that use levers to load and still have a manual safety, the Martini-Greener shotgun comes to mind, though Martini actions are single shot by nature.
11590965 Odd that your first instinct here is "Magical creature from a magical land unrelated to Earth is using weapons that follow the same exact trends and standards of human weapons from the real world." Pretty sure that they'd have their own standards... That said, every lever gun I've ever had came with a simple safety.
11591039
Shooting is a significant hobby of mine, so naturally, any time I see mention of firearms, I start dissecting them. It's a lot like when a car enthusiast sees a kitbash of several different models in a movie, he might try to pick apart the origin of each individual part. Like I said, I've seen lever actions with manual safeties, I mentioned the Rossi, though the Henry rifles I also see don't often have manual safeties. I wasn't giving any critique, merely sharing an observation.
From the description, the gun I was imagining was a Henry model 1860, with the addition of a crossbolt safety. The mention of the lack of wood was probably in reference to having a wood stock and forearm, but the 1860 is what appeared in my mind, since that one doesn't really have a forestock, and the magazine tube is exposed the whole way up.
11591110 Fair enough! Just find it strange how people in general don't seem to think "Well it's another world" first and foremost. That's something I do regularly.
11593875
I was just reading an article, and it had this quote in it that reminded me of this interaction.
This says, in a far more elegant manner than what I was able to muster in the response, which you may or may not have been notified of (because Fimfiction doesn't push notifications if the response happens to be on a different chapter than the original comment), when I said the small details are what breaks suspension of disbelief. I just worded it in the narrowest possible manner.
11604099 I understand that's how it is for neurotypicals, but it's not how it is for me. I treat each fiction I read separately. I was remarking on a way I'm different from other people due to autism. It's genuinely weird to me how fixed to reality most of you guys are when reading fiction that's not set in reality.