Chapter 6: The Colder Tones (part 4 of 4)
Author’s Note: Concerns were raised that the violence against children in this scene means I plan to turn this story into a Grimdark fic, as opposed to the cerebral story it has been.
I am not. Read on.
Noon had come and passed as I walked away from the town center, and I found myself wandering aimlessly along the outskirts. The breeze carried the scents of the nearby fields and forests across the unkept grass that I walked along. Above, the sparse clouds the pegasi had hung to give the town some shade drifted whimsically, their shadows occasionally rolling across my path.
Internally, my mind worked to put a flurry of questions into organized rows.
Could I really be nothing more than the figment of a schizophrenic mind? Was that where I’d come from? But if I was merely a character from a story, how did I come into being? How could I know so much of the obscure magic I seemed to have found myself as the foremost expert on? Perhaps another writer had known how to ford the Ora and written that in? But who would do something so wreckless? And how would that explain anything else I knew or was capable of? How did I become this intelligent? Was there another sapient mind pulled into the mix, or was mine created through random chance, as part of an anomaly?
If I were given the choice, I wouldn’t want to be a storybook character, because if I was just a figment from the Dreamtide, that meant nothing I remembered was real.
Was that so bad though...? I supposed not. I think, therefore I am: I am a living being now, regardless of origin. The method of a thing’s creation does not change the thing that it is.
But even still, if I was a character from that book, why did everything in it seem so... wrong? That book had clearly been written about my life, but why did so many details seem off? If I’d sprung from a derivative work, why would they make such extreme changes to the smaller details? Why would they bother to make the main character even more alien? Why would I remember being attacked at a festival if I'd been given life within the dream world? How was I still able to function as an entity of the Waking?
If I’d been corrupted by some other being, why would they use the memories of a storybook character? What was the purpose of me being created in the first place? Was I the spearhead of some sort of attack? Or perhaps the result of an attempt to communicate? Perhaps I was simply the discarded result of an experiment?
My walk became more purposeful.
No.
None of these questions were worth pondering at this point. They had answers, as all questions do, but I didn’t have the information which led to them. Something else was going on here, and until I understood what, the full picture couldn’t take shape.
I slowed as my destination loomed in front of me, and I looked up upon it, closer than Twilight had ever brought me, the dark boughs towering above my head.
The Everfree Forest.
Its tumultuous fields had been calling out to me since I first arrived, as if drawing me with the call of home. It was only now though that I had the context to understand what it was I'd been feeling.
Familiarity.
I had been here before. In fact, I knew it well. This was the first place I'd been when I'd come into this world, where the spell had brought me, and where I had lost me original consciousness. I knew, somehow, that somewhere in those treacherous woods, I would find the answer I needed.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders cow rescuers yay!”
The cheering of a group of fillies nearby broke me from my thoughts, and something in my brain screamed that if I didn’t get out of their way, I was about to be very annoyed.
I dissolved my form and pulled myself out of phase with the physical world, making myself effectively invisible and intangible to the creatures of the physical world. I moved on, floating through the trees on the edges of the forest, reaching out to touch, to feel the strange presence that marked this place as separate from the rest of this world, my mind analyzing the chaotic forces at play.
I found it calming to be back in this familiar role: not as a broken abomination struggling to comprehend its own existence, but as a researcher in the field, recording data and for answers to the unanswered questions of the world. And I remembered being here now, in a time when I couldn’t see anything and had no bearings on my physical location. The trees I had not seen, nor had I smelled the mud of rotting vegetation, nor heard the whistling of the weak breeze running through the tangled branches, but this place... As I ventured just inside of it, I felt embraced by its magic as it wrapped around me, no longer a force strong enough to whittle my now hardened self, but a veritable cornucopia of energy for me to feed upon.
I felt the power of this place dancing around me, just as I had before, but only now could I truly comprehend its beauty. Here, magic moved freely, almost like a living creature. Here, the spiritual plane met with the physical, the life so dense it made the outside world seem hollow in comparison. Here, even the divots that rainfall had made in the dirt, the knots in the trees, everything comfor-
The silence of the forest was murdered by a scream.
Three shrill voices were shrieking in absolute terror back in the direction of Ponyville, sending nearby birds scattering.
The Crusaders.
I rushed through the woods, back in the direction of Ponyville, following the screams as the number of voices dropped from three to two. I tore raw matter directly from a tree as I went straight through it, wrapping myself in a new body as I went. The tree leaned and topped behind me, crashing to the ground as two screams became one. Wings tore from my back, legs from my chest, and a horned head from my neck, as I flew, not bothering to even move my legs as I gained momentum by the laws of Aristotelian physics, and the final scream was silenced.
My form finished solidifying just as I hit the edge of the clearing, bursting through the foliage, overclocking the analysis of my perception as I took in what was in front of me.
The creature was vaguely humanoid, with bone white skin, massive draconic wings with deep red membranes, and powerful looking hooved legs. It was clad in armor made of pure bronze, painted dark red in what looked to be the blood of sacrifices, mixing in the fresh blood of the fillies scattered around him.
Sweetie Belle coughed on the ground, blood streaming from her face as she tried vainly to crawl away, her tail pinned under his hoof. Applebloom flailed her hooves, banging them against the tree behind her as she hung sideways, her blood running down its trunk as splinters dug into her hide where her body had been smashed into its bark: it was a wonder her spine had survived such an impact. Scootaloo’s swollen face ran with tears and snot as her hooves clamoured at the massive hand around her neck, choking out incoherent whimpers as she begged for her life, wide eyes fixed on the axe held above her head.
I didn't even bother to wonder how I knew their names.
I acted.
Zero Point One Seconds
The Monster hadn’t noticed my entrance yet. I continued to direct all the force of my momentum towards it, straightening my body like an arrow.
Zero Point Two Seconds
The Monster twitched, the sound of the foliage breaking in front of me having reached its ear. The brush fell away from my body towards the ground as I gained momentum.
Zero Point Three Seconds
I began to notice the barest hints of a mach-cone forming around my hooves. I ignored the observation for later.
Zero Point Four Seconds
The Monster’s body began to turn to look at the source of the sudden noise. I saw branches hit the ground behind me as I passed through the center of the clearing.
Zero Point Five Seconds
The three fillies’ ears twitched, as they now noticed something, and their eyes began to move with their assailant’s. There were now less than 25 meters between us.
Zero Point Six Seconds
The Monster’s eyes began to focus as it finally registered my presence in the clearing. I made the matter of my body as solid as possible, focusing every ounce of my momentum forward, and then...
An object in motion met an object at rest.
The shock of the impact traveled through the bone structure I’d assembled, beginning with my forehooves, which were split open as they sank whole centimeters into the metal plate covering his chest, traveling up through the pastern, which splintered as as the monster’s hoof was lifted off the filly’s tail, continuing through to shatter the bones of my lower forelegs as my magic pulled the three fillies in the opposite direction, compacting the joint of my elbow past the breaking point as the air was pushed from the creature’s lungs, causing globs of phlegm and spittle to fly from his mouth, creating fissures in my upper leg bones as he lost his grip on Scootaloo and the bark of the tree cracked, sending all three fillies flying across the ground.
The monster and I continued on a path through the air, across the grove where we collided with a tree, its trunk buckling under the force of the impact as our momentum carried us through it, gravity pulling us back towards the ground. The monster hit first, legs catching against the dirt, causing him to tumble backwards, leaving me to continue along through a bush, which caught my limbs against its branches, twisting them beyond natural flexibility before breaking away and allowing my motion to continue into the ground, where my ribs and spine were quickly mangled by the impact and the rolling which followed.
I jammed my hooves into the ground, forcing my body to stop in an upright position, quickly realigning my broken bones and twisted joints, body parts jerking into their proper positions and snapping audibly back together, leaving me standing reassembled in a pose of aggression.
The tree fell to the forest floor with a crash as the monster pulled himself to his feet, growling. His glance darted between me and the three fillies behind him, as if deciding what to do next.
They were just standing there on the far edge of the clearing, somehow too stupid to understand what they needed to do, despite the buildings clearly visible just beyond the trees.
“RUN!” I shouted at them.
They glanced at each other, too shaken to functionally recognize the command.
I reared back, gathering a burst of magic into the part of me that created speech.
“RUN!”
My amplified voice boomed against the trees around me, echoing through the nearby woods.
They jumped back. Sweetie Belle, quickest on the uptake, grabbed the others with her magic and yanked them along. The three of them took off towards town.
The demon growled, finally speaking words as he reached for his belt, “Nobody fucking leaves UNTIL I SAY SO!!” He roared, gripping a tomahawk which he threw at the fillies, spinning in the air towards Sweetie Belle with deadly accuracy.
The tendrils of my will shot out, quickly reaching the projectile and gripping it in my magic, yanking it to sail back around, over the monster’s head and coming to a rest in front of me. I growled back, emulating a predator in a territorial dispute, spreading my wings wide, “Leave them alone.”
I dismantled the matter of the tomahawk, turning it into dust in front of me, which I promptly absorbed into my stores of unutilized material.
As the monster stared me down, I felt that malicious focus I’d been feeling for the past couple days settle back in full force, emanating from his blackened eyes. I stared back in rigid defiance. He gave a deep and hearty laugh, “YOU, are seriously threatening ME? You’re a fucking tiny horse!” He shook his head, “At least now I have an Adult to get some answers out of. Maybe you’ll actually be worth my time...”
“More like I’m going to tear you limb from limb if you don’t tell me what you’re planning.” I deadpanned.
“Oh really? You honestly think you can threaten me?” he mused condescendingly, “Let me explain to you what I am.”
“I know what you are.” I stated.
“Oh do you now little horse?”
“Nathrezim.” the word fell from my lips like rotten meat. “Emissary of the infernal Burning Legion. More commonly known... as a Dreadlord.”
The Dreadlord was taken aback for a moment at that one, but he gave another chuckle, “So you’ve read your demonology. Very clever, for a girly little horse...”
Wait. Something wasn’t right here.
“So what was this, you get your jollies from beating children?”
“No,” he scoffed, “I was interrogating them.”
I could’ve sworn there was a lot more to my memory of Dreadlords. Like a story that I was on the cusp of remembering.
“How did ‘interrogation’ lead to chopping off that filly’s head?!”
“The stupid babies weren’t listening to me! They just kept babbling about wanting to go home and shit! If they’d just answered my goddamn questions, I’d’ve let them go!”
Did Dreadlord’s talk like that? He sounded more like a petulant teen than an interdimensional conqueror. Maybe it was a translation thing though: I had a very pure understanding of Ponish, while he couldn’t possibly have had much practice.
“You were doing it wrong.” I stated, “You pushed their fight-or-flight instinct without establishing satisfying your intent as a flight-mechanism.” I sneered with a bit of a grin, “If it were me, I’d’ve had the information out of them without even drawing blood.”
I was goading him now. This could go one of two ways, either he’d spill some information to me, or he’d get worked up and attack me without thinking. Either one would work to my advantage. Besides, part of me was really enjoying taking out my frustrations on Amateur Hour here.
The Dreadlord growled, “Don’t you lecture me you weak little bitch! I am a creature of power beyond your imagination, and the one I work for is capable of crossing all the cosmos with a single step!”
Ooh, that reminded me of someone we’d been talking about.
“Oh really?” I mocked, “Who do you work for and why did he send you to this podunk planet of prissy ponies? You the team flunkie or something?”
“Who I work for is none of your concern.” he shouted, raising a hand to point a menacing finger at me, “YOU will tell me where Megan is!”
“...Megan?” that caught me out of left field, “Who’s Megan?” Definitely not a pony name...
“Don’t play games with me you stupid horse! Megan Williams! The guardian of this world!”
...So why did it sound so familiar?
“Who told you about Megan?”
“The god I work for has seen that this world has been visited by a human named Megan Williams. Tell me where she is, or I will make you tell me...” he growled the last part. I assumed he meant it to sound menacing, but I was, like, literally impossible to frighten at this point, so it was kind of a waste of his vocal chords. Seriously: have you ever growled like that for too long? It’s not exactly good for your singing voice.
Something strange through... When he said “Megan Williams”, I remembered a human girl wearing blue jeans, an orange shirt, red boots and vest, and long blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail. The strangest part though, was that a part of me suddenly remembered being Megan. As in, I specifically remembered looking in a mirror and seeing her image, and knowing that that was who I was.
That made no sense though. Not only was I dead sure I’d been Marey, but I knew Megan was a fictional character. Then again, I felt just as sure that Dreadlords were also a work of fiction, yet here was one, standing plainly before me, asking after a character out of a children’s story.
The whole thing was so nonsensical, that only one answer even remotely made sense...
“I am Megan.” I said finally. I wasn’t sure I was really who he was looking for, but at this point, I felt like we might as well get whatever bullshit this was over with.
“What?” the Dreadlord was taken aback, “You can’t possibly be her: Megan is a human, and you’re a fucking horse!”
“Yeah, well, a lot of shit’s been changing for me lately, species included.” I snarked, “Now are you gonna tell me what in hell do you want?”
He readied his axe, “Well, if you are Megan, then no hard feelings, but I’ve been sent to DESTROY YOU!” Before I could ask anymore questions, he was charging me head on.
I shot sideways as the axe swung down, digging a rut in the dirt as the Dreadlord followed my movement. I landed on the side of a tree, feeling my hooves sink into the bark as I directed gravity to hold me against it. “Why do you think I’m the guardian of this world? Better yet, what does your master think killing me will accomplish?”
“My master’s motives are beyond mortal comprehension!” The Dreadlord launched himself at me again.
I shot sideways again, letting the axe bury itself in the tree, right between where my forehooves had been, “‘Beyond mortal’... Bull Shit! I bet it’s some overwrought machination involving using this world for resources or some other stupid cliche!”
“STAY STILL YOU BITCH!” I barely managed to duck under the path of the bolt of concentrated hatred that flew from his hand. I had been wondering when he’d bother to use magic. There was a potent energy to it, but the will behind it seemed pathetic in comparison: no wonder this guy was the flunkie. Either he’d never learned how to focus his will properly, or it was even weaker than your average human.
It burst against the tree behind me, peppering my back with splinters just before I rolled to the side, my body whipping out of the way of another charge with the axe. It was clear that this was brains versus brawn. Then again, I wasn’t feeling much magic on the Axe as it grazed by my hooves...
...Wait... why was he using such a mundane weapon on a planet with magical creatures?
Up until this point, I’d assumed this to be the Spearhead of an invasion, but now that I’d thought it through... why was he this amateur? These guys were supposed to bring entire civilizations to their knees. Maybe he actually had flunked out of demon-magic-school or something? Perhaps his lack of magical prowess had made him an Outcast? Or he’d gone renegade, and left the core force in an attempt to circumvent the meritocracy which would never have promoted someone as weak as him? Then again, I knew nothing of his race, really. Perhaps he was a younger one, and killing a protector was a Rite of Passage.
I kept zipping around the clearing as he played whackamole with his big dumb tree-cutter, eventually beginning to work up a sweat. I mean, he was definitely putting some power into that thing: at some point I’d tried to get him to lodge it in a tree when he attempted to decapitate me against it, and rather than getting stuck again, it just went through, causing the tree to come crashing to the floor of the clearing, kicking up a storm of leaves through our increasingly scarred battleground.
I was starting to notice the swath of destruction around us. We’d downed several trees at this point, and I was starting to smell the smoke of a potential forest fire. Both of us could probably keep this up all day, and I was kind of... not interested in this? I mean seriously, big drawn out fights aren’t my style. Devising means and hitting at just the right point. This? This was glorified whackamole, and I had apparently found myself in the position of the mole. That’s like, the least fun part of the game, and this guy seemed a bit too stupid to understand that banging yourself against a wall repeatedly does not break said wall. In order to get out of this little Nash Equilibrium, I decided to do the one thing that typically breaks such a cycle.
I chose “cooperate” as my next move, standing stark still in the middle of the clearing.
“Gotcha!” he grinned menacingly, swinging the blade from over his head and straight for my skull.
“Yep.” I deadpanned, “You win.”
If I wasn’t mentally exhausted at this point, I might’ve hoofed him a little plush toy or something. His dedication deserved a prize.
As the axe bore down mercilessly upon my bare head, I took a moment to appreciate a few of the finer points of its design. The first thing I noticed was that its conceptual form was far more pure than anything natural, like it had been conjured out of the dream world instead of being made at a smithy. This made it easy for me to analyze it, being a creature woven of that very same magic at this point.
This dreadlord fellow was pretty accurate. His axe collided with my head just about dead-center, causing my skull to buckle and split down the middle as his axe drove its way through: I was pretty sure I felt the odd sensation of my spine and leg bones cracking again under the sudden force too.
The axe’s blade was composed of a combination of adamantine and lead, weighted heavily on the massive jagged head, with several combat enchantments slapped haphazardly onto its form. There was one for breaking through bones, which caused my skull to crack like an eggshell to a hatchet. There was another for rending flesh, which caused my hide to tear aside in unnatural ways, as if being hit with a chainsaw. The last one was for absorbing blood through the metal, and somehow channeling that back into the wielder as a dark energy for knitting organic matter back together, which, let me tell you, is good for sounding all evil and ruthless and all that, but is really not efficient enough to be in any way practical, even if you're fighting a monster literally made from literal blood.
Trust me, I would know.
Or would I? I could just be making shit up at this point and you wouldn’t know what was real. Hell, at this point, I wasn't even sure what was real.
It was actually kind of funny, just how grimdark this whole thing was clearly meant to be: big evil demon, axe made for maiming and blood drinking, cutting my head in half right down the center and leaving these two ragged sides hanging off my neck, the head of the axe lodged just next to my spine on my withers as I felt my splintering legs give way, causing my body to drop to its chest with my ass in the air.
What was especially funny was that he confirmed my suspicion: the axe had no enchantments for anything like cleaving through magical or incorporeal beings. You know, the kinds of things which would have made it an effective weapon against me.
Word of advice: if you’re hunting magical constructs, make sure your weapon of choice is rated for spellcleaving. Because if you don’t have a spellcleaving weapon... You’re gonna have a bad time.
I couldn’t help but laugh, which came out as this sickly double-tone from the two separate halves of my head, one high pitched, one low.
The dreadlord just looked down, his toothy grin turning to confusion.
“Ok, ok, so, this is what’s so funny.” I gurgled in two separate voices, “You came to kill something made of flesh and blood, on a planet where like, crazy magical shit happens all the time. I have no idea why you didn’t see this coming.”
“...what the hell?”
Not bothering to continue the chit-chat, I reached out of the gaping hole where my head was and wrapped my tendrils tightly around his axe, dragging it out of his grip and inside my being as I absorbed the spellwork and melted down its form. I repurposed the matter and shape to transform my hooves into a pair of axe-heads, similar to his but without all the unnecessary enchantments, and promptly began to swing my forelegs at him.
“What?!” His eyes widened and he barely managed to get out of the way, falling onto his ass and scrambling backwards.
I didn't have the reach I needed to hit him, so I elongated my forelegs to about double their length, effectively giving myself a pair of polearms to swing at him with. I felt them graze against something solid, and the telltale sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air. He was fast though, and had supernatural reflexes. In order to get a good hit on him with the speed I had, I’d need to be able to hit him from more than one angle.
So I changed my form into one that could do that.
I let go of the last vestiges of my pony form, feeling the flesh I'd crafted tear away as my limbs stretched and contorted into new shapes. Skin was just a form of clothing to me, a courtesy to the sensibilities of ponies who'd like to think of me as one of their own, and not the abomination that I truly was. There were no ponies here though, only a creature of the infernal planes, and I had no intention of making friends with it at this point.
As I threw myself at it, I made the changes that would make my physical form the weapon I needed. My body and neck became elongated like my legs had, giving me a serpentine form. I stretched my bones through the flesh that clung to them, sharpening the ends Into blades and spears, my whole body effectively covered in knives. I twisted my wings forward into new spears, and, deciding that was too few, I tore new limbs from my back: a series of tentacle-like appendages, 5 meters long, with various barbs and blades on them. I had a few options with those, and not much time to figure out the optimal setup, so I just gave myself a grab-bag of whips, hooks, spears, and spiny clubs to try on my prey. Picture a deep-sea predator that's just a wad of limbs for tearing things apart. That was me.
“WHAT THE FUCK!?” the Dreadlord shouted, backing up in actual fear now.
I allowed myself to laugh, the sound splitting through the sides of my split head as I beared down upon it.
The Dreadlord slammed into a tree, pulling out a large, obsidian knife as he scrambled to get around it, and began swinging it at me in a panic, which did nothing to actually deter me as I began jamming the spears that had been my ribcage through his guard, stabbing him in through the numerous gaps in his ornate armor. I noticed that his knife was enchanted enough to actually hurt me, as it sliced through my magically manifested limbs easily, but it was a pretty lost cause when I could just keep spawning new ones to add to the whirlwind I was bringing down upon him.
I didn’t have a large amount of experience in this type of combat yet, and what little I did have wasn’t exactly the kind you can plan with on the fly, so I was pretty winging the whole thing without even putting forethought into it. Surprisingly, this worked against the Dreadlord. It was still surprising my that this Dreadlord was far less competent than he should have been: sure, the strength was there, but why was he caught so off guard by me attacking him in this state? A Dreadlord should be well aware of this sort of threat, and even if he’d never encountered an amorphous entity, he should have at least have been trained in some way. He tried whipping another spell across my chest, but all it did was burn me.
This whole thing was a botched job from the start though, considering the bad intel. The fact that they thought that I was the “guardian” of this world meant they didn’t know about Twilight and Discord, which was some pretty serious misinformation, seeing as I’m pretty sure this would’ve been over a while ago if one of them was here. We could leverage that bad intel to our advantage though: if they continued to think I was the real threat, they wouldn’t know to look for another one, and unlike Twilight and her friends, I could lead any fighting force on some sort of insane wild goose chase just about indefinitely.
His foot caught on the gnarled root of a tree, causing him to fall backwards, arms flailing as I bore down on him.
And then, I impaled him.
I impaled him forty seven times.
At this point, I pretty much had him staked to the ground, and as strong as he was, he didn't really have the strength to pull even a single limb free. I was aware that I couldn’t actually kill him: Dreadlords are entities beyond simple flesh and blood, and his minions were likely to resurrect him within hours. I wasn’t sure I had access to the kind of magic that could prevent that, and now wasn’t exactly the time for field research. Of course, the resurrection thing meant I could use him to relay a message, and if I wanted them to spend their efforts on me instead of Twilight, this would be the perfect opportunity to lay down that kind of smokescreen.
And so, I lifted him into the air, bringing the sides of my face close to his and letting out a hissing threat, “When you get back to your masters, tell them Megan is coming for them!” I threw both halves of my head back and let out a howl of renewed laughter, the last thing he heard as I gripped tight with all of my appendages and pulled outwards as hard as I could. His agonized howl gave way to a sickening ripping noise as everything gave at once, and pieces of leathery flesh were scattered in front of me.
All around me, the remains fell through the air. Before all of them had even hit the ground, they caught fire and quickly dissipated, the presence of the Dreadlord vacating the area for whatever base of operations he’d made. I took note of the direction they were pulled in, memorizing it for later tracking. With that settled, I melted down my war-form and regathered my matter, reforming back into the Alicorn form I’d been in at the beginning of the fight, my multi-tonal cackling merging back into a single voice.
Oddly enough, it was only at this point that I noticed the weight of another strong presence observing me from just behind. Letting my laughter fade to a chuckle, I turned around to see Twilight and her five friends she’d introduced me to the previous day standing at the edge of the clearing, all staring at the scene of the carnage.
Applejack was halfway crouched, shaking violently as fear glued her to the spot.
Rarity had vomit gurgling out of her mouth, but seemed too shaken to bend her head down, or even wipe the splatters from her white fur.
Fluttershy was on the ground, curled up and sobbing, the only one not looking at me, instead keeping her eyes shut tight as if praying for it to all go away.
Rainbow seemed locked in a state of confusion, halfway into a combat stance, wearing a sturdy jacket from her military uniform and a pair of wing blades at the ready.
Pinkie was just staring at me with a slack jaw, eyes wide and twitching.
I looked at Twilight, my chuckles becoming less enthusiastic as I just plopped back on my hind quarters, raising my forelegs in a prolonged shrug as the blood continued to drip from them.
Twilight responded by reaching up with one hoof, slowly wiping a large chunk of what looked like my own splattered viscera off of her cheek.
...Talk about awkward.
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That's almost as many as five tens, and that's just inconvenient. :|
He had it comin!
He had it comin!
He only had himself to blame!!
8631341
Overkill.
8631347
Yah, this was a weird chapter for me to write.
8631341
He ran into my ribcage.
He ran into my ribcage forty-seven times.
Silly Meta, you aren't supposed to go full abomination in the visible spectrum. That's a rookie mistake. 😆
Gooood
8631372
HA HA HA HA HA!!! I literally burst out laughing when I saw this just now! XD
8631380
Yeah, it's honestly a bit OOC how unintelligent she gets here. I really wanted to write something like this though. XD
8631386
ORLY?
8631360
But Meeettttaaaaaaa! That kills people!
Side note: I've used I'd've before, but seeing it here made me wonder if it was really a word. Turns out the answer is yes, since it technically follows the rules for contractions. As do similar things like they'd've, shouldn't've, wouldn't've, I'll've... and nonsense like they'ven't, you'lln't've, and we'ven't'd.
The only one of those my spellchecker didn't underline was we'ven't'd, and I can't even tell what it's supposed to be a contraction of.
Forty, not fourty.
8631422
Oh thanks! You know I'm a stickler for correctness, but that one's a bad habit I can't seem to shake...
Forty. Forty. Forty. I impaled him Forty Seven Times. Forty Seven spears. Forty Seven Stab Wounds. Forty.
When I saw the description, I was thinking: How the hell did a Bloodthirster get there?!
8631435
How the hell did a Dreadlord get here?
Same difference anyway: Blizzard basically copied Warhammer for the Warcraft mythos...
8631440
Considering some of the people who worked at Blizzard actually worked with GW, I'm not surprised
8631421
"we haven't had"
8631442
Good point. Still, Warcraft 3 drew me in where Warhammer didn't, not because of the setting, but what they did with it.
8631409
Well, Meta is pretty killer! :V
8631433
You've actually had the least mistakes of any author on the site, I think. It was very much a breath of fresh air after reading through some dozen or so of awful fics. (at least, regarding grammar and word choice)
8631422
But that wouldn't make any sense.
"What's 2 + 2"
"For."
The way this is worded renders me unable to not read this in an annoying, self-righteous voice.
Eeyup....
Awkward is an understatement.....
DWL I had to read this chapter twice.
8631443
I suppose that makes as much sense as anything else.
Part of me just likes the weird things that happen when following all the grammar rules to the letter.
8631463 It's English: It doesn't make sense.
8631347
There is no such thing.
8631463
two plus two is four; it's four to keep it from intersecting with "for". There is no such intersection with "forty".
8631528
Overkill only exists when the situation doesn't call for it.
8631530
Well, that's true, I guess I've just been living with spelling 'fourty' for so long that I'm blind to other renditions.
That, or I just refuse to accept change.
...
The childish swearing, the amateur mistakes...
He was another Displaced, wasn't he?
A. This Fight was actually pretty good
B. AWKWARD CD
C. HERE COMES THE LUNAR STAR!
It really sounds like your setting up this Demon Lord as a more proper displaced, where everything has gone right and the bratty teen gets to inact their fantasies for the amusement of onlookers. Fun.
I have to say I was really thinking that Meta would go a different route, something like attacking his underlying thought structures and severing memories for her own use, maybe make him lose all motor control and the concept of blue.
Maybe not all the memories that Twilight scooped out of the Aether were Marey's memories and she is just overcomplicating it. But probably not.
The direction I see the story going is playing with the idea of displaced as stories. As actual characters, that exist as words uploaded to fimfiction.net. Continuing only on the whims of their cruel creators. We've established that characters exist in a "meta" (if you will) form on the dreamplane, and Meta seems to be an aggregate from what little information we (and meta) have. Similar to Ink from the undertale fandom actually. I guess we'll have to see how this developed and where the lines are drawn between the ideas of people and people in a world where the universe exists and things can be torn into reality. I await the next update eagerly. Then maybe I can write a theory that makes sense and doesn't run on for a paragraph.
8631341
So I gave him three warning stabs. Right into his head!
...Dang, I need to watch Chicago all the way through.
I love how you show the averaged displaced character to be. Immature, swears like a 12 year old on COD, little to zero comprehension of their surroundings. A general lack of curiosity towards why they were displaced. Falling into whatever cliche role the world shoves them into.
There are VERY few well written displaced stories that don't fall into any of those tropes. I find myself constantly excited for when you release your next chapter.
Are you hinting that Meta is a displaced character from the beginning of THIS fanfiction?
8631455
Well, thank you! I also don't like when fics have bad spelling or grammar, or even just very boring English, so I proofread through every chapter before I post it to make sure it meets a standard of quality. :3
8631463
It doesn't. That's why it's a common mistake. English is bad like that.
8631474
Well, it's snark, so... that works!
8631491
orig00.deviantart.net/edcf/f/2012/219/f/1/shrug_pony_lavender_by_mylittleroseluck-d5a723p.png
8631341
Overkill is never enough when dealing with 'edgy' teenagers with powers beyond their understanding.
Seriously though, good chapter - I specially liked the last scene with the Element Bearers witnessing something truly 'squiggly'.
Pfft... Awkward indeed.
Edit: this chapter alone earned my like, good sir.
8631500
It IS a fun chapter, isn't it? XD
8631514
To be fair, I would never advise using that word because it doesn't flow nicely.
8631528
Yeah! You tell him! Shoggoth forever!!
8631582
Heh! I like how people are getting a reference that was just one line... XD
Chicago was ok I guess, I just liked that line...
8631541
A. Glad you liked it! I wasn't sure about it, because I'm more used to writing choreographed fights than narrative fights, and they're a very common pitfall. Like I keep saying, this fic is on the edge of my capability, so it's good to hear if I'm doing well. :3
B. Oh yeah. Don't turn into a murderous meathouse abomination and rip something to shreds in front of a race of vegetarians.
C. Not sure what you mean "Lunar Star"
8631597
...You hadn't already liked it...? O!o
And yes. Expose the ponies to everything nasty!
All I can say is: Well damn
8631535
DING DING DING!
8631543
8631590
So, when I was writing this, I was actually thinking really hard about how the typical HiE fic is written, with the weak prose and constant goofy dialogue. I find them hard to get into, partially because I find it hard to identify with the characters. I actually find Meta more identifiable than a lot of Displaced who are exactly like this, and as much as I enjoy the hijinks of characters in well-written ones like Misunderstood and Mutated, A Matter of Genetics, It's a Screwed Up Life, I know that that's not exactly pullitzer material. Hollow Shades is the kind of thing that I'd take the time to write. The main character has an actual deep, existential quandary and serious internal conflict...
Anyway glad you like it, especially glad it's making you think, and good job on catching who the Dreadlord actually is. :3
8631630
Heh! Glad you liked it then? :P
Honestly I was fearing for the worst because of the warning at the beginning and then noticing a Death tag up above. I am glad I was wrong though. This was a pretty neat chapter and the end was priceless!
Well, if they still trust her after that then they have no sense of self preservation.
8631661
Well, yeah, I don't write grimdark. Never expect me to just go gruesome for meaningless shock value. Maybe I should scale back the warning a little?
8631663
Oh yeah. Big fallout coming after New Years...
This amount of gore appeals to my sensibilities. Rip and tear, baby! Please have Meta be completely unapologetic about the whole thing. Seeing the ponies attempt to reconfigure their world view about this experience would be hilarious XD
8631681
Meta picked up a berserk pack. :V
1d4chan.org/images/7/7b/Rip_And_Tear.jpg
And she's gonna handle this rationally.
8392879
...No inspiration specifically taken from Lovecraft, you say? Even after Part 3 of Chapter 6?
Or maybe no hints ahead of time. Regardless, I'm eagerly awaiting more.
8631736
I never said it wasn't taking cues from Lovecraft, only that he's not the main inspiration.
8631618
Yeah! Let them know the awesomeness of seafood!!
Never taunt the octopi, indeed!
8631762
She's more of a shoggoth than an octopus, but yeah. :V