Hail To The... King?
"Master."
I was interrupted from any further self examination by a monotone voice. I looked up to see... well, I'll be honest, it looked like a pony wearing the most ostentatiously metal outfit I'd ever seen, topped off with glowing green eyes. Seriously: If they ever made Mad Max: Pony Road, this was what the bad guys would be wearing.
"Speak," I said, for lack of anything else to say, given that I was still in shock at discovering I was no longer human.
It seemed to do the trick, though. "As per your instructions," the uber-metal pony stated emotionlessly, "we have chained the fallen Princess Celestia, and placed the collar you gave us upon her. She will not be using any further magic against you, so long as it remains around her neck. After your successful defeat of the princess, we followed your orders and secured the city of Canterlot. There was little resistance: The populace lost the will to continue the battle when they saw their princess fall. Canterlot is yours, and with it, Equestria."
O... kay? Well, better go along with whatever the fuck this is, at least until I had a chance to find my feet... or hooves. Whatever. I asked, cautiously, "And the condition of the princess?"
The... soldier, I guess, replied, "She lives. No apparent injuries of note. It seems that it was fatigue that has laid her low, more than anything else."
"Good," I said, making sure my expression was a mask of calm. I hated my parents for a number of justifiable reasons (Including, but not limited to, the fifty cigarette burns on my left forearm), but being forced to take classes in acting, theatre, and improv for several years in preparation to starting a career in politics gave me a poker face that nothing short of a zombie-sharknado apocalypse could break. Finding myself in a strange new world, and myself some kind of evil pony conqueror king? Thankfully, not quite in the same category. "Make sure she remains that way. She is far more valuable as a hostage than as a corpse. And find someone authorized to formally surrender the city to me, and with it, the country. It's important that we do this properly before I take the throne. Ah, and have someone set up a tent for the proceedings. Properly furnished, of course. And a mirror: I want to make sure I look my best." And I definitely wanted to see what this new body of mine looked like.
The soldier saluted, and said, "Your will, King Sombra."
As the soldier gave a bow, and then went to relay my commands, I filed away a few useful nuggets of information.
Item One: My name, apparently, is King Sombra.
Item Two: I was in the process of conquering a city called Canterlot, in a country called Equestria.
Item Three: I had, by all indications, been in a fight with a princess named Celestia. Apparently, she was in charge.
Item Four: She lost the fight, and is currently in chains, plus a collar that prevents her from using magic.
Item Five: Magic is a thing here.
Item Six: Sombra won, and is about to finalize his victory. Therefore, Sombra must have magic enough to be able to defeat Princess Celestia.
Item Seven: I was the king now, and would be saddled with running a newly conquered country.
Item Eight: Apparently, after Sombra was knocked unconscious, his underlings went about conquering the city without paying their unconscious king any attention. Weird.
Fuck. I got away from my parents specifically because I hated politics (And the constant physical and emotional abuse, mustn't forget that), but now it seemed I was stuck in the middle of some serious Game of Thrones shit.
Still, at least I had some intel to work with. I suspected that, in whatever battle took place between King Sombra and Princess Celestia, Sombra probably took a blow to the head, or something of that nature, which would explain the agony my current head was experiencing. Maybe it was enough to kill him? And somehow that resulted in me taking his place. Why? How? Questions to answer later. For now, I'd need to keep up appearances: I doubted if anyone would believe I was anyone other than King Sombra right now...
And if they did, they might decide to kill me, just to make sure that King Sombra didn't somehow come back: Conquerors are never popular people at the best of times, historically, no matter how much good they may end up doing for the people they conquer. Something told me that these were not the best of times.
Having filed all this info away for future reference, I looked around for the first time, and really examined my surroundings.
The first words that come to my mind, even now, when describing the aftermath of Sombra and Celestia's final battle are 'Blasted Heath'. This was a term used by H. P. Lovecraft in his story 'The Colour Out Of Space'. It is a term used to describe a portion of land that was... I guess the best term for it is 'corrupted' by, of all things, a color from outside the known and accepted spectrum. An alien, sapient color that corrupted, then consumed, all of the life of the land around it. People included.
The reason I use the term Blasted Heath, therefore, isn't because the area looked 'blasted', even though there was tremendous property damage to be seen for a considerable distance. I use the term because it was obvious that whatever dark magicks had been used here, it had left a clear and unmistakable mark: Jagged shards of crystal, blacker than the pits of hell and seeming to ooze some manner of black liquid, were scattered around the place, and for at least ten to twenty yards around those shards, all the greenery was drained of life. A pity: It was clear that this was once a very picturesque bit of scenery, before it became a battlefield. Very little vegetation remained alive, now, and I could actually see the... corruption spreading, killing all plant life in its path. Just looking at the dark crystals made me nauseous, as if whatever those things were, they were trying to reach in and corrode my body and soul through my eyes. I wished like hell they weren't there...
And suddenly, they were gone. The crystals just... evaporated. The spreading corruption stopped. Just like that. One thought from me, and it was as if it had never been. I mean, the plants that were dead remained dead, but the ground they were rooted in no longer looked like it might eat through flesh if anyone touched it.
So... unless those crystals were Celestia's doing, and I randomly had the power to dismiss them, those crystals must have been Sombra's doing. That wasn't good: It meant that, rather than this being a regular war between two countries, which might have been fought for various legitimate or semi-legitimate reasons, this meant that Sombra (and by extension, myself) were the bad guys. And I mean, Skeletor, Sauron, and Voldemort level bad guys. Worse, Sombra had won whatever war had been going on. Everyone in the world would hate me, and not just the way that the conquered hate a conqueror. I was this world's evil overlord. Everyone here would despise me with the fiery fury of a thousand exploding suns.
Just fucking fantastic.
I took a deep breath, and wished my headache would stop. Sadly, this wish did not come true. Still, the presence of that headache actually allowed me to approach the current situation with a clear head: It was impossible for me to be asleep and dreaming with this level of pain raging through my skull. This had to be real. While I couldn't remember what I was doing before the start of my current situation, that was irrelevant: This was my current reality, so I'd have to at least try to take things seriously.
Sadly, events that would soon transpire would make that very difficult.
A trio of winged versions of the Metal-est pony touched down right in front of me. One of them produced a crystal from a small pouch secured to its waist. It tossed the crystal a dozen or so feet away, and when it struck ground, it popped open with a bright light and a noise like a firecracker. When the light faded, a massive black and red tent was standing where there was once open field. It was impressive: The sort of tent you might expect a king... or tyrant to reside in when on the battlefield. A second pony stepped in, and began tossing crystals about inside. There was a series of pops and flashes as, I wagered, furniture was being provided. After the second pony was done, the third walked in, and there was the sound of movement inside, as the pony arranged the furniture to whatever kind of Feng-Shui applied to the tents of evil overlords, I guess. A few moments later, the third pony stepped out, and the three saluted before flying off to whatever duties they had.
I'd watched this with a feeling that something was... off about all of this. It took me a moment to realize what it was: None of them had said a word, not to me or each other, throughout the entire event. No chit-chat, not even a grunt when, inside the tent, the pony within had moved what sounded like a heavy table. They'd performed their duties with a precision one would more associate with ants or bees... or robots, rather than sapient creatures. It was more than a little creepy.
My thoughts were interrupted when a new death metal pegasus flew in. It dropped down in front of me with a salute, and said, "My king. I was sent to inform you that a member of the royal family, a Prince Blueblood, has been located. He was found hiding under his bed within his quarters. He will be brought here directly. Be advised, he insisted on an honor guard to escort him, before he'd come out from under the bed. As such, three other soldiers are coming with him."
So, he was hiding under his bed when a major battle was going on? That was cowardly, foolish, and immature. Most members of royalty have some sort of escape route planned in situations like this, rather than just 'If I hide long enough, it'll go away'. Still, it was hardly my problem: I just wanted this taken care of quickly so I could start getting my bearings. I shrugged, then said, "That's fine. Have ten of our best soldiers stationed inside of the tent, with an additional twenty around the tent's external perimeter. I don't want anyone getting any clever ideas. Or even any foolish ones."
The soldier saluted, and flew off. Within seconds after the messenger's departure, ponies both winged and ground-based began assembling both in and around the tent. Once again, all were silent, and there was no discussion as to who went where, or whether they should be inside or out. It all took place with a strange sort of silent choreography, every pony slotting into place as if they were meant to be there, and only there, a space meant only for them.
Creepy as fuck.
I was getting the feeling that there was something strange going on here. However, I didn't have time to contemplate this further. I needed to get myself ready for Prince Blueblood and his entourage, and I knew next to nothing about the guy...
Prince Blueblood
Sex: Male
Race: Unicorn
Color Scheme: White coat with a blonde mane and tail, blue eyes.
Cutie Mark: Compass Rose
Bio: Distantly related to Princess Celestia. Born into a life a wealth and power due to said relation, and skated through life with minimal effort ever since. Shallow, selfish, elitist, and notoriously cowardly, the only thing worse than any of the various fiends of Tartaraus conquering Equestria would be Prince Blueblood taking the throne himself.
Threat Level: Insignificant.
Gah! I shook my head, trying to clear it. I had no idea where that information had suddenly come from, but having it enter my mind so suddenly didn't do anything to help my headache. It was like someone had just stuffed a dozen pairs of socks into a briefcase that was already overfilled. It was several seconds before my head cleared enough for me to think.
So... apparently there's some info banging around in my head. Maybe leftovers from Sombra's consciousness? Useful, I suppose, but not pleasant. Still, getting even just a little bit of info on the guy gave me something to work with. I just hoped that the next time it happened, it wouldn't be quite so... severe. My head felt like it was about to explode already.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself, and walked into the tent. I looked around: Okay, there's a big table, chairs for a dozen people or ponies, ten warboy ponies standing at attention, and a mirror. I got a glimpse, for the first time, of how I currently appeared...
SWEET BABY CTHULHU, KILL IT WITH FIRE!!!
There are certain expectations that humans have when they hear the word 'Unicorn'. They think of stuffed animals held by little girls. They think of a brilliant white, horned horse galloping through fields of flowers with butterflies flitting happily to and fro. They think of something that goes around delivering hugs and rainbows to orphans. They think of something that eats cookies and poops ice cream.
They do not think of something like King Sombra.
If someone made a stuffed animal that looked like King Sombra, it would come alive and twist its creator's head off, then do a little dance in the blood fountain that ensued. If King Sombra ran through a field of flowers and butterflies, it would burst into flames as he went, all to the sound of his maniacal laughter. The only thing that King Sombra would deliver to orphans is the severed heads of their freshly murdered parents. King Sombra eats the hearts of those who dare to oppose him, and if he ever shit out ice cream, it would mostly be made of blood, cyanide, and razor blades. That is what King Sombra looks like.
If Cruella DeVille had a gangbang with Sauron, Voldemort, Bad Horse, Sparklelord, and Skeletor, this would be the result. Sombra is not a unicorn. He is the antithesis of a unicorn. He is the anti-corn. He is nightmare incarnate. And his was the face I'd be forced to wear, going forward.
It took all of my self-control not to scream in horror at my own reflection. Were it not for the sound of approaching hoof-beats outside, I would most definitely have shattered it, to rid myself of the sight of my horrendous visage. Instead, I quickly spun it around so I wouldn't have to look at it again.
And then, I prepared to meet Prince Blueblood, so I could accept his formal surrender. I just hoped that it would go quickly, without incident.
Sadly, I'd be wrong on both counts...
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Sweet god this is amazing so far
8187975
Thanks! Feel free to tell others about this story. It seems the front page doesn't like me very much, so I'll have to rely on word of mouth.
8188647
Sure if anyone I know asks for a good read I'll point em your way cause so far all your stories are simply wonderful to read
wonderful
but being forced to take classes in acting, theatre, and improv for several years in preparation to starting a career in politics gave me a poker face that nothing short of a zombie-sharknado apocalypse could break. Wow that is honestly one of the best things you could have in this situation besides from having your lessons in politics. Again I cannot stress it enough, This is going to be Good!
Oh colt, this is good! Not usually much for dark comedy (or comedy in general) but this, I like.
*continues to read.*
We should really call that minnion "Exposition guy". It's conveniant for the main character that he is willing to extend so much informations that the real Sombra wouldn't had needed.
The way you described Sombra? Pure gold...no, pure Mithrill, that's way better than gold.
I laughed my ass off of the description of himself. Lol
Finally, someone interesting and capable in a HIE story. Usually, they are numbnuts with barely two brain cells to rub together.
*gasps for air*
OMFG!!!!!!!!!!!!
I expected good, but this is... Genius!!!
The personality is intoxicating. If the high quality verbage continues, please take our babies dear Master.
:0
I am, you mean
This is hilarious!
i havent seen an more apt description for king sombra
Always good too know
Awsome
Not anymore
If i were a lesser person i would be making a joke about the collar and chain combo
Neat
Not really, but timing is everything
... yay
They are very dedicated/brainwashed
This reminds me a lot of Bucking Nonsense.
Bucking Nonsense is legendary.
Therefore, you are legendary.
Logic.
Reminds me of Bucking Nonsense's description. This is somehow better. You wizard.
I will use this. Thank you for it.
Finally able to comment so now I can say even if this story is shoved into the Dead pile I'll continue to read it with the speed of Kenyans.
Oooh I'm very interested! Just hope he doesn't permanently "keep in character". While I'll give him a lot of leeway for the crazy circumstances if he's still playing evil overlord in 5 years then id probably have to go fetch my pitch fork.